M. MAXWELL.

This is a Scotch physician, who asserted so clearly the doctrine of magnetism, that you often hear from him VOL. II. s
258 HisTOEY or magic.
the very words of Mesrncr. He Tvas well acquainted witk Ms predecessors, and exerted himself to bring their ideas into a system, and therewith to build up a firm platform of science. On this account he flattered himself that he had raised magnetic medicine out of chaos.
His doctrines are stated with admirable brevity and per- spicuity in a little volume. His work first appeared at Heidelberg. Another edition appeared at Frankfort (Medi- ciua magnetica, Libri III., in quibus tarn theoria quam praxis continetur ; opus novum admirabile, Trancof. 1679, 16). His magnetic theory, which much resembles that of Mesmer, may be briefly stated.
" That which men call the world-soul is a life, as fire, spiritual, fleet, light and ethereal as light itself. It is a life-spirit everywhere, and everywhere the same ; and this is the common bond of all quarters of the earth, and lives tlirough and in all." Adest in mundo quid commune om- nibus mextis, in quo ipsa permanent, etc.
This spirit maintains all things in their peculiar con- dition : all matter is destitute of action, except as it is eusoiiied by this spirit.
'• If thou canst avail thyself of this spirit, and heap it up in particular bodies, thou wilt receive no trifling benefit from it, for therein consists all the mystery of magic. This- spirit is found in nature free from all fetters ; and he who understands how to unite it with a harmonising body pos- sesses a treasure which exceeds all riches.*'
" According to the variety of natural directions and capa- bilities, an experienced artist can impart it to all bodies and to every man in a surprising manner" — Aphorism 38.
'' He who knows how to operate on men by this uni- versal spirit, can heal, and this at any distance that he pleases" — Aphorism 69.
Maxwell believed that this universal spirit was to be found in light, and this, therefore, was his universal medium. iSuch an one there must be, and it is no other than the lite-spirit condensed on some particular object.
'• He who can invigorate the particular spirit through the universal one, might continue liis life to eternity if the stars were not hostile" — Aphorism 70. " He who knows this universal life-spirit and its application can prevent all in-
MAXWELL Oy HEALING. 259
juries. Therefore tlie physicians should see how much they might affect by it in the art of healing" — Aphorism 22.
" There is a linking together of spirits, or of emanations, even when they are far separated from each other. But what is this linking together? It is an incessant out- pouring of the rays of one body into another."
" In the meantime it is not without danger to treat of this. Many abominable abuses of this may take place :" which, according to his opinion, would be immensely mis- chievous. Let us hear himself. (Conf. XIII. cap. conclus. 12.)
" But I will not allure to forbidden things ; if thou shouldst find anything in my writings which is dangerous do not make it known. As I have brought forward the wonders of this art, and its great advantages, I cannot, at the same time, be silent on its disadvantages, of which a pernicious use may be made. For to turn the mind from such things requires, besides a commanding will, a strong power and the combination of many circumstances. But the ignorant peojile do not understand this, and therefore they calumniate the truth, and declare it to be lies, or the work of the devil."
In reply to the charge of being eccentric, and of de- siring to establish a new doctrine, he says : — " That I have quitted the track of the multitude of philosophers, I ac- knowledge ; for I admit either none at all, or at most a very small portion, of school philosophy. He who only is ac- quainted with the ordinary philosophy of the schools, and as a physician, with Galen, I pray to desist from the reading of my treatise, for he is neither in a condition to judge of it, nor even to understand it. It departs too far from his custom.
'• What can I expect from severe and ignorant judges ?
" Our teaching is founded on a genuine and unquestionable experience, from which, as from a very liberal fountain, the most beautiful stream flows" — (cap. vii. conclus. G).
" We will, therefore, instigated by love and for the public good, give the cure of six of the most difficult complaints, and which the mob of physicians declare to be incurable. Tliese are — Insanity, epilepsy, impotence, dropsy, lameness, and continued as well as intermittent fever," — (1. c. in prte- fatione.)
2G0 nisTOBY or magic.
Finally, lie says in another place, — " Have we not in past ages seen the whole world, as it were, moved into furious hostility against tliis means of cure ? "Was it not, by the loud expression of certain experience, which yet must be held even sacred and unquestioned, declared to be sorcery, devilish, and deemed crime and folly ?" — (Preface.)
I believe we may conclude from these few passages that Maxwell well understood and was familiar with the practice of magnetism ; and that his views upon it so entirely agreed with ours, that the magnetic physician of the present time may adopt liis expressions as their own.
G-EAHAM was another Scottish physician of Edinburgh, who was not so much a teacher of magic and a defender of magnetism as that he was the introducer of a peculiar bed of state for the healing of diseases ; and which may probably be regarded as a very excellent magnetic means, as we have already seen that amongst the ancients there were similar beds placed in the temples for that purpose. He was also said to have discovered a magnetic water and powder. I take from the already mentioned Anti-magnetism the description of this bed : —
" He termed his house the temple of Hygeia, in which he united the useful and agreeable. Everywhere prevailed the highest splendour. In the front court itself, our eye- witness declares that art, discovery, and wealth, had actually exhausted themselves. On the walls of the apartments electric fires made rainbow glories, star-beams gushed out, and transparent glasses of all colours were brought together with infinite taste and discrimination. All this, says the eye-witness, is exciting to the imagination in the highest degree.
His grand means of cure, combined with a spare diet and a bottle of medicine, was his magnetic, elastic bed. This stood in a splendid chamber, to which a cylinder was intro- duced from an adjoining apartment, and through it was conveyed the healing stream into the sleeping room, as well as all sorts of fragrant but strengthening medicines and Eastern perfumes through glass tubes. The heavenly bed itself rested on six transparent pillars ; the bed-clothes, of purple and sky-blue satin, were spread over mattresses.
YALEKTINE GHArEEAKErf. 261
wet through with Arabian and Oriental odoriferous waters, in the taste of the Persian Court. The room in which it stood he called the Sanctum Sanctorum.
He showed the bed to nobodj, not even to those to whom he showed all the rest : " Eor who," he said, " could resist the pleasure and intoxication that this enchanting place excited ?" To all this must be added the melodious tones of the harmonicon, of soft flutes, pleasant voices, and a large organ. He said truly that nothing had restored to shat- tered nerves their vigoiu' so amazingly as this heavenly bed.
He had this bed in London ; and any one who wished to make use of it must apply to him by letter, and send enclosed £50 sterhng ; on which he received an admission ticket.
Yalei^tine Geatekakes was an Irishman, born in the county of "Waterford in 1628. In the year 1662 he dreamed that he possessed the gift of curing goitre by merely lapng on his hand. At first he paid no attention ; but as he dreamed the same thing again many times, he first made the experi- ment on his wife, and it succeeded to admiration. He tried it on others, and with the same result. In 1665 he began to use his hand for the cure of all diseases without ex- ception. In 1666 he went to London, where he was sum- moned by the Court to "WTiitehall. There he tried his healing power on many persons. But the courtiers en- deavoured in all manner of ways to ridicule and insult him, because he did not disdain to cure animals also. He was no longer able to support it, and at length removed to a house near the capital, where he touched and cured diseases.
As his cures were of a kind so wholly magnetic, as no man had so publicly performed such before, and as he produced the same crises aud phenomena as the magnetic physicians now produce, we will briefly notice the history of his cures. They may be seen treated more at large in the writings of Pechlin (Observationes phys. med. lib. iii. c. 2, 1691), and in the monthly publications of Berlin (1786), and also in De- leuze's " Critical History of Animal Magnetism."
Pechlin says, " Amongst the most astonishing cures which history records, are those of an Irish gentleman in London, Oxford, and other cities of England and Ireland.
262 HISTOET OF MAGIC.
He himself published in Loudon in 1666 a full account of them. ' Yal. Graterakes, Esq., of Waterford, in the king- dom of Ireland, famous for curing several diseases and dis- tempers by the stroak of his hand only : London, 1660.' "
Pechlin believes that no doubt whatever can be enter- tained of the reality of his cures, as they are related in his own work ; and they are, therefore, worthy of being trans- lated into all languages. Pechlin caused a number of letters and testimonies to be printed, which place the veracity and the character of Graterakes in the clearest light. In the first place, Joh. Glanville, the author of " Scepsis Scien- tifica," in which he treated all learning and human science as open to doubt, and who was also a chaplain to Charles II., says in a letter that Graterakes was a simple, amiable, and pious man, a stranger to all deceit. The same testimony was given to him by George Eust, Bishop of Dromore in Ire- land. The bishop says that he was three weeks at his house, where he had an opportunity of observing his sound morals, and the great number of his cures of the sick. Through the simple laying on of his hands he drove the pains to the extremities of the limbs. Many times the effect was very rapid and as if by magic. If the pains did not im- mediately give way, he repeated his rubbings, and always drove them from the nobler parts to the less noble, and finally into the limbs.
The Bishop relates stiU further : — " I can as eye-witness ) assert that Graterakes cured dizziness, very bad diseases of y the eyes and ears, old ulcers, goitre, epilepsy, glandular swellings, scirrhous indurations, and cancerous swellings. I have seen swellings disperse in five days that were many i years old, but I do not believe by supernatural means ; I nor did his practice exhibit anything sacred. The cure was I sometimes very protracted, and the diseases only gave way j through repeated exertions ; some altogether resisted his ^ endeavours."
It appeared to the bishop that something healing, something balsamic, flowed from him. Graterakes himself was persuaded that his power was an especial gift of God. He healed even epidemic complaints by his touch, and oil that account he believed it his duty to devote liimself to the cure of diseases.
RTCnTEU OP STOTE]!^, ETC. 2Gr>
To the bishop's may be added the testimouies of two physicians, Eaireklow and Astel, who veiy assiduously in- quired into the reality of his cures.
" I was struck," says Fairekiow, " with his gentleness and kindness to the unhappy, and by the effects which he produced by his hand."
Astel says, — " I saw Graterakes in a moinent remoAo most violent pains merely by his hand. I saw him drive a pain from the shoulder to the feet. If the pains in the head or the intestines remained fixed, the endeavour to remo'^e them was frequently followed by the most dreadful crises, which even seemed to bring the patient's life into danger; but by degrees they disappeared into the limbs, and then altogether. I saw a scrofulous child of tvrelve years with such swellings that it could not move, and he dissipated merely with his hand the greatest part of them. One of the largest, however, he opened, and so healed it with his spittle." Finally, Astel says that he saw a number of other cures, and repeats the testimonies of Eust and Faireklow" on the character of Graterakes.
The celebrated Eobert Boyle, President of the Eoyal Society of London, says : — " Many physicians, noblemen, clergymen, etc., testify to the truth of Graterakes' cures, which he published in London. The chief diseases whicli ; he cured were blindness, deafness, paral^'sis, dropsy, ulcers, i swellings, and all kinds of fevers." Finally, it is said that " he laid his hand on the part affected, and so moved the disease downwards."
The celebrated innkeeper, Eichter, of Stoyen in Silesia,. was some years ago a second Graterakes.
Amongst the Italians Baptista Porta, Cordanus, Cam- panella, and Athanasius Kircher deserve to be mentioned.
The first has contributed most eminently to convince the world of the superstition and groundlessness of sorcery, and the supernatural doings of devils ; and to shew that such uncommon phenomena are partly the work of nature, and partly the tricks and delusions of self-interest, and has thereby rendered important services to magnetism.
In his book on Natural Magic (Magia naturalis, Lugduni, 1569), he says : — There is a universal AVorld-spirit, whicli
264} HISTOKT OF MAGIC.
unites all Avitli all ; vrliicli produces and purifies our souls, audi' thus renders them capable of magic arts. Many circumstances and changes can be explained bj sympathy and antipathy ; but which proceed from this world- spirit. Sympathy de- pends on the attraction of kindred things ; and antipathy on the repulsion of dissimilar things. Tou find in Porta's work especially, fine observations on harmony, sympathy, etc.
Cardanus, also, that extraordinary eccentric, deserves to be mentioned, partly on account of opinions agreeing with magnetism, and partly as a remarkable magnetic pheno- menon, because, through his dreams and visions, which he procured at will, he could put himself into the clearest state of ecstasy, in which, according to his own assurances, he saw and heard things that lay far in futurity. His father, IVicius Cardanus, had before had an ethereal familiar spirit, which showed him what he was to do (Cardanus de verum varietate, lib. v, c. 93.) His collected works were published at Lyons in 1603, in two folio volumes, and he himself was provided with a familiar spirit hke Socrates, Plotinus, Sinesius, Dion, and Elavius Josephus.
Thomas Campenella has made himself very famous through liis doctrines and through his book — " De sensu rerum et niagia." AYhilst he undertook in these writings to teach magic, and explain it by natural causes and effects, he was accused of sorcery, and cast into prison, and brought to trial for suspected heresy.
ATHANASITJS KIECHEE.
The most celebrated of all was Father Kircher, a man of very sagacious spirit, of the most extensive learning, and comprehensive knowledge; who through his number- less experiments and enquiries in natural philosophy, tln-ough his many travels, through his impartiality, brought the spirit of his age into strong excitement, and eodeavoured to purify the study of nature from superstition, credulity, and erroneous views.
Magnetism was in his time already a subject which en- gaged the attention of all the learned in an extraordinarj^
ATHANASIUS KIECnEE. 265
manner. It must be confessed that it was still the enig- matical plaj of mineral magnetism more than any other, but which, through its phenomena, and the cures connected with it, led to futher enquiries, and men now began to attri- bute unknown causes and effects to magnetical powers. Every one endearoured, in his own way, to explain the facts, and the theory of magnetism was continually more con- firmed, while the most singular opinions for and against it were brought forward.
This occasioned also Father Kircher, as one of the most zealous and able natural philosophera of the time^ to insti- tute a number of experiments, and thereby to establish still more firmly the science of magnetism. He wrote a great work under the title, " Athanasii Kircheri Magnes, sive de arte magnetic!, opus tripartitum, Colonia3, 1643," which is not merely a treatise and a master-piece of natural philo- sophy, but which also contains a vast deal of high importance to magnetism in its more extended sense. I will quote some of the most remarkable passages.
In the introduction he declaims warmly against the exag- gerations, the dreams, and extravagant fancies, bywhich some, without any personal experience, carried away by the marvels of magnetism, and supporting themselves on uncertain or false conclusions, unsettle all schools with intolerable and shocking fictions. This might perhaps lead to the supposi- tion that Kircher was no especial friend of magnetism. But he exerted himself only to reconcile the wonders which had taken place, with the current ideas and the known laws ©f nature ; and meant thereby to say, that we ought not to denounce unexplained, and for the most part, unknown things, with such loud outcries and with wide-open mouths. He meant also to say, that, if people would not or could not make clear and positive experiments themselves, they should be silent, that they might not propagate lies and false con- clusions.
What just ideas Kircher had of magnetism, appears from his exposition of the philosophy of magnetism. " Magnetism," he says, " is thus named because all the wonderful operations of nature become more apparent in the radiations of the magnet ; therefore, these efiects are only so called from their resemblance to the magnetic radiations. That is to say, the
266 HISTOET OF MAGIC.
idea of the demonstration of activity, and the nature of the powers which operate upon each other through mutual ema- nations, is called magnetism."
j^ccordiug to Kircher all is magnetic, but not all a magnet ; for he contested Gilbert's opinion, that the earth is a great magnet. By magnetism, a whole is to be understood, w^hose parts are boimd together and conducted by the attractive and repulsive powers which resemble those of the magnet. He speaks of a magnetism of plants, of animals, of metals, of the elements, of the sun, the moon, and the sea. Mineral magnetism he styled Zoomagnetism. He then speaks of the magnetism of particular fishes, and of electrical bodies ; of the magnetism of medical substances ; of the imagination, of music, and of love.
He then goes through the three principal kingdoms of nature, and presents many examples of magnetism, or sympathy and antipathy, amongst plants, animals, and even amongst minerals.
From these examples take one of each kind : hostility, that is, antipathy, is apparent even amongst animals. Thus, for example, the vine has a decided hatred to cabbage, and where it perceives it in the neighbourhood, it turns itself away as from a mortal enemy, while, on the contrary, it bends itself towards the olive. The cabbage, again, hates the swinebread (Cyclamen) to such a degree that if they are brought together, they both wither. The sympathy of the two sexes in plants is very striking, so much so that the one is ruined without the other. The country people know very well that they must be placed together ; and Pliny has beautifully described this — " Tunc osculo ilia manum blande demulcens amorem confitetur, sese illis desiderio stimulatam, hujus vesanise remedio afFert ; quo amor diluatur." Thus the wild figs in Calabria never ripen, although they hang in great quantities, except the male and female trees unite, •when they quickly ripen their fruit, and become so firmly attached to each other that they cannot again be separated. For the rest, the love of the ranunculus to the water-lily, of rue to the fig, of the vine to the elm and olive, are universally known.
Kircher farther enumerates a number of plants which have an especial sympathy for the sun and moon, and regu-
KIECHEB ON :^ATURAL INSTINCTS. 267
larly turn towards them. The acacia, he says, in the vicinity of E-ome, is so fond of the sun, that immediately on its rising it unfolds its leaves, and on its setting it closes them, so firmly that you might put juniper prickles on them. Many flowers grow till the sun turns back again in Cancer ; then continually decline in strength, and at its greatest distance, die.
Kircher (lib. iii. p. 643) speaks of a kind of wolfsmilk (Tithym alius) which the whole day follows the sun even when it is obscured by fog ; and Prosper Albinus (De plantis ^gyptiacis, c. 10) relates the same of the Tamarind in the wilderness of St. Macarius, where no other plant grows. He gives many examples of the closing and unclosing of leaves by day and night.
Kircher also gives examples of plants which actually repel and attract, and especially that in Mexico there is a kind of plant very much resembling the pomegranate, the tender shoots of which, cut in pieces, repel each other with the greatest antipathy.
The sympathy amongst animals is very striking, for, in the first place, they will only live on certain spots ; in the second place, amongst certain animals ; and thirdly, even amongst these have regard to certain qualities.
" The instinct of animals, by which they seek out the salutary and avoid the pernicious, is no other than the pro- pensity amongst plants to good, and antipathy to evil, and whose immediate atmosphere operates beneficially or other- wise ; so that from similarity, love, attraction, and sympathy, are produced, and from dissimilarity, hate, repulsion, and antipathy.
Of the sympathy and antipathy of animals, he says further : " AVho has taught the hare to fear the hound, and not the much larger stag ; who the hen to fear the eagle, and ■not the peacock or ostrich ? "Who has taught the parrot and the magpie the art of speaking ? Who the dogshead (Cynocephaius) music ; bees the art of mensuration ; the swallow the art of building, and the spider that of weaving ? Who has instructed the hippopotamus in the art of phle- botomy ? Who has made known to the swallow^ the liver- wort against blindness ; who the aperient quality of the ^nagallis to fowls and to various water-birds ? Only that
268 HISTOET OF MAGIC.
inspiration of nature, which is nothing else than the material, or rather the hidden understanding, or the operation of the imagination. If the animals thus know themselves and their circumstances, why should we deny to men the know- ledge of powers and of effects from their causes ?"
Einally, he refers to an extraordinary kind of attraction amongst animals. The marten runs with the wildest howl- ing and outcries into the open mouth of the great poisonous toad (Bufo). The great American snake attracts by its breath the deer, as a magnet does iron, and crushes it, and licks it over with saliva, in order that he may more easily swallow it. He then alludes to the electrical fishes, as the torpedo, Eana piscatrix. The greenling (Gralgulus sive Ic- terus) cures the jaundice merely by the patient looking at it.
Of the sympathy of the mineral kingdom, he relates, amongst other things, the observation of Alpinus (Prosper Alpinus de medicina ^■Egypt. lib. i. c. 6,) that a piece of earth taken out of the Mle, dried, and carefully kept, never changed during the whole year, till on the 17th of June it became all at once heavier ; from which circumstances it was inferred that the NUe rose then.
He also speaks of Selenite (1. c. p. 946) which had a speck on its surface, which according to the changes of the moon increased or decreased. A similar stone was in the possession of Pope Leo X., which changed the blue colour into white according to the quarter of the moon. Also, Cardanus speaks of a stone which he calls a Helite gem, which belongs to the Pope Clemens YIII. This had a gold- coloured speck which changed its place according to the rise and setting of the sun.
Especially striking is the magnetism of music. Here we see how, through the instrumentality of the nerves, the soul and the passions are put in motion. The harmonicon is pre- ferable for this purpose to all other instruments, of one of which he gives a description, which deserves now tobe imitated. This consists of five simple glasses, supplied with different li- quors, which touch each other. In the one is brandy, in ano- ther vrine, in another oil, and in another water. In order to play upon them you must wet the finger and rub it on the edge of the glasses. It is very remarkable that Mesmer used this very harmonicon for magnetic cures. In the mode
KIECHEIl ON MAG^-ETIS:v^. 269
of explaining these phenomena, Kircher lias also mncli in common with Mesmer ; and he speaks of the streaming of all things together. " Prseterea cum omnes res agant effluxum quendam," etc.
Kircher treats of the magnetism of the imaginative power, and amongst other subjects he particularly introduces preg- nant women: — "The Arabs," he says, "and particiilarly Avicenua and his disciples, believe in such a power of the imagination, that it not only has influence over the body, but can move and change external substances without any inter- mediate body. Even the animals possess more or less of this power, and, indeed, the more they have of it, the nobler they appear. Truly a strong and very striking power of imagination does not belong to all. The influence of a strong will on others is so much the stronger when the three following circumstances combine : — 1st. jS'obility of soul ; 2nd. Strong motive power of the imagination ; and Srdlj. The absence of a resistant power (subjectum non repugnans.) In this manner some cure the least healable of diseases, and are cognizant of future and absent events. I have already quoted the passage where he says that a free mind destitute of all worldly sensuality arrives at the clearest vision of all things. But that the imagination can do something may be seen in those persons who, whenever the}^ think of the fire and punishment of hell, fall into a violent perspiration. In women, too, the power of the imagination is greater than in men, and especially when they are pregnant."
finally, the magnetism of love is the originator and maintainer of all things under Grod. Arts and sciences emanate from it. The artist knows it, as well as the athlete, the landsman, the musician, the astrologer, the diviner, and the theologian. Love in its ordinary sense, he says, is a kind of fever: "Amor febris species."
His opinions Respecting the magnetism of the earth, of plants, and stars, are very interesting, as weU as on the accordance and mutual movements of the heaven and the earth, the latter of which, however, he imagines to stand still, and the sun to go round it. He says that the earlier philosophers never denied this accordance, but have perceived that the sun binds all things to himself, and also imparts
270 HISTOET OF MAGIC.
this -uniting power to other things, which probably no one except the stone-blind will deny.
Finally, what Kircher says of the antidotes against poisonous animals, and which he corroborates from his own experience, deserves to be quoted. The sting or bite of a venomous creature can be most effectually cured by an ap- plication of part of the very animal from which the mischief has proceeded. For instance, the bite of a viper is cured by eating the ftesh of the viper. The scorpion cures the bite of the scorpion, as he had himself witnessed in Germany. The great poisonous toad cured the plague-boil, being pre- viously dried in the sun, and then laid upon it.
From this it follows, of course, that the true antidote of hydrophobia is in the animal whose bite produces the disease, which Lemnius also asserts (Levin us Lemnius de occultis natursB miraculis), who recommends to take some hairs, or to eat some part of the same animal. Some years ago a Swiss physician tried it, and especially recommended drinking the blood of the mad dog.
TENZEL WIEDIG.
Tenzel Wirdig was a professor of Eastock, and in 1673 published a book which created a great sensation — "Tenzelius AVirdig, Nova medicina spirit uum." He went farther than all his predecessors, asserting that in nature and in bodies there was more life, movement, and magnetism, than men had hitherto commonly supposed. With great address, and great learning, he demonstrated that the whole of nature was ensouled, and extended the theory of Kepler still wider than he had done himself, though he asserted the earth to be a large animal.
There is, acco';'ding to him, an accordance between the souls of all the bodies on the earth, in the stars of heaven, and, where they are of cougenial nature, an attraction, and a repugnance and a constant strife between those which are of an opposite nature. " Out of this relationship of sympathy and antipathy arises a constant movement in the
TENZEL WIllDia- 271
-wliole world, and in all its parts, and an nninterrnpted coni- mnnion between heaven and earth, which produces universal harmony. The stars whose emanations consist merely of fire and spirits, have an undeniable influence on earthly bodies ; and their influence on man demonstrates itself by life, movement, and warmtli, those things without which he cannot live. The influence of the stars is the strongest at birth. The new-born child inhales this influence, and on whose first breatli frequently liis whole constitution depends, nay even his whole life."
The relation between spirits of sympathy and antipathy, whether they be of the earth or of heaven, is wliat Wirdig calls magnetism : " Magnetism is the accordance of spirits. '*^
As the whole world is ensouled, so is it also subjected to magnetism; for everything approximates to its like, and removes from that which is unlike, as the magnet does. Every- thing lives and exists through magnetism, and everything perishes through magnetism. He extends this sympathy into all things ; speaks of the sympathy amongst men in general ; between persons of the same sex ; between the mother and child ; of the sympathy of the different parts of the body ; of the blood, etc. He gives an instance of one person influencing another at a great distance whence illness was produced. This in modern times has frequently been confirmed, and is stated by Hufeland in his work on magic, published in Berlin in 1817. He also gives the account of a nose which had been cut from the back of a porter, but which when the porter died, died too, and fell off* from its- artificial position, — a relation confirmed by Yan Helmont, Campanella, and Servius. A piece of skin taken from a living head had the hair turn grey at the same time as that on the head from which it was taken.
Of the many learned men of whom more might be said here, I must at least give the names.
Amongst the most distiuguished disciples of Paracelsus,. the defenders of a magico-theosophical science were in Prance, — Jacob Grohory, Joseph du Chesne, and especially the learned philosopher Peter Poiret Naude,in hisApologie pour tons les grandes personages qui out ete faussemeut soup9omies de magie, Hayc, 1(379. Gaftarel, Eueil Phara-
272 niSTOET OE MAGIC.
mond ; Ernst Eurggraf (Balneum Dianae magnet, prescor- philos. Claris. Logcluni 1600.) Bartholin, Sir Kelbam Digby, Santaneili (Philosophia recondita, Colonise, 1723.) Edward Medeira in " Novas philosoph. et medic, qualit. occult. Ulyssipone, 1650.) Thomas Bartholin, in his treatise on the transference of diseases ; Andreas Teuzel (Medicina diastatica), or the art of healing which operates at a distance magnetic-sympathetic cures of many diseases, in which man may use magically, animals, plants, and metals. Leipsic and Hoff, 1753. Krautermann, the curious and simple magical physician, who taught and demonstrated how man not only ex triplici regno may prepare remarkable medicines, but also by sympathy and antipathy, by transference, by amulets, and natural magic, can happily cure diseases, or in other words by reputed witchcraft, with excellent recipes, which have been published four diiferent times. Arnstadt, 1737.
To these must be added the theosophist Hosicrucians, Oswald, CroU, G-erhard Dorn, Michael Toxites, Heinricli Kunnath, ^gid Guthmann, Julius Sperber, Valentine "Weigel, etc., who may all be found in Brucker's Critical History of Philosophy, vol. iv. p. 614, 750. It is known, too, that Henry More was also a defender of the Cabbalistic philosophy. Opposed to these stand a multitude of anta- gonists ; amongst whom Libavius and Jennert are the most distinguished. The opinions of other philosophers who have treated of magic and magnetism belong also to this place ; particularly He Loques, who wrote a treatise on the magnetic power of the blood, 1664. Farther, the great Descartes was a teacher of the magnetic doctrine. For he asserted that all space is filled with a fluid matter, which he held to be elementary, and the foundation and fountain of all life, which encloses all globes and keeps them in motion. The Cartesian vortexes are well known, and have more in common with the magnet streams of Mesmer than people SJLi])pose who have not carefully examined the subject- Even Newton, whom men are accustomed to call the light of the world, belongs to the catalogue of magnetic teachers. Preeminently is his doctrine of attraction and of universal space, which he, and still more his defender, Samuel Clarke, termed the Divine sensoriiim, a magnetic doctrine. But
Gi.S3NEE. 273
this is still more seen in the third book of his Fundamental Principles of jS"atural Philosophy, where it is said — " Here the question is of a very subtle spirit which penetrates through >all, even the hardest bodies, and which is concealed in their substance. Through the strengtli and activity of this spirit, bodies attract each other, and adliere together when brought into contact. Through it electrical bodies operate at the remotest distances, as well as near at hand, attracting and repelling ; through this spirit the light also flows and is refracted and reflected, and warms bodies. All senses are excited by this spirit, and througli it the animals move their limbs. But these things cannot be explained in few words, and we have not yet sufticieut experience to determine fully the laws by which this universal spirit operates."
These magnetic doctrines struck, as we have seen, deep root in many countries after Paracelsus ; deeper in Prance, and deepest, perhaps, of all, in Germany. But in general in the last century people began to give up their faith'^in them. There came a pause till about the year seventy, when they became again vigorously agitated. Gassner, Cagliostro, and Swedenborg, diffused afresh, by their conjui'a- tions and their spirit-seeing, a panic-terror, and Mesmer, who indeed had little to do with spirits, by his discovery of the cure of diseases by animal magnetism, completely turned people's heads.
Gassner, a clergyman from the country of Bludenz, in Vorarlberg, healed many diseases through exorcism. In tlie year 1758 he was the clergyman of Klosterle, where, by his exorcisms, he became so celebrated, that he drew a vast number of people to him. The flockiug of the sick from Switzerland, the Tyrol, and Swabia, is said to have been so great, that the number of invalids was frequently more than a thousand, and they were, many of them, obliged to live under tents. The Austrian govermnent gave its assistance, -and Gassner now went under the patronage of the Bishop to Eegensburg, where he continued to work wonders, till, finally, Mesmer, on being asked by the Elector of Bavaria, and wholly to the astonishment of the spectators, produced, ■consisted in nothing more than in magnetic-spiritual excite- ment, of which he gave convincing proofs in the presence of
VOL. IT. T
274 HiSTOET or 3IAGIC.
tbe Elector. Eschenmayer, in Keiser's Archives, treats at length of Gassner's method of cui'e.
G-assner's mode of proceeding was as follows : — ^He wore a scarlet cloak, and on his neck a silver chain. He usually had in his room a window on his left hand, and a crucifix on his right. AVith his face turned towards the patient, he touched the ailing part, and commanded that the disease should manifest itself ; wliich was generally the case. He made this both cease and depart by a simple command. By calling on the name of Jesus, and through the faith of the patient, he drove out the devil and the disease. But every one that desired to be healed must believe, and through faith any clerg}-man may cure devilish diseases, spasms, fainting, madness, etc., or free the possessed. Gassner availed himself sometimes of magnetic manipulations : he touched the affected part, covered it withhis hand, andrubbed therewith vigorously both head and neck. Gassner spoke chiefly Latin in his operations, and the devil is said often to have understood him perfectly. Physical susceptibility, with willing faith and positive physical activity, through the command of the AYord was thus the magical cure with him.
There were, in the year seventy, a multitude of writings both for and against Gassner's operations. These appeared principally in Augsburg, and amongst them two are parti- cularly worthy of notice ; the first, under the title of " Im- partial Thoughts, or something for the Physicians on the mode of cure, by Herr Gassner in Elwangen, published by Dr. Schisel, and printed in Sulzbach, 1775." The other,. '■'• The Observations of an Impartial Physician on Herr Lavater's Grounds of Enquiry into the Gassner Cures, vrith an appendix on Convulsions, 1775 ;" probably by the same author.
Dr. Schisel relates that with a highly respectable company, he himself travelled to Elwangen, and there saw himself the wonderful cures the fame of which had been spread far and wide by so many accounts both in newspapers and separate printed articles. " Some," he says, " describe him as a holy and prophetic man ; others accuse him of being a fantastic fellow, a charlatan, and impostor. Some extol him as a great mathematician ; others denounce him as a dealer in the black art ; some attribute his cures to the magnet, or to elec-
GASSNEE AND niS PATIENTS. 275
trical power ; others to sympathy and the po^Yer of imagina- tion ; and, on the other hand, a respectable party, overcome by the miglit of faith, attributed the whole to the omnipotent force of the name of Jesus."
Schisel writes further, that he gave himself all possible trouble to notice everything which might in the most distant manner aifect the proceedings of the celebrated Herr Gassner. Schisel, indeed, seems to have been the man, from his quiet power of observation, his impartial judgment, and thorough medical education, which qualifications are all evident in his book, to give a true account of the cures of Gassner, while he notices all the circumstances, objections, and opinions, which had been brought forward or which pre- sented themselves there. He relates that Elwangen must have grown rich through the numbers of people who thronged thither, though Gassner took nothing for his trouble, and that the Elector on that account tolerated the long-continued concourse of people ; that in March 1553 many hundred pa- tients arrived daily; that the apothecary gained more in one day than he otherwise would in a quarter of a year from the oil, eye-water, a universal powder made of Blessed Thistle, (Carduus benedictus) and the incenses, etc., which Gassner ordered. The printers laboured, with all their workmen, day and night at their presses, to furnish sufficient pamphlets, prayers, and pictures, for the eager horde of admirers. The goldsmiths and braziers were unwearied in preparing all kinds of Agnus Dei, crosses, hearts, and rings ; even the beggars had their harvest, and as for bakers and hotel- keepers, it is easy to understand what they must have gained.
He then describes the room of Herr Gassner, his costume, and his proceeding with the sick : — " On a table stood a cruci- fix, and at the table sat Herr Gassner on a seat, with his right side turned towards the crucifijs:, and his face towards the patient, and towards the spectators also. On his shoulders hung a blue red-flowered cloak; the rest ^of his costume was clean, simple, and modest. A fragment of the cross of the Eedeemer hung on his breast from a silver chain ; a half-silken sash girded his loins. He was forty-eight years of age, of a very lively countcnnnce, cheerful in conversation, serious in command, patient iu teaching, amiable towards every one, zealous for the honour
276 HISTOET OF MAGIC.
of God, compassionate towards the oppressed, joyful with those of strong faith, acute in research, prophetic in symptoms and quiet indications ; an excellent theologian, a fine philosopher, an admirable physiognomist, and I wished that he might possess as good an acquaintance with medical physiology as he showed himself to have a discrimination with surgical cases. He is in no degree a politician ; he is an enemy of sadness ; forgiving to his enemies, and perfectly regardless of the flatteries of men. For twenty years he carried on this heroic conflict against the powers of hell, thirteen of these in quietness, but seven publicly, and of these last he had now passed six months victoriously in Elwangen.
" Thus armed he undertook in this room all his public proceedings, which he continued daily, from early morning tiR late at night ; nay, often till one or two o'clock in the morning. The more physicians there are around him, the bolder he was in causing the different diseases to show them- selves ; nay, he called upon the unknowTi physicians them- selves. Scarcely do those who are seeking help kneel before him, when he enquires respecting their native country and their complaints ; then his instruction begins in a concise manner, which relates to the steadfastness of faith, and the omnipotent power of the sacred name of Jesus. Then he seizes both hands of the kneeling one, and com.mands with a loud and proud voice the alleged disease to appear. He now seizes the affected part, — that is, in the gout, the foot ; in paralysis, the disabled limb and joint ; in headache, the head and neck ; in those troubled with flatulence, he lays his hand and cloak on the stomach ; in the narrow-chested, on the heart ; in hemorrhoidal complaints, on the back-bone ; in the rheumatic and epileptic he not only lays hold on each arm, but alternately places both hands, and the hands and cloak together, over the whole head.
" In many cases the disease appears immediately on being commanded, but in many he is obliged to repeat the com- mand often, and occasionally ten times, before the attack shows itself ; in some, but the fewest in number, the com- mand and laying on of hands have no effect.
" The first class he terms the good and strong-faithed ; the second those of hesltatir.2: and feeble faith; tlie last
THE CUEES OF GASSNEE. 277
either naturally diseased, or pretendedly so, and unbelieving. All these attacks retreat by degrees, each according to its kind, either very quickly on his command, but sometimes not till the tenth or twentieth time, from limb to limb. In some the attacks appeared repressed but not extinguished ; in others the commencement of a wearing sickness, with fever and spitting of blood ; in others intumescence even to suifocation and with violent pains ; others gout and con- vulsions.
