Demonologia

by J. S. Forsyth

DEMONOLOGY.

——“Spirits, when they please,

Can either sex assume, or both; so soft

And uncompounded is their essence pure,

Not ty’d or manacled with joint or limb,

Nor founded on the brittle strength of bones,

Like cumbrous flesh; but in what shape they chuse,

Dilated οr condens’d, bright or obscure,

Can execute their airy purposes.”

Milton.

Diabolus, a devil, or evil angel, is one of those celestial spirits cast down from heaven for pretending to equal himself with God.

The Ethiopians paint the devil white, to be even with the Europeans, who paint him black.

We find no mention made of the word devil in the Old Testament, but only of Satan: nor in any heathen authors do we meet with the word devil, in the signification attached to it among the Christians; that is, as a creature revolted from God: their theology went no farther than to evil genii, or demons, who harassed and persecuted mankind, though we are well aware many names are given to the devil both in holy writ and elsewhere.

“O thou! whatever title suit thee,

Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie,

Wha in yon cavern grim an’ sootie

Closed under hatches,

Spairges about the brimstane clootie,

To scaud poor wretches.”—Burns.

Demon was the name given by the Greeks and Romans to certain genii or spirits, who made themselves visible to men with the intention of doing them either good or harm.

The Platonists made a distinction between their gods, or dei majorum gentium; their demons, or those beings which were not dissimilar in their general character to the good and evil angels of Christian belief; and their heroes. The Jews and the early Christians restricted the appellation of demons to beings of a malignant nature, or to devils; and it is to the early opinions entertained by this people, that the outlines of later systems of Demonology are to be traced.

“The tradition of the Jews concerning evil spirits are various; some of them are founded on Scripture; some borrowed from the notions of the pagans; some are fables of their own invention; and some are allegories.” The demons of the Jews were considered either as the distant progeny of Adam or of Eve, which had resulted from an improper intercourse with supernatural beings, or of Cain. As this doctrine, however, was extremely revolting to some few of the early Christians, they maintained that demons were the souls of departed human beings, who were still permitted to interfere in the affairs of the earth, either to assist their friends or to persecute their enemies. This doctrine, however, did not prevail.

An attempt was made about two centuries and a half ago to give, in a condensed form, the various opinions entertained at an early period of the Christian era, and during the middle ages, of the nature of the demons of popular belief. We shall therefore lay this chapter before our readers, which, being so comprehensive, and at the same time so concise, requires no abridgment;—“I, for my own part, do also thinke this argument about the nature and substance of devels and spirits to be difficult, as I am persuaded that no one author hath in anie certaine or perfect sort hitherto written thereof. In which respect I can neither allow the ungodly and profane sects and doctrines of the Sadduces and Perepateticks, who denie that there are any spirits and devils at all; nor the fond and superstitious treatises of Plato, Proctics, Plotenus, Porphyrie; nor yet the vaine and absurd opinions of Psellus, Nider, Sprenger, Cumanus, Bodin, Michæl, Andæas, James Mathæus, Laurentius, Ananias, Jamblicus, &c.; who, with manie others, write so ridiculous lies in these matters, as if they were babes fraied with bugges; some affirming that the souls of the dead become spirits, the good to be angels, the bad to be divels; some, that spirits or divels are onelie in this life; some, that they are men; some that they are women; some that divels are of such gender that they list themselves; some that they had no beginning, nor shall have ending, as the Manechies maintain; some that they are mortal and die, as Plutarch affirmeth of Pan; some that they have no bodies at all, but receive bodies according to their fantasies and imaginations; some that their bodies are given unto them; some, that they make themselves. Some saie they are wind; some that one of them begat another; some, that they were created of the least part of the masse, whereof the earth was made; and some, that they are substances between God and man, and that some of them are terrestrial, some celestial, some waterie, some airie, some fierie, some starrie, and some of each and every part of the elements; and that they know our thoughts, and carrie our good works to God, and praiers to God, and return his benefits back unto us, and that they are to be worshipped; wherein they meete and agree jumpe with the papists.”—“Againe, some saie, that they are meane between terrestrial and celestial bodies, communicating part of each nature; and that, although they be eternal, yet they are moved with affections; and as there are birds in the aire, fishes in the water, and worms in the earth, so in the fourth element, which is the fire, is the habitation of spirits and devils.”—“Some saie they are onelie imaginations in the mind of man. Tertullian saith they are birds, and flie faster than anie fowle in the aire. Some saie that divels are not, but when they are sent; and therefore are called evil angels. Some think that the devil sendeth his angels abrode, and he himself maketh his continual abode in hell, his mansion-place.”

In allusion to this subject a late writer remarks that “It was not, however, until a much later period of Christianity, that more decided doctrines relative to the origin and nature of demons was established. These tenets involved certain very knotty points relative to the fall of those angels, who, for disobedience, had forfeited their high abode in heaven. The Gnostics, of early Christian times, in imitation of a classification of the different orders of spirits by Plato had attempted a similar arrangement with respect to an hierarchy of angels, the gradation of which stood as follows:—The first, and highest order, was named seraphim; the second, cherubim; the third was the order of thrones; the fourth, of dominions; the fifth, of virtues; the sixth, of powers; the seventh, of principalities; the eighth, of archangels; the ninth, and lowest, of angels. This fable was, in a pointed manner, censured by the apostles; yet still, strange to say, it almost outlived the Pneumatologists of the middle ages. These schoolmen, in reference to the account that Lucifer rebelled against heaven, and that Michael the Archangel warred against him, long agitated the momentous question, what orders of angels fell on this occasion? At length it became the prevailing opinion that Lucifer was of the order of seraphim. It was also proved, after infinite research, that Agares, Belial, and Barbatos, each of them deposed angels of great rank, had been of the order of virtues; that Bileth, Focalor, and Phœnix, had been of the order of thrones; that Gaap had been of the order of powers; and that Pinson had been both of the order of virtues and powers; and Murmur of thrones and angels. The pretensions of many other noble devils were, likewise, canvassed, and in an equally satisfactory manner, determined. Afterwards, it became an object of enquiry to learn, how many fallen angels had been engaged in the contest. This was a question of vital importance, which gave rise to the most laborious research, and to a variety of discordant opinions.—It was next agitated—where the battle was fought? in the inferior heaven,—in the highest region of the air, in the firmament, or in paradise? how long it lasted? whether, during one second, or moment of time, (punctum temporis) two, three, or four seconds? These were queries of very difficult solution; but the notion which ultimately prevailed was, that the engagement was concluded in exactly three seconds from the date of its commencement; and that while Lucifer, with a number of his followers, fell into hell, the rest were left in the air to tempt man. A still newer question arose out of all these investigations, whether more angels fell with Lucifer, or remained in heaven with Michael? Learned clerks, however, were inclined to think, that the rebel chief had been beaten by a superior force, and that, consequently, devils of darkness were fewer in number than angels of light.

