a precious babe of grace snatched from destruction. They are to be found in ‘A Booke declaring the fearfull vexation of one Alexander Nyndge, Beynge moste Horriblye tormented wyth an euyll spirit, the xx. daie of Januarie. In the yere of our Lorde 1573, at Lyeringswell in Suffolke;’ and this book sets forth the details of the various fits which Alexander Nyndge indulged in, for the purpose, as it seems, of enabling his brother Edward to prove his power of exorcism. His first fit began one evening at seven—his father, mother, brothers, and the residue of the household being present; his chest and body swelled, his eyes stared wildly as if starting from their sockets, his back bent inward: the household was disturbed and sore affrighted, but brother Edward had courage enough to say that it was an evil spirit, and undertook to exorcise it. So he charged the foul fiend to come out of him, and the countenance of his brother became more sad and fearful than it was before. Edward was not dismayed but returned to the conflict full of confidence, not giving in even when Alexander and the devil had a wrestle together; or rather when the devil within him seemed as if he would have torn him to pieces, so great was his rage and malice. After some time of this kind of work, Edward got the devil to confess to one or two little matters. In the first place his name was Aubon, and he came last from Ireland; he had come for Alexander’s soul, which his brother was not disposed to give up; and by a strange slip of the tongue he called Christ his Redeemer: but Edward rebuked him, as became a learned M.A., reminding him that He was Alexander’s Redeemer in truth, but not his, the foul fiend’s. Even this palpable blunder did not enlighten the Nyndge household as to whose was really the “hollow ghostly” voice proceeding out of Alexander’s chest. At last, when Edward had tired him very much, and powerfully shaken him, he said, gruffly, “Bawe wawe, bawe wawe!” and Alexander was transformed, “much like a picture in a play,” while a terrible roaring voice sounded “Hellsownd.” Then they opened the windows to allow the foul spirit to escape; and in two minutes Alexander leaped up joyfully, crying, “He is gone! he is gone!” After this he had a second, and then a third, attack; but his brother, praying in his right ear, comforted him and finally cured him, for he was never after tormented. Luckily he had not fixed upon any unhappy old woman as the cause of his disorder, so it passed for a case of simple “possession,” which prayer and supplication had overcome.
ADE DAVIE’S MOURNING.[97]
Ade Davie, wife of Simon Davie husbandman, had a wiser man for her husband, simple and unlearned as he was, than had many a wretched creature for her judge. Ade suddenly became sad and pensive as she never had been in times past. Her husband did his best to cheer her, but Ade still continued sorrowful; when, at last her burden grew heavier than she could bear, falling down at Simon’s feet she besought him to forgive her, for that she had grievously offended both God and him. “Her poor husband being abashed at this her behaviour, comforted her as he could; asking her the cause of her trouble and greefe; who told him that she had, contrary to God’s law, and to the offence of all good Christians, to the injury of him, and specially to the losse of her own soul, bargained and given her soul to the devill, to be delivered unto him within short space. Whereunto her husband answered, saying, ‘Wife, be of good cheer, this thy bargain is void and of none effect; for thou hast sold that which is none of thine to sell: sith it belongeth to Christ, who hath bought it, and dearly paid for it, even with his blood, which he shed upon the crosse; so as the devil hath no interest in thee.’ After this, with like submission, teares, and penitence, she said unto him, ‘Oh, husband, I have yet committed another fault, and done you more injury; for I have bewitched you and four children.’ ‘Be content,’ quoth he, ‘by the grace of God, Jesus Christ can unwitch us; for none evill can happen to them that fear God.’”
This fresh and pure idyl comes to us with a sweet and wholesome savour, in the midst of the foul quagmires of superstition where it stands; and that poor husbandman’s simple faith in God’s goodness and his wife’s virtue is more touching than many a grand heroic deed which has the suffrages of all history to float it through the life of the world. Simon Davie was an unlettered man, but he was strong-hearted and believing, and, thinking that earnest prayer might comfort his wife, when the time approached for the Devil to come and close his bargain, knelt down by her and prayed, she joining with him fervently. Then they heard a low rumbling noise below which made the windows shake, and which convinced the poor wife that it was the Devil trying to take possession of her soul, but barred out from the chamber by the fervent prayers aforesaid. In the morning it was found that the noise came from a dog which had devoured a sheep that was newly flayed and hung against the wall; and in due time, Ade Davie recovering her reason—for she was crazed, and took every fire to be the fire lighted to burn her for witchcraft—came to the knowledge that she had never sold her soul to the Devil at all, and had never bewitched husband or children, but had always been a faithful wife and fond mother—afflicted with a light brain and nervous imagination.