" When he has now convinced the spectator, and thinks that he has sufficiently strengthened the faith and confidence of the sufferer, the patient must expel the attack him- self by the simple thought of 'Depart from me in the name of Jesus Christ !' And in this consists the whole method of cure and confirmation which Gassner employs in all kinds of sickness which we call unnatural. Through these he calls forth all the passions. Now anger is apparent, now patience, now joy, now sorrow, now hate, now love, now confusion, now reason, — each carried to the highest pitch. Now this one is blind, now he sees, and again is de- prived of sight, etc.
" All take their leave of him, filled with help and conso- lation, so soon as he has given them his blessing, which he thus administers : — " He lays the cloak on the head of the patient ; grasps the forehead and neck with both hands firmly ; speaks silently a very earnest prayer ; signs the brow, mouth, and breast of the convalescent with the sign of the cross ; and extends to the Catholics the fragment of the cross to kiss ; orders, according to the form of the sick- ness, the proper medicines at the apothecary's, the oil, water, powder, and herbs, which are consecrated by him every day ; exhorts every one to steadfastness in faith, and permits no one, except those who are affected with defects born with them, to depart without clean hands and countenances full of pleasure.
" He excludes no single sickness, no kind of fever, not even any epidemic disorder. May not the science of medi- cine, therefore, partly fear that it will soon be superseded by this moral theory ?
" We may now inquire what diseases Gassner calls natural, and what unnatural ? For instance, a broken bone, a
273 HISTOliX OP ilAGIC.
maimed limb, or a rupture, are complaints with natural causes ; but all such as are produced either by want of, or by a superfluity of the natural conditions of the body, are curable, — as the cataract, which he cures to the astonish- ment of every one. "We may give another demonstra- tion. Two lame persons appear. One has the tendo Achillis or a nerve injured. He is healed, indeed, but the foot remains crooked. This is a natural lameness. The pious crooked man has no hope of assistance from. Herr Gassner. The second has a similar shortness of the foot, but the cause of wLich was gout, wasting of the limb, or paralysis. This is unnatural lameness ; and will be cured by Herr Gassner as quickly as the name of it is here written."
" Here you have now the portrait of this new wonder- physician, of our great Herr Gassner," — sic oculos, sic ille manus, sic ora ferebat. " How does it please you ? Have you anything to object to the original, or to the picture ?"
The author now puts to the physicians and to the acade- micians the question whether Gassner actually cured these diseases as related, and whether in his mode of cure there be a hidden magnetic, sympathetic, or magic power ? How does he heal, and what circumstances attend the cures? This alone concerns the doctors. " The clergy may settle with him witch-trials, and whether the devil in so many ways can injure men. Wliether the accusers of Herr Gassner, ' ex lege diifamari,' deserve punishment, or whether Herr Gassner ought to be considered guilty as a de- ceiver, is a question for the lawyers and criminal judges." He then proceeds to answer these questions, with the ad- mission "that he," like many of his learned brethren, is Bom.ewhat incredulous, and often tolerably stifi-necked. "Eor," says he, "it would not be creditable if I should take a thing for granted without cause, enquiry, or con- viction." To the first question, whether all those diseases were healed, he answers, — " Yes, I have seen it, with many persons of difierent rehgions, and particularly with two most experienced and upright physicians, one a Catholic and one a Protestant. With them 1 attended nearly all, both public and private opportunities, as eye-witness, and with the most
GASS>'Eli A>'D HIS PATIENTS. 279
perfect conviction. How ! wliat will you say ? A phy- sician ? Fie ! for shame !' Yes, I, a physician, and one, indeed, who has written a whole treatise on gout, sought fi^om Herr Gassner help against the hell-torture. "Well, do not imagine that on that account I have ceased for a moment to be a physician ; for I confess it now candidly, that I rather intended to test Herr Gassner than hoped to derive any cure from him. But a man that sees will not deny that it is day when the sun burns his neck ; and a courageous physician will believe that he is ill when he feels pain. All those present, and the aforesaid physicians, fnllj testify that which we saw, and I myself, to my astonishment, experienced.
" He who will not believe that Herr Gassner cures ail kinds of diseases, — he who rejects the evidence of such impartial and overwhelming witnesses, I must either send as one dangerously ill to the water-cure, or, if that does not succeed, to the mad-house ; or as a non-natural sufferer to the curative powers of Herr Gassner. But he requires believing patients 1"
He now proceeds, in the tone of the opposing doctors, that, indeed, every physician has, according to his own state- ment, cured every kind of disease : some by electricity, and some by other means, by sympathy and imagination. Many also have enquired whether Herr Gassner' s crucifix, or the chain on his neck, or his half-silken sash, be not electric ? "Whether a magnet be not concealed in his cloak, or his hands be stroked with one, or be even anointed with a sym- pathic ointment !
After he has circumstantially shown that none of these accusations will hold good, he comes to the conclusion — " that Herr Gassner performed all his cures merely by the glorified name of Jesiis Christ, and the laying on of his hands and his cloak. But he gives the people oil, eye- water, and the like: he counsels them to use such things after the cure lias taken place. He has, however, in order to make the blind see, no eye-water, nor oil to put in motion a paralysed limb ; much less, powder and fumigations to drive out the devil. He merely touches the joints of the lame ; he rubs the ears and glands of the deaf; he touches
280 niSTOET OF MAGIC.
•w'iili Ills fingers the eyelids of the blind ; he draws the- pains forth under his hands by a commanding strong voice. He commands them with the same power, with an earnest and authoritative voice, to come out and depart, and it takes place. "W^here, then, is the sympathy, where the electricity, where the magnet, and all philosophical aeuteness ?"
" Yes ; but why then does he not cure all by the same means ?"
" Ask your OAvn consciences ; enquire into the mode of life and the mode of thinking of your uncured friends,, whether they come within the conditions required by Herr Gassner, and possess the three kinds of faith which we- mentioned in the opening of this account of Grassner, and you may yourselves answer the question.
" Are you silent ? Ton will then first open your thoughts to me, when you have experienced what has been the permanence of the Gassner mode of cure.
" Herr Gassner demands as a securit}^ against a relapse into the sickness, like St. Peter, a constant and perpetual conflict. "Wherefore ? Because the attacks of our invisible enemy are never ceasing. He prescribes to every one how he can maintain himself in health without his aid ; and I assure you on honour sincerely, that I have known many, very many, who have cured themselves of violent illness without going to or having seen Herr Gassner, but merely by following his book by my advice, and who still daily derive benefit from it. And I have never known one person who lias relapsed into the old non-natural sickness Avho has not first deviated from the prescribed rules of Herr Gassner, or wholly abandoned them ? AYho, then, was to blame ?"
Joseph Balsamo, called Count Cagliostro, born in 1743 at Palermo, is generally classed amongst the magicians. There exists, however, no particular doctrine of his ; he led with his wife a rambling life through all the countries of Europe. He is accused, at least in the writings, life, and acts of Joseph Balsamo, the so-called Count Cagliostro, from the documents produced against him on his trial at Eome in-
C0T7^'T CAGLIOSTEO. 281
1790, and Zurich 1791, of having practised all kind of impo- sitions, of gold- making, and of possessing the secret of pro- longing life J that he secretly taught the Cabbalah and cabbalistic arts ; that he pretended to call up and exorcise spirits, and actually did frequently foretel future things ; and that in small, secret companies, and chieflj by means of a Little boy, whom he took aside with him into a separate room, in order to fit him for divining.
It is farther stated, that in the order of Ereemasons he assumed the character of an apostle of the Egyptian free- masonry ; and that he had heretically attached himself to all sorts of religions. The same charges are brought against him by the Countess von der Eecke, in a book on the life and opinions of Cagliostro. Erom all these accounts, we may set down Cagliostro as an accomplished adventurer, whose magic consisted in this, that he with the boy, or the so-called orphan, or doves, made his experiments in magnetism. Eor it says in the documents of the trial, pp. 82, 90, etc., — " This child had to kneel before a small table, on which a can of water and some lighted candles stood. He now instructed the boy to look into the water-can, and so commenced his conjuration ; laid his hand on the head of the boy, and in this position addressed a prayer to God for a successful issue of the experiment.
" The child was now clairvoyant, and said at first that he saw something white, then that he saw a child or angel, etc., and after this spoke of all sorts of future things. He availed himself also of an orphan maiden at Mitau, who being already of a marriageable age, could not, of course, be considered as simple and innocent as a small boy. The questions which he put to the orphan girl did not confine themselves to the angel, but extended to the discovery of se- crets and future events, when he frequently made his ex- periments without the can of water, and merely placed the orphan behind a screen. He also, it is not known whether the more thoroughly to convince the spectators or to throw dust in their eyes, laid his hand on other individuals, and transferred to them a portion of his own power. He worked, it says at page 93, through the usual ceremonies, and all was Avonderfully corroborated through the appearance of the angel. At page 134 it says, " In what manner docs the
282 niSTOEY OF magic.
sanctifying vision come? In tliree -ways. First, when God makes himself visible, as to the patriarchs ; secondly, through the appearance of angels ; and, finally, through ar- tistic practice's and inward inspiration."
Cagliostro expressly declared before the Inquisition that he had never had anything to do with the devil ; and if, he said, " I am a sinner, I trust that a merciful Grod will for- give me." He declared very distinctly also, p. 146, " that he believed his Egyptian system had nothing what- ever to do with the church of Eome, and especially in what related to the employment of the orphans." Cagli- ostro in 1791 was condemned in full council of the Inqui- sition for many crimes, and as deserving of the severest punishments awarded to heretics, teachers of error, arch- heretics, masters and adherents of superstitious magic, and out of especial grace was committed to perpetual im- prisonment, instead of suffering death. He died in prison in 1795, at St. Leo in the states of the Church.
EMANUEL SWEDENBOEa.
Swedenborg, regarded in more than one point of view, belongs to the history of magic, not because he was himself a magician at all, but because he belongs to magnetism, being a truly remarkable example of a high degree of self-develop- ment of the inner sense — of a religious clairvoyance ; and also in relation to his philosophy of nature.
The name of Swedenborg is a bugbear to the so-called learned world, which runs from mouth to mouth shrieking, it knows not why. Eor people take no trouble to know Swedenborg really, or to hear the accused; and if any one has occasionally deigned to ride full gallop, extra-post, through Swedenborg' s voluminous writings, he understands, as a stranger from this world, nothing of the spirit-language of the prophet ; it is a gibberish to him ; and he quits the land in haste, leaving it unknown and deserted behind him, without suspecting the existence of the precious stones and treasures which lie there, or of looking amongst them with diligence and close inspection.
EMA2TUEL SWEDBKBOEQ. 283
And if in the writings of Swedenborg tlie seeing of spii-its is not to be entirely freed from tbe charge c*f phan- tasy, and if enthusiasm and exaltation are not to be denied, there is still so much that is profound and noble in his works on God and jMan, on the Phenomena of Nature, and their harmony with the spiritual, that he must unquestionably be deemed worthy of ranking with the greatest spirits of history : I find it therefore proper to introduce here a con- cise account of his life and writings, and their influence on our subject.
I take the whole from a book which bears the title : Emanuel Swedenborg' s Theological "Works ; on his theory of God, of the world, heaven, hell, the spiritual world, and the future life. A selection from his collected works. Leipsic, 1789 : and immediately from the translation of Swedenborg's writings by Hofacker.
Emanuel Swedenborg was born at Upsala, in Sweden, 29th of January, 1688. His father was bishop of Skara. On account of his distinguished talents, diligence, and acquirements, Swedenborg was appointed in his youth to a prominent post in a provincial college ; and distinguished himself in it by his uprightness and disinterestedness. Very soon afterwards, he showed himself by his numerous and profound writings on mineralogy, natural philosophy, mathematics, astronomy, etc., to be one of the most learned and thinking men of his age, and his extensive and frequent travels through the principal counties of Europe at the same time extended his knowledge and his fame. On account of his virtue and learning, esteemed by every one as a man of high worth and blameless morals, Swedenborg somewhere about the year 1740 renounced all worldly inter- course and renown, and devoted himself entirely to inquiries into the spiritual world Erom this period to tliat of his death, on the 29th of March, 1772, in London, Swedenborg wrote many works on the spiritual world, and all in the Latin tongue. His writings are based on the solid foun- dations of the Eible, whose mysterious revelations he laboured to make clear. His diction and doctrine in his works are spiritual, deep, and richly metaphorical, and, therefore, not understood by the world, for they are inward, and treat of the world of spirits and of eternity. Eor to
284i HiSTOEY or magic.
them all tliis is " a land of darkness, and of the shadow of death, without any order, and where the light is as darkness."^ Job, X. 22.
His observations on heaven, hell, and the spirit-world, of their forms and space, of the spirits, of angels and devils, with whom he often conversed of hidden things, which endeavouring to express figuratively and intelligibly to our senses he described as bodily, material, and wholly contrary to the current opinions, without once remembering (in order to prevent misconception) to remind the reader that these must be spiritually understood. These observations have drawn upon him the great majority of his opponents and mortal enemies. It is not my concern to treat these observ'ations either as dreams or pictures of the imagination, or as deep visions, and at the same time there is a proba- bility or truth in them, a matured philosophy and true magic, which I feel bound to bring forward, in order thence to extract knowledge for us the living, and to award to the dead the honour to which he is justly entitled.
But as I cannot go very far into these matters, I will extract some passages from the book before mentioned, and from its chapters on Grod, on Creation, on Man and his life on the earth; and the rest of Swedenborg's works which may be studied with advantage, are the following : — 1st. Daeda- lus Hyperboreus, or inquiries and observations on mathe- matical and physical subjects. 2nd. Prodromus principiorum rerum naturalium, etc., 1721. 3rd. Opera philosoph. et mineralia, 3 tom. in-folio, 1734. 4th. Prodromus philos. ratiocinantes, de infinito, de causa creationis, et de mechani- cismo operationis animsD et corporis, 1733. 5th. Eegnum animale, 1745. 6th. Arcana coelestia, 8 tom. 7th. De telluribus in mundo solari, London, 1758. 8th. De com- mercio animse et corporis, 1769. 9th. De miraculis divinis et magicis, etc. 10th. Then his many works on the spiritual world, de cultu et amore Dei, de ccelo et inferno, de nova Hierosolyma, delicite sapientise, etc., nearly all of which were published in London. The more modern works on Sweden- borg's T\Titings which may be recommended are principally, The Spirit of Emanuel Swedenborg's Philosophy, with a catechetical review, and a complete register of contents, pubhshed by Dr. Yorherr. Munich, 1832. Ludwig
E3IANUEL SWEDEXBORG's WOEKS. 285
Hofacker has already published various excellent translations of Swedenborg's writings, as, 1st. Heaven and its wonderful phenomena, and Hell, as seen and heard. Tiibingen, 1830. 2nd. The Intercourse between the Soul and the Body. 3rd. The New Church of the Lord, according to intelligence out of Heaven. Both of the same year. And Swedenborg's Divine Eevelations, by Dr. F. Imman. Tafel of Tiibingen ; already since 3823 seven volumes.
' FEOM THE CHAPTEE ON GOD AND THE CREATION.
" There is only one God, who, as uncreated and infinite, can alone say of himself — ' I am he who is.' God is man. To the angels he appears only in human form ; and men on earth bear his image ; therefore he said—' Let us make man in our own image.' Properly, the Lord only is man ; and amongst all those that he has created those are especially men who retain his divine influence. God is wisdom and love. In heaven the divine love and wisdom reveal them- selves in the form of a spiritual sun, which is not God, but an emanation of the godhead. The warmth of this sun is love, audits light is wisdom. "Wisdom is the breath of the divine power, and a ray of the glory of the Almighty.
" God, as Love, does not stand alone, because love does not embrace itself, but others ; therefore he made creatures. Erom love he created the world by his wisdom ; immediately through the spiritual sun, and mediately through the natural sun, which is the instrument of the first.
" The spiritual alone is the living ; the natural is dead ; consequently the one must be created, the other uncreated. The spiritual sun has its spiritual atmosphere, which is the receptacle of the divine light. Througli the medium of this atmosphere the spiritual sun produces spiritual circum- stances. The outward circles of this atmosphere produced our natural sun, which in like manner has its atmosphere. These atmospheres, or active natures, decrease by degrees in activity and power of conception, and at last constitute
2SG niSTOKY OF MAGIC.
masses, the parts of which are held together by pressure. This, then, is that which on earth we call matter.
" All substances bear the impress'of the infinite. Matter has, though it comes from God, nothing divine, but it probably has from the spirit-sun, that which in it is divine, and has retained it in the transference, namely, life, or a striving after reproduction. It strives towards this good — it', strives from habit; and the habit passes once into form through a continuous series of operations. The habit of creation or of the created consists also in forms ; and these represent an image of divine creation. Of these forms there are three kinds — minerals, plants, and animals.
" In these forms three steps are observable, which repre- sent creations ; for the sun mediately, through warmth and light, produces masses known under the name of minerals, and gives to each its distinguishing form. This progression is observed in plants, as the seed by development produces a stalk, which bears fruit.
" The forms of the animal world are produced in the same manner. The seed is the cause in the mother, or the egg, which here supplies the place of the earth. The seed in the case of the foetus is the root, and the animal produced from the egg is, at the time of its capability of reproducing, com- parable to the growth of the plant at the period when it begins to bear fruit.
" This progression is observable also in the organic form of man. These living and producing actions of the three kingdoms do not proceed from natural warmth, the natural light and atmosphere, for these are dead, but from those of the spiritual world. But from these actions we^ recognise the unity and similarity of the laws of aU being. This natural creation is a mere correspondence, a copy, a S3rmbol of the spiritual creation, as the only true one. The first is only present to remind us of the second.
" All these are intended to place before us the infinite wisdom and love of God ; they are meant to show us that the objects which he has created are the immeasurable and incalculable forms of his thoughts and representations.
" God knows no succession of time. His power, his works, all that is and can be, according to the divine order-
SWEDENBOEa OS MAJST. 287
ing, is constantly present to him ; and we can fonn no idea of the creation of the world till we withdraw ourselves from the ideas of time and space. If we do this, then we com- prehend that the greatest and smallest part of space are hy no means different to each other, and the representation of the creation of the world will be like that which we have of the creation of each individual creature.
" The unconfined, the infinite, has its seat in the spiritual sun, as in its first emanation ; so that these things exist in milimited number in the created world. And it thence comes that in the world we scarcely find two creatures alike ; for Grod is infinite, and contains an infinite number of things in himself. From this proceeds the natural sun, the fire-sea, which has the spiritual sun for its prototype ; and, still more, the vast variety of material existences in this world, and of spiritual beings in the spiritual world.
PEOM THE CHAPTEE ON MAN.
" As the being of God consists of love, it follows that love is the life of men, and wisdom the nature or the exist- ence of this love. Love is the soul, life is the spirit, or the inner man, who consists of two powers — understanding and will. The life of man consists in his love ; and as his love is constituted so is his life.
" The body is a provided covering ; for the spiritual strives to clothe itself with the natural as with a garb. The body, which is merely the obeying portion, constitutes the outward, natural or physical man. The bodily life of man consists in the agreement of the will with the heart, and of the imdcrstanding with the lungs ; in fact, thought, as the action of the understanding, puts in motion the organs of speech. The outer man, or the body, is the instrument or means by which the soul in this world feels in a ph^^sical manner. There are consequently two men — a spiritual and a natural or an inward and outward ; but both are united by mutual agreement. Man was so made that he can by means of his inward being be in the spirit-world, and by means of his outward being in the natural world.
"288 HISTOET OF MAGIC.
" Spiritual light and spiritual warmth proceed from God into the soul of man, and thence into the bodily senses, into word and deed. The susceptibility to this influence is always in proportion to the amount of love and wisdom in man, and proceeds by degrees or gradations.
" In the spii'it of man there are three gradations — the heavenly, the spiritual, and the natural ; love, wisdom, and the application of the same ; will, understanding, and action. The three grades of the human spirit harmonize with each other through agreement, and open themselves through the influence of heaven from the first to the last ; that is, as soon as a man begins to do good, he opens to it the body, the next step opens the second, and the third which receives the influence of the Lord.
" Man steps by his birth into the natural grade, which he runs through. The first grade does not, indeed, open to him the second, but it prepares him for it through the acquisition of knowledge, with which the love of applying it germinates ; that is, the love of your neighbour, the know- ledge of our mutual necessities, etc. This spiritual grade increases by the knowledge of the true and good, conducts to the heavenly love of application, to a practical love of God, which opens the third grade.
" The natural spirit embraces and contains the two higher grades of the human soul, and reacts upon them when these grades are not opened. The outer man resists the umer ; the flesh, says Paul, strives against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh. By means of the natural grade the natural man can lift up the power of his understanding to the heavenly light, and recognise perfectly spiritual things. But he can only so far lift up his will or his love to God, as he uses that which reason prescribes to him, because the two higher grades are contained in the application.
"Man is not man on account of his body and his coun- tenance, but because he has will and reason, and through them the power of intercourse with God. The perfect man is spiritual ; for him, body, sense, and the world, are but guide-posts, which direct him back to the originator. His action consists in the active love which a man exercises ; for he does what he loves ; his speech is the expression of his wisdom, the children and forms of love. His work is the
EMANUEL SWEDEKBOEG. 289
exercise of his thoughts, which proceed from love; for what a man loves, he retains in remembrance.
" This is the description of the inner man, which is actually in heaven and in intercourse with heavenly spirits, even while his earthly life continues. This last is to a cer- tain degree no proper life, for the true man only begins to live, according to the testimony of the ancients, after his death.
" The spiritual receives the influence of God ; the bodily, on the contrary, is perishable by hereditary law, which we have inherited with our bodies from our fathers. The spiritual bases itself on our love to God and to our neighbour ; the natural, on the contrary, on the love to itself and to earthly things.
" They who permit themselves to be overcome by sensual appetites resemble the animals, and continue in that grade, while there are two higher ones which they close against themselves. He, therefore, is merely an animal, when the understanding is subjected to the will and to the senses. This outward man has frequently only outward tlioughts ; he ponders and judges with ardour and cunning, because his thoughts are very near to his speech, and are chiefly contained in it. His understanding rests wholly on his sensations and his memory. This man may be learned, because knowledge and science are contained in his natural grade ; but if he do not direct liis faculties towards heaven, and if his science have not God for its object, the other grades remain closed against him, and the learned man, proud man as he is, judging according to his senses, only resembles the animals, and does not possess the truth nor know the good. All this is testified by the examples of many learned men, who, with all their science, are the greatest enemies of God and their own souls.
" The outward is usually false and hypocritical, because, m the true meaning of the word, he is double, and has the two parts of his being separate. The spiritual man is neces- sarily upright and true, because he is simple and single ; in him the spiritual has drawn towards it the natural, and ap- propriated it.
" The learned man, who re2:ards everything in reference to
VOL. II. u
290 HISTORY OF MAGIC.
himself and to the senses, makes himself like the animal, and has light only in the animal instinct. The outward is sufficient for human wisdom, but not for that of Grod, as that which comes alone from Him. This last is the only higher science which in the eyes of Grod has any value ; but it alone is of true value to man. What advantage to him are physics, or the eloquence of other men ? jS'one. The happiness of lii'e consists in this, that we love Grod and our neighbour. The rude but religious man is often more enlightened than the most celebrated academicians of Europe, because he is an inner and spiritual man. He possesses love and faith, which alone ennoble the earth ; he possesses the good and the true, in which is contained the sum of Grod and of all created beings."
How man is the beginning and topstone of creation Swedenborg expresses in this manner : — " Man has, besides this, something which the angels have not ; as he is not only in the spiritual world through his inward nature, but in the physical world through his outward nature. This outward world of nature expresses all that lies in the region of thought and imagination, which are outward and according to nature, in general knowledge and science, with their joys and attractions, so far as they belong to the world, and then, also, the farther enjoyment which belongs to the sensuous system of his body, and, beyond this, sense itself, speech and action : all these complete the last in which divine influence encloses itself; for this does not stand still in a half career, but penetrates to the last. Thus there lies in man the terminating line of the divine plan, and because he is the terminating line he is also the foundation, and fundamentally firm ; and as there is nothing free from bonds, so it follows that there is such a bond between heaven and the human race ; that the one determines itself through the other, and that the human race without the heaven is a chain without a hook, but the heaven without the human race would be a house without a foundation. It is man to which the whole divine plan refers, and from the creation to this time he is the divine plan in exposition. In the degree, however, in w^hich man lives according to the divine plan, he appears in another life a more perfect and also a more beautiful being."
EMAKUEL SWEDEIS^BOEG. 291
TEOM THE CHAPTEE ON EAITH.
" Faitli consists in the conviction that we shall be happy- through faith and good works. We receive this when we turu to the Lord ; when we study the truth of the Holy Scriptures, and order our lives according to them. Eaith without love is no faith ; and love without faith is no love. If you do good, you believe ; if you do evil, you doubt, or believe nothing at all.
" The Lord, faith, and love, are one ; as are the will, the understanding, and the life in man ; if you separate them, they fall and are annihilated, as a broken pearl tails into the dust. The Lord infuses faith and love into the under- Btanding and will of man : thus faith and love are the Lord : how could he divide himself?
" Love and faith are also in good works. Love is the desire of good ; good works are the completion of the good ; and this completion has its foundation in the object which agrees with love and wisdom, or with faith. "Without good works, faitli and love are a cobweb of the brain, while the man consisting of the three grades is a whole, and in all that he does must be as a whole, otherwise he does nothing well. If the conduct be not according to religion, then a man's religion is not pure ; the good and true do not dwell in his will and understanding, consequently he has neither the Jove nor the faith which flow from them ; he is not in tlie church, and has no religion.
" Faith and love are necessary to the doing of good. Love alone brings forth no good work ; and still less faith alone. There is but one true and upright faith, of which we have spoken; there is a spurious faith, which departs from the truth through sin, pride, and heresy ; and a hypocritical faith, which is nothing at all, because the hypocrite is merely an outward, sensual, and fleshly man. His pro- pensities are that which he is himself ; the good which he appears to do comes not from love, and is not genuine goodness."
292 HISTOET OF iTAGld,
FEOM THE CHAPTEE ON THE PLAN OF DIVINE PEOYIDENCE,
A^B OX THE COBRESPONDEIS^CES. '
" Tlie universe is an image of God, and was made for use. Providence is the government of the Lord in heaven and on earth. It extends itself over all things, because there is only one fountain of life, namely, the Lord, whose power supports all that exists.
" The influence of the Lord is according to a plan, and is invisible, as is Providence, by which men are not constrained to believe, and thus to lose their freedom. The influence of the Lord passes over from the spiritual to the natural, and from the inward to the outward. The Lord confers his in- fluence on the good and the bad, but the latter converts the good into evil, and the true into the false ; for so is the creature or its will fashioned.
" In order to comprehend the origin and progress of this influence, we must first know that that which proceeds froni the Lord is the divine sphere which surrounds us, and fills the spiritual and natural world. All that proceeds from an object, and surrounds and clothes it, is called its sphere.
" As all tbat is spiritual knows neither time nor space, it therefore follows that the general sphere or the divine one has extended itself from the first moment of creation to the last. This divine emanation, which passed over from the spiritual to the natural, penetrates actively and rapidly through the whole created world, to the last grade of it, where it is yet to be found, and produces and maintains all that is animal, vegetable, and mineral. Man is continually surrounded by a sphere of his favourite propensities ; these unite themselves to the natural sphere of his body, so that together they form one. The natural sphere surrounds every body of nature, and all the objects of the three kingdoms. Thus it allies itself to the spiritual world. This is the foundation of sympathy and antipathy, of union and reparation, according to which there are amongst spirits presence and absence.
" The angel said to me that the sphere surrounded men
SWEDENBOEG OK DIVINE PEOVIDENCE, ETC. 293
more lightly on the back than on the breast, where it was thicker and stronger. This sphere of influence, peculiar to man, operates also in general and in particular around him by means of the will, the understanding, and the practice.
" The sphere proceeding from God, which surrounds man and constitutes his strength, while it thereby operates on his neighbour and on the whole creation, is a sphere of peace and innocence ; for the Lord is peace and innocence. Then only is man consequently able to make his influence eftectual on his fellow man, when peace and innocence rule in his lieart, and he himself is in union with heaven. This spiritual union is connected with the natural by a benevolent man through the touch and the laying on of hands, by which the influence of the inner man is quickened, prepared, and imparted. The body communicates with others which are about it through the body, and the spiritual influence difluses itself chiefly through the hands, because these are the most outward or ultimum of man ; and through him, as in the whole of nature, the first is contained in the last, as the cause fn the effect. The whole soul and the whole body are con- tained in the hands as a medium of influence. Thus our Lord healed the sick by laying on of hands, on which account so many were healed by the touch ; and thence from the remotest times the consecration of priests and of all holy things was eftected by laying on of hands. According to the etymology of the word, hands denote power. Man believes that his thoughts and his will proceed from within him, whereas all this flows into him. If he considered things in their true form, he would ascribe evil to hell, and good to the Lord ; he would by the Lord's grace recognise good and evil within himself, and be happy. Pride alone has denied the influence of God, and destroyed the human race."
In the work " Heaven and Hell," Swedenborg speaks of influences and reciprocities — Correspondences. " The action of correspondence is perceptible in a man's countenance. In a countenance that has not learned hypocrisy, all emotions are represented naturally according to tlieir true form ; whence the fjice is called the mirror of the soul. In the &ame way, what belongs to the understanding is repre- Bcnted in the speech, and what belongs to the will in the movements. Every expression in the face, in the speech, in
294s HISTOET or MAGIC.
the movements, is called correspondence. By correspondence man communicates with heaven, and he can thus communi- cate with the angels if he possess the science of correspon- dence by means of thought. In order that communication may exist between heaven and man, the word is composed of nothing but correspondences, for everything in the word is correspondent, the whole and the parts ; therefore he can learn secrets, of which he perceives nothing in the literal sense ; for in the word, there is, besides the literal meaning, a spiritual meaning, — one of the world, the other of heaven." Swedenborg had his visions and communications with the angels and spirits by means of correspondence in the spiritual sense. " Angels speak from the spiritual world, according to inward thought; from wisdom, their speech flows in a tranquil stream, gently and uninterruptedly, — they speak only in vowels ; the heavenly angels in A and "O, the spiritual ones in E and I, for the vowels give tone to the speech, and by the tone the emotion is expressed : the interruptions, on the other hand, correspond with creations of the mind : there- fore we prefer, if the subject is lofty, for instance of heaven or Grod, even in human speech, the vowels U and 0, etc. Man, however, is united with, heaven by means of the word, and forms thus the link between heaven and earth, between the divine and the natural."
" But when angels speak spiritually with me from heaven, they speak just as intelligibly as the man by my side. But if they turn away from man, he hears nothing more what- ever, even if they speak close to his ear. It is also remark- able that several angels can speak to a man ; they send down a spirit inclined to man, and he thus hears them united."
In another place he says — " There are also spirits called natural or corporeal spirits ; these have no connection with thought, like the others, but they enter the body, possess all the senses, speak with the mouth, and act with the limbs, for thev know not but that everything in that man is their own. These are the spirits by which men are possessed. They were, however, sent by the Lord to hell ; whence in our days there are no more such possessed ones in existence."
Swedenborg's further doctrines and visions of Harmonies, that is to say, of heaven with man, and with all objects of nature ; of the harmony and correspondence of all things
SWEDENBOEG ON THE PLACETS. 295
with eacli other ; of Heaven, of Hell, and of the world of spirits ; of the various states of man after death, etc., — are very characteristic, important, and powerful. His contem- plations of the enlightened inward eye refer less to every- day associations and objects of life, (although he not un- frequently predicted future occurrences,) because his mind was only directed to the highest spiritual subjects, in which indeed he had attained an uncommon degree of inward wakefulness, but is therefore not understood or known, be- cause he described his sights so spiritually and unusually by language. His chapter on the immensity of heaven attracted me more especially, because it contains a conver- sation of spirits and angels about the planetary system. The planets are naturally inhabited as well as the planet Earth, but the inhabitants differ according to the various individual formation of the planets. These visions on the inhabitants of the planets agree most remarkably, and almost without exception, with the indications of a clairvoyant whom I treated magnetically. I do not think that she knew Swedenborg ; to which, however, I attach little importance. The two seers perceived Mars in quite a different manner. The magnetic seer only found images of fright and horror. Swedenborg, on the other hand, describes them as the best of all spirits of the planetary system. Their gentle, tender, zephyr-like language, is more perfect, purer and riclier in thought, and nearer to the language of the angels, than others. These people associate together, and judge each other by the physiognomy, which amongst them is always the expression of the thoughts. They honour the Lord as sole Cxod, who appear* sometimes on their earth.
Of the inhabitants of Venus he says, — " They are of two kinds ; some are gentle and benevolent, others wild, cruel and of gigantic stature. The latter rob and plunder, and live by this means ; the former have so great a degree of gentleness and kindness that they are always beloved by the good ; thus they often see the Lord appear in their own form on their earth." It is remarkable that this description of Venus agrees so well with the old fable, and with the opinions and experience we have of Venus.
" The inhabitants of the Moon are small, like children of six or seven years old ; at the same time they have the
296 HISTORY OF MAGIC.
streugtli of men like ourselves. Their voice rolls like thunder, and the sound proceeds from the belly, because the moon is in quite a different atmosphere from the other planets." (According to Grruithuisen, the moon has a very pure atmosphere, five times thinner than that of the earth ; therefore the lungs must have a five times greater proportion to the body, — whence the loudness of the voice, which would really be almost like the rolling of thunder.
Swedenborg was mentally transplanted into a great mul- titude of other Star-Worlds, which he describes as following each other in different circles or rows, with their varied in- ternal arrangements, forms, dwellings, and connections, in exactly the same words, expressions, and descriptions, (in a spiritual sense) as if he were describing some known part of our own earth, which certainly often requires a strong faith, and appears singular to our unaccustomed ears.
The so-called Martin Philosophers, who in the end of the last century made so much noise both in France and Germany, and whose whole doctrine is for the greater part one of magic, require here especial mention. They formed a society of philosophers, named after its master, who is the originator of a work bearing the title " On Error and Truth" (Des erreurs et de la verite, Edinburgh, 1775 ; or, Error and Truth, &c. : from the Erench of Matth. Claudius, Breslau, 1782.) In this, and another work published by the society itself, (Tableau naturel des rapports qui existent entre Dieu, I'homme et I'univers, Edinburgh, 1782) are contained the Martin doctrines ; and these agree, as regards theology and natural philosophy, with the doctrines of the older Kabbalah, and with Christian theosophic mysticism. They speak of a brilliant and exalted original type of man, of his fall, in which they support themselves on various secret supplies of older and more recent secret doctrines.
Their ethics are a Christian Essaismus, which takes as a basis that the mind of man must be freed from all im- purities, and enlivened by a higher light, in order to attain its original glory. Their natural philosophy is a doctrine of magic which supposes a certain insight into hermetical art, or a knowledge of natural phenomena, whilst they incul- cate this as the necessary basis of all higher perceptions,
JACOB BOHME. 297
and blame those who seek only the spiritual without percep- tion of the natural, " like persons who float over the ground that they should tread with their feet." But, because they think that visible nature must be studied in a totally different manner from what it usually is, in order to attain true light, and the real fundamental truth of every- thing visible, they blame even the common system of teaching in natural sciences, which is only guided by the physical appearance, is only fixed by matter, and thereby loses sight of the true spiritual enjoyment of man : by natural knowledge the mind of man must rather be pre- pared to guide him into the secrets of the vast connection between the visible and invisible.
They take for granted an invisible world, containing various spiritual beings who have a connection with man, which he, by piety and other virtues, can greatly increase. At the same time, notwithstanding all Swedenborgian resem- blances, their belief on this head is founded, not on a mere acceptance of the Swedenborgian doctrines and visions, but rests on principles which were taught long before the timiO of this celebrated ghost-seer. They are still more dis- inclined to the secret Paracelsic alchemy, because, though not rejecting the knowledge of natural phenomena, they find no satisfaction in the dead visible matter.
JxlCOB BOHME.
The poor diminutive shoemaker of Gorlitz (born 1775), the despised mystic, the still unknown and misunderstood Jacob Bohme, who besides Christianity learned a little writing of his parents, will he not soon be a great man ? as during his apprenticeship was prophesied to him by the strange man who appeared to him, in these words : " Jacob, thou art little, but wilt become great, and quite another man, so that the world will be astonished at thee." Cer- tainly Bohme is often called the German philosopher, but more frequently the theosophic enthusiast, the dreamy mys- tic, who because he is foolish is understood by no one. To me Bohme appears the arch magician in the true sense, and
29S HISTOET OF MAGIC.
shall therefore have the last, and also the highest, place. For Jacob Boh me is truly a German, and a Christian phi- losopher, in whose writings might be contained the key for opening up the secrets of magic, a task which we have al- lotted especially to the German nation.
