Part 33

“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. 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. 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.

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.”

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.

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. 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, 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.