THE POSSESSION OF MILDRED NORRINGTON.[98]
Mildred, the “base daughter” of Alice Norrington, being seventeen years of age, was likewise possessed of the Devil, in much the same way as Alexander Nyndge had been. She lived as servant with William Spooner of Westwell, in the county of Kent, and her case attracted great attention. All the divines of the neighbourhood assembled at Spooner’s house on the 13th of October, 1574, to endeavour to cast out the Devil by such means of prayer and exorcism as they had at their command. Powerfully did they pray; mightily roared the Devil; “And tho’ we did command him many times, in the Name of God, and of his Son Jesus Christ, and in his mighty Power to speak, yet he would not, until he had gone through all his Delays, as roaring, crying, striving, and gnashing of teeth, and otherwise, with mowing and other terrible Countenances, and was so strong in the Maid that four men could scarce hold her down.” This continued for about two hours, and then he spoke out, but very strangely, crying, “He comes, he comes,” and “He goes, he goes.” When charged to tell the exorcists who had sent him, he said, “I lay in her way like a Log, and I made her run like Fire; but I could not hurt her.” “And why so?” said we. “Because God kept her,” said he. When asked when he came to her, he said, “At night, in her bed.” And when charged to tell them his name, he said, “The Devil, the Devil.” But being still more powerfully exhorted, he roared and cried as before, and spake terrible words: “I will kill her; I will kill her; I will tear her in pieces; I will kill you all!” Asked again, and conjured so that he could not escape, he was forced to confess that his name was Satan, and Little Devil, and Partner, and that old Alice had sent him—old Alice in Westwell Street, with whom he had lived these twenty years shut up in two bottles. “Where be they?” said we. “In the back side of her house,” said he. “In what place?” said we. “Under the wall,” said he. The other was at Kennington, in the ground. Then we asked him what old Alice had given him. He said, “Her will, her will.” “What did she bid thee do?” said we. “Kill her maid,” he said, because she did not love her. He then said that he had been to the vicarage loft in the likeness of two birds, and that old Alice had sent him and his servant (another devil) to kill those whom she loved not. “How many hast thou killed for her?” said we. “Three,” said he. “Who are they?” said we. “A man and his child,” said he. “What were their names?” said we. “The child’s name was Edward,” said he. “What more than Edward?” said we. “Edward Ager,” said he. “What more?” said we. “Richard Ager,” said he. “Where dwelt the man and the child?” said we. “At Dig, at Dig,” said he. This Richard Ager was a gentleman of forty pounds’ land by the year; a very honest man, but would often say he was bewitched, and languished long ere he died. The Devil—or Mildred for him—said that he had also killed Wotton’s wife, and that he used to fetch old Alice meat and drink and corn, and that he had been at many houses (named) doing her wicked will. Then he was adjured so that he could not resist, when he cried out that he would go, he would go, and so he departed. Then said the maid, “He is gone. Lord have mercy on me! for he would have killed me!” So those ministers and neighbours present all kneeled down and thanked God for Mildred’s deliverance; and she kept her countenance, and did not betray herself. But a short time after, the “bruit of her divinity and miraculous trances” spreading far and wide, Mr. Thomas Wotton, “a man of great Worship and Wisdom, and for deciding and ordering of Matters, of rare and singular Dexterity,” got to the true understanding of the case, when “the Fraud was found, and the cozenage confessed, and she received condign Punishment.” After her trial, and when she knew the worst, she “showed her Feats, Illusions, and Trances, with the Residue of all her miraculous Works in the Presence of divers Gentlemen of great Worship and Credit at Boston-Malherb, in the House of the said Mr. Wotton.” “Now compare this wench with the witch of Endor, and you shall see that both the cozenages may be done by one art,” says Reginald Scot.
MISCELLANEOUS.
It was in this same year that Agnes Brigs and Rachel Pindar had to do penance at St. Paul’s Cross, in London,[99] having been convicted of cheat and imposture in pretending to vomit pins and straws and old “clouts,” and other such impossibilities; and for counterfeiting possession by the Devil, which the philosophers of the time thought was no subject to trifle with, or affect in any manner whatsoever. And then, a few years later, a young Dutchman living at Maidstone was dispossessed of ten devils, and the mayor of the town got to subscribe his name to the account, which turned out afterwards to be nothing but fraud and lies. In 1579[100] four witches were hung up together, the chief accusation against one of them, Mother Still, being, “that she did kill one Saddocke with a touch on the shoulder, for not keeping promise with her for an old cloak, to make her a safeguard; and that she was hanged for her labour:” and another, Ellein Smith, was executed at Maldon,[101] on the testimony of her little son of eight, who accused her of having three spirits—Great Dick in a wicker bottle, Little Dick in a leathern bottle, and Willet kept in a woolpack. Upon which the house was commanded to be searched, and “the bottles and packe were found, but the spirites were banished awaie.”
At the Rochester assizes, held 1591, Margaret Simons,[102] the wife of John Simons, of Brenchley in Kent, was arraigned for witchcraft, on the charge of bewitching the son of John Ferrall the vicar. An ill-conditioned young cub was he, and prentice to Robert Scotchford, clothier; and the father himself seems to have been little better than his son—making a bad pair between them for the teacher and “pattern child” of Brenchley. There had long been ill blood between Mr. John Ferrall, vicar, and Margaret Simons; and one day it came somewhat to a head; for, when the boy was passing Margaret’s house on his way home, her little dog jumped out at him and barked. “Which thing the boy taking in evil part,” says Reginald Scot, in his quaint, blunt, incisive way, “drew his knife, and pursued him therewith even to her door; whom she rebuked with some such words as the boy disclaimed, and yet neverthelesse would not be perswaded to depart in a long time.” The consequence of the fray was, that the boy in five or six days’ time fell dangerously ill. Then the vicar, “who thought himself so privileged as he little mistrusted that God would visit his children with sicknesse,” declared that his son was bewitched by Margaret Simons, who also had done the like evil to himself; for whenever he wished to read the service with special emphasis and care his voice always failed him, so that his congregation could scarce hear him at all. Margaret made answer that his voice was always hoarse and low, and particularly when he strained himself to speak loudest then it ever failed him: but there was no witchcraft in the case, for all that Mr. Ferrall had procured the health of his son at the hands of another witch, who had taken off the charm and effected a perfect cure. Margaret had a very narrow escape for her life. The whole of the jury, save one man, were against her, but she had in her favour the fact that the vicar was very unpopular, and, justly or unjustly, lay under some odious charges; so, what with the sane juryman’s exertions in her favour, and Mr. Ferrall’s small hold on the interest and affections of his parishioners, she was brought in Not Guilty, and the hangman’s cord fell slack from his greedy grasp.