By a careful study of Bohme's works, and by entering into the spirit which pervades them, I feel convinced that no searcher of whatever profession has looked deeper into life and the mind of men, nor come nearer to the truth, than the truly Christian philosopher, the mystical magician, Jacob Bohme. Bohme's principle is — The beginning of all wisdom is the fear of God. " The knowledge by reason is very well in its place," says Bohme, "but is wanting in the right beginning and aim ; it even falls into denying the possibility of knowing God, — nay, denying even the existence of God. The natural man of reason understands nothing of the secret of the kingdom of God, for he is out of and not in, God, as is proved by the learned reasoners who strive after God's essence and will, and know it not, because they do not hear God's word in the centre of their souls" (Sendbrief, xxxv. 5). Bohme's philosophic views are contained in voluminous writings, and in an intentionally mystic lanc^uage (because he, at the beginning at least, wrote down liis ideas merely for himself without any further ^dews) : they extend to everything, to God, to nature, and spirit, in which man at all times, but in vain, and with doubts and struggles, seeks his salvation. Has Bohme found this truth alone and wholly? Whoever would maintain this would say too much ; for even Bohme amuses himself with beau- tiful many-coloured pictures, which fancy erects as parables, and which do not always imply a complete reality. Bohme ac- knowledges his weakness and powerlessness to understand aright the mystery of God ; he is disturbed by doubts, and evidently does not always reach the goal of truth. But Bohme incontestably shows most clearly that man possesses the power of attaining a higher insight and sphere of action of the God-created economy of life. Bohme understands, in my opinion, the machinery of inner and outer life, true magic, better than any who have treated this inexhaustible subject. And yet Bohme is a completely unlearned prophet, not manufactured by the art of scholastic wisdom.
JACOB BOHME ON THE NEW MAN. 299
"Whether Bohme knew previous or contemporary mystics is uncertain ; it appears that he did not even know Tauler, but was well acquainted with his predecessor Paracelsus, whose spirit found in him a worthy echo. Bohme, however, did not confine himself to the natural philosophy of Para- celsus, but rather wove it into his sublime theosophic contemplations.
The important truths which Bohme declares, concerning God, man, and nature, he can only have drawn from his in- ternal magical contemplations, in which he was inspired and enlightened by G-od. The Christian philosophising Bohme himself says : " That man is capable of a higher truly satis- factory knowledge, because he is created in the image of God, and the all-present God is constantly near him." But at the same time he emphatically remarks that man never- theless is wanting in the divine knowledge, on account of his obstinacy and sinfulness, as also by the hindrances of the tvorld and the devil. It is therefore necessary that man should leave in his pilgrmiage his own individuality, and even all self-willed research, and should only seek the grace of God through Christ. The only true way of seeing God in his word, his essence and his will, and of recognising the signatures of the natural world, is this, — that man be at unity with himself, and abandon everything in his own will, which he has or is, and become as nothing to himself; he must become poorer than a bird in the air, which has at least its nest. Man shall have none, for he shall emigrate from the world ; that is, he must give up his self-will and power" (Myster. Mag.) " Follow my counsel, abandon your own will to the spirit of God, and as you find your will in his, so will he manifest himself in your will. What you then seek, he is in it — nothing is hidden from him, and you see by his light" (Forty questions). " As soon as man through Christ attains amity with God (for without Christ he will not attain it) he gains in Christ a true, essential knowledge of God and of the world, as far as God con- siders such suited to each. For as soon as the growth of the new man begins, there is also a new perception. As clearly as the outward man sees the outer world, so clearly does the new man perceive the divine world in which he lives.
SOO HISTOKT or MAGIC.
mid is no longer led blindfold, nor is truth confined to ideas."
That Jacob Bohme bimself really participated in such knowledge after having the profound feeling of the impo- tence of his own reason, and when in sadness at the great depth and darkness of this world, and at the strife of the elements and creatures, his whole soul appealed in great alarm to Grod, in order to struggle without relaxation wdth the love and mercy of God, is shown emphatically in the Aurora : " Then God enlightened me with his spirit, that I might understand his w411, and get rid of my sorrow ; then the spirit penetrated me, and now, since my spirit, after hard struggles, has broken through the gates of hell to the inner- most origin of godhead, and been there received with love, it has seen everything, and recognised God in all creatures, even in plant and grass ; and thus innnediately with strong im- pulse my will was formed to describe the nature of God."
There are many editionsofBohme's writings — even extracts and so-called anthologies ; but they have remained partly ac- cording to the original text in the mystic dress of the author, and are therefore too diffuse and unintelligible to most per- sons who have not made a deep study of them ; and besides that, the extracts are partial and incomplete. We are still wanting in a systematic selection from the collected works of Jacob Bohme, of which the contents, on all matters taken from the dispersed and unequal works, should be as much as possible literally true to the original, and yet intelligible ; and this is a principal reason why Bohme is so little under- stood, and why the world is not yet astonished at him. Dr. Julius Hamberger has undertaken to supply this want, being about to publish " The Doctrines of the German philosopher Jacob Bohme represented according to systematic extracts from his collected works, and accom- panied by explanatory notices." Dr. Hamberger has been so kind as to allow me to see and make use of the already com- plete manuscript ; and as I thus use it, literally extracting some parts which concern our subject, the reader will have a sample of this new and very carefully arranged, and highly meritorious work, to which I wish to draw especial attention. Hamberger places at every section the principal
bohme's doctrines. 801
sentence, whicli lie then explains with Bohme's own worrls from his writings, and then follow his own remarks, indicated by an asterisk, thus — *.
Of the writings of Jacob Bohme, and the manner of sne- ceeding in understanding them. Dr. Hamberger says intro- ductorily : " The author wrote with divine inspiration from living contemplation ; but it cost him hard battles, and it was not always possible to reduce what he saw into w^ords and ideas. He afterwards acquired a more tranquil, col- lected style.
" ] say it before Grod, and testify it before his judgment," are Bohme's words, " that I do not know myself what 1 shall write ; but as I write the spirit dictates it to me in such wonderful discernment, that I frequently do not know whether I am in this world according to the spirit. And the more I seek the more I find — deeper and deeper ; so that 1 often think my sinful person too mean for such exalted mysteries. Whereupon the spirit erects my stan- dard, and says to me : iSee, therein shalt thou live for ever, why dost thou alarm thyself? (Sendbriefe, 2, LO). I might certainly write more gracefully and intelligibly, but the burning fire often urges me too hastily, so that hand and pen must follow, and it goes then like a shower of rain, — what it strikes it strikes. Were it possible to understand and describe everything, it would be much more deeply grounded ; as, however, this cannot be, more than one book will be made, in order that what was not intelligible in one writing may be found in another" (Sendb. 10, 45).
" After the gates of knowledge were opened to me, I was compelled to commence working at this, like a child that goes to school. In the interior I certainly saw the truth, as it were at a great depth, but to disentangle it was impos- sible. From time to time it opened to me liKC a plant, bul it was twelve years before I could bring it out."
* The author, by reason of his human sinfulness, had not always his high power of perception with equal clearness. When God's spirit left him, he did not understand his own writings.
" As the soul has its source in nature, and its good and evil in nature, and man has cast himself through sin into
802 HISTOBT or MAGIC.
the wildness of nature, so that the soul is daily and hourly- soiled by sins, its perceptions can be only partial" (Aur. Yorr. 100). " As long as Grod holds his hand over me, I per- fectly understand that which I have written, but as soon as he conceals himself I no longer know my own work, and am a stranger to the work of my own hands : whence I perceive how impossible it is to discover Grod's secrets without his spirit" (Sendb. 10, 29).
" Whoever will apply himself to these papers, wiU read and search them, must be warned not to undertake this by outward, sharp speculation and reflection. By this means he would remain on the outer, ideal ground, and would attain only an outward glimmer of it" (Clav. Yorr. 1).
* However difficult parts of these writings may be, yet by the enlightening of the divine spirit, for which one must pray earnestly to Grod, everything, the most inward and the most superficial of things, will become intelligible.
" True discernment no one can give to another ; each must have it direct from God. Assistance may be given by one to another, but not understanding. Thus the author's writings furnish only here and there a glimmering of knowledge ; but if one is acknowledged worthy by God to have the light kindled in one's soul, he will then under- stand the unspeakable words of God" (Sendb. 55, 8 — 12).
" Everyone speaks according as his life is influenced by God ; and no one can bring us to knowledge but the spirit from God, who on the day of Pentecost turned all nations' languages into one in the apostles' mouth, so that the apostles' tongues understood the languages of all people, though they only spoke with one tongue, but the auditors' minds and hearts were opened by God, so that they all understood the same language, each one in his own. Thus alone through God is it possible that one spirit should understand another. Hence I fear that in many parts of my writings I am difficult to understand ; but in God I am easily understood by the reader, if his soul is founded in God, from whose knowledge alone I write" (Sendb. 4, 20, 21).
JACOB BOHME. 303
OF MAGIC, OE OF THE SPIEIT AND ESSENCE OF THINGS IN THEIE FOEMATION.
In the formation of creatures, their own spirit is assisting.
" The spirit is originally a magic source of fire, and yearns for being ; that is, for form. This then creates desire, which is the spii'it's corporealness, by which the spirit is called a creature" (Sendb. 47, 5).
* Everything real is also active in its own way. Now the idea, in as far as it only exists in the divine understandiug, has not yet in itself any reality ; when, however, God brings it over from this state of complete unreality, by creation to actual, corporeal, or essential reality, there results, by means of the separation of the powers contained in it, a kind of medium between the mere spiritual and unreal, and between the corporeal or completely real being, which our author calls the Life essence, and introduces above, not under this name indeed, but describes very clearly and delinitely according to its nature. By means of this essence creatures are certainly active in their own corporeal formation, as we find is the case still with the development of every natural product, and as we perceive in the creation of every true work of art.
Between the mere idea of the true work of art, and its corporeal formation, lies the stirring, active spirit of it, which shall attract itself as its body. Many a one is capable of the idea of a work of art, but the true realisation-requiriug image will not become fully alive in him, or remain alive in him, and thus it falls short of a successful production. Hence it appears that the essence is to be distiuguished from the mere idea. But it could never attain to essence without magic, by which we must acknowledge, even in a material point of view, the transition from the mere possi- bility to reality. The relation of the idea to the essence is the same as mere nature, or what the author calls Mysterium magnum, to magic ; but over both stands, and over both presides, the magician, that is, the free-acting will.
304 HISTOET or MAGIC.
OF GOD A]S"D HIS MANIFESTATIOIS' : ADAM'S OEIGINAL STATE.
Grod has from all eternity manifested himself in being, and the cause of this manifestation lies first of all in the will of the Trinity and in the yearnings of the eternal wisdom.
" If, then, a mystery has existed from eternity, its mani- festation must now be considered by us. Of eternity we can only speak as of a spirit, for it has been all mere spirit. But it has also elected itself from all eternity in the essence" (Menschwerd, I, 2, 1).
" Whatever is calm and without essence in itself, has no obscurity in it, but is a still, clear light, joy or essence. That, then, is eternity without anything, and is called Grod before all else. As, however, God will not exist without essence, he includes in himself a will, and that will is de- sire" (Dreif. Leben. ii. 75 — 77).
" The whole divine essence is in constant and eternal birth, like the mind of man, but immutable. As in the human mind thoughts are always being born, and out of thoughts, will and desire, and out of the will and desire the word, in which the hands assist that it may increase in substance, so is the case with the eternal birth" (Drei Princ. ix. 32).
" The will is first thin as a nonentity ; therefore it desires, and will become something, that it may be manifest in itself. Mere nothingness causes the will to have desires, and desire is an imagination. For when the will sees itself in the mirror of wisdom, it imagines out of groundlessness into itself, and makes itself in imagination a foundation for itself" (Menschw. xi. 2, 1.)
" The virgin of wisdom, God's companion in his honour and joy, becomes full of yearning after God's wonders, which lie in herself. But by means of this longing are produced in her the eternal essences ; these attract the holy power, and thus it becomes with her a fixed being. Yet in this she takes nothing for herself ; her appropriativeness only exists
BOHME ON THE DIVINE MANIFESTATION, ETC. 305
in the holy spirit ; she moves only before G-od, to reveal Grod's wonders" (Drei Priuc. xiv. 87, 88.)
* Although a question here arises of a yearning of eternal wisdom, it is not therefore indicated as personal. In all outward nature there is also a yearning, as all phenomena in it show reciprocal attraction. Such yearning suits her, because in her innermost essence she is lively, spiritual. Thus we must consider the eternal wisdom as a spirit, but not a person.
Whereas Adam formerly belonged to the divine world and to eternity, he sank now, because the image of God began to fade in him, into terrestrial life, and thus into powerlessness and sleep.
" It is easily to be understood by a sensible man, that there could be no sleep in Adam, as long as he existed in God's image ; for he was then such an image as we shall be in the resurrection. Then we shall not require the elements, neither the sun nor the stars, nor even sleep, but our eyes will remain open to contemplate eternally the glory of Q-od" (Drei Princ. xii. 17).
" The image of God does not sleep ; that which is eternal knows no time. But by sleep was time revealed to man ; he slept away the angelic world, and awoke in the outer world" (Myst. xix. 14).
" When Adam was overcome, the essence wherein the beautiful virgin had dwelt became earthly, weary, powerles?, and weak. The powerful mother of the essence, from which she drew her power without any sleep or rest, disappeared in Ada:n" (Drei Priuc. iii. 8).
" Thus Adam fell to magic, and his glory was gone, for sleep signifies death and a victory. The kingdom of the earth had conquered him, and wanted to govern him" (Menschw. i. 5, 8).
" "When the desire of the spirit of this world had con- quered, he sank again into sleep. Then his heavenly body became flesh and blood, and his great strength stift' bones. Then the virgin entered the life of shadows, into heavenly Ether, into the principle of strength" (Drei Princ. xiii. 2.)
* For the better explanation of our author's doctrine of Adam's sleep, we must compare the following clauses on ter-
VOL. II. X
306 HISTORY or MAGIC.
restrial sleep in general. " The living creatures," says Bohme, (Drei Princ, xii. 22, 23) " such as men, animals, and birds, have the essence in themselves, for they are an extract of the quality of the starb and elements, and this essence is always kindled by the sun and the stars, where- upon the essence kindles the body. Thus, when the sun sets, and his splendour is no longer visible, the essence becomes weak, as it needs kindling by the sun's power ; and because the essence becomes feeble, the strength in the blood, which is itself the essence, becomes impotent, and sinks into soft repose, dead and overcome." What is here said of the kindling of the essence, — that is, of the awakening of the power of life by the action of the sun — applies in a manner also to Adam. The divine spirit-life could only exist in him by the power of the divine sun of grace, and must necessarily disappear on his voluntary de- sertion of it.
As this powerlessness should serve for Adam's salvation, there was given him, in order to preserve him from sinking further still, in place of the retreated heavenly virgin, the terrestrial woman.
" As Adam went from Grod into personality, Grod allowed him to fall into impotence : else with hi-^ personality, he had become in the fire-night even a devil" (Stief. ii. 363). " "When the devil saw that desire was in Adam, he acted still more on the nitre in Adam and ku^t his frame together more firmly. It was then time that the Creator should make him a wife, who afterwards certainly originated sin, and ate of the false fruit. But if Adam had eaten of the fruit before the woman was made of him, it would have been worse still" (xlur. xvii. 21, 22.)
The woman was taken from all the strength of Adam, but, according to the essence, for ned from a rib which then had not been degraded to a stiff bone.
" Eve was not extracted (from Adam) as a mere spirit, but was complete in being. We must say, that Adam's side was opened, and tlie woman, Adam's spirit, appeared of flesh and bone" (Drei Princ. xiii. 14). " Eeasonsays — If Eve be formed only out of a rib of Adam, she must be much smaller thau Adam. It is not so, however, for the Fiat, as sharp attraction,
BOHME ON THE HUMAN CREATION. 307
(or as tlie first form of nature) extracted from all essences .' lid qualities, and from every power of Adam, and only no more members in the essence" (Drei Princ. xiii. 18). *' Adam's body had not yet become hard bone. That only took place when Eve ate the apple, and gave Adam of it. Decay and temporal death already existed in it as dis- temper and mortal sickness, but the bones and ribs were still power and strength, and Eve was formed from the power and strength, from which, later, the stiff rib should first exist" (Ebend. xiii. 13).
* Bohme says here with reference to the body of Adam, that before the fall it was still free from earthly stiffness, because then death had no power over it. He thus removes beforehand the so often repeated rationalist assertion, that the creation of the woman out of a rib of Adam must be looked upon as a pure impossibility.
Eve was not miscreated, but lived still with Adam in Paradise ; the pure divine likeness was no longer, however, to be found in either.
" Eve was not miscreated, but quite lovely ; but the signs of destruction were already about her, and she could be j)0 more than the wife of Adam. But both were still in Paradise ; and had they not eaten of the tree, but turned tlieir imaginations to G-od, they had remained in Paradise" (Drei Princ. xiii. 36).
" Adam and Eve had the torment of Paradise, but mixed with temporal disease. They were naked and were pos- sessed of bodily organization, but they knew them not, aud were not ashamed, for the spirit of the great world had yet no dominion over them till thev ate of the earthly fruit" (Mensch. i. 6, 15).
" No one can say that Eve before the contact with Adam was a pure, chaste virgin ; for as soon as Adam awoke from sleep he saw her standing by him, and soon imagined in her, and took her to him and said, ' This is fiesh of my flesli and bone of my bone ; she shall be called woman, because she is taii.en from the man. And in the same way also Eve imagined soon in her Adam, and one looked with love on the other." (Vierz. Frag, xxxvi. (3, 7.)
* We must no doubt distinguish, in Paradise, as in Heaven itseli", higher and lower regions ; so that although
308 HISTOBT OF MAGIC.
Adam and Eve may have been in Paradise, they could only have had an inferior region of it for their dwelling.
OF THE CEEATIOJS" OF THE WOELD.
Before the sun and stars were kindled, nature was still as if in the power of death, wanting the formations of the living, increasing strength which proceeded from herself.
" IJntil the third day of the kindling of the auger of God in this world, nature was in anxiety, and an obscure valley, and in death ; but on the third day, when the light of the stars was kindled in the waters of life, life broke through death, and commenced the new birth (Aur. xxiv. 41).
" In the earth above all, is the harsh quality ; this contracts the saline particles, and fixes the Earth so that she is a cor- poreal being, and forms also in her all bodies, such as stones, ores, and all roots. Now when this is formed, it has still no life to enable it to grow and spread itself out. But when the heat of the sun acts on the globe, all kinds of forms flourish and grow in the earth" (Aur. viii. 41, 42).
* Bohme, it is true, declares the Aurora to be the least per- fect among his works; notwithstanding which it is remarkable that here, in contradiction to the Bible, he assumes that the firmament was created as early as the third day. This assumption does not agree even with his own doctrine of the seven forms of nature, which reoccurs, according to his express declaration, in the history of creation, inasmuch as with the appearance of the firmament the real entrance of the light of Grod into natural life obtains ; in the same way as even with divine life, wisdom only becomes visible in the fourth form of nature. Bohme has been misled here, as appears by his explanations, (Aur. xxiv. 42), by the erroneously accepted analogy of the resurrection of the Saviour, which certainly did take place on the third day.
But now God's eternal light has penetrated the darkness of this world, and kindled heat in the firmament, or in heaven ; and thus from fire proceeded light, namely, the Bun and the starry sky (firmament).
Herewitli, however, the divine wisdom is not manifest in
BOHME ON CREATION. 80^
a completely pure, and therefore not changeless manner, but always as in a clear mirror, and hence the devil is sent back into his darkness.
" On the fourth day God of his infinite wisdom created in the visible world the sun and the stars. Here for the first time we can only appreciate the divinity and the external wisdom of Grod as in a clear mirror. But the being visible to the eye is not God himself, but only a god- dess in the third principle, who at last returns to her ether and has an end" (Drei Princ. 8, 13).
" God made a firmament which is called heaven, between the outer and inner birth — between the clear godhead and depraved nature, which one must break through to reach God. It is said of this firmament (Job, xv. 15) that even the heavens are not clean before God ; but on the last day shall wrath be swept from them" (Aur. 20, 41, 46).
"At the creation another light was kindled for this (by Lucifer destroyed) world — namely, the sun ; and thus the glory of the devil withdrawn from him. He was then shut up in darkness as a prisoner betvreen the kingdom of God and this world, so that he has no longer to command in this world except by the Turba (i. e. where a confusion of powers takes place), or where the fury and wrath of God is awakened" (Mensch. 1, 2, 8).
* The removal of Lucifer, which is here in question, must necessarily be treated dynamically; the more prominent the power of light and order w^as, the more insignificant became the Turba — the confusion of powers — the more must the power of him be confined, who, in fact, can only dcvelope himself in Turba.
The sun came by the soul of the world from aU stars ; but it also developes anew the life of all stars.
" In the soul of the outer world (and by the same), God has created and chosen a king, or, as I might express it figuratively, a god of nature with six counsellors, as his helps — namely, the sun with the other six planets, which are declared out of the seven qualities from the loco of the Bun. This sun takes its brilliancy from the essence of the world of fire and light, and stands like an open point, oppo- site to the fire-world" (Myst. 13, 16, 17).
" In the centre of death, i. e. in the body or bodily being
310 HISTOET OF MAGIC.
of the eartli, has God excited the essence, its glory, bril* liancy and light, in which consists its life ; but to the depth over the centre he has given the sun, which is an essence of fire, and whose power extends beyond (and over) nature, from which he receives his brightness. The life of the whole wheel of stars is the same, and all stars are his chil- dren ; not in the sense that they have his essence, but that their life in the beginning has originated in his centre" (Dreif Leben, 4,27).
" The sun is the heart of all the powers of this world, and is conglomerated from all the powers of the stars, and in return kindles and enlivens all stars and all powers of this world" (Ebend. 7, 40).
" It is not to be understood when the sun is called the centre of the stars, that all the stars originated in the spot Solis. But he is (the sun) the centre of the powers of the stars, and the cause of their movement in the essence. He opens his powers and imparts power to them as their heart" (Myst. 11, 32).
* As the divine wisdom only exists through the Trinity, and vice versa, tie Trinity only through divine wisdom, so in the same manner is the existence of the stars dependent on that of the sun, and that of the sun on the stars, but in such manner that as the Trinity is in rela- tion to wisdom, so is the sun in relation to the stars as the higher and more masculine power. A similar relation obtains with regard to the sun itself and on the world-soul, through which, as our author says, " the sun is awakened and born," but which in another place he describes as " an outflow of the strength of the sun and the stars." In a certain way, the soul of the world is of course dependent on the sun, but she is worthy of a higher dignity than the sun, as our author immediately subjects her to the divine ideal world. " Grod," he says (Sign. 8, 3), "has placed a single master, as his officer, over all things — namely, the soul of the great world. But over this he has put an image of his equal (evidently the ideal world), who models before the officer what he has to do. That is the understanding ; God's own power, by which he governs the officer." Without such a world-soul, which Bohme also calls the sidereal spirit, or the star spirit, or the spiritus mundi^ the single objects of
BOHME ON PLANETAET CBEATTOT^^. 311
nature would not form a true whole, nor would so many phenomena and relations in the world, as, for instance, the regular motion of the stars, the right proportion between the origin and the decay of various objects in the world, be intelligible. But the difference between this world-soul and the ideal world is evident ; the latter has its life and being in God himself, and is uncreated ; but the world-soul, on the other hand, is of creative nature, and differing from God. In the ideal world lie the directions for the mode of action of the world-soul : thus the former appears commanding, the latter obeying, etc.
In conjunction with the seven forms of nature, and cor- responding with them, issued especially the seven planets through the sun.
" In the same way that the sun is the heart of life, and a source of all spirits in the body of this world, is Saturn the commencement of all corporealness and comprehensi- bleness. Thus he does not derive his beginning and his origin from the sun, but his source is the earnest, harsh, and severe anxiety of the whole body of this world" (Aur. 26, 1—3).
" When the light was kindled, there resulted from the conquered power and harshness, — Mercury (Dei Princ. 8, 24). Mercury is an agitator, a sounder, a musician, but has not yet the right life, whose primitive condition is in fire. Thus he desires the terrific and stormy being which opens up fire; and this is Mars" (Dreif. Leben, 9, 78).
" When the sun was kindled, the terrible fire-fright arose out of the loco of the sun, like a cruel, violent lightning ; and from that proceeded Mars. He now stands as a fury, a blusterer, and a mover of the whole body of tins world, so that from him all life takes its source" (Aur. 25, 72, 75, 79).
" But as soon as the spirits of motion and of life had arisen from the loco of the sun by the kindling of the water, gentleness penetrated as the ground of the water, infected under itself with the power of light, in the manner of humility, and from this resulted the planet Venus" (Ebend. 26, 19,*32, 33).
" When the fire-impetus was imprisoned by light, the latter penetrated, in its own power, as a gentle heaving life,
312 HISTOET OP MAGIC.
Still further into the depth, till it reached the hard, cold seat of nature. There it remained stationary ; and out of the same power proceeded the planet Jupiter" (Ebend. 25, 76, 80-82).
" The seventh form is Lnna, in which lay the qualities of ail these seven forms. She is also the bodily essence of the other forms, who all, through Solem, cast their desires into her. What Sol is and does in himself spiritually, that is and does Luna in herself bodily" (Sign. 9, 24).
* From the quotations here furnished on the origin of the planets, it is seen that Saturn answers to the first. Mercury to the second. Mars to the third, Venus to the fifth, and Jupiter to the sixth, natural body. The author brings them forward thus emphatically in the work, " Tables of the Three Principles." Table 2. Here we find how the moon is given as the seventh, and sun as the fourth corresponding form. It will readily be admitted, however, that Bohme could only be satisfied with such a construction, because in his time the other planets (only become known in our days) were not discovered. Another construction based on these new discoveries, or rather only an attempt at such, is given in " God and his Eevelation,'" S. 170 and 182 &.
After the firmament existed, the sidereal life was called forth by it ; i e. there arose by it living beings like stars of the different elements.
" The firmament of heaven is made out of the middle of the water: this birth penetrates through the out- ward torpid birth, through death, and bears here sidereal life ; such as animals, and men, birds, fishes, and reptiles" (Aur. 20, 60, 61).
" When Grod had opened its stars and the four elements, there were creatures in all the four elements ; as birds in the constellation of the air, fishes in the constellation of the water, animals and four-footed creatures on the constel- lation of the earth, spirits in the constellation of fire" (Myst. 14, 1, 2).
We have seen above, that our author maintains that the earth has "the same qualities as the space above the earth." Hence we can understand why he could speak, not only of the constellation of heaven, but even of living creatures, *' as of the constellations of the elements." But that such
BOHME ON CPtEATION. 313
should only appear on the fifth day, i. e. after the creation of the firmament, whereas by the action of the still unen- dowed firmament even plants could flourish, is natural. In animals are revealed the first signs of a spiritual life, or at least a decided presentiment of it ; but the spiritual life can everywhere appear only with and by the completion of physical existence. This is the case not only with creatures, but we maintain it, as is fully proved in the second and third division, even with the life of the Eternal. It is thus easy to see that the active strength characteristic of the stars, or their spiritual life, could only be revealed, after they had issued from the chaos of the firmament, in which they had been previously swallowed up, and had gained their appropriated corporealness. In the " spirits in the constel- lation of fire," which besides the other living beings have come into existence under the action of the star-world, we are not to understand angels or devils ; as Bohme himself says (Myst. 8 12) : " As ni the divine revelation one step follows the other down to the uttermost, so it is with the angels or spirits ; all are not holy which dwell in the elements." We read further (v. 8, ff"), " whilst spirits live in the power of the holy world, others in the outer world govern the powers of the stars and the four elements, like kingdoms and princedoms, as every country has its princely guardian angel, with its legions," etc. Paracelsus main- tained a similar doctrine ; and the Holy Scriptures seem to indicate the same thing (Compare Joh. 5, 4.)
These creatures received their spirit from the constella- tions, or rather from the spirit of this world, but their body from the earth. In this manner was produced, according to the preponderance of the fiery or watery form, the contrast of the two sexes.
" From the matrix of nature, God, by means of the fiat of his word, allowed all things to issue on the fifth day accord- ing to their properties, — fishes in the water, birds in the air, and the other animals on the earth. They received their physical being from the firmness of the earth, but their spirit from the spiritus mundV' (Grnadenw. 5, 20).
" All creatures are formed out of the lower and out of the upper life. Earth's matrix gave the body, and the con- stellation the spirit" (Dreif. Leben, 11, 7). " As the star-
314 HISTORY OF MAGIO.
spirit, or the spirit in the power of fire, was mingled by its yearnings with the watery spirit, there proceeded from one and the same essence two sexes, one (the masculine) in a fierv, the other (the feminine) in a watery form" (Drei. Princ. 8, 43).
THE SUN AS CENTEE OF NATURAL LIEE. '
Grod effects this beneficent ministry especially through the sun, which, as a true image of the divine heart of love, governs the whole visible world, and restrains the fury of the dark world.
" The godhead, the divine li^ht, is the centre of all life, and thus in the revelation of G-od the sun is the centre of all life" (Signat. 4, 17). " Grod the Father creates love from his heart ; and thus the sun also indicates his heart. It is the outer world, the figure of the eternal heart of God, which gives strength to all existence and life" (Sign. 4, 39).
" G-od gave light to the outer world by the breath of his power, through the beams of his light, and governs with sun and moon in this world's being. All stars take their light and their splendour from the outpoured brilliancy of his light; and God adorns the earth by this light with beautiful plants and flowers, and thus gives joy with it to everything that lives and grows" (Gebot, 47).
" This world has a special god of nature, namely, the sun. But he takes his existence from the fire of God, and this again from the light of God. Thus the sun gives the power to the elements, and these to the creatures and pro- ductions of the earth" (Sechs theos. Punkte, 4, 13).
" The abyss of hell is in this world ; the sun is the only cause of water ; and thus the space above the earth appears lovelv, pleasing, soft, and delightful" (Dreif. Leben, 6, 6, 3, 64). Everything powerful of the holy world's essence lies concealed in the wrath and the curse of God, in the properties of the world of darkness ; but it becomes green bv the power of the sun, and by the light of outer nature, by the curse and wrath" (Myst. 21, 8).
BOHME ON THE SUN, ETC. 315
* Besides the great dignity and importance whicli Bohme assigns to the sun, he also decidedly adopts the doctrine that he does not run round the world. " The sun," he says (Aur. 25, 60), " has his own royal locus, and does not stir from the spot where he was created, although some are of opinion that he runs night and day round the globe."
As the sun governs the whole terrestrial world, he must, according to his essence and power, be present every wheie in it.
" The sun is not far from the water, for water has the sun's properties and essence ; else water would not give the reflection of the sun. Although the sun is a body, it is also in the water, but not visibly. Nay, we see that the whole world would be mere sun, and locus of the sun, if God would kindle and reveal it, for all being in this world receives the rays of the sun" (Sechs theos. Punkte, 6, 10).
" If Grod were to kindle light by heat, the whole world would be mere sun ; for the power in which the sun stands is everywhere, and before the time of the sun it was every- where in the locus of this world as light as the sun is, not, however, as insupportable, but in a mild and gentle way" (Aur. 25, 63, 64).
* Formerly, our author maintains, " the whole world was as light as now only is the sun." Before her destruction, he means, there existed not that separation, that keeping-apart in the world, which by the penetration of the power of death must make itself visible in her. There existed already, then, all the details that we now remark in her ; but the power of the full, unchecked life of every single being was participated in by all, so that all enjoyed such a fulness of life, and all lived in each other, none out of the other, only the higher included the lower, whilst the latter existed in the former. This manner of its being exists no more ; but the separation could not in any way be an abso- lute one ; and thus they are still powerfully united, and the strength of all is still contained in each individual. In this avowedly incomplete union and classification, as it exists in the lower world, we become aware of a real excitation of the one merely powerful force, through the other actual one, as, for instance, the sun in the water by the sun in the firmament. But once, at the end of time, will the splendour
816 HISTOET OF MAGIC.
o ' the sun, reinstated in its true essence, penetrate every- thing, and all the world become as light and clear as it was formerly. The separation in which the spirits of nature now stand shall be done away with, and the earth be taken up again into the ruling sun, from which, in consequence of the general destruction, she was repelled. " The earth," says our author (Myst. 10, 60, 62), "is in its place in the centre of the sun, but now no longer. Her king has fallen, and a curse now rests on her. But God has not rejected for ever the holy being, but merely the wickedness which was mixed up in it. So when once the crystal earth shall appear, what we have said will be fulfilled, — that her place is in the centre of the sun."
Even the firmaments are governed by the sun, and receive powers from him, which they then communicate to terrestrial things.
" The sun is the centre of the constellations, and the earth the centre of the elements. These two are opposite each other, like spirit and body, or like man and wife, in which it perfects its being, that is the moon, which is the wife of all the stars, but especially of the sun" (Myst. 11, 31). "As the stars, full of desire, attract the sun's power uoto them, so also the sun penetrates powerfully into the Btars, and thus they have their brightness from the power of the sun. But then the stars cast their kindled power, like a fruit, into the elements" (Grnadenw. 2, 26).
* WhenBohme fixes the earth as the centre of the elements, we are not of course to understand the outward earth, which is only to be looked upon as a product of the elements, but her inner essence, from which the elements, as well as the exterior earth herself, proceed, as may be found more exactly explained in " Grod and his E/Cvelations," p. 186, ff.
OF THE POWEES OF THE CONSTELLATIONS.
Since the stars have their origin simultaneously in the world of light and in the world of darkness, not only good comes from them, but also that evil which is found in the terrestrial world.
BOHME ON THE CONSTELLATIONS. 317
" Good and evil are revealed in the constellations ; for the wrathful, fiery power of eternal nature, as well as the power of the holy spiritual world, is revealed in them as au exhaled essence. Thus there are many dark stars, which we do not see, as well as many light ones which we see" (My St. 10, 36).
" The evil like the good in all things comes entirely from the stars ; as the creatures on earth are in their properties, so also are the stars" (Aur. 2, 2).
" Everything that lives and floats is awakened and brought to life by the stars ; for these are not only fire and water, but they are hard and soft, sour and sweet, bitter and dark, — they possess, in fact, ail powers of nature, and everything that is in the earth" (Dreif. Leben, 7, 48).
" The constellation is the cause of all wit ; also of all order and government in the world ; it is that which awakens to growth all plants and metals and trees. For everything lies in the earth which the constellation possesses ; and the constellation kindles the earth, and all is one spirit together" (Ebend. 7, 48).
* As the spirit of this world in general acts on the earth as on mankind through the constellations, we need not be astonished at the great importance our author attaches to them, as he derives from them all outward art, all temporal order, etc.
" In comparison with the earth and the elements, the con- stellations stand as the higher, living, and at the same time masculine power."
" The stars are a qninta essentia, a fifth form of the ele- ments and of their life (extending beyond the four elements") (Dreif. Leben, 7, 45).
" The starry heaven rules in all creatures, as in its own dominions ; it is as the man, and the matrix or watery form is as the wife, who bears what the heaven makes" (Drei Princ. 7, 33).
" The upper desires the lower, and the lower the upper. The hunger of the upper is great to the world, and the world hungers for the upper. Thus both are towards each other as body and soul, or as man and wife" (Grnadenu . 6, 15).
318 HISTOET or MAGIC.
OF THE LIFE OF THE EAETH AXD OF THE FOTJE ELEMENTS.
It must, however, be said of the earth that she has a life. That is proved by her productions, as well as by her long- ing after the sun, by means of which she is constantly turned.
" If thou beholdest the earth and the stones, thou must say that there is life in them, else neither gold nor silver would grow in them, neither herb nor grass" (Aur. 19, 57).
" Every being longs after the other, — the upper after the lower, and the lower after the upper ; for they are separated from each other. Thus the earth is fuU of hunger after the constellation, and after the spiritus mundiy so that she has no rest" (Clav. 110).