“These discussions, which, during a number of successive centuries, interested the whole of Christendom, too frequently exercised the talents of the most erudite characters in Europe. The last object of demonologists was to collect, in some degree of order, Lucifer’s routed forces, and to re-organise them under a decided form of subordination or government. Hence, extensive districts were given to certain chiefs that fought under this general. There was Zemimar, “the lordly monarch of the North,” as Shakspeare styles him[^[53]], who had this distinct province of devils; there was Gorson, the king of the South; Amaymon, the king of the East; and Goap, the prince of the West. These sovereigns had many noble spirits subordinate to them, whose various ranks were settled with all the preciseness of heraldic distinction; there were devil dukes, devil marquises, devil earls, devil knights, devil presidents, and devil prelates. The armed force under Lucifer seems to have comprised nearly 2,400 legions, of which each demon of rank commanded a certain number. Thus, Beleth, whom Scott has described as a “great king and terrible, riding on a pale horse, before whom go trumpets and all melodious music,” commanded 85 legions; Agarer, the first duke under the power of the East, commanded 31 legions; Leraie, a great marquis, 30 legions; Morax, a great earl and president, 36 legions; Furcas, a knight, 20 legions; and after the same manner, the forces of the other devil chieftains were enumerated.”

Derivation of the strange and hideous forms of Devils, &c.

In the middle ages, when conjuration was regularly practised in Europe, devils of rank were supposed to appear under decided forms, by which they were as well recognised, as the head of any ancient family would be by his crest and armorial bearings. The shapes they were accustomed to adopt were registered along with their names and characters. A devil would appear, either like an angel seated in a fiery chariot, or riding on an infernal dragon; and carrying in his right hand a viper, or assuming a lion’s head, a goose’s feet, and a hare’s tail, or putting on a raven’s head, and mounted on a strong wolf. Other forms made use of by demons, were those of a fierce warrior, or an old man riding upon a crocodile with a hawk in his hand. A human figure would arise having the wings of a griffin; or sporting three heads, two of them like those of a toad and of a cat; or defended with huge teeth and horns, and armed with a sword; or displaying a dog’s teeth, and a large raven’s head; or mounted upon a pale horse, and exhibiting a serpent’s tail; or gloriously crowned, and riding upon a dromedary; or presenting the face of a lion; or bestriding a bear, and grasping a viper. There were also such shapes as those of an archer, or of a Zenophilus. A demoniacal king would ride upon a pale horse; or would assume a leopard’s face and griffin’s wings; or put on the three heads of a bull, of a man, and a ram with a serpent’s tail, and the feet of a goose; and, in this attire, sit on a dragon, and bear in his hand a lance and a flag; or, instead of being thus employed, goad the flanks of a furious bear, and carry in his fist a hawk. Other forms were those of a goodly knight; or of one who bore lance, ensigns, and even sceptre; or, of a soldier, either riding on a black horse, and surrounded with a flame of fire; or wearing on his head a Duke’s crown, and mounted on a crocodile; or assuming a lion’s face, and with fiery eyes, spurring on a gigantic charger, or, with the same frightful aspect, appearing in all the pomp of family distinction, on a pale horse; or clad from head to foot in crimson raiment, wearing on his bold front a crown, and sallying forth on a red steed.

Some infernal Duke would appear in his proper character, quietly seated on a griffin; another spirit of a similar rank would display the three heads of a serpent, a man, and a cat; he would also bestride a viper, and carry in his hand a firebrand; another of the same stamp, would appear like a duchess, encircled with a fiery zone, and mounted on a camel; a fourth would wear the aspect of a boy, and amuse himself on the back of a two-headed dragon. A few spirits, however, would be content with the simple garbs of a horse, a leopard, a lion, an unicorn, a night-raven, a stork, a peacock, or a dromedary; the latter animal speaking fluently the Egyptian language. Others would assume the more complex forms of a lion or of a dog, with a griffin’s wings attached to each of their shoulders; or of a bull equally well gifted; or of the same animal, distinguished by the singular appendage of a man’s face; or of a crow clothed with human flesh; or of a hart with a fiery tail. To certain other noble devils were assigned such shapes as those of a dragon with three heads, one of these being human; of a wolf with a serpent’s tail, breathing forth flames of fire; of a she wolf exhibiting the same caudal appendage, together with a griffin’s wings, and ejecting hideous matter from the mouth. A lion would appear either with the head of a branded thief, or astride upon a black horse, and playing with a viper, or adorned with the tail of a snake, and grasping in his paws two hissing serpents. These were the varied shapes assumed by devils of rank. To those of an inferior order were consigned upon earth, the duty of carrying away condemned souls. These were described as blacker than pitch: as having teeth like lions, nails on their fingers like those of the wild boar, on their forehead horns, through the extremities of which, poison was emitted, having wide ears flowing with corruption, and discharging serpents from their nostrils, and having cloven feet[^[54]]. But this last appendage, as Sir Thomas Brown has learnedly proved, is a mistake, which has arisen from the devil frequently appearing to the Jews in the shape of a rough and hairy goat, this animal being the emblem of sin-offerings[^[55]].

It is worthy of farther remark, says Dr. Hibbert, that the forms of the demons described by St. Bernard, differs little from that which is no less carefully pourtrayed by Reginald Scott, 350 years later, and, perhaps, by the Demonologists of the present day. “In our childhood,” says he, “our mothers’ maids have so terrified us with an ouglie devell having hornes on his head, fier in his mouth, and a taile in his breech, eies like a bason, fangs like a dog, clawes like a bear, a skin like a tiger, and a voice roaring like a lion,—whereby we start and are afraid when we heare one cry bough.”

It is still an interesting matter of speculation worth noticing—why, after the decay of the regular systems of demonology taught in the middle ages, the same hideous form should still be attached to the devil? The learned Mede has remarked, “that the devil could not appear in human shape while man was in his integrity; because he was a spirit fallen from his first glorious perfection; and, therefore, must appear in such a shape which might argue his imperfection and abasement, which was the shape of a beast; otherwise, no reason can be given, why he should not rather have appeared to Eve in the shape of a woman than of a serpent. But since the fall of man, the case is altered: now we know he can take upon him the shape of man. He appears, it seems, in the shape of man’s imperfection, either for age or deformity, as like an old man (for so the witches say); and perhaps it is not altogether false, which is vulgarly affirmed, that the devil appearing in human shape, has always a deformity of some uncouth member or other, as though he could not yet take upon him human shape entirely, for that man himself is not entirely and utterly fallen as he is.” Grose, with considerable less seriousness, observes, that “although the devil can partly transform himself into a variety of shapes, he cannot change his cloven feet, which will always mark him under every appearance.

