Whence all my strength I drew.
Take then the gift, my mother,
And till thy path is trod,
Thy child's last token cherish—
WITCHCRAFT IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.
Sir Roger Twysden, with all his learning, could not rise above the credulity of his age; and was, to the last, as firm a believer in palmistry and witchcraft, and all the illusions of magic, as the generality of his cotemporaries. His commonplace-books furnish numerous instances of the childlike simplicity with which he gave credence to any tale of superstition for which the slightest shadow of authenticity could be discovered.
The following amusing instance of this almost infantine credulity, I have extracted from one of his note-books; merely premising that his wife Isabella was daughter of Sir Nicholas Saunders, the narrator of the tale:—
"The 24th September, 1632, Sir Nicholas Saunders told me hee herd my lady of Arundall, widow of Phylip who dyed in ye Tower 1595, a virtuous and religious lady in her way, tell the ensuing relation of a Cat her Lord had. Her Lord's butler on a tyme, lost a cuppe or bowle of sylver, or at least of yt prise he was much troubled for, and knowing no other way, he went to a wyzard or Conjurer to know what was become of it, who told him he could tell him where he might see the bowle if he durst take it. The servant sayd he would venture to take it if he could see it, bee it where it would. The wyzard then told hym in such a wood there was a bare place, where if he hyed himself for a tyme he appoynted, behind a tree late in the night he should see ye Cuppe brought in, but wth all advised him if he stept in to take it, he should make hast away wth it as fast as myght bee. The servant observed what he was commanded by ye Conjurer, and about Mydnyght he saw his Lord's Cat bring in the cup was myst, and divers other creatures bring in severall other things; hee stept in, went, and felt ye Cuppe, and hyde home: where when he came he told his fellow servants this tale, so yt at ye last it was caryed to my Lord of Arundel's eare; who, when his Cat came to him, purring about his leggs as they used to doo, began jestingly to speake to her of it. The Cat presently upon his speech flewe in his face, at his throat, so yt wthout ye help of company he had not escaped wthout hurt, it was wth such violence: and after my lord being rescued got away, unknown how, and never after seene.
"There is just such a tale told of a cat a Lord Willoughby had, but this former coming from so good hands I cannot but believe.—R. T."