" The earth turns herself round, for she has in her both fires, the hot and the cold fire, and the lowest in her will always come up towards the sun, because from him alone she receives spirit and strength. On that account she turns ; the fire {i. e. the desire after light) turns her, for it wishes to be kindled and to have a life of its own. But as it must nevertheless remain in death, it has ahvays the longing after the higher life, and attracts it, and opens its centre con- stantly for the sun's essence and fire" (Dreif. Leben. 11, 5).
* The spiritual contemplation of nature which prevails here forms a strong contrast to the more usual notion that the movement of the earth, of the planets, etc., is nothing more than a mechanical trick. But one might e\ren here be too easily tempted to attribute an enthusiastic imagination to our author, to ward ofi" which we refer to Aur. zu, § 19 and § 113. Moreover Bohme declares the constant turning of the stars and the earth to be only a consequence of the general destruction of nature through Lucifer's crime. " The army of Lucifer," he says, in Aur. 15, 17, 53, " kin- dled the nitre of the stars and the earth, and half killed and destroyed it, so that they are forced by this conflagration of
BonME ON THE TOTJE ELEMENTS. 319
wratli to -svhirl round in all celerity till the day of judg- ment."
The four elements are in reality only properties of the true fifth element, which remains concealed behind the outer elements.
" AVhat we now call four elements are not elements, but only properties of the true element" (Myst. 104).
" The real element stands concealed behind the outer burning elements" (Drei. Princ. 14, 54).
" The qiiinta essentia is paradisical life in the heavenly world, and shut up in the outer world {i. e. not fixed or retained by her, only not visible)" (Clavis specialis).
" Fire, air, water, and earth proceeded out of the centre of nature, and before the conflagration existed, in one being. But since the conflagration they show themselves in four forms, which are called four elements ; but they are still in each other as one, and, in truth, only one exists. There are not four elements in heaven, but one, yet all four forms lie concealed in that one" (Dreif. Leben, 5, 105).
From this celestial ground the outward, terrestrial elements proceeded; and first fire, then air, then water, and last the earth element, was here distinguished.
As the elements proceeded from an original unity, they long eagerly for each other, but are also involved at the same time in strife and adversity.
" The four elements are only properties of the one divided element ; therefore is such great anguish and desire among them. Internally, they have only one single basis ; there- fore one must long after the other, and seek that inner basis in the other" (Clav. 106).
" After the element which has only one will produced four elements, which now govern in one body, adversity and strife commenced among them. Heat is now opposed to cold, fire to water, air to earth ; each is the death and destruction of the other" (Sign. 15, 4).
* Bohme does not intend to maintain, either here or els^ w^here, that the quadrupleness of the elements is abolished in the heavenly region. Of a certainty, even the lower forma of nature must exist in the eternal, and especially so; that the higher ones may reveal themselves in full glory
320 HISTOET or MAGIC.
therefore the different elements exist equally even in heavenly nature, but not in their division, neither in mutual restraint, but rather in harmony, and adapted to their reci- procal glorification. " As long," says our author, emphati- cally (Unadenwahl, 6, 4), "as these four — fire, light, air, and water — separate from each other, the Eternal is iiot there ; but when they endure the companionship of each other, and do not fly asunder, then the Eternal is present."
In the products of the earth, as, for instance, in so many minerals, the true essence appears enclosed in death, but from others, especially the valuable metals and precious stones, it shines out upon us in some degree.
" It appears strange to the understanding, when it con- siders the earth with its hard stones and its rough, harsh existence, and sees how great rocks and stones are formed, of which a part are of no use, or are only a hindrance to the creatures of the world" (Myst. x. 1).
" The terrestrial torment destroyed the heavenly, and became a Turba to the latter, as the Fiat made earth and stones out of the eternal essence" (Menschw. i. 9, 8).
" But we find in the earth another essence, which has community with the heavenly, especially in the precious metals" (Sechs theos. Punkte, vi. 6, 2.)
" Grold approaches to the divine essence or celestial cor- porealness, as we should perceive if we could dissolve its dead body and make it a living spirit, which is only possible by the movement of Grod" (rfign. iii. 39).
" As regards the precious stones, such as carbuncles, rubies, emeralds, delphinite, onyx, and such, they have their origin where the lightning of light and love has arisen (comp. § 31). This lightning is born in gentleness, and is tlie very centre of the source-spirits ; therefore these stones are so sweet and lovely and withal so strong" (Aur. xviii. 17).
JACOB BOHME. 321
OF THE NATUEE OF MAN AETEE THE FALL.
As God himself from eternity bears the focus of light in himself, so there exists in the soul the desire of pene- trating into the second principle, and of Kving on the light of God.
" The soul is in its substance a magic source of fire and of the nature of God the father, — a great desire after light."
" But if the soul, as was the case with Adam, does not abandon its will to God, the divine Idea in it, although not destroyed, is rendered inactive.
" One must not think that man's heavenly being is be- come a nonentity. It has remained to him, but was as a nonentity in his life. It was concealed in God, and was incomprehensible to man without life" (Myst. xx. 28).
"The soul's essence out of the unfathomable will is not dead; she will destroy nothing, but remains eternally a free will. But she has lost the holy essence in which God's light and fire of love burned ; neither is she become a non- entity, although to the creature soul both a nonentity and insensitive ; but the holy power, i. e., the spirit of God, ia which was the active life, concealed itself" (Gnadenw, vii.ll).
* God has not left the soul, but the soul God, as Bohme emphatically says. " God," he says, (Gnadenw. vii. 12) " did not withdraw himself from the soul, but the science of the free will withdrew itself from God, in the same way as the sun does not withdraw himself from the thistle, but the thistle from the sun." Only through itself, and com- pletely without and against the divine will, has the soul lost the light of the eternal, which formerly could be active in her, and by whose light she was penetrated. The godlike essence of man is not even completely lost by the fall, but is only gone back out of the state of actual being into a state of mere potentiality, in which sense our author compares it with an extinguished taper, which evidently has the fiame in it as a power, but only as such. " If the light of the divine principle," says he (Myst. xx. 27), " is ex« tinguished, the being in which it burned and shone is as
VOL. II. T
322 HisTOET or magic.
dead and as a nonentity. It is like a taper, wliicli so long as it burns in a dark place makes the whole room light ; but if extinguished, it leaves no trace behind, and the power comes to nothing."
If the soul allow the true light and life in her to be thus extinguished, it is natural, that their wrathful and hostde power will be felt.
"As God's word or heart takes its origin in the life of majesty, in the eternal fire-essence of the Tather, thus also the image of the soul. The true image of God dwells in the light of the soul-fire, and this light must derive its ardent beiQg from God's fountains of love, from his majesty, through her imagination and inspiration ! But if the soul does not do this, but imagines in herself awfid forms of the fiery torment, and not of the fountain of love, and in the light of God, the results in her wiU be sharpness and bitter- ness (comp. § 71 and § 72), her own torment, and thus the image of God \vill be swallowed up in wrath."
Thus has man by his fall attracted God's wrath, opened to himself the kingdom of hell, and forms to himself hellish figures.
" AVhen man had lost the pure and clear image, the soul stood only in the property of the father, t. e. in eternal nature, which, apart from the light of God, is wrath and a destroying fire" (Tinct. i. 285).
" By means of the fall there was, in God's anger, opened in man a gate of the dark world, namely hell, the pit of the devil ; and thus was also opened in hiin the realm of fancy" (Gnadenw. vii. 7).
" If we are to speak of the soul's substance, and of the essences, we must say that she is the very rudest part of man, fiery, harsh, bitter, and rough. If she entirely loses the virginity of divine strength given to her, from which the light of God is born in the soul, she becomes a devil" (Drei Princ. xiii. 30).
" After man had established himself in his own incli- nations, and had turned his wiU from God, he began to form earthly and hellish figures ; such as curses, oaths, lies, and such like."
" "We, poor children of Eve, must feel great pain, grief, and misery in us, when the wrath reaches us, leads and
BOHME ON GOD IN THE SOUL. 323
torments us, so that we live no longer as the children ol God in love amongst each other, but persecute, abuse, dander, and calumniate one another, with envy, hatred, murder, and poison, and always wish each other only evil" (Tinct. i. 4). " What wicked men in this world do in their wickedness and falseness, is done in the world of darkness by the devils" (Sechs, theos. Punkte, ix. 18).
" One man torments another, and is, therefore, the devil of the other" (Dreif. Leben, xvii. 10).
* When Bohme says that man in consequence of the fall has incurred the anger and wrath of God, and that his soul is only the Father's properties, which are a consuming lire, this must evidently not be understood of God's nature itself, but only from the reflected divine properties contained in man. In God himself, a separation of the principles is utterly incomprehensible. With such a supposition the eternity and immutability of the highest would be straight- way destroyed. But as far as the said destruction takes place in man, the light of the eternal glory must of course fall in a perverted, troublesome manner on him, and thue indeed make itself felt by him as a consuming fire, and th^ endless love appear to him as wrath and anger.
But God has preserved him that he should not so easily become a devil, and especially by permitting him to enter into the outward terrestrial lite.
" God placed the soul in flesh and blood, that she migh( not be so susceptible of the wrathful essence. Thus sh& can meanwhile enjoy the reflection of the sun, and rejoice in the sidereal essence" (Sechs theos. Punkte, vii. 19). " It was not without reason that God breathed into Adam's nostrils the outer spirit, the outer life. Adam might also like Lucifer have become a devil, but the outward mirror prevented it" (Vierz. Fragen, xvi. 11). " Many a soul would in her wickedness become a devil in an hour, if the outward life did not prevent it, so that the soul cannot quite inflame herself (Ebend. xvi. 12).
" If we consider ourselves as a whole, we find the outer spirit very useful. Many souls would be destroyed if the animal spirit did not keep the fire a prisoner, and represent to the fire-spirit, mundane, animal work and joy, in wbicli
324 HISTORY OP MAGIC.
she can take pleasure until lie can again behold in her his- noble image, and she again incline to him" (Ebend. xvi. 10).
" If the mother of this world were destroyed, as she will be in due course, the soul would have been in everlasting death, in darkness. The beautiful creature would have been taken prisoner by the kingdom of hell, and triumphed over by it" (Dreif. Leben, viii. 38).
* The danger to man of sinking down completely into a diabolic manifestation is diminished by the materialisation of his body, by which his knowledge as well as his power of action is so much decreased. By his entrance into terres- trial life and its conditions he was preserved from the most abject degeneration. The perverseness of his inclinations can appear less here. The world to which he now belongs pre- serves him from the contemplations of a glory which in his uncleanness he could not bear, and which if he had been exposed to would rather have incited him to a decided struggle. In this world he will not at once attain the con- sciousness of his inward perversity, which he was only pre- vented from conquering because it would then appear actually unconquerable. In the same terrestrial sphere much is permitted to him, even given him as a duty, which in itself cannot remain in harmony with the highest task of his life and being, but whereby almost imperceptibly, "and under particular influence of the grace of Grod, there arise higher aspirations in him, which qualify him by degrees for ad- mission into a higher order of things. (Compare " Grod and his Eevelations," § 207, 213, and 225 ff.)
As the soul of man allowed itself to be taken captive by the spirit of this world, and to have its essence infused into her, terrestrial properties must develop themselves in her.
" The poor soul of Adam was taken prisoner by the spirit and principle of this world, and has taken the essence of this world into her" (Dreif. Leben, viii. 37).
" Into whatever the imagination of the spirit enters, such it becomes through the impress of the spiritual desire. Therefore God forbade Adam, while still in Paradise, to eat in imagination of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, else he would fall into misfortunes and death, and die to the heavenly kingdom, as indeed happened" (Taufe, i. 1, 22).
BOHME OiS" THE INFECTION OF THE SOUL. 325
" The earthly property which was formerly swallowed up in Paradise, became revealed itself by means of the soul's desire, and thence heat and cold, and the poison of adversity, were dominant agents, so that the beautiful heaven- and Paradise-image disappeared" (Stiefel, xi. 83).
" Everytliing, when brought among its kindred, be it bad or good, rejoices in its properties and begins to amalgamate. Let anyone, for instance, take a little poison, this poison will eagerly ally itself to the poison which already exists in the body, strengthen itself by it, and so possess the body."
* All things, Bohme maintains in Myst. Mag. xi. 13, 14, contain a poison, namely, the power of the lower forms of nature. But in its proper state this poison is kept down, so that it must only serve life, and not be at eternity with it. Thus, for instance, the human being bears in a healthy state the power of all diseases, — nay, even the power of worms, which at last destroy his body. In the same manner was the power of the earthly life contained in the man of Paradise, but he existed not by means of the glory with which he was clothed by God. The possibility was not given him to excite the power in himself in a merely outward manner, but it might take place through the action of the human imagination, as was the case through the devil. Man abandoned himself to this influence, and thus the earthly being, by which he was only entertained, as it found conformity in him, became really active. " Sin," says Bohme, " in this sense (Vierz. frag. xv. 4) come from the imagi- nation. The spirit enters a thing and is infected by it. Thus the Turba of the thing enters the spirit and destroys the image of Grod, and finds the wrathful fire in the soul, and mixes itself with it by means of the thing introduced into the spirit."
Hence the body of the first man, which was a spiritual, divine one, became by the enjoyment of the forbidden fruit an earthly, material one.
" God had given man a body, a pure, essential power, after the fashion of the soul, and which, compared with the coarse, earthly essence, might be considered as a spiritual body" (Myst. xvi. 3, 4).
" The body of the first human pair was of divine fashion ; but as soon as they ate of the earthly fruit in their bodies, the
326 HISTOKT OF MAGIC.
temperature was destroyed, and tlie earthly body revealed in all its properties" (Guadenw. vii. 5).
Thus man lost eternal life, and consequently fell into death.
" We cannot say of man that in the beginning he was enclosed in time ; he was rather enclosed in Paradise, in eternity. Grod created him in his own image. But when he fell the end of time seized him" (G-nadenw. vii. 51).
" As time has a beginning and end, and the will and desii*e have submitted themselves to the temporal leader, the body dies and passes away" (Sign. v. 9).
" After the fall man lived only to time with his outward body ; the precious gold of tlie divine corporealness which should tinge (permeate and bless) the outer body, had dis- appeared" (Ebend. v. 8).
Thus the powers of animal life have so gained footing in man, that he became to himself an animal according to hi» outer being.
" Man was not like the animals created of good and evil (i. e. of the mere earthly essence). Had he only not eatea of bad and good, the fire of wrath had not been in him ; but now he is possessed of an animal body" (Aur. xviii. 109).
"Before sin, the divine image had penetrated and clothed the outer man with divine strength, and the animal was not revealed. But when the image separated from the divine essence, the poor soul, divested of the first principle, sur- rounded with the animal, stood out quite naked and un- covered" (Myst. xxi. 15).
" When Adam and Eve had eaten of the tree of the know- ledge of good and evil, they were immediately ashamed that in their tender body so great an animal had been called forth, with its common flesh, hard bones, and animal propensities > The animal essence had swallowed up the divine in them ; that essence, which they before did not know as existing in themselves, was now dominant in them" (Ebend. xxiii. 1).
Even the senses of man became earthly and brutish, so that he could no longer perceive God and divine things.
"AVhen man issued from Paradise into a second, inferior birth, into the spirit of this world, into the suns, stars, and elements-quality the paradisical vision was extinguished in him" (Drei Princ. xiv. 2).
JACOB EOHME. 327
"After the fall mau became an animal-being, so that Heaven and Paradise and the Godhead became a mystery to him" (Menschw. i. 2, 14).
" The serpent said to Eve, ' Thou shalt not die, but tliy eyes shall be opened, and thou wilt be like Grod.' Her earthly eyes were opened, but the heavenly ones closed" (Stief! i. 44). ^
* Geographical considerations are not the cause of our no longer seeing the paradisical and divine world ; the cause is that like can only be perceived by like, or similar by similar : thus the divine must now remain invisible to us, because we have lost the divine sense. " If man's eyes were only opened," says Bohme, (Aur. ix. 48), " he would perceive everywhere God in his heaven, for heaven is in the inner- most birth. Hence when Stephen saw heaven open and the Lord Jesus on the right hand of God, it was not necessary that his spirit should have soared into the upper heaven, but that it should be permeated by the inner birth, and then heaven is on all sides."
* No less was the human will and mind struck by the spirit of this world, and thus held fast by one or other element, as the power of temperament shows.
If sin had not entered, man, who as the image of God possessed creative power in himself, would have been able, without the present union of sexes, to have produced his equals out of himself.
" All men are only the one man Adam. God created only him, and left procreation to man, in order that he should abandon his will entirely to God, and with God bear other men out of himself in equality" (Myst. Ixxi. 31).
" Adam was a fuU image of God, man and woman, and yet neither of the two, but (like) a chaste virgin. He had the desire of fire and light, the mother of love and of wrath in him, and the fire in him loved the light as its instigation and beneficence, and in the same way light loved fire as its life, as God the Father loves the Son, and the Son the Father in such nature" (Stief. xi. 351, 352).
Adam was man and woman, but not in the sense of an exact woman, but a pure, chaste virgin. That is, he had the essence of fire and the essence-spirit of water
328 HisToax op magic.
in him, and loved himself and God. He could only be so originally by his will, and out of his being, without pain and without sorrow" (Dreif. Leben, xi. 24).
" Had man withstood the trial, his descendants would have been born one from another in the same way that Adam originally was, — man, and the image of Grod. Por that which proceeds from the Eternal, has an eternal manner of birth" (Ebend. xviii. 7).
RESUME.
The phenomena wMeli are included under the name Animal Magnetism, present so many points of interest, that thejr have of late years attracted universal attention. jS'ot only are learned men engaged in endeavouring to understand all that is problematical in them, according to their comprehen- siveness and worth, and to find the proper point of view from which they are to be regarded, but even the popular mind is attracted towards them, in the expectation of deriv- ing either amusement or instruction from their mysteries.
Magnetism possesses properties which are not only prac- tically useful as regards health and the relations of life, but also in respect to the higliest interests of mankind.
AVe have, in the foregoing pages, looked at Animal Mag- netism in its relations to other phenomena of life, and as connected with the sciences, and throughout its historical career ; so that sound deductions may be drawn. Hence the reader who has accompanied us will have been placed at a point of view from whence he may discover that many wonderful stories can be explained and connected most naturally with well-known facts ; he will have been enabled to form an unfettered judgment regarding circumstances which superstition has deified, scepticism rejected as folly, or blind belief accepted as miracles. Lastly, having compared together historical facts, it is possible that he may have discovered traces of a more extended universe than that of the senses or of worldly experience, and that in liuman
330 ANIMAL MAGNETISM.
nature lie the germs of powers whicli are occasionally met with in this earthly home, but which here are never perfectly developed.
By Animal Magnetism we understand those peculiar physical and psychological phenomena which are produced in others principally for the cure of diseases, by a conscious mechanical influence. The mutual impression produced by living beings upon eacli other is merely a modified universal law of mutual impression, which has been designated natural magnetism ; for this reason Mesmer, its discoverer, called this artificial manner of producing it, by analogous reasoning, magnetism. " By these means, we discover in Animal Magnetism a new medical science, or the art cf healing and prevention of disease, not through a substance but by a power ; a movement which, lik« sound in the air, like light in the ether, appears to be endowed with a surpass- ing mobility. It is called Animal Magnetism, because the animal part of man is the medium, the conducting body of this penetrating magnetism, and is more particularly active in that particular which distinguishes our animal from the vegetable organisations, namely, in the direction of our senses, and the higher faculties of man."*
Magnetism has also been called Life-magnetism, on account of its universal influence on human beings, and Mesmerism from its discoverer, which is perhaps the best designation for this new curative system founded on his theories. Kluge and others call it Animal Magnetism, in contra-distinction to universal vegetable and mineral magnetism. The word magnetism in itself says too little, and is too indefinite ; universal magnetism says too much ; and Tellurism is merely an individual idea adopted by Kieser.
Although Animal Magnetism only gives but an indistinct idea, yet it is not difiicult to find explanations through it for many well-known phenomena. Its analogy with mineral magnetism is expressed by Mesmer in the following words (p. 18):-
" Just as the properties of the magnet may by certain
♦ Mesmerism ; or, the System of Mutual Influence, Theory and Uses of Annual Magnetism as an Universal Healing Medium, &c. ; by Dr. F. A. Mesmer ; edited by Dr. Karl Christian Wolfart. Berlin, 1814, pp. IS, 19. Explanations of Mesmerism .by Dr. Wolfart, p. 147.
ANIMAL MAQNETISIM. 331
processes be called into action in iron and steel, and be so strengthened that they are able to represent a true magnet, so have I discovered the means of strengthening the actual magnetism of any individual being to such a degree, that phenomena are produced which arc analogous to those of the magnet. Just as natural heat may be raised by certain processes so for that fire is the consequence, so is natural magnetism a description of invisible fire, which, by a con- tinued series of movements, is enabled to impart itself in an immeasurable degree to other animate or inanimate bodies ; and this fire, in relation to its application as a cura- tive agent, is that which I call Animal Magnetism, which, as will be seen, may become an immediate remedy, — may strengthen the activity of the muscular fibre, regulate the functions depending on it, and by such means infuse har- mony in the internal parts and members of the human
A peculiar description of iron-stone is called magnet, or loadstone, and possesses the remarkable property of attract- ing and retaining iron and steel ; an influence which, if the bodies are light and easily moved, shows itself at a con- siderable distance, and is not weakened even if another substance is placed between the magnet and the attracted body ; that is to say, the interspersed substance not being iron, or of a ferruginous nature. A magnet will operate in this manner through paper, wood, glass, &c. Such a magnet has generally two points, called poles, which show most strongly this attraction for iron ; and at the same time, if the magnet is suspended, it invariably turns to- wards the north and south— with a certain variation, how- ever.
This last property of the magnet is caused by the earth's magnetic pole, and was the origin of the discovery of the compass. Between these two poles there is an opposite attraction, so that the south pole of one magnet is attracted by the north pole of another, and at the same time is repelled by the south pole of the same. It is particularly remarkable that the power of a magnet is strengthened if it is made to support an increasing series of weights. Lastly, the magnetic power may be artificially given to any iron by rubbing it with a loadstone. The magnet is also
532 ANIMAL MAGITETISM.
deflected towards the centre of the earth. In a much smaller degree is the magnetic power observable in other substances ; as nickel, cobalt, serpentine, porphyry.
The magnet has also been called Siderit ; and according to Lucretius, (de rerum natura, lib. vi. v. 908) derived its name among the G-reeks from the country of the Magnesians, or Magnesia, in Thessaly, where it is frequently met with, Pliny derives the name from a shepherd, Magnes, who was tending his sheep in Mount Ida, and is said to have dis- covered the stone by its fastening itself to his iron-bound staff* (Historia natur. lib. xxxvi. c. 17). Others have called it Heraclion — the stone of Hercules — from its frequency near the city of Heraclea. The word is first met with in the Orphean poetry, where we find —
*' The warlike Mars loves the magnet."
" fxayvrjTiu 5' e|ox' €(pl\r](rei' ^ovpios 'ApTjs."
We may also discover in Homer, Pythagoras, Epicureus, and Aristotle, that they were not unacquainted with it ; and according to Athanasius Kircher (Magnes, sive de arte magnetica, Coloniae, 1643), it was known even in the earliest ages in Asia, Egypt, and Grreece. He also states, that among the Hieroglyphics " magnetic pictures" are represented, particularly in the temples of Serapis aud the Sun. The polarity, however, of the magnet was cer- tainly not known in the early ages ; and the compass is first mentioned in 1180 in Erance, in the poems of Hugues Eercy and John of Metun (Eecherches de la Erance, par Pasquier, lib. v. c. 25). According to Zonaras and Photius (Lexica G-r^eca), a certain Eusebius is said to have navigated by aid of the '' Batylus,'" a stone belonging to the Oracles. Whether it was the native loadstone or artificial magnet is not related. Albertus Magnus is certainly of the opinion that Aristotle knew of the polarity of the magnet ; but no passage T\ith any such reference can now be discovered in his works. Others maintain, that the small iron arrow belonging to Solomon of Crete, and which showed the hours, was a magnet ; and again, others believe that it was first introduced from China by Paulus Venetus in 1200. It is also said that Vasco de Gama on rounding the Cape of Glood
ANIMAL MAGIsETISM. 333
Hope discovered some natives, who navigated bj means of a needle ; but more probably it vras tbe Neapolitan Giaa, or Gioja, who was the first discoverer of the compass in the 13th century (Kircher). Later, the French, English, and Belgians all claimed the discovery (Attempted Chronological History of Magnetism, by P. W. A. Murhart, Cassel, 1797). These remarkable properties of the magnet gave rise, even in the earliest times, to many different opinions, views, and theories of celebrated men, which are to be found in Pliny, Lucretius, and, later, in Gilbert (de Magneto, &c., de magno magneto telluris physiologia nova, Londini, 1600). Plato believed the magnetic attractions to be of divine origin, and Thales says that every loadstone has a soul. But not alone were theories formed, but also experiments and discoveries made, which very soon led to the belief that an universal power of nature existed, which probably might be the general basis of matter. The first who watched the pheno- mena of magnetism more narrowly, made many new experi- ments, and founded a totally new and comprehensive theory which was connected with the universal law of nature, was Gilbert. According to him, the whole earth is a magnetic substance, as well as the sun, moon, and all other heavenly bodies. Euler also maintains, in a treatise for the Parisian Academy, that the earth is generally magnetic, and not simply provided with a central magnetic core, as Halley supposed. Descartes, Apinus, Brugman, Bernoulli, and others, touched upon this likewise in their works. Euler's theory was afterwards extended by Kepler (Harmonia mundi), and Stevin, and more particularly Paracelsus, to the whole universe, so that all operations of nature and its whole connection was declared to be magnetic (Archidoxis magica ; de Ente astrorum ; Tractatus de magneto, philoso- phia fugax). He speaks of magnete magno, of magnetic power, of magnetic secrets, even of a magic influence by the will upon other men.
" Magic is a great sudden wisdom, as reason is openly a great folly." He also applied magnets in many diseases.
The most faithful follower of Paracelsus, Baptista van Helmont, soon amplified his teachings, and almost spoke in the very words of Mesmer, when he admitted that magic, or an unknown power in man, needs only to
334 ANiiiAL mag:j^etism.
be roused to usefulness in him, as it is a natural gift. He says : — " It is foolish to believe that it is through the devil *(\vho only thrives where ignorance abounds) that one man may by his will influence others, even at a distance. Magnetism is present everywhere, and has nothing new but the name ; neither does it present any feature contrary to a*eason, excepting to those who scoff at everything, or ascribe all they are unable to comprehend to the power of the devil" (Van Helmont de magneticavulnerum curatione). Also, Opera omnia, Frankfort, 1682. Similar views are to be found in Maxwell (Medicina Magnetica, libri tres, in (Balneum Dianas magneticum, 1600) ; Robert Fludd (Philo- sophia mosaica, etc, 1638).
The magnet had been applied much earlier in various diseases. Pliny, Gralen, Dioscorides, and Avicenna, have ascribed a power to the magnet of thinning and improving the slugglish juices of the human body, more particularly in disorders of the abdomen, and hypochondriasis. A magnet worn suspended round the neck is said to be an excellent remedy against convulsions and affections of the nerves, ^tius, Paracelsus, Van Helmont, Borel, and Meker, have recorded many very remarkable cases of cure by loadstones ; for instance, ^Etius, a case of gout (Tradunt, detentum magnetum manu chiragricorum dolores sedare, seque convulsis opitulatur, etc.), Paracelsus one of hemorrhage. The oldest and most singular cures by the magnet on record are contained in the following works, — Job. Jac. Schweighardi, ars magnetica s. disquisitio de iiatura, viribus et prodigiosis effectibus magnetis, Herbiss. 1631. — Wepfer de secretis, Basil. 1667. — Borelli, Hist, et •observ. physico-med. Cent. vi. — Acta eruditor. Lips. 1707. — Talbot, in Birch's History of the Koyal Society, vol. iv. — Grottinger gelehrte Anz. 1763, S. 252. — Gazette Sanitaire, 1661, ;N"o. 23. — T. Zwiugeri Scrutinium magnetis physico- medic. Basil. 1697. — J. Gr. Pasch, Abhandlung von den Ziihnen, Wien, 1776. — Ch. "Weber, Die Wirkung der kiinstlichen Magneto in seltenen Augenkrankheiten, Hannover, 1767. — Heinsius, Beitrage zu Versuchen mit kiinstlichen Magneton, Leipzig, 1776. — Max. Hell, Hnpar- theiischer Bericht uber die «onderbaren Wirkungen kiinat-
ANIMAL MAGNETISM. 335
lichen Magnete, AVien, 1775. — Histoire de TAcademie Koyale de Medec. sur les proprietes medicales de raimant, Paris, 1777, T. H. — E. Gr. Baldinger, jS'arratio historica de magnetis viribus ad morbos sanandos, Grotting. 1778. — Unzer, Beschreibung der mit dem kiinstlichen Magnet angestellten Versucbe, Altona, 1778. — J, Gr. Eeichel lies- pond. Christ. Ludwig dissertat. de Magnetismo in corpore liumano, Lipsi^e, 1772. — Audry de Thouret, Observat. et recherches sur I'usage de I'aimant ei. medecine ; ou, Me- moire sur le Magnet. Animal, Paris, 1782. — J. Gr. Bolteu, ^achricht von einem mit dem kiinstlichen Magnet gemachten Yersuch in einer jNTervenkrankheit, Hamburg, 1775. Also, many later works on the preparation and application of the [artificial magnet, by Weber, Deinmann, Becker, and Bulmerincq.
Although it cannot be maintained that magnetism is something new, yet undoubtedly Mesmer was the primar^ discoverer, as he was the first who arranged the various phenomena which were produced in sick persons by a cer- tain course of action, in a comprehensive and complete theory ; and through him it was that a new science was created : although we may on another occasion take a closer view of this theory, yet we must now become at least somewhat acquainted with the mesmeric operations, and the phenomena produced thereby in its patients.
The mesmeric influence of magnetism for curative pur- poses is either directed upon the whole body or upon indi- vidual portions alone. For this purpose, man is provided by nature with a remarkable and perfectly adapted con- ductor— the hand. If a man is suffering under any affec- tion, the disease is always more or less confined to one cer- tain spot, where, as it were, all the activity of the bodj is collected. If, then, two men mutually influence each other magnetically, the united activity of this influence is directed upon the diseased part, and the hands are particularly cal- ■culated to act upon any given spot. This locally excited place becomes now the focus of activity in different direc- tions, and the disease becomes general instead of local ; on which account the contractions and convulsions produced by magnetism are salutary, and when properly guided, often lead to health without the application of medicines.
336 A]SriMAL MAGNETISM.
The magnetic influence by tlie bands extends even to animals and plants, wbieb tbereby acquire a peculiar state, and even inorganic substances may be so influenced bv magnetism, that in certain circumstances they may be used as conductors.
The act of magnetising — the magnetic process, takes place either by personal contact or by means of conductors. Personal magnetic influence operates —
Istly. Through the approximation of the operator to the patient.
2ndly. Through the hands.
3rdly. By the eyes.
4thly. By words.
Influence by conductors may take place through the whole of nature, with its substances and productions, both organic and inorganic. Water, metals, living animals and trees, even the light of the sun and moon, may be aids and conductors to this magnetic fluid.
Magnetizing by the hand is the most usual method ; for the hands are the true organs of the will. They are the instruments by which the will is palpably exb'bited. The hands give the direction of activity to the will ; and as the body is the visible material reflection of the soul, so are the hands the physiognomic expressions of the composition and activity of the will and the character.
Magnetizing by the eyes, and gazing upon the patient, is usually very powerful, when it is done continuously, and with intention. Animals cannot support the glance of the human eye ; and it is not rare for a sick person to fall asleep merely by being looked at, particularly if accustomed to magnetic treatment.
Words are the direct embodiment of the ideas of the soul, and are used to act even physically; to excite, restrain, invigorate, or lead.
Farther than this we do not proceed ; the full and minute explanation of magnetism not having been the object of the foregoing work ; and for further information, the reader is referred to Der Magnetismus im Yerhaltniss zur Natur und Eeligion, Stuttgart, 1842. (Magnetism in connection with Eeligion.)
Those phenomena designedly produced by magnetism,
A>"IMAL MAGNETISM. 337
which, however, arise naturally in many diseases, and mny also be produced by other means and influences, are most easily classed as physical and psychological. Those which are most frequent are physical crises, and less frequently, psychological conditions. The former are not unusual in all magnetic patients. Among the psychological phenomena may be classed the waking up of the inner consciousness with extraordinary activity of the outer senses ; as, for instance, that dream -like middle state between sleep and waking called somnambulism ; or the more rare and still higher state of the soul, which is known as the power of the seer, — clairvoyance, ecstas}', &c.
Happily, prejudices of all kinds are gi^^ng way before the power of knowledge and enlightenment, and magnetism has now no longer to strive against the spirit of the age. The physician who will not introduce magnetism into his own individual practice, yet no longer denies its reality. It is no longer an interdicted word in the writings of the philo- sopher and the psychologist ; whilst many a theologian has taken up the subject zealously, now he can recognize some- thing beyond miracles or sorcery in it. As to the learned, if they are not altogether advocates of it, neither are they altogether opposed to it ; besides, the time is passed when they were considered the infallible judges of all unknown mysteries and higher truths.
The advancing spirit of the age, and in an especial manner the attention which is paid to the earnest study of natural philosophy, have given a new importance to the subject of Animal Magnetism. The veil which formerly enwrapped so many mysteries and enigmas is falling off by degrees, by means of the irresistible and rapid discoveries of physics and chemistry, of organology and anthropology. This truer and more intimate knowledge of all the natural sciences has produced one of those general reforms in which the schools and the sects, narrow-souled private views, fancies, and prejudices, are dispersed as shadows of night before the ascending daylight of truth.
Magnetism is thus brought under the protection of science and general intelligence, of which it will become an active and useful agent. Magnetism is no new principle ; it is an organic development of the powers inherent in
VOL. II. z
S38 .INIMAL MAGNETISM.
man. No fresh human characteristic is revealed by it ; for all organic development of the present time has its origin in the past whence it has successfully sprung. Thus magnetism is according to its nature as old as humanity. But it is different with the doctrine regarding magnetism. This may be new, since the facts scattered throughout the course of history must be collected, must be compared with those of the present day, 'and a theory formed out of which a rational system of application may be obtained. It is no reason that because the history of magnetism as yet vibrates between contradictory opinions, between fact and appearance, that we should not seek out its physiological root from amidst the physical and psychological facts which everywhere abound.
As concerns the historical facts of magnetism, people are now at all events convinced that that which occurs to the Individual is common to the whole race, and that those kindred phenomena have never failed in any age or nation. Magnetism is therefore an historical fact ; it is nothing theoretical, but a practical reality ; it is a fact of scientific importance ; it is of the most momentous value to the physician, while it in no way contradicts religion.
Magnetism has alone given us the key to an historical criticism of that mysterious and mystical region of the human soul in which the hidden power plays his magical part. It has been the first to render intelligible the hiero- glyphics of fanaticism, of magic, and of sorcery, and to impart to them a scientific intelligence. Thus magnetism becomes a valuable expositor of philosophy and history, directing attention towards the forbidden questions of human nature, and rendering their perception more acute, while it enriches them with facts and ideas which they would not otherwise have possessed.
The history of magnetism is divided into two portions, — that of tlie ancient magic, and that of modern magnetism. Christianity was a very important crisis in the existence of magic, — in fact, the most important ; for the advent of Christ is in an historical point of view the central era when the old time comes to an end and the new commences ; when the night-like shadowiness of mysteries is dissolved into the daylight of self-consciousness and the purpose and
ANIMAL MAGNETISM. 339
intention of life. As the biblical history of the Old Testa- ment is the seed and the type of all later history, so in the New Testament, for the first time, like the flower unfolding from the bud, is developed a perfect revelation of the truth. Th3 Judaism of the Old Testament has a real perception of the true tree of life of the inner, progressive development by means of cultivation ; all other heathen nations, with their various systems of religion, are the lopped branches of the great tree of life, which has vegetated, it is true, but which are incapable of inner growth. Judaism is that real mystery which appears in Christianity as the ideal of holiness and union with G od. But as the fruit is matured from the blossom only by progressive degrees, so also does this maturity in the new history advance forward with a measured step. Religion and morals, art and science, are, it is true, progressing in new and widely ramifying paths in this later Christian time, but they are as yet very far from their goal, which is perfection. The same may be said with regard to magnetism, which has yet advanced only so far as the intelligence of those minds which have laboured to comprehend it have themselves advanced. Thus, for example, visions have through the universally diffused doc- trines of Christianity assumed in all cases a character in accordance with the current comprehension of good and evil, and of these as God, angels, devils, &c., in human form, with the idea of beauty and goodness, or of deformity and wickedness in its manifold distortion.