The late Dr. Ferriar took some trouble to trace to their real source spectral figures, which have been attributed to demoniacal visits. In his observations on the works of Remy, the commissioner in Lorraine, for the trial of witches, he makes the following remark:—“My edition of this book was printed by Vincente, at Lyons, in 1595; it is entitled Dæmonolatria. The trials appear to have begun in 1583. Mr. Remy seems to have felt great anxiety to ascertain the exact features and dress of the demons, with whom many people supposed themselves to be familiar. Yet nothing transpired in his examinations, which varied from the usual figures exhibited by the gross sculptures and paintings of the middle age. They are said to be black faced, with sunk but fiery eyes, their mouths wide and swelling of sulphur, their hands hairy, with claws, their feet horny and cloven.” In another part of Dr. Ferriar’s, the following account is also given of a case which passed under his own observation:—“I had occasion,” he observes, “to see a young married woman, whose first indication of illness was a spectral delusion. She told me that her apartment appeared to be suddenly filled with devils, and that her terror impelled her to quit the house with great precipitation. When she was brought back, she saw the whole staircase filled with diabolical forms, and was in agonies of fear for several days. After the first impression wore off, she heard a voice tempting her to self destruction, and prohibiting her from all exercises of piety. Such was the account given by her when she was sensible of the delusion, yet unable to resist the horror of the impression. When she was newly recovered, I had the curiosity to question her, as I have interrogated others, respecting the forms of the demons with which she had been claimed; but I never could obtain any other account, than that they were very small, very much deformed, and had horns and claws like the imps of our terrific modern romances.” To this illustration of the general origin of the figures of demoniacal illusions, I might observe, that, in the case of a patient suffering under delirium tremens, which came under my notice, the devils who flitted around his bed were described to me as exactly like the forms that he had recently seen exhibited on the stage in the popular drama of Don Giovanni.

With the view of illustrating other accounts of apparitions, I shall now return to the doctrine of demonology which was once taught. Although the leading tenets of this occult science may be traced to the Jews and early Christians, yet they were matured by our early communication with the Moors of Spain, who were the chief philosophers of the dark ages, and between whom and the natives of France and Italy, a great communication subsisted. Toledo, Seville, and Salamanca, became the greatest schools of magic. At the latter city, prelections on the black art were, from a consistent regard to the solemnity of the subject, delivered within the walls of a vast and gloomy cavern. The schoolmen taught, that all knowledge might be obtained from the assistance of the fallen angels. They were skilled in the abstract sciences, in the knowledge of precious stones, in alchymy, in the various languages of mankind and of the lower animals, in the belles lettres, in moral philosophy, pneumatology, divinity, magic, history, and prophecy. They could controul the winds, the waters, and the influence of the stars; they could raise earthquakes, induce diseases, or cure them, accomplish all vast mechanical undertakings, and release souls out of purgatory. They could influence the passions of the mind—procure the reconciliation of friends or foes—engender mutual discord—induce mania and melancholy—or direct the force and objects of the sexual affections.

Such was the object of demonology, as taught by its most orthodox professors. Yet other systems of it were devised, which had their origin in causes attending the propagation of Christianity. For it must have been a work of much time to eradicate the universal belief, that the Pagan deities, who had become so numerous as to fill every part of the universe, were fabulous beings. Even many learned men were induced to side with the popular opinion on the subject, and did nothing more than endeavour to reconcile it with their acknowledged systems of demonology. They taught that such heathen objects of reverence were fallen angels in league with the prince of darkness, who, until the appearance of our Saviour, had been allowed to range on the earth uncontrolled, and to involve the world in spiritual darkness and delusion. According to the various ranks which these spirits held in the vast kingdom of Lucifer, they were suffered, in their degraded state, to take up their abode in the air, in mountains, in springs, or in seas. But, although the various attributes ascribed to the Greek and Roman deities, were, by the early teachers of Christianity, considered in the humble light of demoniacal delusions, yet for many centuries they possessed great influence over the minds of the vulgar. In the reign of Adrian, Evreux, in Normandy, was not converted to the Christian faith, until the devil, who had caused the obstinacy of the inhabitants, was finally expelled from the temple of Diana. To this goddess, during the persecution of Dioclesian, oblations were rendered by the inhabitants of London. In the 5th century, the worship of her existed at Turin, and incurred the rebuke of St. Maximus. From the ninth to the fifteenth century, several denunciations took place of the women who, in France and Germany, travelled over immense spaces of the earth, acknowledging Diana as their mistress and conductor. In rebuilding St. Paul’s cathedral, in London, remains of several of the animals used in her sacrifices were found; for slight traces of this description of reverence, subsisted so late as the reign of Edward the First, and of Mary. Apollo, also, in an early period of Christianity, had some influence at Thorney, now Westminster. About the 11th century, Venus formed the subject of a monstrous apparition, which could only have been credited from the influence which she was still supposed to possess. A young man had thoughtlessly put his ring around the marble finger of her image. This was construed by the Cyprian goddess as a plighted token of marriage; she accordingly paid a visit to her bridegroom’s bed at night, nor could he get rid of his bed-fellow until the spells of an exorcist had been invoked for his relief. In the year 1536, just before the volcanic eruption of Mount Etna, a Spanish merchant, while travelling in Sicily, saw the apparition of Vulcan attended by twenty of his Cyclops, as they were escaping from the effects which the over heating of his furnace foreboded[^[56]].

To the superstitions of Greece and Rome, we are also indebted for those subordinate evil spirits called genii, who for many centuries were the subject of numerous spectral illusions. A phantasm of this kind appeared to Brutus in his tent, prophesying that he should be again seen at Philippi. Cornelius Sylla had the first intimation of the sudden febrile attack with which he was seized, from an apparition who addressed him by his name; concluding, therefore, that his death was at hand, he prepared himself for the event, which took place the following evening. The poet Cassius Severus, a short time before he was slain by order of Augustus, saw, during the night, a human form of gigantic size,—his skin black, his beard squalid, and his hair dishevelled. The phantasm was, perhaps, not unlike the evil genius of Lord Byron’s Manfred:—

“I see a dusk and awful figure rise

Like an infernal god from out the earth;

His face wrapt in a mantle, and his form

Robed as with angry clouds; he stands between

Thyself and me—but I do fear him not.”

The emperor Julian was struck with a spectre clad in rags, yet bearing in his hands a horn of plenty, which was covered with a linen cloth. Thus emblematically attired, the spirit walked mournfully past the hangings of the apostate’s tent[^[57]].

We may now advert to the superstitious narratives of the middle ages, which are replete with the notices of similar marvellous apparitions. When Bruno, the Archbishop of Wirtzburg, a short period before his sudden death, was sailing with Henry the Third, he descried a terrific spectre standing upon a rock which overhung the foaming waters, by whom he was hailed in the following words:—“Ho! Bishop, I am thy evil genius. Go whether thou choosest, thou art and shalt be mine. I am not now sent for thee, but soon thou shalt see me again.” To a spirit commissioned on a similar errand, the prophetic voice may be probably referred, which was said to have been heard by John Cameron, the Bishop of Glasgow, immediately before his decease. He was summoned by it, says Spottiswood, “to appear before the tribunal of Christ, there to atone for his violence and oppressions.”

