Good Spirit—“Lett me see it, and if I like it I will seale it alsoe.”
Bad Spirit—“Thou shalt, if thou wilt not reveale the contentes thereof.”
Good Spirit—“I will not.”
At this point it was pretended that a spectral bond was passed from the bad to the good ghost; and then broke out the “sweet and shrill voice” of the ventriloquist with “Alas! oh, pittifull, pittifull, pittifull! What! eight seales? bloody seales! four dead and four alive; oh, miserable!” Then came in the man’s natural voice, addressing the spirit: “Come, come, prithee tell me why did they bewitch me?” Bad Spirit—“Because thou didst call Johan Greedie witche.” Man—“Why, is shee not a witche?” Bad Spirit—“Yes, but thou shouldst not have said so,” which was a fine bit of worldly policy in the bad ghost. Good Spirit—“But why did Bull bewitche him?” Bad—“Because Greedie was not strong enough.”
On this evidence further messengers were sent off for Edward Bull, but whether to Yeohull or not I cannot say. They were disappointed for the moment, for Bull had run away; and then, in a future interview, and to fill up the time until braver sport should be provided, the bad and the good spirits had a wrestle for Dinham’s soul, which, judging from what evidence we have had left us, was not worth the struggle, and would be no great gain to either party. In the struggle the good spirit speaks Latin. “Laudes, laudes, laudes,” says he, being well educated and not ashamed. But the bad was, as befitted his nature, churlish and ill-taught, and did not understand his opponent’s talk, but translated it into “ladies,” which made a laugh among them all. Then they struggled for the Prayer Book; but here again the bad was discomfited, and the man kept the talisman; after which the good spirit made “the sweetest musicke that ever was heard.” When they set out to catch Bull again, they found him in bed; and now, when both the Possessors were safe, Dinham was freed and his voices dumb for ever. Perhaps he had caught cold. I do not know the fate of these poor wretches, but I should not think it doubtful.
In 1627 Mr. Rothnell exorcised an evil spirit out of one John Fox; but notwithstanding this John continued dumb for three years after; which was rather an unfortunate comment on the exorcism, but not at all likely to open the eyes of any one willing to be blind.
THE SECOND CURSE OF PENDLE.[128]
We have seen what Lancashire was in sixteen hundred and twelve: it was not much better twenty-one years later; for in 1633 we find that Pendle Forest was still of bad repute, and that traditions of old Demdike and her rival Mother Chattox yet floated round the Malkin Tower, and hid, spectre-like, in the rough and desert places of the barren waste. Who ever knew of evil example waiting for its followers? What Mothers Demdike and Chattox had done in their day, their children and grandchildren were ready to do after them. The world will never lose its old women, “toothless, blear-eyed, foul-tongued, malicious,” for whom love died out and sin came in long years ago; and Edmund Robinson, son of Ned of Roughs, was one of those specially appointed by Providence to bring such evildoers to their reward.
Edmund, then about eleven years of age (how many of these sad stories come from children and young creatures!), lived with his father in Pendle Forest; lived poorly enough, but not without some kind of romance and interest; for on the 10th day of February, 1633, he made the following deposition:—