A purer and more scientific treatment and understanding of magical appearances commenced in the 16th century ; and the clear declaration of magnetism as a peculiar power of nature which might be systematically applied for the cure of diseases, was first made by Fredric Anton Mesmer, so that he really is the discoverer and the central point in the history of magnetism, between the old centuries slum- bering on in a shadowy dream life, and the new ages still in twilight, not having as yet advanced into perfect day. For if the knowledge of the mysterious laws and operations of nature was in the olden time of an imaginative character, producing only fantastic results, the knowledge of modern times is of a hard and dry intellectual character, with a certain wide ramification, it is true, but gathering up a
840 ANIMAL MAGNETISM.
deal of rubbisli with its truth. Hence all higher life which is beyond its perception is a subject of derision, and it cannot comprehend any possible utility in magical power. That of which the ancient times had too much, modern times have too little, namely, the want of a stedfast religious sentiment, — the want of the symbolic perception and the artistic imaginative power of the Middle Ages, and, beyond everything else, tlie want of a firm belief in the immediate operation of God in nature.
Goethe's Mephistopheles describes this age excellently in llio following lines ; —
Eiu Kerl, der speculirt, ist wie cin Thier aitf diirrcr Ilaiclc
Yon einem bosen Geist im Kreis herumgefubrt,
L'nd ringsumhcr liegt schone griine Weide.
— "NVer will was Lebendiges erkennen und besehreibcn,
Sucbt erst den Geist beraus zu treiben ;
Dann bat er die Tbeile in seiner Hand,
Feblt leider ! nur das geistige Band.
Enchelresin natures nennt? die Cberaie,
Spottet ihrer seibst und weiss nicht v»ie.
APPENDIX.
[AVitliout in any measure attempting to explain, or pass judgment upon the narratives contained in the following Appendix, we would simply present them to the reader as a collection of relations illustrative of Dr. Ennemoser's views, drawn from various and accredited sources, and which tlie reader may apply to the author's text according to his own individual views.]
APPAEITIOyS.
TllE GHOSTS OF THE SLAIN AT THE BATTLT: OF HAKATHOX.
Pausanias writes, that four hundred years after the battle of Marathon, there were still heard in the place where it was fought, the neighing of horses, and the shouts of soldiers, animating one another'to the fight. Plutarch also speaks of spectres seen, and dreadful howlings heard in the public baths, where several citizens of Choeronea, his native towii, had been murdered. He says, that the inhabitants had been obliged to shut up these baths, but that, notwithstand- ing the precaution, great noises were still heard, and dreadful spectres frequently seen by the neighbours. Plutarch, who is an author of acknowledged gravity and good sense, frequently makes mention of spectres and apparitions ; particularly he says, that in the famous battle abo^e alluded to, several soldiers saw the apparition of Theseus fighting for the Greeks and against the Persians.
THE KONIGSBERG PROFESSOK.
" I am not so decidedly sceptical on the possibility of supernatural appearance," said Count Palkesheiin to Sir
342 APPARITIONS.
Nathaniel "Wraxall, " as to treat them with ridicule, because they may appear to be unphilosophical. I received my educa- tion in the uniyersity of Konigsberg, where I had the advantage of attending lectures in ethics and moral philo- sophy, delivered by a professor who was esteemed a very superior man in those branches of science. He had, never- theless, though an ecclesiastic, the reputation of being tinctured with incredulity on various points connected with revealed religion. When, therefore, it became necessary for him in the course of his lectures to treat on the nature of spirit as detached from matter, to discuss the immortality of the soul, and to enter on the doctrine of a future state, I listened with more than ordinary attention to his opinions. In speaking of all these mysterious subjects, there appeared to me to be so visible an embarrassment, both in his lan- guage and in his expressions, that I felt the strongest curiosity to question him further respecting them. Finding myself alone with him soon afterwards, I ventured to state to him my remarks on his deportment, and entreated him to tell me if they were well founded or only imaginary suggestions.
"The hesitation which you noticed," answered he, " resulted from the conflict that takes place within me, when I am attempting to convey my ideas on a subject where my understanding is at variance with the testimony of my senses. I am equally, from reason and reflec- tion, disposed to consider with incredulity and contempt the existence of apparitions. But an appearance, which I have witnessed with my own eyes, as far as they, or any of the perceptions can be confided in ; and which has even received a sort of subsequent confirmation, from other circumstances connected with the original facts, leave me in that state of scepticism and suspense which pervaded my discourse. I will communicate to you its cause. Having been brought up to the profession of the church, I was pre- sented by Frederick William the First, late King of Prussia, to a small benefice, situated in the interior of the country, at a considerable distance south of Konigsberg. I repaired thither in order to take possession of my living, and found a neat parsonage house, where I passed the night in the bed- chamber which had been occupied by my predecessor.
THE KONIGSBEEG PKOFESSOK. 34?
" It was in the longest days of summer : and on the following morning, which was Sunday, while lying awake, the curtains of the bed being undrawn, and it being broad day- light, I beheld the figure of a man, habited in a sort of loose gown, standing at a reading desk, on which lay a large book, the leaves of which he appeard to turn over at intervals ; on each side of him stood a little boy, in whose face he looked earnestly from time to time, and as he looked he seemed always to heave a deep sigh. His coun- tenance, pale and disconsolate, indicated some distress of mind. I had the most perfect view of these objects, but being impressed with too much terror and apprehension to rise or to address myself to the appearances before me, I remained for some minutes a breathless and silent spectator, without uttering a word or altering my position. At length the man closed the book, and then taking the two children, one in each hand, he led them slowly across the room ; my eyes eagerly followed him till the three figures gradually disappeared, or were lost behind an iron stove which stood at the farthest corner of the apartment.
" However deeply and awfully I was affected by the sight which I had witnessed, and however incapable I was of ex- plaining it to my own satisfaction, yet I recovered suffi- ciently the possession of my mind to get up, and having hastily dressed myself I left the house. The sun was long risen, and directing my steps to the church, I found that it was open ; but the sexton had quitted it, and on enter- ing the chancel, my mind and imagination were so strongly impressed by the scene which had recently passed, that I endeavoured to dissipate the recollection by considering the objects around me. In almost all Lutlieran churches of the Prussian dominions, it is the custom to hang up against the walls, or some part of the building, the portraits of the successive pastors or clergymen, who have held the living. A number of these paintings, rudely per- formed, were suspended in one of the aisles. But 1 had no sooner fixed my eyes on the last in the range, which was the portrait of my immediate predecessor, than they became rivetted to the object ; as I instantly recognized the same face which I had belield in my bed-chamber, though not clouded by the same deep impression of me-
24:4i APPAEITIONS.
lancHoly and distress. The sexton entered as I was still contemplating this interesting head, and I immediately began a conversation with him on the subject of the persons who had preceded me in the living. He remembered several incumbents, concerning whom respectively I made various inquiries, till I concluded by the last, relative to whose history I was particularly inquisitive. ' We considered him,' said the sexton, ' as one of the most learned and amiable men who have ever resided among us. His character and benevo- lence endeared him to all his parishioners, who will long lament his loss. But he was carried off in the middle of his days by a lingering illness, the cause of which has given rise to many unpleasant reports among us, and v/hich still form matter of conjecture. It is, however, commonly believed that he died of a broken heart.' . " My curiosity being still more warmly excited by the mention of this circumstance, I eagerly pressed him to disclose to me all he knew or had heard on the subject. ' Nothing respecting it,' answered he, ' is absolutely known, but scandal has propagated a story of his having formed a criminal connexion with a young woman of the neighbour- hood, hy whom it was even asserted he had two sons. As confirmation of the report, I know that there certainly were two children who have been seen at the parsonage, boys of about four or five years old ; but they suddenly disappeared, some time before the decease of their supposed father; though to what place they are sent, or what is become of them, we are wholly ignorant. It is equally certain, that the surmises and unfavourable opinions formed respecting this mysterious business, which must necessarily have reached him, precipitated, if they did not produce the disorder of which our late pastor died : but he is gone to his account, and we are bound to think charitably of the departed.
"It is unnecessary to say with what emotion I listened to this relation, which recalled to my imagination, and seemed to give proof of the existence of all that I had seen. Yet, unwilling to suffer my mind to become enslaved by phan- toms which might have been the effect of error or deception, I neither communicated to the sexton the circumstance which I had witnessed, nor even permitted myself to quit
DE. SCOTT AT!^D THE TITLE-DEED. 345
the chamber where it had taken place. I continued to lodge there, without ever witnessing any similar appearance ; and the recollection itself began to wear awa}', as the autumn advanced. When the approach of winter rendered it necessary to light fires through the house, I ordered the iron stove which stood in the room, and behind which the figure which I had beheld, together with the two boys, seemed to disappear, to be heated for the purpose of warming the apartment. Some difficulty was experienced in making the attempt, the stove not only smoking intolerably, but emitting an offensive smell. Having, therefore, sent for a blacksmith to inspect and repair it, he discovered in the inside, at the farthest extremity, the bones of two small human bodies, corresponding perfectly in size as well as in other respects with the description given me by the sexton, of the two boys who had been seen at the parsonage.
" This last circumstance completed my astonishment, and appeared to confer a sort of reality on an appearance which might otherwise have been considered as a delusion of the senses. I resigned the li^dng, quitted the place, and retired to Konigsberg ; but it has produced on my mind the deepest impression, and has in its effect given rise to that uncertainty and contradiction of sentiment which you re- marked in my late discourse."
DB. SCOTT AND THE TITLE-DEED.
One evening Dr. Scott was seated by the fire reading at his house, in Broad-street, when accidentally raising his head, he saw in an elbow chair, at the opposite side of the fire-place or chimney, a grave gentleman in a black velvet gown, a long wig, looking with a pleasing countenance towards the doctor, as if about to speak to him.
The doctor was much perturbed. According to his nar- rative of the fact, the spectre, it seems, spoke first, and de- sired the doctor not to be alarmed, that he came to him upon a matter of great importance to an injured family, which was in great danger of being ruined ; and though he (the doctor) was a stranger to the family, yet knowing him
346 APPAEITIOIfS.
to be a man of integrity, he had chosen him to do this act of charity and justice.
The doctor was not at first composed enough to enter into the business with due attention, but seemed rather inclined to get out of the room if he could, and once or twice made an attempt to knock for some of the family to come up. The doctor having at length recovered himself, said, "In the name of Grod, what art thou?" After much importunity on the part of the doctor, the apparition began his story thus : —
" I lived in the county of Somerset, where I left a very good estate, which my grandson enjoys at this time. But he is sued for the possession by my two nephews, the sons of my younger brother."
[^Here he gave his ovm name, the natne of his younger brother, and the names of his two nepheivs.']
The doctor then asked him how long the grandson had been in possession of the estate ; which he told him was seven years, intimating that he had been so long dead.
He then went on to tell him, that his nephews would be too strong for his grandson in the suit, and would deprive him of the mansion-house and estate ; so that he would be in danger of being entirely ruined, and his family reduced.
The doctor then said, " And what am I able to do in it, if the law be against him r"
"AVhy," said the spectre, "it is not that the nephews have any right ; but the grand deed of settlement, being the conveyance of the inheritance, is lost : and for want of that deed they will not be able to make out their title to the estate."
" Well," said the doctor, " and still what can I do in the case ?"
" Why," said the spectre, " if you will go down to my grandson's house, and take some persons with you whom you can trust, I will give you such instructions, that you shall find out the deed of settlement, which lies concealed in a place where I put it, and where you shall direct my grandson to take it out in your presence."
" But why then can you not direct your grandson himself to do this ?" said the doctor.
DR. SCOTT AND THE TITLE-DEED. 347
" Ask me not about that," said the spectre; "there are divers reasons which you may know hereafter. I can depend upon your honesty in it, in the meantime, and you may so dispose of matters that you shall have your ex- penses paid you, and be handsomely rewarded for your trouble."
Having obtained a promise from Dr. Scott, the spectre told him he might apprize his grandson that he had formerly conversed with his grandfather, and ask to see the house ; and that in a certain upper room or loft, he would see a quantity of old lumber, coffers, chests, &c., which had been thrown aside, to make room for more fashionable furniture.
That, in a certain corner, he should find an old chest, with a broken lock upon it, and a key in it, which could neither be turned in the lock, nor pulled out. In this chest lay the grand deed or charter of the estate, which conveyed the inheritance, and without which the family might be ejected. The doctor having promised to dispatch this important commission, the spectre disappeared.
After a lapse of some days, and within the time limited by the proposal of the spectre, the doctor went into Somer- setshire, and, having found the house alluded to, he was very courteously invited in. They now entered upon friendly discourse, and the doctor pretended to have heard much of the family, and of his grandfather, from whom, he said, he perceived the estate descended to its present occupier.
"Aye," said the gentleman, shaking his head, "my father died young, and my grandfather has left things so confused^ that, for want of one principal writing, which is not yet come to hand, I have met with great trouble from two cousins, my grandfather's brother's children, who have put me to very great expense about it."
" But I hope you have got over it, sir ?" said the doctor,
"No," said the gentleman; "to be candid with you, we shall never get quite over it, unless we can find this old deed : which, however, I hope we shall find, for I intend to make a general search after it."
" I wish with all my heart you may find it, sir," said the dcctor.
" I do not doubt but we shall ; I liad a strange dream about it last night," said the gentleman.
348 appaeitioihs. '
" A dream about the writing !" said the doctor ; " I hope it was that you should find it, then."
"I dreamed," said the other, "that a strange gentleman came to me, and assisted me in searching for it. I do not know but that you are the man."
" I should be very glad to be the man," said the doctor.
"JS'ay," replied the gentleman, "you may be the man to help me to look after it."
" Aye, sir," said the doctor, " I may help you to look after it, indeed, and I will do that with all my heart ; but I would much rather be the man that should help you to find it : pray when do you intend to search ?"
"To-morrow," said the gentleman, "I have appointed to search for it."
"But," said the doctor, "in what manner do you intend to search ?"
"Why," replied the gentleman, "it is our opinion that my grandfather was so very much concerned in preserving this writing, and had so much jealousy as to its safety, that he hid it in a secret place ; and I am resolved to puil half the house down but I will find it, if it is above ground."
" Truly," said the doctor, "he may have hid it, so that you may pull the whole house down before you find it. I have known such things utterly lost by the very care taken to preserve them."
" If it was made of something the fire would not destroy," said the gentleman, " I would burn the house down, but I would find it."
" I suppose you have searched all the old gentleman's chests, trunks, and coffers over and over," said the doctor.
" Aye," said the gentleman, " and turned them all inside outward, and there they lie in a heap up in a loft, or garret, with nothing in them ; nay, we knocked three or four of them in pieces to search for private drawers, and then I burnt them for anger, though they were fine old ■cypress chests that cost money enough when they were in fashion."
" I am'sorry you burnt tliem," said the doctor.
" Nay," said the gentleman, " I did not burn a scrap of them till they were all split to pieces, and it was not possible there could be any thing in them."
DE. SCOTT A^D THE TITLE-DEED. 349
This made the doctor a little easy, for he began to be surprised when he told him he had split some of them and burnt them.
" AVell," said the doctor, " if I cannot do you an}' service in your search, I will come to see you again to-morrow, and wait upon you during it with my best good wishes."
"Nay," says the gentleman, "I do not design to part with you, since you are so kind as to oft'er me your assis- tance ; you shall stay all night, then, and be at the com- mencement of the search."
The doctor had now gained his point so far as to make an intimacy with the family ; and, after much intreaty, he consented to sleep there.
A little before dark, the gentleman asked him to take a walk in the park ; but he declined ; " I would rather, sir," said he, smiling, " that you shew me this fine old mansion house, that is to be demolished to-morrow ; methinks I would fain see the house once before you pull it down."
" With all my heart," said the gentleman. He took him immediately up stairs, shewed him the best apartments, and his fine furniture and pictures ; and coming to the head of the staircase, offered to descend.
"But, sir," said the doctor, " shall we not go higher?"
" There is nothing there," said he, " but garrets and old lofts full of rubbish, and a place leading to the turret, and the clock-hoQse."
" 0, let me see it all, now we are here," said the doctor; " I love to see the old lofty towers and turrets, and the magnificence of our ancestors, though they are out of fashion now : pray let me see them."
After they had rambled over the mansion, they passed by a great lumber room, the door of which stood open.
" And what place is this r" said the doctor.
"0! that is the room," said the gentleman, " where all the rubbish, the chests, coffers, and trunks lie ; see how^they are piled one upon another almost to the ceiling."
Upon this the doctor began to loolv around him. He had not been in the room two minutes before he found every thing precisely as the spectre in London had de- scribed; he went directly to the pile he had been told
350 APPABITIOIfS.
of, and fixed his eye upon tlie very cliest with the old rusty lock upon it, which would neither turn round nor come out.
"On my word, sir," said the doctor, "you have taken pains enough, if you haye searched all these drawers, chests, ^nd coffers, and eyery thing that may haye been in them."
"Indeed, sir," said the gentleman, "I haye examined them myself, and looked oyer all the musty writings one by one ; and they haye all passed through my hand and under my eye."
" AVeil, sir," said the doctor, " will you gratify my curiosity by opening and emptying this small chest or coffer ?"
The gentleman looking at the chest said, smiling, " I remember opening it ;" and turning to his seryant, he said, *' William, do you not remember that chest ?" " Yes, sir," replied the seryant, " I remember you were so tired, that yoii sat down upon the chest when eyery thing was out of it ; that you shut the lid and sat down, and sent me to my lady to bring you a dram of citron ; and that you said you were ready to faint."
""Well, sir," said the doctor, "it is only a whim of mine, and probably it may contain nothing."
" You shall see it turned upside down before your face, as well as the rest."
Immediately the gentleman caused the coffer to be dragged out and opened. When the papers were all out, the doctor turning round, as if looking among them, but taking little or no notice of the chest, stooped down, and as if supporting himself with his cane, struck the same into the chest, but snatched it out again hastily, as if it had been a mistake, and turning to the chest, he shut the lid, and seated himself upon it. Haying dismissed the seryant, " Now, sir," said he, " I haye found your writing ; I haye found your grand deed of settlement ; and I will lay you a hundred guineas I haye it in this coffer."
The gentleman took up the lid again, liandled the chest, looked oyer eyery part of it, but could see nothing ; he was confounded and amazed ! " What do you mean ?" said he to the doctor, " here is nothing but an empty coffer."
LADY PENNTMAN AND MES. ATKINS. 351
" Upon my word," said the doctor, " I am no magician, but I tell you again the writing is in this coffer."
The gentleman knocked and called for his servant with the hammer, but the doctor still sat composed upon the lid of the coffer.
At length the man came with a hammer and chisel, and the doctor set to work upon the chest, knocking upon the flat of the bottom: "hark!" says he, " don't you hear it, sir ? don't you hear it plainly r"
" Hear what ?" said the gentleman ; " I do not under- stand you."
" Why, the chest has a double bottom, sir, a false bottom," said the doctor ; " don't you hear it sound hollow r"
In a word, they immediately split the inner bottom open, and there found the parchment spread abroad flat on the whole breadth of the bottom of the trunk.
It is impossible to describe the joy and surprise of the gentleman, and of the whole family ; and the former sent for his lady, and two of his daughters, into the garret among the rubbish, to see the place and manner in which the writing was found.
APPAKITION SEEN BY LADY PENNYMAN AND MES. ATEINS.
At the commencement of the French revolution, Lady Pennyman and her two daughters retired to Lisle, where they hired a large and handsome house at a trifling rent. During then' residence here, the lady received from her husband, Sir John Pennyman, a draft for a considerable sum, which she carried to the banker of the town, and requested to have cashed. The man, as is often the case on the continent, gave her a large portion of silver in exchange. As Lady Pennyman was proceeding to pay some visits, she requested that the banker would send the money to her house, of which she described the situation. The parcel was instantly connnitted to the care of a porter ; and, on tlie lady's enquiring of him whether he understood, from her directions, the place to which his charge was to be conveyed, the man replied that he was perfectly aware of the place
3o2 APPAEITIOiSS.
designated, and that it was called tlie " Haunted House." The latter part of this answer was addressed to the banker in a low tone of voice, but was overheard by Lady Pennyman : she paid, however, no attention to the words, and naturally supposed that the report connected with herhabitation was one of those which are raised by the imagination of the ignorant respecting every dwelling which is long untenanted, or remarkable for its antiquity.
A few weeks afterwards, the words were recalled to her recollection in a manner that surprised her; the house- keeper, with many apologies for being obliged to mention anything that might appear so idle and absurd, came to the apartment in which her mistress was sitting, and said that two of the servants, who had accompanied her ladyship from England, had that morning given warning, and ex- pressed a determination of quitting her ladyship's service, on account of the mysterious noises by which they had been, night after night, disturbed and terrified. " I trust. Carter," replied Lady Pennyman, " that you have too mucli good sense to be alarmed on your own account by any of these superstitious and visionary! fears ; and pray exert yourself in endeavouring to tranquillize the apprehension of others, and persuading them to continue in their places." The persuasion of Carter was ineffectual: the servants insisted that the noises which had alarmed them were not the operation of any earthly beings, and persevered in their resolution of returning to their native country.
The room from which the sounds were supposed to have proceeded was at a distance from Lady Pennyman's apart- ments, and immediately over those which were occupied by the two female servants, who had themselves been terrified by them, and whose report had spread a general panic through the rest of the family. To quiet the alarm, Lady Pennyman resolved on leaving her own chamber for a time, and establishing herself in the one which had been lately occupied by the domestics.
The room above was a long spacious apartment, which appeared to have been for a length of time deserted. In the centre of the chamber was a large iron cage : it was an extraordinary piece of furniture to find in any mansion, but the legend which the servants had collected respecting it
LADY PEN^YMAN AND MRS. ATKINS. 353
appeared to be still more extraordinary : it was said that a late proprietor of the house, a young man of enormous property, had in his minority been confined in that apart- ment by his uncle and guardian, and there hastened to a premature death by the privations and cruelties to which he was exposed : those cruelties had been practised under th.* pretence of necessary correction. The savage purpose cf murdering the boy, under the pretence of a strict attention, to his interest or his improvement, was successful : the lad was declared to be incorrigible : there was a feigned neces- sity of the severest correction : he was sentenced to two days' captivity and privation. On his uncle's arriving, with the show of an hypocritical leniency, an hour previous to the appointed time, to deliver him from the residue of his punishment, ib was found that death had anticipated the false mercy, and had for ever emancipated the innocent sufferer from the hands of the oppressor.
The wealth was won ; but it was an unprofitable acquisi- tion. His conscience haunted him : the form of the dead and inoffensive boy was constantly before him. His dreams represented to his view the playful and beautiful looks that won all eyes towards him, while his parents were yet alive to cheer and to delight him : and then the vision of his sleep would change ; and he would see his calm suffering and his silent tears, and his patient endurance and his inde- fatigable exertions in attempting the accomplishment of the difficult exactions, and his pale cheek, and his wasted limbs, and his spiritless countenance ; and then, at last, there was the rigid, bony, and distorted form, the glazed open eye, the mouth violently compressed, and the clenched hands, on which his view had rested for a moment, when all his wicked hopes had attained their most sanguine consummation, and he surveyed the corpse of his murdered relative. These re- collections banished him from his home, the mansion was left tenantless ; and, till Lady Pennyman inadvertently engaged it, all had dreaded to become the inmates of a dwelling which had been fatal to one possessor, and shunned as destructive to the tranquillity of his heir.
On the first night or two of Lady Pennyman's being established in her new apartment, she met with no inter-, ruption ; nor was her sleep in tlie least disturbed by any cf
TOL. II. A A
354 APPAEITIOXS.
those mysterious noises in the Cage Chamber (for so it was commonly called in the family) which she had been induced to expect by the representations of the departed servants. This quiet, however, was of very short duration. One night she was awakened from her sleep by the sound of a slow and measured step, that appeared to be pacing the chamber overhead; it continued to move backwards and forwards with nearly the same constant and regular motion for rather more than an hour — perhaps Lady Pennyman's agitation might have deceived her, and induced her to think the time longer than it really was. It at length ceased ; morn dawned upon her, and she went down to breakfast, after framing a resolution not to mention the event.
Lady Pennyman and her daughters had nearly completed their breakfast, before her son, a young man who had lately returned from sea, descended from his apartment. "My dear Charles," said his mother, " I wonder you are not ashamed of your indolence and your want of gallantry, to suffer your sisters and myself to finish breakfast before you are ready to join us." "Indeed, madam," he replied, "it is not my fault if I am late : I have not had any sleep all night. There have been people knocking at my door and peeping into my room every half hour since I went up stairs to bed : I presume they wanted to see if my candle was extinguished. If this be the case, it is really very dis- tressing ; as I certainly never gave j^ou any occasion to suspect I should be careless in taking so necessary a pre- caution ; and it is not pleasant to be represented in such a light to the domestics." " Indeed, my dear, the interrup- tion has taken place entirely without my knowledge. I assure you it is not by any order of mine that your room has been looked into : I cannot think what could induce any servant of mine to be guilty of such a liberty. Are you certain that you have not mistaken the nature and origin of the sound by which your sleep has been disturbed ?" — " Oh, no ; there could have been no mistake : I was perfectly awake when the interruption first took place, and afterwards it was so frequently repeated as to prevent the possibility of my sleeping."
More complaints from the housekeeper ; no servant would remain j every individual of the family had his tale of
LADY PENNTMAN AND MRS. ATKINS. 355
"terror to increase the apprehensions of the rest ; Lady Penuyman began to be herself alarmed. Mrs. Atkins, a woman devoid of every kind of superstitious fear, and of tried courage, understanding, and resolution, determined at once to silence all the stories that had been fabricated respecting the Cage E,oom, and to allay their terrors by adopting that apartment for her own bedchamber during the remainder of her residence at Lisle. A bed was accordingly placed in the apartment. The Cage Eoom was rendered as comfortable as possible on so short a notice ; and Mrs. Atkins retired to rest, attended by her favourite spaniel.
Mrs. Atkins now examined her chamber in every direc- tion : she sounded every panel of the wainscot, to prove that there was no hollowness, which might argue a con- cealed passage ; and, having bolted the door of the Cage Hoom, retired to rest. Her assurance was doomed to be shortlived : she had only been a few minutes asleep when her dog, which lay by the bedside, leaped, howling and terrified, upon the bed; the door of the chamber slowly opened, and a pale, thin, sickly youth came in, cast his eyes mildly towards her, walked up to the iron cage in the middle of the room, and then leaned in the melancholy attitude of one revolving in his mind the sorrows of a cheerless and unblest existence. After a while he again withdrew, and retired by the way he entered.
Mrs. Atkins, on witnessing his departure, felt the return of her resolution; she persuaded herself to believe the figure the work of some skilful impostor, and she determined on following its footsteps : she took up her chamber lamp, and hastened to put her design in execution. On reaching the door, to her infinite surprise, she discovered it to be fastened, as she had herself left it, on retiring to her bed. •On withdrawing the bolt and opening the door, she saw the back of the youth descending the staircase ; she followed, till,, on reaching the foot of the stairs, the form appeared to sink into the earth. It was in vain to attempt conceal- ing the occurrences of the night: her voice, her manner, the impossibility of sleeping a second time in the ill omened •chamber, would necessarily betray that something of a painful and mysterious nature had occurred.
S53 ArPAEiTioys.
The event was related to Lady Pennyman: she deter- mined to remain no longer in her present habitation. The man of whom the house had been engaged was spoken to on the subject : he became extremely violent — said it was no time for the English to indulge their imaginations — insinuated something of the guillotine — and bade her, at her pern, drop a single expression to the injury of his property. "While she remained in France, not a word was uttered upon the subject; she framed an excuse for her abrupt departure : another residence was oifered in the vicinitv of Lisle, which she engaged, on a pretext of its being better calculated to the size of her family ; and at once relinquished her habitation, and with it every preter- natural occasion of anxiety.
Although the preceding story " smells of the cloister," is somewhat tinctured with romance, and has been enlarged upon by successive narrators, the facts are authenticated and accredited by the parties to whom they occurred. An old deserted house at Lisle would probably be an object of terror to weak minds, but not to the understandings of the well-educated heads of a family, as well as to the several members of a large estabHshment.
THE STOET OF SIR CHAELES LEE S DAUGHTER.
Sir Charles Lee, by his first lady, had only one daughter, of which she died in child-birth; and when she was dead, her sister, the Lady Everard, desired to have the education of the child, and she was by her very well educated, till she was marriageable, and a match Avas concluded for lier with Sir William Perkins, but was then prevented in an extraordinary manner. Upon a Thursday night, she, thinking she saw a light in her cli amber after she was in bed, knocked for her maid, who presently came to her ; and she asked, " Why she left a candle burning in her chamber V The maid said that she had left none, and there was none but what she brou^^rht with her at that time. Then she said
THE STOUT OF SIR ClIAllLES LEE's DAUGKTE12. 857
it was the fire ; but that, her maid told her, was quite out ; aud said she believed it was only a dream. Whereupon she said it might be so, and composed herself again to sleep. But about two of the clock she was awakened again, and saw the apparition of a little woman between her curtain and her pillow, who told her she was her mother, that she was happy, and that by twelve of the clock that day she should be with her. Whereupon she knocked again for her maid, called for her clothes, and when she was dressed, went into her closet, and came not out again till nine, and then brought out with her a letter sealed addressed to her father, which she gave to her aunt, the Lady Everard, told her what liad happened, aud declared, that as soon as she was dead, it might be sent to him. The lady thought she was suddenly follen mad, and thereupon sent presently away to Chelms- ford for a physician and surgeon, who both came imme- diately ; but the physician could discern no indication of what the lady imagined, or of any indisposition of her body ; not\s-ithstanding the lady would needs have her let blood, which was done accordingly. And when the young woman had patiently let tliem do what they would with her, she desired that the chaplain might be sent to read prayers ; and when prayers were ended, she took her guitar and* psalm-book, and sat down upon a chair without arms, and played and sung so melodiously and admirably, that her music-master, who was then there, admired at it. And near the stroke of twelve, she rose and sat herself down in a great chair with arms, and presently fetching a strong breathing or two, immediately expired, and was so suddenly cold, as was mucli wondered at by tlie physician aud surgeon. iShe died at Waltham, in Essex, three miles from Chelms- ford, and the letter was sent to Sir Charles, at his house in Warwickshire ; but he was so afflicted tvith the death of his daughter, that he came not till she was buried ; but when Ive came he caused her to be taken up, and to be buried with her mother, at Edmonton, as she desired in her letter.
858 APPABTTTONS.
DOSOTHT DINGLET AT LAUNCESTOy, IX COE^^WALL,
Attested by the Rev, Mr. RuddlCy Minister of that totvn.
In the beginning of the year 1665, a disease happened in this town, and some of my scholars died of it. Among others who fell victims to its malignity, was John Elliott, the eldest son of Edward Elliott, of Treberse, Esq. a stripling about sixteen years of age, but of uncommon abilities. At his particular request I preached at the funeral, which happened on the 20th day of June, 1665. In my discourse I spoke some words in commendation of the young gentle- man. An old gentleman, who was then in the church, was much affected with the discourse, and was often heard to repeat the same evening, a line which I quoted from yirgil:
" Et puer ipse contrari dignusP
The cause of this old gentleman's concern was the appli- cation of my observations to his own son, who being about the same age, and but a few months younger than Mr. Elliott, was now by a strange accident quite lost to his parents' hopes.
The funeral ceremony being over, on leaving the church I was courteously accosted by this old gentleman, and, with unusual importunit}-, almost forced against my will to his house that night ; nor could I have even declined from his kindness, had not Mr. Elliott interposed. I excused myself for the present, but was constrained to promise to wait upon him at his own house the Monday following. This then seemed satisfactory, but before Monday I received a message requesting that if possible I would be there on the Sunday. This second attempt I resisted, by answering that it was inconvenient. The gentleman sent me another letter on the Saturday, enjoining me by no means to fail in coming on the Monday. I was indeed startled at so much eagerness, and began to suspect that there must be some design in this excess of courtesy.
On the Monday I paid my promised devoir, and met with a reception as free as the invitation was importunate. There also I met a neighbouring minister, who pretended
DOEOTHY DIXGLET. 359
to call in accidentally ; Lut, by the sequel, I supposed it otherwise. After dinner, this brother of the cloth under- took to show me the gardens, where, as we were walking, lie intimated to me the main object of this visit.
Eirst he apprised me of the infelicity of the family in general, and then instanced the youngest son. He re- lated what a hopeful youth he lately was, and how melan- choly and sottish he was now grown. Next he deeply lamented that his ill-humour should so incredibly subdue his reason. " The poor boy," said he, "believes himself to be haunted with ghosts, and is confident that he meets with an evil spirit in a certain field about half a mile from this place, as often as he goes that way to school." In the midst of our discourse, the old gentleman and his lady came up to us. Upon their approach, and pointing to the arbour, the clergyman resumed the narrative, and the parents of the youth confirmed what he said. In fine, they all desired my opinion and ad\ice on the affair.
I replied, that what the youth had reported to them was strange, yet not incredible, and that I knew not then what to think or say on the subject ; but if the lad would ex- plain himself to me, I hoped to give them a better account of my opinion the next day.
The youth was called immediately, and I soon entered into a close conference with him. At first I was very cautious not to displease him, but endeavoured to ingratiate myself with him. But we had scarce passed the first salu- tation and begun to speak of tiie business, before I found him very communicative. He asserted that he was con- stantly disturbed by the appearance of a woman in an adjacent field, called Higher Brown Quartils. He next told me, with a flood of tears, that his friends were so nnkind and unjust to him, as neither to believe nor pity him ; and that if any man would go with him to the place he might be convinced that his assertion was true.
This woman who appears to me, said he, lived neighbour to my father, and died about eight years since ; her name was Dorothy Dingley : he then stated her stature, age, and complexion : that she never spoke to him, but passed by hastily, and always left him the foot-path, and that she
360 APPARITIONS.
commonly met liim twice or three times iu the breadth of the field.
" Two months," said he, " elapsed before I took any notice of her, and though the face was in my memory, yet I could not recal the name ; but ] concluded that it was some woman who lived in the neighbourhood, and frequently passed that way. Nor did 1 imagine otherwise, before she met me constantly morning and evening, and always in the same field, and sometimes twice or thrice in the breadth of it.
" The first time I noticed her was about a year since ; and when I began to suspect and believe her to be a ghost, I had courage enough not to be afraid. I often spoke to her, but never had a word in answer. I then changed my way and went to school the under horse road, and then she always met me in the narrow lane, between the quarry park and the nursery-ground.
" At length I began to be terrified, and prayed continually, tliat Grod would either free me from her, or let me know the meaning of her appearance. jS'ight and day, sleeping and waking, the shape was ever running in my mind ; and I often repeated these places in scripture. Job. vii. 14. " Thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions;" "and Deut. xxviii. 67. "In the morning thou shalt say, would Grod it were evening, and at evening thou shalt say, would Grod it were morning, for the fear of thine heart, wherewith thou shalt fear, and for the sight of thine eyes which thou shalt see."
I was much pleased with the lad's ingenuity, in the application of these pertinent texts of Scripture to hia condition, and desired him to proceed, which he did as follows : —
" By degrees I grew very pensive, insomuch that I was noticed by all our family ; being questioned closely on the subject, I told my brother William of it ; and he privately acquainted my father and mother.
" They however laughed at me, and enjoined me to attend to my school, and keep such fancies out of my head.
" I accordingly went to school often, but always met the woman in the way."
DOROTHY DINGLEY. 361
Our conference ended in my offering to accompany Lim to the field, which proposal he received with ecstasy ; and we accordingly went.
The gentleman, his wife, and Mr. "Williams, were impa- tient to know the event, insomuch that they came out of the parlour into the hall to meet us ; and seeing the lad look cheerfully, the first compliment from the old man was, " Come, Mr. Euddle, you have talked with Sam ; I hope now he will have more wit : an idle boy, an idle boy !" At these words the lad ran up stairs to his chamber without replying, and I soon stopped the curiosity of the three expectants, by telling them I had that promised silence, and was resolved to be as good as my word, but that they should soon know all.