“I shall not pursue the subject of Genii much farther. The notion of every man being attended by an evil genius, was abandoned much earlier than the far more agreeable part of the same doctrine, which taught that, as an antidote to this influence, each individual was also accompanied by a benignant spirit. “The ministration of angels,” says a writer in the Athenian oracle, “is certain, but the manner how, is the knot to be untied.” ’Twas generally thought by the ancient philosophers, that not only kingdoms had their tutelary guardians, but that every person had his particular genius, or good angel, to protect and admonish him by dreams, visions, &c. We read that Origin, Hierome, Plato, and Empedocles, in Plutarch, were also of this opinion; and the Jews themselves, as appears by that instance of Peter’s deliverance out of prison. They believed it could not be Peter, but his angel. But for the particular attendance of bad angels, we believe it not; and we must deny it, till it finds better proof than conjecture.”

Such were the objects of superstitious reverence, derived from the Pantheon of Greece and Rome, the whole synod of which was supposed to consist of demons, who were still actively bestirring themselves to delude mankind. But in the West of Europe, a host of other demons, far more formidable, were brought into play, who had their origin in Celtic, Teutonic, and even Eastern fables; and as their existence, as well as influence, was not only by the early Christians, but even by the reformers, boldly asserted, it was long before the rites to which they had been accustomed were totally eradicated. Thus in Orkney, for instance, it was customary, even during the last century, for lovers to meet within the pale of a large circle of stones, which had been dedicated to the chief of the ancient Scandinavian deities. Through a hole in one of the pillars, the hands of contracting parties were joined, and the faith they plighted, was named the promise of Odin, to violate which was infamous. But the influence of the Dii Majores of the Edda was slight and transient, in comparison with that of the duergar or dwarfs, who figure away in the same mythology, and whose origin is thus recited. Odin and his brothers killed the giant Ymor, from whose wound ran so much blood that all the families of the earth were drowned, except one that saved himself on board a bark. These gods then made, of the giant’s bones of his flesh and his blood, the earth, the waters, and the heavens. But in the body of the monster, several worms had in the course of putrefaction been engendered, which, by order of the gods, partook of both human shape and reason. These little beings possessed the most delicate figures, and always dwelt in subterraneous caverns or clefts in the rocks. They were remarkable for their riches, their activity, and their malevolence[^[58]]. This is the origin of our modern faries, who, at the present day, are described as a people of small stature, gaily drest in habiliments of green[^[59]]. They possess material shapes, with the means, however, of making themselves invisible. They multiply their species; they have a relish for the same kind of food that affords sustenance to the human race, and when, for some festal occasion, they would regale themselves with good beef or mutton, they employ elf arrows to bring down their victims. At the same time, they delude the shepherds with the substitution of some vile substance, or illusory image, possessing the same form as that of the animal they had taken away. These spirits are much addicted to music, and when they make their excursions, a most exquisite band of music never fails to accompany them in their course. They are addicted to the abstraction of the human species, in whose place they leave substitutes for living beings, named Changelings, the unearthly origin of whom is known by their mortal imbecility, or some wasting disease. When a limb is touched with paralysis, a suspicion often arises that it has been touched by these spirits, or that, instead of the sound member, an insensible mass of matter has been substituted in its place.

In England, the opinions originally entertained relative to the duergar or dwarfs, have sustained considerable modifications, from the same attributes being assigned to them as to the Persian peris, an imaginary race of intelligences, whose offices of benevolence were opposed to the spightful interference of evil spirits. Whence this confusion in proper Teutonic mythology has originated, is doubtful; conjectures have been advanced, that it may be traced to the intercourse the Crusaders had with the Saracens; and that from Palestine was imported the corrupted name, derived from the peris, of faries; for under such a title the duegar of the Edda are now generally recognized; the malevolent character of the dwarfs being thus sunk in the opposite qualities of the peris, the fairies. Blessing became in England, proverbial: “Grant that the sweet fairies may nightly put money in your shoes, and sweep your house clean.” In more general terms, the wish denoted, “Peace be to the house[^[60]].

Fairies, for many centuries, have been the objects of spectral impressions. In the case of a poor woman of Scotland, Alison Pearson, who suffered for witchcraft in the year 1586, they probably resulted from some plethoric state of the system, which was followed by paralysis. Yet, for these illusive images, to which the popular superstition of the times had given rise, the poor creature was indicted for holding communication with demons, under which light fairies were then considered, and burnt at a stake. During her illness, she was not unfrequently impressed with sleeping and waking visions, in which she held an intercourse with the queen of the Elfland and the good neighbours. Occasionally, these capricious spirits would condescend to afford her bodily relief; at other times, they would add to the severity of her pains. In such trances or dreams, she would observe her cousin, Mr. William Sympsoune, of Stirling, who had been conveyed away to the hills by the fairies, from whom she received a salve that would cure every disease, and of which the Archbishop of St. Andrews deigned himself to reap the benefit. It is said in the indictment against her, that “being in Grange Muir with some other folke, she, being sick, lay downe; and, when alone, there came a man to her clad in green, who said to her, if she would be faithful, he would do her good; but she being feared, cried out; but nae bodie came to her, so she said, if he came in God’s name, and for the gude of her soul, it was all well; but he gaed away; he appeared another tyme like a lustie man, and many men and women with him—at seeing him she signed herself, and pray and past with them, and saw them making merrie with pypes, and gude cheir and wine;—she was carried with them, and when she telled any of these things, she was sairlie tormented by them, and the first time she gaid with them, she gat a sair straike frae one of them, which took all the poustie (power) of her side frae her, and left an ill-far’d mark on her side.

“She saw the gude neighbours make their saws (salves) with panns and fyres, and they gathered the herbs before the sun was up, and they cam verie fearful sometimes to her, and flaire (scared) her very sair, which made her cry, and threatened they would use her worse than before; and at last, they tuck away the power of her haile syde frae her, and made her lye many weeks. Sometimes they would come and sit by her, and promise that she should never want if she would be faithful, but if she would speak and telle of them, they would murther her. Mr. William Sympsoune is with them who healed her, and telt her all things;—he is a young man, not six yeares older than herself, and he will appear to her before the court comes;—he told her he was taken away by them; and he bid her sign herself that she be not taken away, for the teind of them are tane to hell every yeare[^[61]].”

Another apparition of a similar kind may be found on the pamphlet which was published A. D. 1696, under the patronage of Dr. Fowler, Bishop of Glocester, relative to Ann Jefferies, “who was fed for six months by a small sort of airy people, called fairies.” There is every reason to suppose, that this female was either affected with hysteria, or with that highly excited state of nervous irritability, which, as I have shewn, gives rise to ecstatic illusions. The account of her first fit is the only one which relates to the present subject. In the year 1695, says her historian, “she then being nineteen years of age, and one day knitting in an arbour in the garden, there came over the hedges to her (as she affirmed) six persons of small stature, all clothed in green, and which she called fairies: upon which she was so frightened, that she fell into a kind of convulsive fit: but when we found her in this condition, we brought her into the house, and put her to bed, and took great care of her. As soon as she was recovered out of the fit, she cries out, ‘they are just gone out of the window; they are just gone out of the window. Do you not see them?’ And thus, in the height of her sickness, she would often cry out, and that with eagerness; which expressions we attributed to her distemper, supposing her light-headed.” This narrative of the girl seemed highly interesting to her superstitious neighbours, and she was induced to relate far more wonderful stories, upon which not the least dependance can be placed, as the sympathy she excited eventually induced her to become a rank impostor[^[62]].

But besides fairies, or elves, which formed the subject of many spectral illusions, a domestic spirit deserves to be mentioned, who was once held in no small degree of reverence. In most northern countries of Europe there were few families that were without a shrewd and knavish sprite, who, in return for the attention or neglect which he experienced, was known to

——“sometimes labour in the quern,

And bootless make the breathless housewife churn;

And sometimes make the drink to bear no barm!”

Mr. Douce, in his Illustrations of Shakspeare, has shewn, that the Samogitæ, a people formerly inhabiting the shores of the Baltic, who remained idolatrous so late as the 15th century, had a deity named Putseet, whom they invoked to live with them, by placing in the barn, every night, a table covered with bread, butter, cheese, and ale. If these were taken away, good fortune was to be expected; but if they were left, nothing but bad luck. This spirit is the same as the goblin-groom, Puck, or Robin Good-fellow of the English, whose face and hands were either of a russet or green colour, who was attired in a suit of leather, and armed with a flail. For a much lesser fee than was originally given him, he would assist in threshing, churning, grinding malt or mustard, and sweeping the house at midnight[^[63]]. A similar tall “lubbar fiend,” habited in a brown garb, was known in Scotland. Upon the condition of a little wort being laid by for him, or the occasional sprinkling, upon a sacrificial stone, of a small quantity of milk, he would ensure the success of many domestic operations. According to Olaus Magnus, the northern nations regarded domestic spirits of this description, as the souls of men who had given themselves up during life to illicit pleasures, and were doomed, as a punishment, to wander about the earth, for a certain time, in the peculiar shape which they assumed, and to be bound to mortals in a sort of servitude. It is natural, therefore, to expect, that these familiar spirits would be the subjects of many apparitions, of which a few relations are given in Martin’s Account of the Second Sight in Scotland. “A spirit,” says this writer, “called Browny, was frequently seen in all the most considerable families in the isles and the north of Scotland, in the shape of a tall man; but within these twenty or thirty years, he is seen but rarely.”

It is useless to pursue this subject much farther: in the course of a few centuries, the realms of superstition were increased to almost an immeasurable extent; the consequence was, that the air, the rocks, the seas, the rivers, nay, every lake, pool, brook, or spring, were so filled with spirits, both good and evil, that of each province it might be said, in the words of the Roman satirist, “Nosiba regio tam plena est numinibus, ut facilius possis deum quam hominem invenire.” Hence the modification which took place of systems of demonology, so as to admit of the classification of all descriptions of devils, whether Teutonic, Celtic, or Eastern systems of mythology. “Our schoolmen and other divines,” says Burton in his Anatomy of Melancholy, “make nine kinds of bad devils, as Dionysius hath of angels. In the first rank, are those false gods of the Gentiles, which were adored heretofore in several idols, and gave oracles at Delphos and elsewhere, whose prince is Beelzebub. The second rank is of liars and equivocators, as Apollo, Pythias, and the like. The third are those vessels of anger, inventors of all mischief, as that of Theutus in Plato. Esay calls them vessels of fury: their prince is Belial. The fourth are malicious, revengeful devils, and their prince is Asmodeus. The fifth kind are coseners, such as belong to magicians and witches; their prince is Satan. The sixth are those aërial devils that corrupt the air, and cause plagues, thunders, fires, &c. spoken of in Apocalypse and Paule; the Ephesians name them the prince of the air: Meresin is their prince. The seventh is a destroyer, captaine of the furies, causing wars, tumults, combustions, uproares, mentioned in the Apocalypse, and called Abaddon. The eighth is that accusing or calumniating devil, whom the Greeks call Διάβολος, that drives us to despair. The ninth are those tempters in several kindes, and their prince is Mammon.”

But this arrangement was not comprehensive enough; for, as Burton adds, “no place was void, but all full of spirits, devils, or other inhabitants; not so much as an haire-breadth was empty in heaven, earth, or waters, above or under the earth; the earth was not so full of flies in summer as it was at all times of invisible devils.” Pneumatologists, therefore, made two grand distinctions of demons; there were celestial demons, who inhabited the regions higher than the moon; while those of an inferior rank, as the Manes or Lemures, were either nearer the earth, or grovelled on the ground. Psellus, however, “a great observer of the nature of devils,” seems to have thought, that such a classification destroyed all distinction between good and evil spirits: he, therefore, denied that the latter ever ascended the regions above the moon, and contending for this principle, founded a system of demonology, which had for its basis the natural history and habitations of all demons. He named his first class fiery devils. They wandered in the region near the moon, but were restrained from entering into that luminary; they displayed their power in blazing stars, in fire-drakes, in counterfeit suns and moons, and in the euerpo santo, or meteoric lights, which, in vessels at sea, flit from mast to mast, and forebode foul weather. It was supposed that these demons occasionally resided in the furnaces of Hecla, Etna, or Vesuvius. The second class consisted of aërial devils. They inhabited the atmosphere, causing tempests, thunder and lightning; rending asunder oaks, firing steeples and houses, smiting men and beasts, showering down from the skies, stones[^[64]], wool, and even frogs; counterfeiting in the clouds the battles of armies, raising whirlwinds, fires, and corrupting the air, so as to induce plagues. The third class was terrestrial devils, such as lares, genii, fawns, satyrs, wood-nymphs, foliots, Robin good-fellows, or trulli. The fourth class were aqueous devils; as the various description of water-nymph, or mermen, or of merwomen. The fifth were subterranean devils, better known by the name dæmones itallici, metal-men, Getuli or Cobals. They preserved treasure in the earth, and prevented it from being suddenly revealed; they were also the cause of horrible earthquakes. Psellus’s sixth class of devils were named lucifugi; they delighted in darkness; they entered into the bowels of men, and tormented those whom they possessed with phrenzy and the falling sickness. By this power they were distinguished from earthly and aërial devils; they could only enter into the human mind, which they either deceived or provoked with unlawful affections.

Nor were speculations wanting with regard to the common nature of these demons. Psellus conceived that their bodies did not consist merely of one element, although he was far from denying that this might have been the case before the fall of Lucifer. It was his opinion, that devils possessed corporeal frames capable of sensation; that they could both feel and be felt; they could injure and be hurt; that they lamented when they were beaten, and that if struck into the fire, they even left behind them ashes,—a fact which was demonstrated in a very satisfactory experiment made by some philosophers upon the borders of Italy; that they were nourished with food peculiar to themselves, not receiving the aliment through the gullet, but absorbing it from the exterior surface of their bodies, after the manner of a sponge; that they did not hurt cattle from malevolence, but from mere love of the natural and temperate heat and moisture of these animals; that they disliked the heat of the sun, because it dried too fast; and, lastly, that they attained a great age. Thus, Cardan had a fiend bound to him twenty-eight years, who was forty-two years old, and yet considered very young. He was informed, from this very authentic source of intelligence, that devils lived from two to three hundred years, and that their souls died with their bodies. The very philosophical statement was, nevertheless, combated by other observers. “Manie,” says Scot, “affirmed that spirits were of aier, because they had been cut in sunder and closed presentlie againe, and also because they vanished away so suddenlie.”