The next morning, before five o'clock, the lad was in my chamber ; when I arose and went with him. The field he led me to was twenty acres, in an open country, and about three furlongs from any house. We had not pro- ceeded above a third part over the field, before the spectre, in the shape of a woman, with all the circumstances he had described to me in the orchard the day before, met us and passed by. I was somewhat surprised at it ; and though I had taken firm resolution to speak to it, yet I had not the power, nor indeed durst I look back. We walked to the end of the fieid, and returned, but the spectre did not then meet us above once. On our return home, the lady waited to speak with me ; I told her that my opinion was, that her son's complaint was not to be slighted, nor altogether discredited. I cautioned her moreover, that the thing might not take wind, lest the whole country should ring with what was as yet uncertain.
On the morning of the 27th day of July, 1665, I went to the haunted field alone, and walked the breadth of it without any encounter. I returned and took the other walk, and then the spectre appeared to me at about the same place I saw it before when the young gentleman was with me ; in my idea it moved swifter than the time before, and was about ten I'eet distant from me on my right hand.
On the evening of this day, the parents, the son, and myself, being in the chamber where I lay, I proposed to them our going altogether to the place next morning ; and all resolved upon it. In the morning, lest we should alarm
362 APPAEITIOIfS.
the servants, they went under the pretence of seeing a field of wheat, and I took my horse, and fetched a compass another way, and met at the stile we had appointed.
Thence we all four walked leisurely into the Quartils, and had passed above half the field before the spectre made its appearance. It then came over the stile just before us, and moved with such swiftness, that by the time we had gone six or seven steps it had passed by. I immediately turned my head and ran after it, with the young man by my side ; we saw it pass over the stile at which we entered, but no farther : I stepped up to the hedge at one place and he at another, but could discern nothing, whereas I dare aver, that the swiftest horse in England could not have conveyed himself out of sight in that short space of time. Two things I observed in this day's appearance : —
1. That a spaniel dog which followed the company unre- garded, barked and ran away, as the spectre passed by; whence it is easy to conclude that it was not our fear or fancy which made the apparition.
2. That the motion of the spectre was not gradatim, or by steps, and moving of the feet ; but a kind of sliding as children upon the ice, or a boat down a swift river, which punctually answers the description which the ancients gave of the motion of their lemurs.
This ocular evidence convinced, but strangely frightened the old gentleman and his wife; who knew Dorothy Dingley in her life time, were at her funeral, and plainly saw her features in this present apparition. I was resolved to proceed, and use such means as learned men have success- fully practised, in these uncommon cases.
The next morning being Thursday, I went out very early by myself, and walked for about an hour's space in medi- tation and prayer in the fields adjoining the Quartils. Soon after five I stepped over the stile, into the disturbed field, and had not gone above thirty or forty paces before the spectre appeared at the farther stile. I spoke to it with a loud voice, whereupon it approached but slowly, and when I came near, it moved not. I spoke again, and it answered in a voice neither very audible nor intelligible. I was not in the least terrified, and therefore persisted, until it spoke again, and satisfied me.
LOED TYROHirE. 363*
In the same evening, an hour after sun-set, it met me again near the same place, and after a few words on each side it quietly vanished, and neither appeared since, nor ever will more, to any man's disturbance. The conversa- tion in the morning lasted about a quarter of an hour.
appakitio:n' of loed ttroxe to lXdt beeesford.
Lord Tyrone and Miss were born in Ireland, and
were left orphans in their infancy to the care of the same person, by whom they were both educated in the principles of deism.
Their guardian dying when they were each of them about fourteen years of age, they fell into very different hands. Though separated from each other, their friendship was unalterable, and they continued to regard each other with a sincere and fraternal affection. After some years were elapsed, and both were grown up, they made a solemn promise to each other that whichever should die first, would, if permitted, appear to the other, to declare what religion
was most approved by the Supreme Being. Miss was
shortly after addressed by Sir Martin Beresford, to whom she was afterwards married ; but a change of condition had no power to alter their friendship. The families visited each other, and often spent some weeks together. A short time after one of these visits, Sir Martin remarked, that when his lady came down to breakfast, her countenance was disturbed, and inquired of her health. She assured him that she was quite well. He then asked her if she had hurt her wrist : " Have you sprained it ?" said he, observing a black ribbon round it. She answered in the negative, and added, " Let me conjure you. Sir Martin, never to inquire the cause of my wearing this ribbon ; you will never see me without it. If it concerned you as a husband to know, I would not for a moment conceal it; I never in my life denied you a request, but of this I intreat j^ou to forgive me the refusal, and never to urge me farther on the subject." " Very well," said he, smiling, " since you beg me so earnestly, I will inquire no more." The conversation
364 appjLeitioks.
here ended; but breakfast was scarce over, wben Lady Beresford eagerly inquired if the post had come in ; she was told it had not. In a few minutes she rang again and repeated the inquiry. She was again answered as before " Do you expect letters ?" said Sir Martin, " that you are so anxious for the arrival of the post ?" "I do," she answered, " I expect to hear that Lord Tyrone is dead ; he died last Tuesday at four o'clock." "I never in my life," said Sir Martin, " believed you superstitious ; some idle dream has surely thus alarmed you." At that instant the servant entered and dehvered to them a letter sealed with black. "It is as I expected," exclaimed Lady Beresford, " Lord Tyrone is dead." Sir Martin opened the letter ; it came from Lord Tyrone's steward, and contained the melancholy intelligence of his master's death, and on the very day and hour Lady Beresford liad before specified. Sir Martin begged Lady Beresford to compose herself, and she assured him she felt much easier than she had done for a long time ; and added, " I can communicate intelligence to you which I know will prove welcome ; I can assure you, beyond the possibility of a doubt, that I shall in some months present you with a son." Sir Martin received this news with the greatest joy. After some mouths, Lady Beresford was delivered of a son (she had before been the mother of two daughters). Sir Martin survived the birth of his son little more than four years. After his decease his widow seldom left home ; she visited no family but that of a clergyman who resided in the same village ; with them .she frequently passed a few hours every day ; the rest of her time was spent in solitude, and she appeared determined for ever to avoid all other society. The clergyman's family consisted of himself, his wife, and one son, who, at the time of Sir Martin's death, was quite a youth ; to this son, however, she was after a few years married, notwith- standing the disparity of years and the manifest impru- dence of a connexion so unequal in every point of view. Lady Beresford was treated by her young husband with contempt and cruelty, while at the same time his conduct evinced him to be the most abandoned libertine, utterly desti- tute of every principle of virtue and humanity. By thia*, her second husband, she had two daughters ; after which, such
LOED TTEONE. 365
"was the baseness of his conduct that she insisted on a separation. They parted for a few years, when so great was the contrition he expressed for his former conduct, that, won over by his supplications, promises, and entrea- ties, she was induced to pardon, and once more to reside wibh him, and was in time the mother of a son.
The day on which she had lain-in a month being the anniversary of her birthday, she sent for Lady Betty Cobb (of whose friendship she had long been possessed) and a few other friends to request them to spend the day with her. About seven, the clergyman by whom she had been christened, and with whom she had all her life been intimate, came into the room to inquire after her health. She told him she was perfectly well, and requested him to spend the day with them ; for, said she, " This is my birthday. I am forty-eight to-day." "No, madam," answered the clergy- man, " you are mistaken ; your mother and myself have had many disputes concerning your age ; and I have at last discovered that I was right. I happened to go last week into the parish where you were born ; I was resolved to put an end to the dispute ; I searched the register, and find that you are but forty-seven this day." " You have signed my death-warrant," she exclaimed ; " I have then but a few hours to live. I must, therefore, entreat you to leave me immediately, as I have something of importance to settle before I die." AVhen the clergyman left her. Lady Beresford sent to forbid the company coming, and at the same time to request Lady Betty Cobb and her son (of whom Sir Martin was the father, and was then about twenty-two years of age), to come to her apartment imme- diately.
Upon their arrival, having ordered the attendants to quit the room, " I have something," she said, "of the greatest importance to communicate to you both before I die ; an event which is not far distant. You, Lady Betty, are no stranger to the friendship which subsisted between Lord Tyrone and myself ; we were educated under the same roof, and in the same principles of deism. "When the frienda, into whose hands we afterwards fell, endeavoured to per- suade us to embrace revealed religion, their arguments, though insufficient to convince, were powerful enough to
366 APPAEITIOK^S.
stagger our former feelings, and to leave tis ■wavering between the two opinions : in this perplexing state of doubt and uncertainty, we made a solemn promise to each other, that whichever died first should (if permitted) appear to the other,; and declare what religion was most acceptable to God : accordingly, one night, while Sir Martin and myself were in bed, I suddenly awoke and discovered Lord Tyrone sitting by my bed-side. I screamed out and endeavoured to awake Sir Martin: "For Heaven's sake," I exclaimed, " Lord Tyrone, by what means or for what reason came you hither at this time of night r" " Have you then forgotten our promise?" said he. "I died last Tuesday at four o'clock, and have been permitted by the Supreme Being to appear to you, to assure you that the revealed religion is true, and the only religion by which we can be saved. I am further suffered to inform you that jou will soon produce a son, which it is decreed will marry my daughter ; not many years after his birth Sir Martin will die, and you will marry again, and to a man by whose ill-treatment you will be rendered miserable : you will have two daughters, and afterwards a son, in childbirth of whom you will die in the forty-seventh year of your age." "Just Heavens!" I exclaimed, "and cannot I prevent this?" "Undoubtedly you may," returned the spectre; " you are a free agent, and may prevent it all by resisting every temptation to a second marriage : but your passions are strong, you know not their power ; hitherto you have had no trials. More I am not permitted to reveal, but if after this warning you persist in your infidelity, your lot in another world will be miserable indeed!" "May I not ask," said I, " if you are happy ?" " Had I been other- wise," he replied, " I should not have been permitted to appear to you." " I may then infer that you are happy ?" He smiled. "But how," said I, "when morning comes, shall I know that your appearance to me has been real, and not the mere representation of my own imagination ?" *' "Will not the news of my death be sufficient to convince you?" "No," I returned: "I might have had such a dream, and that dream accidentally come to pass. I will have some stronger proofs of its reality." "You shall," said he, ^* and waving his hand, the bed curtains, which were crimson
LORD TTEOJSTE. 367
velvet, were instantly drawn through a large iron hoop by which the tester of the bed was suspended." " In that," said he, " you cannot be mistaken ; no mortal arm could have performed this." " True," said I, " but sleeping we are often possessed of far more strength than when awake ; though waking I could not have done it, asleep I might ; and I shall still doubt." "Here is a pocket-book; in this," said he, " I will write my name : you know my hand- writing." I replied, " Yes." He wrote with a pencil on one side of the leaves. "Still," said I, "in the morning I may doubt ; though waking I could not imitate your hand, asleep I might." "You are hard of belief," said he: "it would injure you irreparably ; it is not for spirits to touch mortal flesh." "I do not," said I, "regard a slight blemish." " You are a woman of courage," replied he, ^ hold out your hand." I did : he struck my wrist : his hand was cold as marble : in a moment the sinews shrunk up, every nerve withered. " IS'ow," said he, " while you live let no mortal eye behold that wrist : to see it is sacri- lege." He stopped ; I turned to him again ; he was gone. During the time I had conversed with him my thoughts were perfectly calm and collected, but the moment he was gone I felt chilled with horror ; the very bed moved under me ; I endeavoured, but in vain, to awake Sir Martin : all my attempts were ineftectual, and in this state of agitation and terror I lay for some time, when a shower of tears came to my relief, and I dropped asleep. In the morning. Sir Martin arose and dressed himself as usual without perceiving the state the curtains remained in.
When I awol^e I found Sir Martin gone down : I arose, and having put on my clothes, went to the gallery adjoin- ing the apartment and took from thence a long broom (such as cornices are swept with) : by the help of this I took down with some difficulty the curtains, as I imagined their ex- traordinary position might excite suspicion in the family. I then went to the bureau, took up my pocket-book, and bound a piece of black I'ibbon round my wrist. When I came down, the agitation of my mind had left an impression, on my countenance too visible to pass unobserved by my husband. He instantly remarked it, and asked the cause ; I informed him Lord Tyrone was no more, that he died
368 APPARITIONS.
at the tour of four on the preceding Tuesday, and desired him never to question me more respecting the black ribbon : which he kindly desisted from doing. You, my son, as had been foretold, I afterwards brought into the world, and in little more than four years after your birth your lamented father expired in my arms.
" After this melancholy event, I determined, as the only probable chance to avoid the sequel of the prediction, for ever to abandon all society ; to give up every pleasure re- sulting from it, and to pass the rest of my days in solitude and retirement. But few can long endure to exist in a state of perfect sequestration : I began an intimacy with a family, — with one alone ; nor could I then foresee the fatal conse- quences which afterwards resulted from it. Little did I think their son, their only son, then a mere youth, would be the person destined by fate to prove my destruction. In a very few years I ceased to regard him with indifference ; I endeavoured by every possible way to conquer a passion, the fatal effects of which I too well knew. I had fondly imagined I had overcome its influence, when the evening of one fatal day terminated my fortitude, and plunged me in a moment down that abyss I had so long been meditating how to shun. He had often solicited his parents for leave to go into the Army, and at last obtained permission, and came to bid me adieu before his departure. The instant he entered the room he fell upon his knees at my feet, told me he was miserable, and that I alone was the cause. At that moment my fortitude forsook me, I gave myself up for lost, and regarding my fate as inevitable, without farther hesitation consented to a union ; the immediate result of which I knew to be misery, and its end death. The conduct of my husband, after a few years, amply justified a separa- tion, and I hoped by this means to avoid the fatal sequel of the prophecy ; but won over by his reiterated entreaties, I was prevailed upon to pardon, and once more reside with him, though not till after I had, as I thought, passed my forty-seventh year.
" But alas ! I have this day heard from indisputable authority, that I have hitherto lain under a mistake with regard to my age, and that I am but forty-seven to-day.
LORD TYRONE.
Of the near approach of my death I therefore entertain not the slightest doubt.
" AVhen I am dead, as the necessity of concealment closes with my life, I could wish that you, Lady Betty, would unbind my wrist, take from thence the black ribbon, and let my son with yourself behold it.'* L:,dy Beresford here paused for some time, but resuming the conversation, she entreated her son would behave himself so as to merit the high honour he would in future receive from a union with the daughter of Lord Tyrone.
Lady B. then expressed a wish to lie down on the bed and endeavour to compose herself to sleep. Lady Betty Cobb and her son immediately called her domestics, and quitted the room, having first desired them to watch their mistress attentively, and if they observed the smallest ehange in her, to call instantly.
An hour passed, and all was quiet in the room. They listened at the door, and every thing remained still, but in half an hour more a bell rang violently ; they flew to her apartment, but before they reached the door, they heard the servant exclaim, "Oh, she is dead!" Lady Betty then bade the servants for a few minutes to quit the room, and herself with Lady Beresford's son approached the bed of his mother ; they knelt down by the side of it ; Lady Betty then lifted up her hand and untied the ribbon ; the wrist was found exactly as Lady Beresford had described it, every sinew shrunk, every nerve withered.
Lady Beresford's son, as had been predicted, is since married to Lord Tyrone's daughter : the black ribbon and pocket-book were formerly in the possession of Lady Betty Cobb, Marlborough Buildings, Bath, who, during her long life, was ever ready to attest the truth of this narration, as are, to the present hour, the whole of the Tyrone and Beresford families.
TWO APPARITIONS TO MR. WILLIAM LILLY.
The following affair excited considerable interest in the north about the middle of last century : — On tlic first
VOL. II. E B
370 APPAEITIO^'S.
Sunday, in the year 1749, Mr. Thomas Lilly, the son of a farmer in the parish of Kelso, in Eoxburgh shire, a yonng man intended for the Church of Scotland, remained at home to keep the house, in company with a shepherd's boy, all the rest of the family, except a maid-servant, being at church. The young student and the boy being by the fire, whilst the girl was gone to the well for water, a venerable old gentleman, clad in an antique garb, presented himself, and, after some little ceremony, desired the student to take up the family bible, which lay on a table, and turn over to a certain chapter and verse in the Second Book of Kings. The student did so, and read — " There is death in the pot."
On this, the old man, with much apparent agitation, pointed to the great family pot boiling on the fire, declaring that the maid had cast a great quantity of arsenic into it, with an intent to poison the whole family, to the end she might rob the house of the hundred guineas which she knew her master had lately taken for sheep and grain which he had sold. Just as he was so saying, the maid came to the door. The old gentleman said to the student, remem- ber my warning and save the lives of the family ! — and that instant disappeared.
The maid entered with a smiling countenance, emptied her pail, and returned to the well for a fresh supply. Mean- while, young Lilly put some oatmeal into a wooden dish, skimmed the pot of the fat, and mixed it for what is called brose or croudy, and when the maid returned, he with the boy appeared busily employed in eating the mixture. Come, Peggy, said the student, here is enough left for you ; are not you fond of croudy ? She smiled, took up the dish, and reaching a horn spoon, withdrew to the back rom. The shepherd's dog followed her, unseen by the boy, and the poor animal, on the croudy being put down by the maid, fell a victim to his voracious appetite ; for before the return of the family from church, it was enormously swelled, and expired in great agony.
The student enjoined the boy to remain quite passive for the present ; meanwhile he attempted to show his ingenuity in resolving the cause of the canine catastrophe into in- sanity, in order to keep the girl in countenance till a fit opportunity of discovering the plot should present itself.
TWO APPARITIONS TO MR. W. LILLY. 371
Soon after, his father and family, with the other servants returned from church.
The table was instantly replenished with wooden bowls and trenchers, while a heap of barley banuocks graced the top. The kail or broth, infused with leeks or winter cab- bages, was poured forth in plenty; and Peggy, with a prodigal hand, filled all the dishes with the homely dainties of Tiviotdale. The master began grace, and all hats and bonnets were instantly off! "0 Lord," prayed the farmer, "' we have been hearing thy word, from the mouth of thy iiged servant, Mr. Eamsay ; we have been alarmed by the iiwful famine in Samaria, and of death being in the pot !" Here the young scholar interrupted his father, by exclaiming — " Yes, sir, tliere is death in the pot now here, as well as^ there was once in Israel ! — Touch not ! taste not ! See the dog dead by the poisoned pot !"
" AVhat!" cried the farmer, "have you been raising the devil by your conjuration ? Is this the effect of your study, sir ?" — " jSTo, father," said the student, " I pretend to no such iirts of magic or necromancy, but this day, as the boy can testify, I had a solemn warning from one whom I take to be no demon, but a good angel. To him we all owe our lives. As to Pesfofv, accordins: to his intimation, she has put poison into the pot for the purpose of destroying the whole family. Here the girl fell into a fit, from which being with some trouble recovered, she confessed the whole ot' her deadly design, and was suffered to quit the family and Iier native country. She was soon after executed at New- castle-upon-Tyne, for the murder of her illegitimate child, again making ample confession-! of tlie above diabolical design.
In 1750, the same young Lilly was one day reading tlie 20th chapter of the Bevelation of John the Divine, just as he was entering upon that part which describes the angel binding the devil a thousand years, " after which he was to be loosed a little," a very venerable old personage appeared at his elbow : the young man fell on the floor, but quickly iirose, and in the name of the Lord demanded who he was, and the nature of his business. Upon this the following colloquy ensued : —
372 APPAEITIOKS.
Lilly. — Shall I call thee Satan, the crooked serpent, the devil, Beelzebub, or Lucifer son of the morning ?
Appar. — I am a messenger from the dead, to see or to cause justice to be done to thee and thy father. I am the- spirit of one of thy ancestors !
Lilly. — Art thou the soul of my grandfather, who amidst immense riches perished for want of food ?
Appar. — Thou art right. Money was my deity, and Mammon my master. I heaped up gold, but did not enjoy it.
Lilly. — I have frequently heard my father mention you, as a sordid, avaricious, miserable man. How did you dispose of the immense riches which you are said to have accumu- lated?
Appar. — It is, for the most part, hidden in a field, in the farm of your father, and I intend that you, his son, should be the sole possessor of it, without suffering your father to know from whence your riches originated. Do not you recognise my face since the beginning of the last year ?
Lilly. — Are you the old gentleman whose timely intelli- gence saved the lives of all our family ?
Appar. — I am. Therefore think not your father ill rewarded already.
Lilly. — How can I account to him for the immediate accumulation of so much money as 3^ou seem to intimate ? Appar.' — Twenty thousand pounds sterling money ! Lilly. — You seem even now in your disembodied state to feel much emotion at the mention of much money.
Appar. — But now I cannot touch the money of mortals. — But I cannot stay. Follow me to the field, and I will point out the precise place where you are to dig.
Here the apparition stalked forth round the barn yard, and Lilly followed hira, till he came to a field about three furlongs from his father's door, when the apparition stood still on a certain spot, wheeled thrice round, and vanished into air.
This proved to be the precise place where young Lilly and his companions had often devoted to pastime, being a hollow, whence stone had formerly been dug. He lost but little time in consideration, for havmg procured a pickaxe
MR. BOOTT AND TUE SHIp's CHEW. 373
and a spade, he actually discovered the treasure. His immense wealth enabled him to perform many acts of charity in that country, as many can testify to this day.
The pots in which the money, consisting of large pieces of gold and silver, were deposited, have often been shown as curiosities hardly to be equalled in the south of Scotland. —World of Spirits, 1796.
ME. BOOTY AND THE SHIP's CEEW.
No circumstance connected with supernatural appear- ances has occasioned more altercation and controversy than the undermentioned. The narrative certainly has an air of overstrained credulity ; neverttieless, the affair is curious, and the coincidence veiy remarkable, especially as it was a salvo for Captain Barnaby. The former part of this narra- tive is transcribed from Captain Spinks's journal, or log- book, and the latter from the King's Bench Eecords for the time being.
Tuesday, May the 12th, this day the wind S.SAV. and a little before four in the afternoon, we anchored in Manser road, where lay Captains Bristo, Brian, and Barnaby, all of them bound to Lucera to load. AYednesday, May the 13th, we weighed anchor, and in the afternoon I went on board of Captain Barnaby, and about two o'clock Tre sailed all of us for the island of Lucera, wind W.SW. and bitter weather. Thursday, the 1-lth, about two o'clock, we saw the island, and all came to an anchor in twelve fathom vrater, the wind W.SW. and on the 15th day of May we had an observation of Mr. Booty in the following manner : Captains Bristo, Brian, and Barnaby, went on shore shooting colues on Stromboli : when we had done we called our men together, and about fourteen minutes after three in the afternoon, to our great surprise, we saw two men run by us with amazing swiftness : Captain Barnaby said, Lord bless me, the fore- most man looks like my next-door neighbour, old Booty, but said ho did not know the other that was behind. Booty was dressed in grey clothes, and the one behind in black ; we saw them run iuto the burning mountain in the
loT'i APPAP.ITIO^rS.
midst of the flames, on which we head a terrible noise too horrible to be described : Captain Barnaby then desired ns to look at our watches, pen the time down in our pocket- books, and enter it in our journals, which we accordiugb. did.
"When we were laden, we all sailed for England, and arrived at Gravesend, on the 6th of October, 1687. Mr;?, Earnaby and Mrs. Brian came to congratulate our safe arrival, and after some discourse. Captain Barnaby's wift^ said, My dear, I have got some news to tell you ; old Booty is dead. He swore an oath, and said we all saw him run into " hell." Some time afterwards, Mrs. Barnaby met with a lady of her acquaintance in London, and told her what her husband had seen concerning Mr: Booty; it came to Mrs. Booty's ears ; she arrested Captain Barnaby in £1000 action. He gave bail, and it came to trial at the Court of King's Bench, where Mr. Booty's clothes were brought into court. The sexton of the parish, and the people that were with him when he died, swore to the time when he died, and we swore to our journals, and they agreed within two minutes : twelve of our men swore that the buttons of his coat were covered with the same grey cloth as his coat, and it appeared to be so : the jury asked Mr. Spinks if he knew Mr. Booty in his lifetime ; he said he never saw him till he saw him run by him into the burning mountain. The judge then said, Lord, grant that I may never see the sight that you have ^een : one, two, or three may be mistaken, but twenty or thirty cannot. So the widow lost the cause.
K.B. It is now in the records at AVestminster.
James the Second, 1687, \ Herbert, Chief Justice,
"Wythens, \
Hollo wav, r Justices.
And Wright, J
THE APPARITION OF EDWARD AYON TO THOMAS GODDARD.
Thomas Goddard, of Marlborough, "Wilts, weaver, made deposition the 23rd November, 1674. He saith, that on
ArPAKiTlO^"^ OF EDWARD AYON TO TUOMAS GODDAHD. 375
Monday, the 9tli instant, as he was going to Ogborn, at a stile on the highway near Mr. Goddard's ground, about nine in the morning, he met the apparition of his father-in-law, one Edward Avon, of this town, glover, who died in May last, having on, to his appearance, the same clothes, hat, stockings, and shoes he usually wore when he was living, standing by and leaniug over that stile. When he came near, the apparition spoke to him with an audible voice those words, " Are you afraid ?" To which he answered, " I am thinking on one who is dead and buried, whom you are like." To which the apparition replied with the like voice, " I am he that you were thinking on ; I am Edward Avon, your fatlier- in-law : come near to me, I will do you no harm." To which Goddard answered, " I trust in Him who hath bought my soul with his precious blood, you shall do me no harm." Then the apparition said, "How stand cases at liome ?" Goddard asked, what cases ? Then it asked, " How are AVilliam and Mary ?" meaning, as he conceived, his son William Avon, a shoemaker here, and Mary his daughter, the said Goddard's w^ife. Then it said, " What ! Taylor is dead :" meaning, as he thought, one Taylor of London, who married his daughter Sarah, which Taylor died the Michaelmas before. Then the apparition held out its hand, and in it, as Goddard conceived, twenty or thirty shillings in silver, and then spake witli a loud voice, " Take this money and send it to Sarah ; for I shut up my bowels of compassion towards her in the time of my life, and now here is somethiug for her." And then said, " Mary (mean- ing his the said Goddard's wife as he conceived) is troubled for me ; but tell her, God hath showed mercy to me contrary to my deserts." But the said Goddard answered, " In the name of Jesus Christ I refuse all such money." Then the apparition said, " I perceive you are afraid ; I will meet you some other time." And immediately to his appearance it went up the lane, and he went over the same stile, but saw it no more that day.
He saith, the next night, about seven o'clock, it came and opened his shop-window, and stood in the same clothes, looked him in the face, but said nothing to him. And the next night after it appeared to him again in the same shape ;
37G APPAEITIOIfS.
but lie being in fear, ran into his house, and saw it no more then.
But he saith, that on Thursday, the 12th instant, as he came from Chilton, riding down the hill between the manor- house and Axford-farm-field, he saw something like a hare cross his way, at which his horse startled, and threw him in the dirt. As soon as he could recover on his feet, the same apparition there met him again in the same habit, and standing about eight feet directly before him in the way, spoke again to him with a loud voice, " Source, (a word he commonly used when living) you have stayed long ;" and then said to him, " Thomas, bid "William Avon take the sword that he had of me, which is now in his house, and carry it to the wood as we go to Alton, to the upper end of the wood by the way-side ; for with that sword I did wrong about thirty years ago, and he never prospered since he had that sword ; and bid William Avon give his sister Sarah twenty shillings of the money which he had of me. And do you talk with Edward Lawrence, for I borrowed twenty shillings of him several years ago, and did say I had paid him, but I did not pay it him ; and I would desire you to pay him twenty shillings out of the money which you had from James Elliot at two payments." Which money the said Goddard now saith was five pounds, which James Elliot, a baker, here owed the said Avon on bond, and which he, the said Goddard, had received from the said Elliot since Michaelmas, at two payments, viz. : 35s. at one time, and £3 5s. at another payment. And it farther said to him, " Tell Margaret (meaning his own wife, as he conceived) that I would desire her to deliver up the little which I gave to little Sarah Taylor, to the child, or to any one she wiU trust for it. But if she will not, speak to Edward Lawrence to persuade her. But if she will not then, tell her that I will see her very suddenly. And see that this be done within a twelvemonth and a day after my decease, and peace be with you." It then went away over the rails into the wood, and he saw it no more at that time. And he saith, that he paid the twenty shillings to Edward Lawrence of this town, who being present now doth remember he lent the said Avon twenty shillings about twenty years ago, which none
APPAEITION OF EDWAED AYOX TO THOMAS GODDAED. 377
kcew but himself and wife, and Avon and Lis wife ; and was never paid it again before now by this Groddard.
And this said Goddard farther saith, that this very day, by the Mayor's order, he with his his brother-in-law, William Avon, went with the sword, and about nine o'clock in the morning they laid down the sword in the copse near the place the apparition had appointed Goddard to carry it, and then coming away thence Goddard looking back saw the same apparition again in the same habit as before. Where- upon he called to his brother-in-law and said, " Here is the apparition of our father ;" who said, "I see nothing." Then Goddard fell on his knees, and said, " Lord, open his eyes that he may see it." But he replied, " Lord, grant I may not see it, if it be thy blessed will," and then the appa- rition, to Goddard' s appearance, beckoned with his hand to him to come to it. And then Goddard said, " In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, what would you have me do ?" Then the apparition said to him, " Thomas, take up the sword, and follow me." To which he said, " Should both of us come, or but one of us ?" To which it answered, " Thomas, do you take up the sword." And so he took up the sword and followed the apparition about ten lugs (that is, poles) farther into the copse, and then turning back, he stood still about a lug and a half from it, his brother-in-law staying behind at the place w^here they first laid down the sword. Then Goddard laying down the sword upon the ground, saw something stand by the apparition like a mas- tiff dog, of a brown colour. Then the apparition coming towards Goddard, he stepped back about two steps, and the apparition said to him, " I have a permission to you, and commission not to touch you ;" and then it took up the sword, and went back to the place at which before it stood, with a mastiff dog by it as before, and pointed the top of the sword in the ground, and said, " In this place lies buried the body of him which I murdered in the year 1635, which is now rotten and turned to dust." Whereupon Goddard said, " I do adjure you in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, wherefore did you commit this murder ?'* And it said, " I took money from the man, and he contended with me, and so I murdered him." Then Goddard asked him, who was confederate with him in the said murder ?
S78 APPAEITIONS.
and it said, " None but myself." Then Goddard said, " What would you have me do in this thing ?" And the apparition said, " This is that the world may know that I murdered a man, and buried him in this place, in the year 1635."
Then the apparition laid down the sword on the bare ground, whereon nothing grew, but seemed to Groddard to be as a grave sunk in. The apparition then rushing further into the copse vanished, and he saw it no more. Whereupon Goddard, and his brother-in-law Avon, leaving the sword there, and coming away together, Avon told Goddard he heard his voice, and understood what he said, and heard other voices distinct from his, but could not understand a word of it, nor saw any apparition at all. Which he now also present affirmeth, and all which the said Goddard then attested under his hand, and affirmed, he will depose the same when he shall be thereto required.
In the presence of Christ. Lypyatt, Mayor, Eolf Bayly, Town Clerk, Joshua Sacheveral, Rector of St. Peter's, in Marlborough.
Examined by me,
Will. Bayly.
of A DrTCHMA?^^ THAT COULD SEE GHOSTS, AND OF THE GHOST HE SAW IN THE TOWJS OF AVOODBEIDGE :N SUFEOLK.
Mr. Broom, the minister of Woodbridge in Suffolk, meeting one day, in a barber's shop in that town, a Dutch Lieutenant, (who was blown up with Opdam, and taken alive out of the water, and carried to that town, where he was a prisoner at large,) upon the occasion of some dis- course was told by him that he could see ghosts, and that he had seen divers. Mr. Broom rebuking him for talking 80 idly, he persisted in it very stiffly. Some days after, lighting upon him again, he asked him whether he had seen any ghost since his coming to that town. To which he replied, No.
But not long after this, as they were walking together
THE DUTCHMAX ^YJLO COriD SEE GHOSTS. 379
"up tbe town, be said to Mr. Broom, " Yonder comes a ghost." He seeing nothing, asked him -whereabout it was ? The other said, " It is over against such a house, and it walks looking upwards towards such a side, flinging one arm with a glove in its hand." He said, moreover, that when it came near them they must give way to it, that he ever did so, and some that have not done so have suffered for it. Anon he said, " 'Tis just upon us ; let's out of the way!" Mr. Broom believing all to be a fiction, as soon as he said those words, took hold of his arm, and kept him b}' force in the way. But as he held him, there came such a force aorainst them, that he was fluns: into the middle of the street, and one of the palms of his hand, and one knee bruised and broken by the fall, which put him for a while to excessive pain.
But spying the Lieutenant lie like a dead man, he got up as soon as he could, and applied himself to his relief. AVith the help of others he got him into the next shop, where they poured strong water down his throat, but for some time could discern no life in him. At length, what with the strong water, and what with well chafing him, he began to stir, and when he was come to himself his first words were, ** I will shew you no more ghosts." Then he desired a pipe of tobacco, but Mr. Broom told him he should take it at his house ; for he feared, should he take it so soon there, it would make him sick.
Thereupon they went together to Mr. Broom's house, where they were no sooner entering in but ;the bell rang out. Mr. Broom presently sent his maid to learn who waa dead. She brought word that it was such an one, a tailor, who died suddenly, though he had been in a consumption a long time. And inquiring after the time of his death, they found it was as punctually as it could be guessed at the very time when the ghost appeared. The ghost had exactly this tailor's known gait, who ordinarily went also with one arm swinging, and a glove in that hand, and looking on one side upwards.
^80 APPAKITIONS.
SIE JOHN SHEBBEOKE AND GEKEEAL WTNTARD.
These gentlemen were, as young men, officers in the same regiment, which was employed on foreign service. They were connected by similarity of tastes and studies, and spent together, in literary occupation, much of that vacant time which was squandered by their brother officers, in those excesses of the table, which, some forty years ago, were considered among the necessary accomplishments of the military character. They were one^ afternoon sitting in "Wynyard's apartment. It was perfectly light, the hour was about four o'clock; they had dined, but neither of them had drunk wine, and they had retired from the mess to continue together the occupations of the morning. It ought to have been said, that the apartment in which they were, had two doors in it, the one opening into a passage, and the other leading into Wynyard's bed-room. There was no other means of entering the sitting-room bat from the passage, and no other egress from the bed-room but through the sitting-room ; so that any person passing into the bed-room must have remained there, unless he returned by the way he entered. This point is of consequence to the story.
As these two young officers were pursuing their studies, Sherbroke, whose eye happened accidentally to glance from the volume before him towards the door that opened to the passage, observed a tall youth, of about twenty years of age, whose appearance was that of extreme emaciation, standing beside it. Struck with the presence of a perfect stranger, he immediately turned to his friend, who was sitting near him, and directed his attention to the guest who had thus strangely broken in upon their studies. As soon as "Wynyard's eyes were turned towards the mys- terious -^-isitor, his countenance became suddenly agitated. " I have heard," says Sir John Sherbroke, " of a man's being as pale as death, but I never saw a living face as- sume the appearance of a corpse except Wynyard's at that moment." As they looked silently at the form before them, — for Wynyard, who seemed to apprehend the import of the appearance, was deprived of the faculty of speech.
BIE JOHN SIIEEBEOKE AND GENEEAL Ti'YNYAED. 381
and Sherbroke, perceiving the agitation of his friend, felt no inclination to address it, — as they looked silently upon the figure, it proceeded slowly into the adjoining apartment, and, in the act of passing them, cast its eyes with an ex- pression of somewhat melancholy affection on young "Wyn- yard. The oppression of this extraordinary presence was no sooner removed, than Wynyard, seizing his friend by the arm and drawing a deep breath, as if recovering from the suffocation of intense astonishment and emotion, mut- tered in a low and almost inaudible tone of voice, " Great God! my brother!" — " Tour brother !" repeated Sherbroke, " what can you mean, Wynyard ? there must be some de- ception— follow me ;" and immediately taking his friend by the arm, he preceded him into the bed-room, which, as before stated, was connected with the sitting-room, and into which the strange visitor had evidently entered. It has already been said, that from this chamber there was no possibility of withdrawing but by the way of the apartment, through which the figure had certainly passed, and as cer- tainly never had returned. Imagine, then, the astonishment of the young officers, when, on finding themselves in the centre of the chamber, they perceived that the room was perfectly untenanted. Wynyard' s mind had received an impression at the first moment of his observing him, that the figure whom he had seen was the spirit of his brother. Sherbroke still persevered in strenuously believing that some delusion had been practised.