“The Narrative of the Demon of Tedworth, or the disturbances at Mr. Monpesson’s house, caused by Witchcraft and Villainy of the Drummer.”

“In winter’s tedious nights, sit by the fire

With good old folks; and let them tell the tales

Of woeful ages long ago betid.”

“Mr. John Monpesson of Tedworth, in the County of Wilts, being about the middle of March, in the year 1661, at a neighbouring town called Ludlow, and hearing a drummer beat there, he enquired of the bailiff of the town at whose house he then was, what it meant. The bailiff told him, that they had for some days past been annoyed by an idle drummer, who demanded money of the constable by virtue of a pretended pass, which he thought was counterfeited. On hearing this, Mr. Monpesson sent for the fellow, and asked him by what authority he went up and down the country in that manner with his drum. The drummer answered, that he had good authority, and produced his pass, with a warrant under the hands of Sir William Cawley, and Colonel Ayliff, of Gretenham. Mr. Monpesson, however, being acquainted with the hand-writing of these gentlemen, discovered that the pass and warrant were counterfeit, upon which he commanded the vagrant to lay down his drum, and at the same time gave him in charge to a constable, to carry him before the next justice of the peace, to be farther examined and punished. The fellow then confessed that the pass and warrant were forged, and begged earnestly to be forgiven and to have his drum restored: upon this Mr. Monpesson told him, that if, upon enquiry from Colonel Ayliff, whose drummer he represented himself to be, he should turn out to be an honest man, he should listen to his entreaty and have the drum back again; but that, in the mean time, he would take care of it. The drum, therefore, was left in the bailiff’s hand; and the drummer went off in charge of the constable, who, it appears, was prevailed upon, by the fellow’s entreaties, to allow him to escape.

About the middle of April following, at a time when Mr. Monpesson was preparing for a journey to London, the bailiff sent the drum to his house. On his return from his journey, his wife informed him that they had been very much alarmed in the night by thieves, and that the house had like to have been torn down. In confirmation of this alarm, Mr. Monpesson had not been above three nights at home, when the same noise was again heard which had disturbed the family in his absence. It consisted of a tremendous knocking at the doors, and thumping on the walls of the house; upon which Mr. M. got out of bed, armed himself with a brace of pistols, opened the street door to ascertain the cause, which he had no sooner done, than the noise removed to another door, which he also opened, went out, and walked round the house; but could discover nothing, although he heard a strange noise and hollow sound. He had no sooner returned and got into bed, than he was again disturbed by a noise and drumming on the top of the house, which continued for a length of time, and then gradually subsided, as if it went off into the air.

The noise of thumping and drumming, after this, was very frequent; usually for five nights together, when there would be an intermission of three. The noise was on the outside of the house, which principally consisted of board; and usually came on just as the family was going to bed, whether that happened early or late. After continuing these annoyances for a month on the outside of the house, it at length made bold to come into the room where the drum lay, four or five nights in every seven; coming always on after they had got into bed, and continuing for two hours after. The signal for the appearance of the noise was the hearing of a hurling of the air over the house; and when it was about to retire, the drum would beat the same as if a guard were being relieved. It continued in this room for the space of two months, during which time Mr. Monpesson lay there to observe it. In the early part of the night, it used to be very troublesome, but after it had continued two hours, all would be quiet again.

During the prevalence of this disturbance, Mrs. Monpesson was brought to bed, and the night on which this occurrence took place, there was but very little noise made, nor any at all for the three subsequent weeks of her confinement. After this polite and well-timed cessation, it returned in a sudden and more violent manner than before; it followed and teased their youngest children, and beat against their bedstead so violently that every moment they were expected to be broken to pieces. On placing their hands upon them at this time, no blows were felt, although they were perceived to shake exceedingly. For an hour together the drum would beat roundheads and cuckold, the tat-too, and several other martial pieces, as well as any drummer could possibly execute them. After this, a scratching would be heard under the children’s beds, as if something that had iron claws were at work. It would lift the children up in their beds, follow them from one room to another, and for a while only haunted them, without playing any other pranks.

There was a cockloft in the house, which had not been observed to be troubled; and to this place the children were removed; and were always put to bed before daylight disappeared, but here they were no sooner laid, than their disturber was at his work again with them.

On the fifth of November, 1661, a terrible noise was kept up; and one of Mr. Monpesson’s servants observing two boards moving in the children’s room, asked that one might be given to him; upon which a board came (nothing moving it that he saw) within a yard of him; the man said again, let me have it in my hand; when it was brought quite close to him, and in this manner it was continued moving up and down, to and fro, for at least twenty minutes together. Mr. Monpesson, however, forbade his servant to take liberties with the invisible and troublesome guest in future. This circumstance took place in the day-time, and was witnessed by a whole room full of people. The morning this occurred, it left a very offensive sulphureous smell behind it. At night, the minister of the parish, one Mr. Cragg, and several of the neighbours, paid Mr. M. a visit. The minister prayed at the children’s bedside, when the demon was then extremely troublesome and boisterous. During time of prayer it retired into the cockloft, but as soon as prayers were over it returned; when in the presence and sight of the company, the chairs began to walk and strut about the room of their own accord, the children’s shoes were thrown over their heads, and every thing loose moved about the room. At the same time, a bedpost was thrown at the minister, which struck him on the leg, but so gently that a lock of wool could not have fallen more gently; and it was observed, that it stopped just where it fell, without rolling or otherwise moving from the place.

In consequence of the demon tormenting the children so incessantly, he had them removed to a neighbour’s house, taking his eldest daughter, who was about ten years of age, into his own chamber, where it had not been for a month before; but, as soon as she was in bed, the noise began there again, and the drumming continued for three weeks with other noises; and if any particular thing was called for to be beaten on the drum, it would perform it. The children were brought home again, in consequence of the house where they were placed being crowded with strangers. They were now placed in the parlour, which, it was remarked, had hitherto not been disturbed; but no sooner were they here, than their tormentor, while they were in bed, amused himself with pulling their hair and bedgowns, without offering any other violence.

It was remarked, that when the noise was loudest, and when it came with the most sudden and surprising violence, no dog about the house would move or bark, though the knocking and thumping were often so boisterous and rude, that they were heard at a considerable distance in the fields, and awakened the neighbours in the village, some of whom lived very near this house. Not unfrequently the servants would be lifted up, with their bed, to a considerable height, and then let gently down again without harm; at other times it would lie like a great weight upon their feet.

About the end of December, 1661, the drumming was less frequent, but then a noise like the chinking of money was substituted for it, occasioned, as it was thought, in consequence of something Mr. Monpesson’s mother had said the day before to a neighbour, who spoke about fairies leaving money behind them; viz. that she should like it well, if it would leave them some to make them amends for the trouble it had caused them. The following night, a great chinking and jingling of money was heard all over the house. After this it left off its ruder pranks, and amused itself in little apish and less troublesome tricks. On Christmas morning, a little before daylight, one of the little boys was hit, as he was getting out of bed, upon a sore place on his heel, with the latch of the door, the pin of which, that fastened it to the door, was so small, that it was a matter of no little difficulty for any one else to pick it. The night after Christmas, it threw the old gentlewoman’s clothes about the room, and hid her bible in the ashes; with a number of other mischievous tricks of the same kind.

After this, it became very troublesome to one of Mr. Monpesson’s servant men, a stout fellow, and of sober conversation. This man slept in the house during the greater part of the disturbance; and for several nights something would attempt to pull the bedclothes off him, which he often, though not always, prevented by main force; his shoes were frequently thrown at his head, and sometimes he would find himself forcibly held, as it were, hand and feet; but he found that when he could use a sword which he had by him, and struck with it, the spirit let go his hold.

Some short time after these contests, a son of Mr. Thomas Bennet, for whom the drummer had sometimes worked, came to the house, and mentioned some words to Mr. Monpesson that the drummer had spoken, which it seems were not well taken; for they were no sooner in bed, than the drum began to beat in a most violent manner: the gentleman got up and called his man, who was lying with Mr. Monpesson’s servant just mentioned, whose name was John. As soon as Mr. Bennet’s man was gone, John heard a rustling noise in his chamber, as if a person in silks were moving up and down; he immediately put out his hand for his sword, which he felt was withheld by some one, and it was with difficulty and much tugging, that he got it again into his possession, which he had no sooner done, than the spectre left him; and it was always remarked it avoided a sword. About the beginning of January, 1662, they used to hear a singing in the chimney before it descended; and one night, about this time, lights were seen in the house. One of them came into Mr. Monpesson’s chamber, which appeared blue and glimmering, and caused a great stiffness in the eyes of those who beheld it. After the light disappeared, something was heard walking or creeping up stairs, as if without shoes. The light was seen four or five times in the children’s chamber; and the maids confidently affirm, that the doors were at least ten times opened or shut in their presence; and that, when they were opened, they heard a noise as if half a dozen had entered together; some of which were afterwards heard to walk about the room, and one rustled about as if it had been dressed in silk, similar to that Mr. Monpesson himself heard.

While the demon was in one of his knocking moods, and at a time when many were present, a gentleman of the company said, “Satan, if the drummer set thee to work, give three knocks and no more;” which it did very distinctly, and stopped. The same gentleman then knocked to hear if it would answer him as it was accustomed to do. For further proof, he required it, if it actually were the drummer that employed him as the agent of his malice, to give five knocks and no more that night; which it did, and quietly left the house for the remainder of the night. This was done in the presence of Sir Thomas Chamberlaine of Oxfordshire, and many other creditable persons.

On Saturday morning, an hour before daylight, January 10, a drum was heard beating upon the outside of Mr. Monpesson’s chamber, from whence it went to the other end of the house, where some gentlemen strangers lay, and commenced playing at their door four or five different tunes; and at length flew off in the air. The next night, a blacksmith in the village, and Mr. Monpesson’s man John, who was lying with him, heard a noise in the room, as if somebody were shoeing a horse; and something came with something like a pair of pincers, and nipped at the blacksmith’s nose the whole of the night.

Getting up one morning to go a journey, Mr. Monpesson heard a great noise below, where the children lay; and on running down instantly with a pistol in his hand, he heard a voice cry out, a witch! a witch! similar to one they had heard on a former occasion. On his entering the apartment, all became quiet again.

The demon having one night played some little pranks at the foot of Mr. Monpesson’s bed, it went into another bed, where one of his daughters lay, and passed from one side to the other, lifting her up as it passed under her. At that time there were three kinds of noises in the bed. They attempted to thrust at it with a sword, but it continually evaded them. The following night it came panting like a dog out of breath, when some one present took a bedpost to strike at it, when it was immediately snatched out of her hand; and company coming up stairs at the same time, the room was filled with a nauseous stench, and very hot, although there was no fire on, and during a very sharp winter’s night. It continued panting an hour and a half, panting and scratching; and afterwards went into the adjoining chamber, where it began to knock a little, and seemed to rattle a chair; thus it continued for two or three nights in succession. The old lady’s bible after this was found again among the ashes, with the leaves downwards. It was taken up by Mr. Monpesson, who observed that it lay open at the third chapter of St. Mark, where mention is made of the unclean spirits falling down before our Saviour, and of his giving power to the twelve Apostles to cast out devils, and of the Scribes’ opinion, and that he cast them out through Beelzebub.

The following morning ashes were scattered over the chamber floor, to see what impressions would be left upon it; in the morning, in one place they found the resemblance of a great claw in another that of a smaller one, some letters in another, which could not be decyphered, besides a number of circles and scratches in the ashes, which no one understood except the demon itself.

About this time, the author of the narration went to the house to enquire after the truth of the circumstances which made so much noise in that part of the country. The demon had left off drumming, and the terrible noises it was in the habit of making before he arrived; but most of the remarkable facts already related, were confirmed to him there by several of the neighbours, on whose veracity he could depend, who had witnessed them. It now used to haunt the children after they were gone to bed. On the night he was there, the children went to bed about 8 o’clock; a maid servant immediately came down and informed us that the spirit was come. The neighbours then present went away, as well as two ministers who had previously been some time in the house, but Mr. Monpesson the author, and another gentleman who came with him, went up to the room where the children were in bed. A scratching was heard as they went up stairs, and just as they got into the room, it was perceived just behind the bolster of the bed in which the children lay, and appeared to be lying against the tick. The noise it made was like that made with long nails upon the bolster. There were two little girls, about seven or eight years of age, in the bed. Their hands were outside the bedclothes, so that it was perfectly visible the noise was not made by them which was behind their heads: they had been so used to it of late, and always with some present in the chamber, that they seemed to take very little notice of it. The narrator, who was standing at the head of the bed, thrust his hand behind the bolster from whence the noise proceeded, when it was immediately heard in another part of the bed; but as soon as his hand was taken away, it returned to the same place as before. On being told that it would imitate noises, he made trial by scratching several times upon the sheet, as five, seven, and ten times: it exactly replied to them by equal numbers. He looked under and behind the bed, grasped the bolster, sounded the wall, and made every possible search to find out any trick, contrivance, or other cause, as well as his friend, but could discover nothing. So that in truth he concluded, that the noise was made by some spirit or demon. After it had scratched about for half an hour or more, it got into the middle of the bed under the children, where it lay panting loudly, like a dog out of breath. The author then put his hand upon the place, and plainly felt the bed bearing up against it, as if it contained something within thrusting it up. He grasped the feather to feel if he could distinguish any thing alive; then looked every where about to see if there were any dog or cat, or other creature, in the room; every one present followed his example, but still they discovered nothing. The motion it caused by its panting was so violent, that it had a visible effect on the room and windows. In this manner it continued for half an hour, the time the author was present. During this panting, something was seen in a linen bag that was hung up against another bed, that was taken for a mouse or rat, but upon the closest examination of it, nothing was found in it of any description.