They took note of the day and hour in which the event had happened ; but they resolved not to mention the oc- currence in the regiment, and gradually they persuaded each other that they had been imposed upon by some artifice of their fellow-officers, though they could neither account for the reason, nor suspect the author, nor con- ceive the means of its execution. They were content to imagine anything possible, rather than admit the possibility of a supernatural appearance. But, though they had at- tempted these stratagems of self-delusion, Wynyard could not help expressing his solicitude with respect to the safety of the brother whose apparition he had either seen, or imagined himself to have seen ; and the anxiety which ho exhibited for letters from England, and his frequent mention
382 APPAEITIO^'s.
of his fears for his brother's health, at length awakened the curiosity of his comrades, and eventually betrayed him into a declaration of the circumstances which he had, in vain, determined to conceal. The story of the silent and unbidden visitor was no sooner bruited abroad, than the destiny of AVynyard's brother became an object of universal and painful interest to the officers of the regiment ; there were few who did not enquire for AVynyard's letters before they made any demand after their own, and the packets that arrived from England were welcomed with more than usual eagerness, for they brought not only remembrances from their friends at home, but promised to afford the clue to the mystery which had happened among themselves.
By the first ships no intelligence relating to the story could have been received, for they had all departed from England previously to the appearance of the spirit. At length the long-wished-for vessel arrived; all the officers had letters except Wynyard. Still the secret was unex- plained. They examined the several newspapers, but they contained no mention of any death, or of any other circum- stance connected with his family that could account for the preternatural event. There was a solitary letter for Sher- broke still unopened. The officers had received their letters in the mess-room at the hour of supper. After Sherbroke had broken the seal of his last packet, and cast a glance on its contents, he beckoned his friend away from the company, and departed from the room. All were silent. The suspense of the interest was now at its climax ; the impatience for the return of Sherbroke was inexpressible. They doubted not but that letter had contained the long-expected in- telligence. After the interval of an hour Sherbroke joined them. No one dared be guilty of so great a rudeness as to inquire the nature of his correspondence ; but they waited in mute attention, expecting that he would himself touch upon the subject. His mind was manifestly full of thoughts that pained, bewildered, and oppressed him. He drew near to the fire-place, and leaning his head on the mantel-piece, after a pause of some moments, said in a low voice, to the person who was nearest to him, " Wynyard's brother is no more !" The first line of Sherbroke's letter was, " Dear John, break to your friend Wynyard the death of his
SIE JOmf SHEEBROKE AND GENERAL WTNTARD. 3S3
favourite brother." He had died on the day, and at the very hour on which the friends had seen his spirit pass so mysteriously through the apartment.
It might have been imagined, that these events would have been sufficient to have impressed the mind of Sherbroke with the conviction of their truth ; but so strong was his prepossession against the existence, or even the possibility of any preternatural intercourse with the souls of the dead, that he still entertained a doubt of the report of his senses, supported, as their testimony was, by the coincidence of vision and event. Some years after, on his return to Eng- land, he was walking with two gentlemen in Piccadilly, when, on the opposite side of the way, he saw a person bearing the most striking resemblance to the figure which had been disclosed to AVynyard and himself. His companions were acquainted with the story ; and he instantly directed their attention to the gentleman opposite, as the individual who had contrived to enter and depart from Wynyard's apartment without their being conscious of the means. Full of this impression, he immediately went over, and at once addressed the gentleman : he now fully expected to elucidate the mystery. He apologised for the interruption, but excused it by relating the occurrence, which had in- duced him to the commission of this solecism in manners. The gentleman received him as a friend. He had never been out of the country ; but he was the twin brother of the youth whose spirit had been seen.
This story is related with several variations. It is some- times told as having happened at Gibraltar, at others in England, at others in America. There are also difierences with respect to the conclusion. Some say that the gentle- man whom Sir John Sherbroke afterwards met in London, and addressed as the person whom he had previously seen in so mysterious a manner, was not another brother of General AVynyard, but a gentleman who bore a strong resemblance to the family. But, however, the leading facts in every account are the same. Sir John SherbroTvC and General Wynyard, two gentlemen of veracity, were together present at the spiritual appearance of the brother of General Wynyard: the appearance took place at the moment of dissolution ; and the countenance, and form of the ghost'e
384 APPAEITIONS.
figure, were so distinctly impressed upon the memory of Sir John Sherbroke, — to whom the living man had been unknown, — that on accidentally meeting with his likeness, he perceived and acknowledged the resemblance.
MISS PEI>'GLE.
One morning in the summer of 1745, Mrs. Jane Lowe, housekeeper to Mr. Pringle, of Clifton Park, in the south of Scotland, beheld the apparition of a lady walking in the avenue, on the margin of a rivulet which runs into Kale water. The form resembled a daughter of her master, who had long been absent from the family, at the distance of above a hundred miles south of Paris. As Mrs. Lowe walked down the avenue and approached the rivulet, she grew more and more certain of the similitude of the phan- tom to the idea in her mind of Miss Pringle, and seeing her master in an enclosure adjoining, she communicated to him what she ha'd seen. Mr. Pringle laughed, and said, " You simple woman, that lady is Miss Chattow, of More- battle." However, Mrs. Lowe prevailed upon him to accompany her to the place, which they had nearly reached, when the apparition sprung into the water and instantly disappeared.
Mr. Pringle and Mrs. Lowe, on returning to the hall, apprised the family of the vision, and for their pains were heartily laughed at. The Eev. Mr. Turnbull, minister of Linton, happened to breakfast that morning with Mr. Pringle, his lady, and two young daughters, who joined in the laugh. About three months afterwards, the same reverend gentleman honoured the family with his company ; when, standing at a window in the lower room, he observed a poor, ragged, lame, lean man slowly approaching the house. " Here comes another apparition," cried Mr. Turnbull, with a kind of contemptuous smile. This drew the immediate attention of all present, and Mr. Pringle quickly recognized the person to be his second son, whom he had not seen before for above ten years.
On his arrival, he soon convinced them he was not an
SAMUEL WALLACE. 385
apparition, declaring that lie had narrowly escaped with his life from Tunis, in the vicinity of which he had been a slave to the Algerines seven years, but had happily been ran- somed at the critical moment when he was ordered to be put to death for mutiny. He added, that on his return home through France, he called at the place where he had heard that his sister resided, and, to his unspeakable grief, found that she had died on the 25th of May, the same summer, about five o'clock in the morning, which he recol- lected to have been the precise time that he was saved from the jaws of death, and when he thought he beheld his sister. Mrs. Lowe, who was present in the room, on hearing this declaration, broke forth into an acclamation, affirming that the day alluded to was that on which she had shown Mr. Pringle the apparition ; and this was confirmed by the reverend divine, in whose study this narrative was found after his death. — Sicfns be/ore Death.
Samuel "Wallace, of Stamford, in Lincolnshire, a very pious good man, a shoemaker by trade, having been thirteen years sick of a consumption, upon "Whitsunday, after sermon, 1659, being alone in the house, and reading in a book called Abraham's Suit for Sodom, heard somebody knock at the door ; upon which he arose, and went with his stick in one hand, and holding by the wall with the other, to see who was at the door, where he found a grave old man with hair as white as wool curled up, and a white broad beard, of a fresh complexion, little narrow band, coat and hose of a purple colour, and new shoes tied with black ribbands, without spot of wet or dirt upon him, though it rained when he came in, and had done all that day, hands as white as snow, without gloves, who said to him, " Friend, I pray thee give to an old pilgrim a cup of small beer." Samuel Wallace answering, "I pray you, Sir, come in;" he re- plied, " Call me not Sir, for I am no sir ; but yet come in I must, for I cannot pass by the door before I come in.'* AVallace, with the help of his stick, drew a little jug pot of small-beer, which the pilgrim took, and drank a little, then walked two or three times to and fro, and drank again,
YOL. II. c c
386 APPAEITIONS.
and so a third time before lie drank it all. And wten he nad so done, he v^alked three or four times as before ; and then coming to "Wallace, said, " Friend, 1 perceive that thou art not well." "Wallace replied, " No, truly, Sir, I have not been well these man}- years." Then he asked what his disease was. Wallace answered, " A deep consumption, as our doctors say, 'tis past cure." To which the old pilgrim replied, " They say well ; but what have they given thee for it r" "Truly nothing," said he, "for I am very poor, and not able to follow the doctor's prescriptions : and so I have committed myself into the hands of Almighty God, to dispose of me as he pleaseth." The old man answered, " Thou say est very well ; but I will tell thee by the Al- mighty Power of Grod what thou shalt do ; only observe my words, and remember them, and do it ; but whatsoever thou dost, fear God, and serve Him. To-morrow morning go into thy garden, and get there two red sage leaves, and one leaf of* blood- wort, put these intp a cup of small-beer, let them lie there for the space of three days together ; drink thereof as often as need requires, but let the leaves remain in the cup ; and the fourth morning cast them away, and put three fresh ones in the room ; and thus do for twelve days together, neither more nor less. I pray thee remember whai I say, and observe and do it : but above all, fear God, and serve liim. And for the space of these twelve days thou must neither drink ale nor strong beer ; yet afterwards thou mayest, to strengthen nature ; and thou shalt see that before these twelve days are expired, through the great mercy and help of Almighty Grod, thy disease will be cured, and the frame of thy body altered," &c. — with much more to this purpose : adding withal, "that he must change the air, and then his blood would be as good as ever it was, only his joints would be weak as long as he lived : but above all," said he, " Year God, and serve Him."
Wallace asked him to eat some bread and butter, or cheese : he answered, " J^o, friend, I will not eat anything ; the Lord Christ is sufficient for me ; neither but very seldom do I drink any beer, but that which comes from the rock : and so, friend, the Lord God in heaven be with thee."
At parting, Samuel Wallace went to shut the door after
DR. A^'B MES. DOX^-E. 387
him ; to wliora tlie old man, returning half way into the entry, again said, " Friend, I pray remember what I have said, and do it : but above all, fear Grod, and serve Him."
"Wallace said he savr him pass along the street some half a score yards from his door, and so he went in. But nobody else saw this old man, though many people were standing alb their doors near AV^allace's house. AYithin four days, upon the use of this drink, a scurf arose upon his body, and under that a new fresh skin ; and in twelve da^'s he was as strong as ever he had been, and healthful, excepting only a little weakness in his joints. And once in twelve days, by the importunity of some friends, drinking a little strong drink, he was struck speechless for twenty-four hours. Many ministers, hearing the report of this wonderful cure, met together at Stamford, and considering all the circumstances, and consulting about it, for many reasons concluded the cure to be done by the ministry of an angel. A particular good friend of mine, Mr. Lawrence Wise, minister of the gospel, deceased, had the whole relation from "Wallace's own mouth ; for going soon after this into Scotland, he took Stamford in his way, and went to Wallace's house, and discoursed an hour or two with him, and does not at all -doubt that it was a good angel, that it was sent by the Father of spirits, that came to his 'house and wrought this «ure upon him. — Nocturnal Revels.
DR. AND MES. DONNE.
Doctor Donne and his wife resided for some time with Sir Eobert Drury, at his house in Drury-lane. Sir Eobert and the Doctor having agi-eed to accompan}^ Lord Hay in an embassy to the Court of France, the Doctor left his wife, who was then pregnant, in Sir Robert's house. Two days after they had arrived at Paris, Dr. Donne happened to be left alone in the room where they had dined ; but in about half an hour Sir Robert returned, when noticing the sad air of the Doctor, Sir Robert earnestly requested him to state ■what had befallen him in his short absence ? The Doctor replied, " Since you left me I have seen a frightful vision.
3&8 HAUNTED HOrSES.
for I have seen my dear wife pass by me in the room, witb her hair hanging about her shoulders, and a dead child in her arms." SirEobert replied, " Surely, Sir, you have slept since I left you, and this is tiie result of some inelancholy dream, which I would have you forget, for you are now awake." Dr. Donne replied, " I cannot be more sure that I now live than that I have not slept, that I have seen my T\-ife, and that she stopped short, looked me in the face, and then iled away." This he affirmed the next day with more confidence, which induced Sir Eobert to think that there might be some truth in it. Sir Eobert immediately dis- patched a servant to Drury-house, to ascertain whether Mrs. Donne was alive or dead ; and if alive, in what state of health. On the twelfth day the messenger returned, stating that he had seen Mrs. Donne, that she was very ill, and that after a long and painful labour, she had been delivered of a dead child ; and upon examination, it proved that the delivery had been on the day Dr. Donne saw her apparition. in liis chamber. — Isaac Walton.
HAUNTED HOUSES.
To Mr. Samuel Wesley, from his 3Iot7iei\*
January 12, 171G-7.
Deaii Sam, — This evening we were agreeably surprised with your packet, which brought the welcome news of your being alive, after we had been in tlie greatest panic imaginable, almost a month, thinking either you was dead, or one of your brothers by some misfortune been killed.
The reason of our fears is as follows: — On the 1st of December, our maid heard, at the door of the dining-room, several dismal groans, like a person in extreme?', at the point
* The M>?. is in the handwriting of Mr. .S. "Wesley. The titles of the ]ettei*9, denoting the writers, and the persons to whom they were Will ten, are only added.
HOUSE OF THE WESLETS. 389
of death. We gave little heed to her relation, and endea- voured to laugh her out of her fears. Some nights (two or three) after, several of the family heard a strange knock- ing in divers places, usually three or four knocks at a time, and then stayed a little. This continued every night for a fortnight ; sometimes it vras in the garret, but most com- monly in the nursery, or green chamber. We all heard but your father, and I was not wdlling he should be informed of it, lest he should fancy it was against his own death, which, indeed, we all apprehended. But when it began to be so troublesome, both day and night, that few or none of the family durst be alone, I resolved to tell him of it, being minded he should speak to it. At first he would not be- lieve but somebody did it to alarm us ; but the night after, as soon as he was in bed, it knocked loudly nine times, just by his bed-side. He rose, and went to see if he could find out what it was ; but could see nothing. Afterwards he heard it as the rest.
One night it made such a noise in the room over our heads, as if several people were walking, tlien ran up and down stairs, and was so outrageous that we thought the children would be frighted, so your father and I rose, and went down in the dark to light a candle. Just as we came to the bottom of the broad stairs, having hold of each other, on my side there seemed as if somebody had emptied a bag of money at my feet ; and on his, as if all the bottles under the stairs (which were many) had been dashed in a thousand pieces. We passed through the hall into the Ivitchen, and got a candle, and went to see the children, whom we found asleep.
The next night your father would get Mr. Hoole to lie at our house, and we all sat together till one or two o'clock in the morning, and heard the knocking as usual. Some- times it would make a noise like the winding up of a jack ; at other times, as that night Mr. Hoole was with us, like a carpenter planing deals ; but most commonly it knocked thrice and stopped, and then thrice again, and so many hours together. We persuaded your father to speak, and try if any voice would be heard. One night about six o'clock he went into the nursery in the dark, and at first heard several deep groans, then knocking. He adiured it to
390 HAL'KTED HOUSES.
speak if it had power, and tell Mm why it troubled his- house, but no voice was heard, but it knocked thrice aloud. Then he questioned it if it were Sammy, and bid it if it were, and could not speak, knock again, but it knocked no more that night, which made us hope it was not against your death.
Thus it continued till the 28th of December, when it loudly knocked (as your father used to do at the gate) in the nursery, and departed. We have various conjectui^es what this may mean. For my own part, I fear nothing now you are safe at London hitherto, and I hope God will still preserve you : though sometimes I am inclined to think my brother is dead. Let me know your thoughts on it.
S. AV.
From Mrs. Susannah Wesley to her Brother Samuel.
Ep worth, Jan. 24.
Deab Beothee, — About the 1st of December, a most terrible and astonishing noise was heard by a maid-servant as at the dining-room door, which caused the up- starting of her hair, and made her ears prick forth at an unusual rate. She said it was like the groans of one expiring. These so frighted her, that for a great while she durst not go out of one room into another, after it began to be dark, without company. But, to lay aside jesting, which should not be- done in serious matters, I assure you that from the first to the last of a lunar month, the groans, squeaks, tinglings, and knockings, were frightful enough.
Though it is needless for me to send you any account of what we all heard, my father himself having a larger account of the matter than I am able to give, which he designs to send you; yet, m compliance with your desire, I will tell you as briefly as I can what I heard of it. The fii'st night I ever heard it, my sister JSancy and I were sitting in the dining-room. We heard something rush on the outside of the doors that opened into the garden, then three loud knocks, immediately after other three, and in half a minute the same number over our heads. We enquired whether any body had been in the garden, or in the room above us,
HOUSE OF THE "WESLETS. 391
"but there was nobody. Soon after my sister Molly and I were up after all the family were a-bed, except my sister Nancy, about some business. We heard three bouncing thumps under our feet, Avhich soon made us throw away our work and tumble into bed. Afterwards the tingling of the latch and warming-pan ; and so it took its leave that night.
Soon after the above-mentioned, we heard a noise as if a great piece of sounding metal was thrown down on the out- side of our chamber. We, lying in the quietest part of the house, heard less than the rest for a pretty while ; but the latter end of the night that Mr. Hoole sat up I lay in the nursery, where it was very violent. I then heard fre- quent knocks over and under the room where I lay, and at the children's bed head, which was made of boards. It seemed to rap against it very hard and loud, so that the bed shook under them. I heard something walk by my bedside like a man in a long night-gown. The knocks were so loud, that Mr. Hoole came out of his chamber to us. It still continued. My father spoke, but nothing answered. It ended that night with my father's particular knock, very fierce.
It is now pretty quiet, only at our repeating the prayers for the king and prince, when it usually begins, especially when my father says, " Our most gracious Sovereign Lord," &c. This my father is angry at, and designs to say three instead of two for the royal family. We all heard the same noise, and at the same time, and as coming from the same place. To conclude this, it now makes its personal appear- ance : but of this more hereafter. Do not say one word of this to our folks, nor give the least hint.
I am, Your sincere friend and affectionate Sister, Susannah Wesley.
Froin Miss Emily Wesley to her Brother Samuel,
Dear Beother, — I thank you for your last, and shall give you what satisfaction is in my power concerning what has happened in our family. I am so far from beiug super- stitious, that I was too much inclined to infidelity, so that 1
392 HAUNTED HOUSES.
heartily rejoice at having such an opportunity of convincing myself, past doubt or scruple, of the existence of some beings besides those we see. A whole month was sufficient to convince any body of the reality of the thing, and to try all ways of discovering any trick, liad it been possible for any such to have been used. I shall only tell you what I myself heard, and leave the rest to others.
My sisters in the paper chamber had heard noises, and told me of them, but I did not much believe, till one night, about a week after the first groans were heard, which was the beginning, just after the clock had struck ten, I went down stairs to lock the doors, which I always do. Scarce had I got up the best stairs, when I heard a noise like a person throwing down a vast coal in the middle of the fore kitchen, and all the splinters seemed to fly about from it. I was not much frighted, but went to my sister Suky, and we together went all over the low rooms ; but there was nothing out of order.
Our dog was fast asleep, and our only cat in the other end of the house, 'No sooner was I got up stairs, and undress- ing for bed, but I heard a noise among many bottles that stand under the best stairs, just like the throwing of a great stone among them, which had broke them all to pieces. This made me hasten to bed ; but my sister Hetty, who sits always to wait on my father going to bed, was still sitting on the lowest step on the garret stairs, the door being shut at her back, when soon after there came down the stairs behind her something like a man, in a loose night-gown trailing after him, which made her fly rather than run to me in the nursery.
All this time we never told our father of it ; but soon after we did. He smiled, and gave no answer, but was more care- ful than usual from that time to see us in bed, imagining it to be some of us young women that sat up late and made a noise. His incredulity, and especially his imputing it to us, or our lovers, made me, I own, desirous of its continuance till he was convinced. As for my mother, she firmly be- lieved it to be rats, and sent for a horn to blow them away. I laughed to think how wisely they were employed, who were striving half a day to fright away Jefiery, for that name I gave it, with a horn. . r^' ' . -^ ^"■' '-r- " • -
UOUSE OF THE WESLETS. 393
Eut wliatever it was, I perceived it could be made augry ; for from that time it was so outrageous, there was no quiet for us after ten at night. I heard frequently between ten ^nd eleven something like the quick winding up of a jack, at the corner of the room by my bed's head, just like the running of the wheels and the creaking of the ironwork. This was the common signal of its coming. Then it would knock on the floor three times, then at my sister's bed's liead, in the same room, almost always three together, and then stay. The sound was hollow and loud, so as none of us could ever imitate.
It would answer to my mother, if she stamped on the floor, and bid it. It would knock when I was putting the children to bed, just under me where I sat. One time little Kesy, pretending to scare Patty, as I was undressing them, stamped with her foot on the floor, and immediately it an- swered with three knocks, just in the same place. It was more loud and fierce if any one said it was rats, or any thiug natural.
I could tell you abundance more of it, but the others will write, and therefore it would be needless. I was not much frighted at first, and very little at last ; but it was never near me, except two or three times, and never followed me, as it did my Sister Hetty. I have been with her when it has knocked under her, and when she has removed has followed, and still kept just under her feet, which was enough to terrify a stouter person.
If you would know my opinion of the reason of this, I shall briefly ^tell you. I believe it to be witchcraft, for these reasons. About a year since, there was a disturbance at a town near us, that was undoubtedly witches ; and if so near, why may they not reach us ? Then my father had for several Sundays before its coming preached warmly against consult- ing those that are called cunning men, which our people are given to ; and it had a particular spite at my father.
Besides, something was thrice seen. The first time by my mother, under my sister's bed, like a badger, only without any head that was descernible. The same creature sate by the dining-room fire one evening : when oui' man went into the room; it ran by him, through the hall and under the stairs. He followed with a candle, and searched, but it was
394 HAUNTED HOrSES.
departed. The last time he savi' it in tlie kitclien, like a "white rabbit, which seems likely to be some witch ; and I do so really belicTe it to be one, that I would venture to fire a pistol at it, if I saw it long enough. It has been heard by me and others since December. I have filled up all my room, and have only time to tell you, I am,
Your loving Sister,
EiiiLY Wesley.
Addenda io and from my Father s Diary.
Friday, December 21. Knocking I heard first, I think, this night : to which disturbances, I hope, God will in his good time put an end.
Sunday, December 23. I^ot much disturbed with the noises that are now grown customarv to me.
Wednesday, December 2^. Sat up to hear noises. Strange! spoke to it, knocked off*.
Friday, 28. The noises very boisterous and disturbing this night.
Saturday, 29. Not frighted, with the continued disturb- ance of my family,
Tuesday, January 1, 1717. My family have had no dis- turbance since I went.
Of the general Ciraimstayices which follow, most, if net all the Taviily, were frequent Witnesses.
1. Presently after any noise was heard, the wind com- monly rose, and whistled very loud round the house, and increased with it.
2. The signal was given, which my father likens to the turning round of a windmill when the wind changes ; Mr. Hoole (Eector of Haxey) to' the planing of deal boards; my sister to the swift winding up of a jack. It commonly began at the corner of the top of the nursery.
3. Before it came into any room, the latches were frequently lifted up, the windows clattered, and whatever iron or brass- was about the chamber, rung and jarred exceedingly.
4. When it was in any room, let them make what noise they would, as they sometimes did on purpose, its dead hol- low note would be clearly heard above them all.
5. It constantly knocked while the prayers for the King
nOUSE OF THE WESLETS. 395
and Prince were repeating, and was plainly heard by all in the room, except my father, and sometimes bj him, as were also the thundering knocks of the Amen.
6. The sound very often seemed in the air in the middle of a room, nor could any of the family ever mal?e such themselves by any contrivance.
7. Though it seemed to rattle down the pewter, to clap the doors, draw the curtains, kick the man's shoes up and down, &c. yet it never moved any thing except the latches, otherwise than by making it tremble ; unless once when it threw open the nursery door.
8. The mastiff, though he barked violently at it the first day he came, yet whenever it came after that, nay, sometimes before the family perceived it, he ran whining, or quite silent, to shelter himself behind some of the company.
9. It never came by day, till my mother ordered the horn to be blown.
10. After that time, scarce any one could go from one room to another, but the latch of the room they went to was lifted up before they touched it.
11. It never came once into my father's study, till he talked to it sharply, called it deaf and dumb devil, and bid it cease to disturb the innocent children, and come to him in his study if it had anything to say to him.
12. Erom the time of my mother's desiring it not to disturb her from five to six, it was never heard in her cham- ber from five till she came down stairs, nor at any other time, when she was employed in devotion.
13. Whether our clock went right or wrong, it always came, as near as could be guessed, when by the night it wanted a quarter of ten.
The Rev. Mr. Ilooles Account.
Sept. 10. As soon as I cam.e to Epworth, Mr. \Yesley telling me, he sent for me to conjure, I Jtnew not what he meant, till some of your sisters told me what had happened, and that I was sent for to sit up. I expected every hour, it being then about noon, to hear something extraordinary, but to no pur- pose. At supper, too, and at prayers, all was silent, con- trar}" to custom ; but soon after, one of the maids, who went up to prepare a bed, brouglit the alarm that Jeffrey was come above stairs. We all went up, and as we were standing.
396 HATJXTED HOUSES.
round tlie fire in the east cliamber, something began Knock- ing just on the other side of the wall, on the chimney-piece, as with a key. Presently the knocking was under our feet. Mr. Wesley and I went down, he with a great deal of hope, and I with fear. As soon as we were in the kitchen, the sound was above us, in the room we had left. "We returned up the narrow stairs, and heard at the broad stairs head, some one slaring with their feet (all the family being now in bed beside us) and then trailing, as it were, and rustling with a silk night-gown. Quickly it was in the nursery, at the bed's head, knocking as it had done at first, three by three. Mr. Wesley spoke to it, and said he believed it was the devil, and soon after it knocked at the window, and changed its sound into one like the planing of boards. From thence it went on the outward south side of the house, sounding fainter and fainter, till it was heard no more.
I was no other time than this during the noises at Ep- worth, and do not now remember any more circumstances than these. — See Southey's Life of Wesley, Vol. i.
THE DETJMMEE OF TEDWOKTH.
Every one has heard of the comedy of " The Drummer, or the Haunted House,'' celebrated enough in its day ; but the popularity of which ceased when the affair was no longer a topic of public conversation. The circumstances which gave rise to this performance are detailed as follows, by Grlamdl, by whose statement it appears that the matter turned out to be no farce for Mr. Mompesson, the proprietor of the house. As there is an air of incredibility about the nar- rative, we give it in Glanvil's precise words.
Mr. John Mompesson, of Tedworth, in the county of "Wilts, being about the middle of March, in the year 1661, at a neighbouring town, called Ludgarshal, and hearing a drum beat there, he inquired 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 been troubled with an idle drummer, who demanded money of the constable by virtue of a pretended pass, which he thought was counterfeit. Upon this, Mr. Mompesson sent for the fellow, and asked him by what authority he weut up and down the country in that manner with his drum. The drummer answered,
THE DRTIMMEE OF TEDWORTH. 397
he had good authority, and produced his pass, with a warrant under the hands of Sir AYiiliam Cawlej and Colonel Ayliff, of Gretenham. Mr. Mompesson knowing these gentle- men's hands, discovered that the pass and warrant were counterfeit, and thereupon commanded the vagrant to put off his driun, and charged the constable to carry him before the next Justice of the Peace, to be farther examined and punished. The fellow then confessed the cheat, and begged earnestly to have his drum. jMr. Mompesson told him, that if he understood from Colonel Ayliff, whose drummer he said he was, that he had been an honest man, lie should have it again, but in the mean time he would secure it ; so he left the drum with the bailift', and the drummer in the constable's hands, who it seems was prevailed on by the fellow's intreaties to let liim go.
About the middle of April following, when Mr. Mom- pesson was preparing for a journey to London, the bailiff sent the drum to his house : on his return from his journey, his wife told him that they had been much frightened in the night by thieves, and that the house had like to ha-ve been broken into. And he had not been at home above three nights, when the same noise was heard that had disturbed his family in his absence. It was a very great knocking at his doors and the outside of his house : hereupon he got up, and went about the house with a brace of pistols in hi& hands ; he opened the door where the great knocking was, and then he heard the noise at another door ; he opened that also, and went out round the house, but could discover nothing, only he still heard a strange noise and hollow sound. When he was got back to bed, the noise was a thumping- and drumming on the top of his house, which continued for some time, and then by degrees subsided.
After this the noise of thumping and druuiming was very frequent, usually five nights together, and then it would intermit three. It was on the outside of the house, which was most principally board. It constantly came as they were going to sleep, whether early or late. After a month's disturbance without, it came into the room where tlie dvani lay, four or five nights in seven, within half an hour after they were in bed, continuing almost two. The sign of it just before it came was, they still heard a hurling in thi>
398 HAUNTED HOUSES.
air over the house, aud, at its going off, the beatiDg of a drum, lilve that at the breakiug up of a guard. It continued in this room for the space of two months, which time Mr. Mompesson himself lay there to observe it. In tlie fore part of the night it used to be very troublesome, but after two hours all was quiet.
Mrs. Mompesson being brought to bed, there was but little noise tlie night she was in travail, nor any for- three weeks after, till she had recovered her strength. But after this cessation, it returned in a ruder manner than before, and followed aud vexed the youngest children, beating their bedsteads vritli sucli violence, that all present expected they would fall in pieces. In laying hands on them, one couJd feel no blows, but might perceive them to shake ex- ceedingly : for an hour together it would beat the Tat-too, and sev-eral other points of war, as well as any drummer. After this, they would hear a scratching under the chil- dren's beds, as if by something that had iron talons. It would lift the children up in their beds, follow them from one room to another, and for a while haunted none particu- larly but them.
There was a cock-loft in the house which had not been •observed to be troubled, whither they removed the children, putting them to bed while it was fair day, where they were no sooner laid, but their troubler was with them as before. On the fifth of November, 1661, it kept a mighty noise, and a servant observing two boards in the children's room seeming to move, he bid it give him one of them ; upon which the board came (nothing moving it that he saw) within a yard of him : the man added, " ^ay, let me have it in my hand ;" upon which it was shoved quite home to him again, and so up and do^ii, to and fro, at least twenty times together, till Mr. Mompesson forbade his servant such familiarities. This was in the day-time, and seen by a whole room-full of people. That morning it left a sulphu- rous smell behind it, which Avas very ofiensive. At night the minister, one Mr. Cragg, and divers of the neighbours, came to the house on a ^-isit. The minister went to prayers with them, kneeling at the children's bed-side, where it was then very troublesome and loud. During prayer-time it withdrew into the cock-loft, but returned as soon as prayers
THE DllUMilEU OF TEDWORTII. 399
were done, and then in s\g;\it of the company the chairs walked about the room of thcmselyes, the chikh'en's shoes were hurled over their heads, and every loose thing moved about the chamber. At the same time a bed-stafl" was thrown at the minister, which hit him on the leg, but so favourably that a lock of wool could not fail more softly, and it was observed that it stopt just where it lighted, without rolling or moving from tlie place.
Mr. Mompesson perceiving that it so much persecuted the little children, lodged them out at a neighbour's house, taking his eldest daughter, who was about ten years of age, into his own chamber, where it had not been a month before. As soon as she was in bed, the disturbance began there again, continuing three weeks drumming, and making other noises, and it was observed that it would exactly answer in drumming any thing that was beaten or called for. After this, the house where the children lodged out, happening to be full of strangers, they were taken home, and no disturbance having been known in the parlour, they were lodged there, where also their persecutor found them, but then only plucked them by the hair and night-clothes, without any other disturbance.
It was noted, that wlien the noise was loudest, and came with the most sudden and surprising violence, no dog about the house would move, though the knocking was often so boisterous and rude, that it had been heard at a considerable distance in the fields, and awakened the neighbours in the village, none of which lived very near this house. The servants sometimes were lifted up in their beds, and let gently down again without hurt, at other times it would lie like a great weight upon their feet.
About the latter end of December, 1661, the drumming was less frequent, and then they heard a noise like the jingling of money, occasioned, as it was thought, by something Mr. Mompeston's mother had spoken the day before to a neighbour, wlio talked of fairies leaving money, viz. : that she shoukl like it well, if it would leave them some to make amends for their trouble ; the night after the speaking of which, there was a great chinking of money over all the house.
After this, it desisted from the ruder noises, and emnloyed
400 "^ HArNTED HOrSES
itself in trifling apish and less troulilesome tricks. On Christmas-eve, a little before day, one of the young boys arising out of his bed, was hit on a sore place upon his heel, with the latch of the door : the pin that it was fastened with was so small, that it was a difficult matter to pick it out. The night after Christmas-day, it threw the old gentle- woman's clothes about the room, and hid her bible in the ashes. In such silly tricks it frequently indulged.
After this, it was very troublesome to a servant of Mr. Mompesson's, who was a stout fellow, and of sober conver- sation ; this man lay within during the greatest disturbance, and for several nights something would endeavour to pluck his clothes off the bed, so that he was fain to tug hard tO' keep them on, and sometimes they would be plucked from him by main force, and his shoes thrown at his head ; and now and then he should find himself forcibly held as it were, bound hand and foot, but he found that whenever he could make use of his sword, and struck with it, the spirit quitted its hold.
A little after these contests, a son of Mr. Thomas Bennet, whose workman the drummer had sometimes been, came to the house and told Mr. iSlompesson some words that he had spoken, which it seems were not well received ; for as soon as they were in bed, the drum was beat up very violently and loudly ; the gentleman arose and called his man to him, who lay with Mr. Mompesson's servant, just mentioned, whose name was John. As soon as Mr. Bennet's man was gone, John heard a ruffling noise in his chamber, and something came to his bedside, as if it had been one in silk ; the man presently reached after his sword, which he found held from him, and it was with difficulty and much tugging that he got it into his power, which as soon as he had done, the spectre left him, and it was always observed that it still avoided a sword.
About the beginning of January, 1G62, they were wont to hear a singing in the chimney before it came dov/n ;. and one night, about this time, lights were seen in the house. One of them came into Mr. Mompesson's chamber, which seemed blue and glimmering, and caused great stiffness in the eyes of those that saw it. After the light, something^ was heard coming up the stairs, as if it had been one
THE DKUMMER OF TEDWOETH. 401
\^ithoiit shoes. The light was seen also four or five times an the children's chamber ; and the maids confidently afiirm, that the doors were at least ten times opened and shut in their sight, and when they were open they heard a noise as if half a dozen had entered together, after which some were heard to walk about the room, and one ruffled as if it had been silk ; Mr. Mompesson himself once heard these aioises.
During the time of the knocking, 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. Then the gentleman knocked to see if it would answer him as it was wont, but it did not : for farther trial, he bid it for confirmation, if it were the drummer, to give five knocks and no more that night, which it did, and left the house quiet all the night after. This was done in the presence of Sir Thomas Chamberlain, of Oxfordshire, and divers others.
On Saturday morning, an hour before day, January 10, a drum was heard to beat on the outside of Mr. Mompesson's where some gentlemen strangers lay, playing at their door, and without, four or five several tunes, and so went ofl" into the air.
The next night, a smith in the village lying with John, the man, heard a noise in the room, as one had been shoeing a horse, and somewhat came, as if it were with a pair of pincers, snipping at the smith's nose most part of the night.
One morning, Mr. Mompesson, rising early to go a jour- aiey, heard a great noise below where the children lay, and running down with a pistol in his hand, he heard a voice before. Upon his entrance all was quiet.
Having one night played some little tricks at Mr. Mom- pesson's bed's feet, it went into another bed where one of his daughters lay ; there it went from side to side, lifting her up as it passed under. At the time that there were three kinds of noises in the bed, they endeavoured to thrust at it with a sword, but it still shifted and carefully avoided the thrust, still getting under the child, when they ofiered at it. The night after, it came panting like a dog out of
TOL. TI. D D
402 HAI7]S'TED HOrSES.
breath ; upon which one took a bed-staff to knock, which was caught out of her hand, and thrown away, and com- pany coming up, the room was presently filled with a noisome smell, and was very hot, though without fire, in a very sharp and severe winter. It continued in the bed panting and scratching for an hour and half, and then went into the next chamber, where it knocked a little, and seemed to rattle a chain ; thus it did for two or three nights to- gether.
After this, the lady's Bible was found in the ashes, the paper sides being downwards. Mr. Mompesson took it up,, and observed that it lay open at the third chapter of St. Mark, where there is mention of the unclean spirits falling down before our Saviour, and of his giving power to the twelve to cast out devils, and of the scribes' opinion, that he cast them out through Beelzebub.