The author and his friend afterwards slept in the very identical chamber where the principal disturbance had been first made. He was awakened by a terrible noise made on the outside of the chamber door. He awoke his friend, and asked three distinct times who was there, but received no answer. At last he exclaimed, “in the name of God who is it, and what would you have? To which a voice answered, nothing with you. Thinking it was some of the servants of the house, they went to sleep again. Mentioning, however, the circumstance the next morning to Mr. Monpesson, he declared that no one of the house lay that way, or had any business thereabouts, and that none of his servants had got up until they were called by him some time after daylight. This the servants confirmed, and protested that the noise was not made by them. Previous to this, Mr. Monpesson had told us, that it would go away in the middle of the night, and return at different times about four o’clock, which was supposed to be about the hour it was heard by the author and his friend.

Another circumstance connected with this seemingly mysterious business was, that the author’s servant coming up to him in the morning, told him, that one of his horses, the one which he had rode, was all in a sweat, and appeared in every other respect as if it had been out all night. His friend and him went down to the stable, and actually found him in the state he was represented to be. On inquiry how the horse had been treated, he was assured that the animal had been well fed, and taken care of as he used to be; his servant besides was extremely careful of his horses. “The horse,” says the author, “I had had a good time, and never knew but he was very sound. But after I had rid him a mile or two very gently over a plain down from Mr. Monpesson’s house, he fell lame, and having made a hard shift to bring me home, died in two or three days, no one being able to imagine what he ailed. This, I confess, might be the consequence of an accident, or some unusual distemper, but all things put together, it seems very probable that it was somewhat else.”

Mr. Monpesson then stated, that one morning a light appeared in the children’s chamber, and a voice was heard crying—a witch! a witch! for at least an hundred times together. At another time, seeing some wood move on the chimney of a room where he was, he fired a pistol among it; and on examining the place afterwards, several drops of blood were discovered on the hearth, and on several parts of the stairs. For two or three nights after the discharge of the pistol nothing was heard, but it returned, and so persecuted a little child newly taken from the nurse, that the poor infant was not suffered to rest either day or night; nor would the mischievous demon suffer a candle to burn in the room, but either ran up the chimney with them alight, or threw them under the bed. It so frightened this child by leaping upon it, that it continued in fits for several hours; and ultimately they were obliged to remove the children out of the house. Something was heard the next night, about the hour of midnight, coming up stairs; it knocked at Mr. Monpesson’s door, but he not answering, it went up another pair of stairs to his man’s chamber, and appeared to him at his bed foot. The exact shape and proportion of the demon he could not discover; all he saw was a great body, with two red and glaring eyes, which for some time were steadily fixed upon him; and at length they disappeared.

On another occasion, in the presence of strangers, it purred in the children’s bed like a cat, and lifted the children up so forcibly, that six men could not keep them down; upon which they removed the children to another bed, but no sooner were they laid here than this became more troubled than the first. In this manner it continued for four hours, and so unmercifully beat the poor children’s legs against the posts, that they were obliged to sit up all night. It then emptied chamber-pots, and threw ashes into the beds, and placed a long iron pike in Mr. Monpesson’s, and a knife into his mother’s. It would fill porringers with ashes, throw every thing about, and kick up the devil’s diversion from morning till night, and from night till morning.

About the beginning of April, 1663, a gentleman that lay in the house, had all his money turned black in his pockets; and one morning Mr. Monpesson going into his stable, found the horse he was accustomed to ride upon, lying on the ground with one of its hind legs in its mouth, and fastened there in such a manner, that several men with a leaver, had the greatest difficulty in getting it out. After this there were a number of other remarkable things occurred, but the author’s account extends no farther; with the exception that Mr. Monpesson wrote him word, that the house was afterwards, for several nights, beset with seven or eight beings in the shape of men, who, as soon as a gun was discharged, would scud away into an adjoining arbour.

The drummer, however, it appears, was apprehended in consequence of these strange and mysterious occurrences. He was first, it seems, committed to Gloucester jail for stealing, where a Wiltshire man going to see him, the drummer enquired the news in Wiltshire: the reply was, none: No, returned he, do you not hear of the drumming at a gentleman’s house at Tedworth? That I do, said the other, enough: “I, quoth the drummer, I have plagued him (or something to that purpose) and he never shall be quiet until he has made me satisfaction for taking away my drum. Upon information made to this effect, the drummer was tried for a wizzard at Sarum, and all the main circumstances here related being sworn to at the assizes, by the minister of the parish, and several others of the most intelligent and substantial inhabitants, who had been eye and earwitnesses of them, from time to time, for many years past; the drummer was sentenced to transportation, and accordingly sent away; and as the story runs, ’tis said, that by raising storms, and terrifying the seamen, he contrived, some how or other, to get back again. And what is still as remarkable, is, that during his restraint and absence, Mr. Monpesson’s house remained undisturbed; but as soon as the demon of his quiet returned, he fell to his old tricks again as bad as ever.”

The drummer had been a soldier under Cromwell, and used to talk much of “gallant books” which he had of an old fellow, who was counted a wizzard.

On the authority of Mr. Glanvil, who had it from Mr. Monpesson, we have the following story.

“The gentleman, Mr. Hill, who was with me, being in company with one Compton of Somersetshire, who practised physic, and pretends to strange matters, related to him this story of Mr. Monpesson’s disturbance. The physician told him, he was sure it was nothing but a rendezvous of witches, and that for an hundred pounds he would undertake to rid the house of all disturbance. In pursuit of this discourse, he talkt of many high things, and having drawn my friend into another room, apart from the rest of the company, said, he would make him sensible that he could do something more than ordinary, and asked him who he desired to see; Mr. Hill had no great confidence in his talk, but yet being earnestly pressed to name some one, he said he desired to see no one so much as his wife, who was then many miles distant from them at her home. Upon this, Compton took up a looking-glass that was in the room, and setting it down again, bid my friend look into it, which he did, and then, as he most solemnly and seriously professeth, he saw the exact image of his wife, in that habit which she then wore, and working at her needle in such a part of the room, there also represented, in which and about which time she really was, as he found upon enquiring upon his return home. The gentleman himself averred this to me, and he is a sober, intelligent, and credible person. Compton had no knowledge of him before, and was an utter stranger to the person of his wife. The same man is again alluded to, in the story of the witchcrafts of Elizabeth Styles, whom he discovered to be a witch, by foretelling her coming into a house, and going out again without speaking. He was by all accounted a very odd person.”