The next night they strewed ashes over the chamber, to see what impressions it would leave ; in the morning they found in one place the resemblance of a great claw, in an- other of a lesser, some letters in another, which they could make nothing of, besides many circles and scratches in the ashes.
" About this time," says G-lauvil, " I went to the house to enquire the truth of those passages, of which there was so loud a report. It had ceased from its drumming and ruder noises before I came thither, but most of the more remarkable circumstances before related were confirmed to me there, by several of the neighbours together, who had been present at them. At this time it used to haunt the children, and that as soon as they were laid in bed. They went to bed that night I v^as there about eight o'clock, when a maid servant coming down from them, told us it was^ come. The neighbours who were there, and two ministers who had seen and heard it divers times, went away ; but Mr. Mompesson and I, and a gentleman who came with me, went up. I heard a strange scratching as I went up the stairs, and when we came into the room I perceived it was just behind the bolster of the children's bed, and seemed to be against the ticking. It was as loud a scratching as one with long nails could make upon a bolster. There were two little modest girls in the bed,.
THE DRT7MMEE OF TEDWORTH. 403
"between seven and eight years old, as I guessed. I saw their hands out of the clothes, and they could not contribute to the noise that was behind their heads ; they had been used to it, and had still somebody or other in the chamber with them, and therefore seemed not to be much affrighted. I, standing at the bed's head, thrust my hand behind the bolster, directing it to the place whence the noise seemed to come, whereupon the noise ceased there, and was heard in another part of the bed ; but when I had taken out my hand it returned, and was heard in the same place as before. I had been told it would imitate noises, and made trial by scratching several times upon the sheet, as five and seven and ten, which it followed, still stopping at my number. I searched under and behind the bed, turned up the clothes to the bed-cords, grasped the bolster, sounded the wall behind, and made all the search that possibly I could, to find if there were any trick, contrivance, or common cause of it; the like did my friend, but we could discover nothing. So that I was then verily persuaded, and am so still, that the noise was made by some demon or spirit. After it had scratched about half an hour more, it went into the midst of the bed under the children, and there seemed to pant like a dog out of breath, very loudly. I put my hand to the place, and felt the bed bearing up against it, as if something within had thrust it up. I grasped. the feathers, to feel if any living thing were in it. I looked under and everywhere about, to see if there were any dog or cat or any such creature in the room, and so did we all, but found nothing. The motion it caused by this panting was so strong, that it shook the room and windows very sensibly. It continued thus more than half an hour, while my friend and I stayed iu the room, and as long after, as we were told. During the panting, I chanced to see as it had been something (which I thought was a rat or mouse) moving in a linen-bag, that hung up against another bed that was in the room. I stepped and caught it by the upper end with one hand, with which I held it, and drew it through the other, but found nothing at all in it. There was nobody near to shake the bag, or if there had, no one could have made such a motion, which seemed to be from within, as if. ii living creature had moved in it. This passage I mentioned
401 HAUNTED HOUSES.
not in the former relations, because it depended upon my single testimony, and may he subject to more evasions than the other I related ; but having told it to divers learned and inquisitive men, who thought it not altogether inconsi- derable, I have now added it here. It will, I know, be said by some, that my friend and I were under some fright, and so fancied noises and sights that were not. This is the eternal evasion. But if it be possible to know how a man is affected when in fear, and when unconcerned, I certainly know for my own part, that duriug the whole time of my being in the room, and in the house, I was under no more affi-ight than I am while I write this relation. And if I know that I am now awake, and that I see the objects that are before me, I know that I heard and saw the particulars I have told. There is, I am sensible, no great matter for story in them, but there is so much as convinceth me, that there was something extraordinary, and what we usually call preternatural, in the business. There were other passages at my being at Tedworth, which I published not, because they are not such plain and unexceptionable proofs. I shall now briefly mention them : Valeant quantum valere possunf. My friend and I lay in the chamber where the first and chief disturbance had been. We slept well all night, but early before day in the morning, I was awakened (and I awakened my bed-fellow,) by a loud knocking just without our chamber door. I asked who was there several times, but the knocking still continued without answer. At last I said, " In the name of God, who is it, and what would you have?" To which a voice answered, "Nothing with you." We thinking it had been some servant of the house, went to sleep again. But speaking of it to Mr. Mompesson when we came down, he assured us, that no one of the house lay that way, or had business there- about, and that his servants were not up till he called them, which was after it was day. They all affirmed and pro- tested that the noise was not made by them. Mr. Mom- pesson had told us before, that it would be gone in the middle of the night, and come again divers times early in the morning, about four o'clock, and this I suppose was about that time. But to proceed with Mr. Mompesson' s own particulars.
THE DETJMMEE OF TEDWOETH. 405
There came one morning a light into the children's chamber, and a voice crying " A witch, a witch," for at least an hun- dred times together.
Mr. Mompesson at another time (being in the day), see- ing some wood move that was in the chimmey of a room where he was, as of itself, discharged a pistol into it, after which they found several drops of blood on the hearth, and in divers places of the stairs.
For two or three nights after the discharge of the pistol, there was a calm in the house, but then it came again, ap- plying itself to a little child newly taken from nurse, which it so persecuted, that it would not let the poor infant rest for two nights together, nor suffer candles in the room, but carried them away, lighted, up the chimney, or threw them under the bed. It so scared this child by leaping upon it, that for some hours it could not be recovered from the fright, so that they were forced again to remove the children out of the house. The next night after which, something about midnight came up stairs, and knocked at Mr. Mompesson's door, but he lying still, it went up another pair of stairs, to his man's chamber, to whom it appeared, standing at his bed's foot ; the exact shape and proportion he could not discover, but he saith he saw a great body, with two red and glaring eyes, which for some time were fixed steadily upon him, and at length disappeared.
About the beginning of April, 1663, a gentleman who lay in the house had all his money turned black in his pockets ; and Mr. Mompesson coming one morning into hia stable, found the horse he was wont to ride on the ground, having one of his hinder legs in his mouth, and so fastened there, that it was difficult for several men to get it out with a lever. After this, there were some other remarkable things, but the account goes no farther ; only Mr. Mom- pesson positively asserted, that afterwards the house was several nights beset with seven or eight in the shape of men, who, as soon as a gun was discharged, would shuffle away together into harbour.
The drummer was tried at the assizes at Salisbury upon this occasion. He was committed first to Gloucester gaol for stealing, and a Wiltshire man coming to see him, he asked what news in AViltshire : the visitant said he knew of
406 HAUNTED HOUSES.
none. " jSTo !" saitli the drummer, " do not you hear of the drumming at a gentleman's house at Tedworth ?" " That I do enough," said the other. "I," quoth the drummer, "I have plagued him (or to that purpose), and he shall never be quiet until he hath made me satisfaction for taking away my drum." Upon information of this, the fellow was tried for a witch at Sarum, and all the main circumstances here related were sworn at the assizes by the minister of the parish, and divers others of the most intelligent and sub- stantial inhabitants, who had been eye and ear-witnesses of them, time after time, for several years together.
The fellow was condeinned to transportation, and ac- cordingly sent away ; but by some means (it is said by raising storms, and affrighting the seamen) he made shift to come back again. And it is observable, that during all the time of his restraint and absence, the house was quiet, but as soon as he was set at liberty the disturbance returned.
He had been a soldier under Cromwell, and used to talk much of gallant books he had of an old fellow, who was accounted a wizard.
This is the sum of Mr. Mompesson's disturbance, partly from his own mouth, related before many persons, who had been witnesses of all, and confirmed his relation ; and partly from his own letters, from which the order and series of things is taken. The same particulars he sent also to Dr. Creed, who was at that time Doctor of the Chair in Oxford.
Mr. Mompesson suffered by it in his name, in his estate, in all his affairs, and in the general peace of his family. The unbelievers in spirits and witches took him for an impostor. Many others judged the permission of such an extraordinary e^il to be the judgment of God upon him, for some notorious wickedness or impiety. Thus his name was continually exposed to censure, and his estate suffered by the concourse of people from all parts to his house, by the diversion it gave him from his affairs, by the discouragement of servants, by reason of which he could hardly get any to live with him.
The Drummer of Tedworth met with great opposition •when first narrated, and several violent controversies took ppce. — Siffns be/ore Death.
HAUNTED HOUSE AT EOW. - 407
A HOUSE HAUNTED SOilE THIUTT TEAES AGO OR MOEE AT OR NEAB BOY*'', NOT FAB EEO:VC LONDON, AND STRANGELY DISTURBED BY DEMONS AND AVITCHES.
A certain gentleman, about thirty years ago or more, being to travel from London into Essex, and to pass through Bow, at the request of a friend he called at a house there, which began then to be a little disquieted. But not anything much remarkable yet, unless of a young girl who was disturbed in her bed, who died within a few days after.
Some weeks after this, his occasions calling him back, he passed by the same house again, but had no design to give them a new visit, he having done that not long before. But it happening that the woman of the house stood at the door, he thought himself engaged to ride to her and ask how she did. To whom she answered with a sorrowful •countenance, that though she was in tolerable health, yet things went very ill with them, their house being extremely haunted, especially above stairs, so that they were forced to keep in the low rooms, there was such flinging of things up and down, of stones and bricks through the windows, and putting all in disorder. But he could scarce forbear laugh- ing at her, giving so little credit to such stories himself, and thought it was the tricks only of some unhappy wags to make sport to themselves, and trouble to their neighbours.
"Well, says she, if you will but stay a while you may chaDce to see something with your own eyes. And indeed he had not stayed any considerable time with her in the street, but a windovr of an upper room opened of itself, (for they of the family took it tor granted nobody was above stairs,) and out comes a piece of an old wheel through it. Whereupon it presently clapt to again. A little while after it suddenly flew open again, and out came a brick-bat, which inflamed the gentleman with a more eager desire to see what the matter was, and to discover the Icnavery. And therefore he boldly resolved if any one would go up with him, he would go into the chamber. But none present durst accompany him. Yet the keen desire of discovering the cheat, made hira adventure by himself alone into that
408 HAUNTED nousiES.
room, into wliicli when he was come, he saw the bedding, chairs and stools, and candlesticks, and bedstaves, and all the furniture rudely scattered on the floor, but upon search found no mortal in the room.
"Well, he stays there awhile to try conclusions, anon a bedstaff begins to move, and turn itself round a good while together upon its toe, and at last fairly to lay itself down figain. The curious spectator, when he observed it to lie- still a while, steps out to it, views it, whether any small string or hair were tied to it, or whether there were any hole or button to fasten any such string to, or any hole or string in the ceiling above ; but after search, he found not the least suspicion of any such thing.
He retires to the window again, and observes a little longer what may fall out. Anon, another bedstaff rises off" from the ground of its own accord higher into the air, and seems to make towards him. He now begins to think there- was something more than ordinary in the business, and pre- sently makes to the door with all speed, and for better cau- tion shuts it after him ; which was presently opened again, and such a clatter of chairs, and stools, and candlesticks, and bedstaves, sent after him down stairs, as if they intended to have maimed him, but their motion was so moderated^ that he received no harm ; but by this time he was abun- dantly assured, that it was not mere womanish fear or superstition that so afirighted the mistress of the house. And while in a low room he was talking with the family about these things, he saw a tobacco-pipe rise from a side table, nobody being nigh, and fly to the other side of the room, and break itself against the wall, for his farther con- firmation, that it was neither the tricks of wags, nor the fancy of a woman, but the mad frolics of witches and demons. "Which they of the house being fully persuaded of, roasted a bedstafl", upon which an old woman, a suspected witch, came to the house, and was apprehended, but escaped the law. But the house after was so ill haunted in all the rooms, upper and lower, that the house stood empty for a long time after. — Glanvil on Witches.
ME. jeemin's stoey. 4&9»
ME. JERMIN's story OF A HOrSE HAUNTED, AND WHAT DISTURBANCE HIMSELF WAS A WITNESS OF THERE AT A VISIT OF HIS wife's SISTER.
One Mr. Jermin, minister of Bigner in Sussex, going to see a sister of liis wife's, found her very melancholy, and asking her the reason, she replied, " You shall know to- morrow morning." "When he went to bed, there were two servants accompanied him to his chamber, and the next day he understood that they durst not go into any room in the house alone.
In the night, while he was in his bed, he heard the tram- pling of many feet upon the leads over his head, and after that the going oif of a gun, upon which followed a great silence. Then they came swiftly down stairs into his chamber, where they fell a wrestling, and tumbling each other down, and so continued a great while. After they were quiet, they fell a whispering, and made a great buzz, of which he could understand nothing. Then one called at the door, and said, "Day is broke, come away," upon which they ran up stairs as fast as they could drive, and so he heard no more of them.
In the morning his brother and sister came in to him, and she said, " Now, brother, you know why I am so melan- choly :" after she had asked him how he had slept, and he answered, I never rested worse in all my life, having been disturbed a great part of the night with tumblings and noises. She complained that her husband would force her to live there, notwithstanding their being continually scared, whereto the husband answered, their disturbers never did them any other mischief.
At dinner they had a physician with them, who was an acquaintance. Mr. Jermin discoursing about this disturb- ance, the physician also answered, that never any burt was done, of which he gave this instance : that dining tliere one day, there came a man on horseback into the yard, in mourning. His servant went to know what was his business, and found him sitting very melancholy, nor could he get any answer from him. The master of the house and the physician went to see who it was ; upon wiiich the man cL-ipped spurs to his horse, and rode into the
410 DEEAMS.
house, up stairs into a long gallery, whither the physi- cian folloTred him, and saw him vanish in a fire at the upper end of the gallery. But though none of the family received hurt at any time, yet Mr. Jermin fell into a fever with the disturbance he experienced, that endan- gered his life. — Glanvil on Witches.
DEEAMS.
A EEMAEKABLE DEEAM OE DE- DODDEIDGE ;'
Preserved by the E,ev. Samuel Clarke, and related by him
as follows : —
The Doctor and my father had been conversing together one evening on the nature of the separate state, and the pro- bability that the scenes in which the soul would enter, upon its leaving the body, would bear some resemblance to those with which it had been conversant while on earth, that it might by degrees be prepared for the more sublime happi- ness of the heavenly world. This and other conversation probably gave rise to the following dream : —
The Doctor imagined himself dangerously ill at a friend's house in London, and after lying in this state for some time, he thought his soul left the body, and took its flight in some kind of fine vehicle, which, though very difierent to the body it had just quitted, was still material. He pur- sued his course till he was at some distance from the city, when turning back and reviewing the towns, he could not forbear saying to himself, " How trifling and how vain do these affairs, in which the inhabitants of this place are so eagerly employed, appear to me, a separate spirit !" At length, as he was continuing his progress, and though with- out any certain direction, yet easy and happy in the thoughts of the universal providence and government of God, which extends alike to all states and worlds, he was met by one who told him that he was sent to conduct him to the place appointed for his abode, from which he con- cluded that he could be no other than an angel, though, as I remember, he appeared under the form of an elderly man. They went accordingly together till they came in sight of a spacious building, which had the air of a palace : upon
EEMAEKABLE DEEAM OP DE. DODDEIDGE. 411
inquiring wliat it was, the guide told him it was the place assigned for his residence at present ; upon which the Doctor observed, that he remembered to have read while on earth, that eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor heart con- ceived what Grod hath laid up for his servants, whereas he could easily have conceived an idea of such a building as this from others he had seen, though he acknowledged that they were greatly inferior to this in elegance. The answer his guide made him was plainly suggested by the conversa- tion of the evening before ; it was, that the scene first pre- sented was contrived on purpose to bear a near resemblance to those he had been accustomed to on earth, that his mind might be more easily and gradually prepared for those glories that would open upon him in eternity, and which would at first have quite dazzled and overpowered him.
By this time they were come up to the palace, and his guide led him through a kind of saloon into the inner par- lour. The first remarkable thing he saw, was a golden cup that stood upon the table, on which was embossed a figure of a vine and a cluster of grapes. He asked his guide the meaning of this, who told him, it was the cup in which the Saviour drank new wine with his disciples in his kiugdom ; and that the figures carved on it were intended to signify the union between Christ and his people, implying that, as the grapes derive all their beauty and flavour from the vine, so the saints, even in a state of glory, were indebted for their establishment and happiness to their union with their Head, in whom they were all complete. While they were thus conversing, he heard a rap at the door, and was informed by the angel, that it was the signal of his Lord's approach, and was intended to prepare him for the interview. Ac- cordingly, in a short time, he thought Our Saviour entered the room, and upon his casting himself at his feet, he graciously raised him up, and with a look of ineffable com- placency assured him of his favour, and his kind acceptance of his faithful services; and as a token of his peculiar regard, and the intimate friendship he intended to honour him with, he took the cup, and after drinking of it himself, gave it into his hand. The Doctor would have declined it at first, as too great an honour, but his Lord replied, as to Peter in relation to washing his feet, " If thou drink not
412 DEEAMS.
with me, thou hast no part with me." The scene he oh- served filled him with such a transport of gratitude^ love, and admiration, that he was ready to sink under it. His master seemed sensible of it, and told him that he must leave him for the present, but it would not be long before he repeated his visit ; and in the meantime he would find enough to employ his thoughts, in reflecting on what had passed and contemplating the objects around him.
As soon as his Lord had retired, and his mind was a little composed, he observed that the room was hung round with pictures, and upon examining them more attentively, he discovered, to his great surprise, that they contained the history of his own life ; the most remarkable scenes he had passed through being there represented in a most lively manner. It may easily be imagined how much this would aflect his mind : — the many temptations and trials he had been exposed to, and the signal instances of the divine goodness towards him in the different periods of his life, which by this means were at once presented to his view, excited the strongest emotions of gratitude, especially when he reflected that he was now out of the reach of any future distress, and that all the purposes of divine love and mercy towards him were happily accomplished. The ecstasy of joy and thankfulness into which these reflections threw him was so great that it awoke him out of his sleep. But for some considerable time after he arose, the impressions con- tinued so vivid, that tears of joy flowed down his cheeks, and he said that he never, on any occasion, remembered to have felt sentiments of devotion, love, and gratitude equally strong. — News from the Invisible World.]
DEEAM OF NICHOLAS WOTTON.
In the year of our redemption 1553, Nicholas "Wotton, dean of Canterbury, being then ambassador in France, dreamed that his nephew, Thomas Wotton, was inclined to be a party in such a project, that, if he was not suddenly prevented, would turn to the loss of his life and ruin of his family. The night following, he dreamed the same again ; and knowing that it had no dependence upon his
DREAM or NICHOLAS "WOTTOX. 413
waking thoughts, much less on the desires of his heart, he •did then more seriously consider it ; and resolved to use so prudent a remedy (by way of prevention) as might intro- duce no great inconvenience to either party. And to this end he wrote [to the queen, (it was queen Mary,) and besought her, that she would cause his nephew, Thomas Wotton, to be sent for out of Kent, and that the lords of her council might interrogate him in some such feigned questions as might give a colour for his commitment unto a favourable prison ; declaring, that he would acquaint her majesty with the true reason of his request, when he should next become so happy as to see and speak with her majesty. it was done as the dean desired, and Mr. "Wotton sent to prison. At this time a marriage was concluded betwixt our queen Mary and Philip king of Spain, which divers persons did not only declare against, but raised forces to oppose : of this number Sir Thomas Wyat, of Boxley-abbey in Kent, (betwixt whose family and that of the Wottons "there had been an ancient and entire friendship.) was the principal actor ; who having persuaded many of the nobility and gentry (especially of Kent) to side with him, and being defeated and taken prisoner, was arraigned, condemned, and lost his life ; so did the duke of Suffolk, and divers others, especially many of the gentry of Kent, who were then in several places executed as Wyat's assistants : and of this number (in all probability) had Mr. Wotton been, if he had not been confined; for though he was not ignorant that another man's treason is made his own by concealing it, yet he durst confess to his uncle, when he returned into England, and came to visit him in prison, that he had more than an intimation of Wyat's intentions ; and thought he should not have continued actually innocent, if his uncle had not so happily dreamed him into a prison.
This before-mentioned Thomas Wotton also, a little before his death, dreamed that the university treasury was robbed by townsmen and poor scholars, and that the number was five; and being that day to write to his son Henry at Oxford, he thought it was worth so much pains as bv a postscript in his letter to make a slight enquiry of it. The letter (which was written out of Kent,) came to his son's the very morning after the night in which the robbery was committed ; and when the city and university were both in
414 DEEAMS.
a perplexed inquest after tlie thieves, then did Sir Henry "Wotton show his father's letter ; and by it such light was given of this work of darkness, that the five persons were presently discovered, and apprehended, without putting the university to so much as the casting of a figure. — Wanley's Wonders of the Little World, Vol. ii.
CAPTAIN-" PtOGEES, E.K.
In the year 1664, one Captain Thomas Kogers, commander of a ship called the Society, was bound on a voyage from London to Virginia.
The vessel being sent light to Virginia, for a loading of tobacco, had not many goods in her outward-bound.
They had a pretty good passage, and the day before had made an observation, when the mates and officers brought their books and cast up their reckonings with the captain, to see how near they were to the coast of America. They all agreed that they were at least about a hundred leagues from the capes of Virginia. Upon these customary reckon- ings, and heaving the lead, and finding no ground at an hundred fathoms, tUfey set the watch, and the captain, turned into bed.
The weather was good, a moderate gale of wind blew fair for the coast ; so that the ship might have run about twelve or fifteen leagues in the night, after the captain was in his cabin.
He fell asleep, and slept very soundly for about three hours, when he waked again, and lay till he heard his second mate turn out, and relieve the watch ; he then called his chief mate, as he was going off" from the watch, and asked him how all things fared : who answered, that all was weU, and the gale freshened, and they ran at a great rate ; but it was a fair wind, and a fine clear night : the captain then went to sleep again.
About an hour after he had been asleep again, he dreamed that a man pulled him, and waked him, and bade him turn out and look abroad. He, however, lay still and went to sleep, and was suddenly awakened again, and thus several times ; and though he knew not what was the reason, yet he found it impossible to go to sleep ; and still he heard the vision say, Turn out and look abroad.
CAPTAIN EOaEES. 415
^' He lay in tWs uneasiness nearly two hours : but at last it increased so, that he could lie no longer, but got up, put on his watch gown, and came out upon the quarter-deck ; there he found his second mate walking about, and the boatswain upon the forecastle, the night being fine and clear, a fair wind, and all well as before.
The mate wondering to see him, at first did not know him ; but calling, "Who is there ? the captain answered, and the mate returned, " Who, the captain ! what is the matter, sir?"
The captain said, *' I don't know ; but I have been very uneasy these two hours, and somebody bade me turn out, and look abroad, though I know not what can be the meaning of it."
" How does the ship cape ?" said the captain.
" South-west by south," answered the mate ; " fair for the coast, and the wind east by north."
" That is good," said the captain ; and after some other questions, he turned about to go back to his cabin, when somebody stood by him and said, " Heave the lead, heave the lead."
Upon this, he turned again to his second mate, saying "AVhen did you heave the lead? what water had you ?"
" About an hour ago," replied the mate ; " sixty fathom."
" Heave again," said the captain.
" Tljiere is no occasion, Sir," said the mate ; " but if you please it shall be done."
Accordingly a hand was called, and the lead being cast or heaved, they had ground at eleven fathom.
This surprised them all, but much more when at the next cast, it came up seven futhoms.
Upon this the captain in a fright bade them put the helm a-lee, and about ship, all hands being ordered to back the sails, as is usual in such cases.
The proper orders being obeyed, the ship stayed pre- sently, and came about ; and before the sails filled, she had ■ but four fathoms and a half water under her stern; as soon as she filled and stood off*, they had seven fathoms again, and at the next cast eleven fathoms, and so on to twenty fathomB ; he then stood ofi" to seaward all the rest of the watch, to get into deep water, till day-break, when being a clear morning, the capes of Virginia, and all th©
41G DREAMS.
coast of America, were in fair view under tlieir stern, and but a few leagues distant. Had they stood on but one cable's length farther, as they were going, they would have been bump ashore, and certainly lost their ship, if not their lives — Siff?is be/ore Death.
WILLIAM HOWirX S DEEAM, OS HIS VOYAGE TO AUSTRALIA-
IN 1852.
Some weeks ago, while yet at sea, I had a dream of being at my brother's at Melbourne, and found his house on a hill at the further end of the town, next to the open forest, ffis garden sloped a little way down the hill to some brick buildings below : and there were green-houses on the right hand by the wall, as you looked down the hill from the house. As I looked out from the windows in my dream, I saw a wood of dusky-foliaged trees, having a somewhat segregated appearance in their heads ; that is, their heads did not make that dense mass like our woods. " There,'* I said, addressing some one in my dream, " I see your native forest of Eucalyptus !" This dream I told to my sons, and to two of our fellow-passengers, at the time ; and on landing, as we walked over the meadows, long before we reached the town, I saw this very wood. " There 1" I exclaimed, " is the very wood of my dream. "We shall see my brother's house there!" And so we did. It stands exactly as I saw it ; only looking newer ; but there, over the wall of the garden, is the wood, precisely as I saw it, and now see it, as I sit at the dining-room window, writing. When I look on this scene, I seem to look into my dream.
SIMILAR dream OF MR. EDMUND HALLET.
Mr. Edmund Halley, Fellow of the Royal Society, was carried on with a strong impulse to take a voyage to St. Helena, to make observations of the southern constellations, being then about twenty-four years old. Before he under- took the voyage, he dreamed that he was at sea sailing toward that place, and saw the prospect of it from the ship in his dream ; which he declared in the Eoyal Society was a perfect representation of that island, as it really appeared to him when he approached it. — Nocturnal Revels,
DEEAMS. 41'
SINGULAB DEEAM.
The " Durham Herald," of December 1848, gives an ac- count of the disappearance of Mr. Smith, gardener to Sir Clifford Constable, who, it was supposed, had fallen into the river Tees, his hat and stick having been found near the water- side. The river had been dragged daily ; but every effort so made to find the body proved ineffectual. On the night of Thursday, however, a person named Awde, residing at Little Newsham, a small village about four miles from AYy cliff, dreamt that Smith was laid under the ledge of a certain rock, about three hundred yards below Whorlton Bridge, and that his right arm was broken. Awde got up early on Friday, and his dream had such an effect upon him that he deter- mined to go and search the river. He accordingly started off for that purpose, without mentioning the matter, being afraid that he would be laughed at by his neighbours. Kever- theless, on his arriving at the boat-house, he disclosed hia object upon the man asking him for what purpose he required the boat. He rowed to the spot which he had seen in his dream ; and there, strange to say, upon the very first trial that he made with his boat-hook, he pulled up the body of the un- fortunate man, with his right arm actually broken.
BEMAEKABLE DEEAM BT THE BEY. JOSEPH WILKINS.
The late Eev. Joseph AYilkins, dissenting minister at Weymouth, dreamt in the early part of his life a very re- markable dream, which he carefuUy preserved in writing as follows : — One night, soon after I was in bed, I fell asleep, and dreamt I was going to London. I thought it would not be much out of my way to go thi'ough Gloucestershire, and call upon my friends there. Accordingly I set out ; but remembered nothing that happened by the waj till I came to my father's house ; when I went to the front-door, and tried to open it, but found it fast ; then I went to the back- door, which I opened, and went in ; but finding all the family were in bed, I went across the rooms only, went up stairs, and entered the chamber where my father and mother wer.; in bed. As I approached the side of the bed on which my
VOL. II. E E .
418 DllEAMS.
father lay, I found him asleep, or thought he was so : then I went to the other side, and having just turned the foot of the bed, I found my mother awake ; to whom I said these words : " Mother, I am going a long journey, and am come to bid you good bye ;" upon which she answered me in a fright, " O, dear son, thou art dead!" "With this I awoke, and took no notice of it, more than a common dream ; ex- cept that it appeared to me very perfect.
In a few days after, as soon as a letter could reach me, I received one by post from my father, upon the receipt of which I was a little surprised, and concluded something extraordinary must have happened, as it was but a short time before I had a letter from my friends, and all were well. Upon opening it, I was more surprised still, for my father addressed me as though I were dead, desiring me, if alive, or that person into whose hands the letter might fall, to write immediately ; but if the letter should find me living, they con- cluded I should not live long, and gave this as the reason of their fear, — That on a certain night, naming it, after they were in bed, my father asleep, and my mother awake, she heard some one trying to open the front-door, but finding it fast, he appeared to go to the back-door, which he opened, then entered, and came directly through the rooms up stairs, and she perfectly knew it to be my step ; that I came to her bed-side, and spoke to her these words: " Mother,! am going a long journey, and am come to bid you good bye :" upon which she answered me in a fright, " O, dear son, thou art dead!" which were the very circumstances and words of my dream, but she heard nothing more, and saw nothing ; neither did I in my dream.
Upon this she awoke and told my father what had passed ; but he endeavoured to appease her, persuading her it was only a dream : she insisted it was no dream, for that she was ae perfectly awake as ever she was, and had not the least inclination to sleep since she had been in bed. From these circumstances I am apt to think it was at the very same instant when my dream happened, though the distance between us was about one hundred miles ; but of this I cannot speak positively. This occurred while I was at the academy at Ottery, Devon, in the year 1754, and, at this moment, every circumstance is fresh in my mind. I have
I
DEEA.M OF LORD LTTTLETON^. 419
since had frequent opportunities of talking over the affair with my mother, and the whole was as fresh in her mind as it was in mine. I have often thought, that her sen- sations, as to this matter, were stronger than mine. What may appear strange is, that I cannot remember anything remarkable happening hereupon. This is only a plain simple narrative of a matter of fact.
Mr. Wilkins died November 15th, 1800, in the seventieth year of his age. — Signs before Death.
LORD LYTTLETON.
The subject of this narrative was the son of George Lord Lyttleton, who was alike distinguished for the raciness of his wit and the profligacy of his manners. The latter trait of his character has induced many persons to suppose the apparition which he asserted he had seen, to have been the effect of a conscience quickened with remorse for innu- merable vices and shortcomings. The probability of the narrative consequently has been much questioned ; but in our own acquaintance we chance to know two gentlemen, one of whom was at Pitt Place, the seat of Lord Lyttleton, and the other in the immediate neighbourhood, at thetimejof his lord- ship's death, and who bear ample testimony to the veracity of the whole affair.
The several narratives correspond in material points ; and Ave shall now proceed to relate the most circumstantial parti- culars written by a gentleman who was on a visit to his lordship : —
" I was at Pitt Place, Epsom, when Lord Lyttleton died ; Lord Fortescue, Lady Plood, and the two Miss Amphletts, were also present. Lord Lyttleton had notbeenlong returned from Ireland, and frequently had been seized with suffocating fits : he was attacked several times by them in the course of the preceding month, while he was at his house in Hill Street, Berkeley Square. It happened that he dreamt, three days before his death, that he saw a fluttering bird; and afterwards that a woman appeared to him in white apparel, and said to him * Prepare to die, you will not exist three days.' His lordship was much alarmed, and called to a servant from a closet adjoining, who found him much agitated, and in a profuse
420 DEEAiTS.
perspiration ; the circumstance bad a considerable effect all the next day on his lordship's spirits. On the third day^ while his lordship was at breakfast with the above personages, lie said, ' If I live over to-night, I shall have jockied the ghost, for this is the third day.' The whole party presently set off for Pitt Place, where they had not long arrived, before his lordship was visited by one of his accustomed fits : after a short interval, he recovered. He dined at five o'clock that day, and went to bed at eleven, when his servant was about to give him rhubarb and mint-water ; but his lordship, per- ceiving him stir it with a tooth-pick, called him a slovenly dog, and bid him go and fetch a teaspoon ; but, on the man's return, he found his master in a fit, and the pillow being placed high, his chin bore hard upon his neck, and the ser- vant, instead of relieving his lordship, on the instant, from his perilous situation, ran, in his fright, and called out for help, but on his return he found his lordship dead."
In explanation of this strange tale, it is said that Lord Lyttleton acknowledged, previously to his death, that the woman he had seen in his dream was the mother of the two Miss Amphletts, mentioned above, whom, together with a third sister, then in Ireland, his lordship had seduced, and prevailed on to leave their parents, who resided near his country residence in Shropshire. It is further stated, that Mrs. Amphlett died of grief, through the desertion of her children, at the precise time when the female vision appeared to his lordship ; and that, about the period of his own dis- solution, a personage answering his description visited the bed-side of the late Miles Peter Andrews, Esq., (who had been the friend and companion of Lord Lyttleton in his revels,) and suddenly throwing open the curtains, desired Mr. Andrews to come to him. The latter not knowing that his lordship had returned from Ireland, suddenly got up, when the phantom disappeared ! Mr. Andrews frequently declared, that the alarm caused him to have a short fit of illness ; and, in his subsequent visits to Pitt Place, no solicitations could ever prevail on him to take a bed there ; but he would invariably return, however late, to the Spread Eagle Inn, at Epsom, for the night*
DREAM or A GENTLEMAN AT PRAGUE. 421
Sir Nathaniel "Wraxall, in his Memoirs, has the following passage : —
" Dining at Pitt Place, ahout four years after the deatli of Lord Lyttleton, in the year 1783, 1 had the curiosity to visit the bedchamber, vvliere the casement window, at vrhich Lord Lyttleton asserted the dove appeared to flutter, was pointed out to me ; and, at his stepmother's, the dowager Lady Lyttleton' s, in Portugal Street, G-rosvenor Square, I have frequently seen a painting which she herself executed, in 1780, expressly to commemorate the event : it hung in a conspicuous part of the drawing-room. Therethedoveappears at the window, while a female figure, habited inwdiite, stands at the foot of the bed, announcing to Lord Lyttleton his disso- lution. Every part of the picture was faithfully designed, after tlie description given to her by the valet-de-chambre who attended him, to whom his master related all the circumstances."
An engraving, copied from the picture, has been published, and js still frequently to be met with in the collections of printsellers. — Sipis hefore Death.
DREAM OF A GENTLEMAN AT PRAGUE.
" "Whilst I lived at Prague," saith an English gentleman, *' and one night had sat up very late, drinking at a feast ; ^arly in the morning the sunbeams glancing on my face as I lay on my bed, I dreamed that a shadow passing by told me that my father was dead : at which awakening all in a sweat, and affected with this dream, I rose and wrote the day and hour, and ail circumstances thereof, in a paper book; which book, with many other things, I put into a barrel, and sent it from Prague to Stode, thence to be con- veyed into England. And now being at Nuremberg, a merchant of a noble family, well acquainted with me and my relations, arrived there; who told me that my father died some months past. When I returned into England four years after, I would not open the barrel I sent froiu Prague, nor look into the paper book in which I had written this dream, till I had called my sisters, and some other
422 SECOND SIGHT
friends, to be witnesses : where myself and they were astonished to see my written dream answer the very day q£ my father's death."
The same gentleman saith thus also. " I may lawfully swear, that in my youth at Cambridge I had the like dream of my mother's death : where my brother Henry lying with me, early in the morning I dreamed that my mother passed by with a sad countenance, and told me ' that she could not come to my commencement,' (I being within five months to proceed Master of Arts, and she having promised at that time to come to Cambridge) : when I related this dream to my brother, both of us awaking together in a sweat, he protested to me that he had dreamed the very same : and when we had not the least knowledge of our mother's sick- ness, neither in our youthful affections were any whit moved with the strangeness of this dream, yet the next carrier brought us word of our mother's death." — IVanley's Wonders.
SECOND SIGHT.
INSTANCES OF SECOND SIGHT.
A man in Knockow, in the parish of St. Maries, the- northernmost in Skie, being in perfect health, and sitting with his fellow-servants at night, was on a sudden taken ill, dropped from his seat backward, and then fell a- vomiting ; at which all the family were much concerned, he having never been subject to the like before : but he came to himself soon after, and had no sort of pain about him. One of the family, who was accustomed to see the second sight, told them that the man's illness proceeded from a very strange cause, which was thus : An ill-natured woman (naming her by her name), who lives in the next adjacent village of Born- skittag, came before him in a very furious and angry manner, her countenance full of passion, and her mouth full of reproaches, and threatened him with her head and hands, until he fell over as you have seen him. This woman had a fancy for the man, but was like to meet with a disappoint- ment as to his marrying her. This instance was told me
INSTANCES OF SECOND SIGHT. 423
"by the master of the family, and others who were present when it happened.
Mr. M'Pberson's servant foretold that a kiln should take fire, and being some time after reproved by his master for talking so foolishly of the second sight, he answered that he could not help his seeing such things as presented themselves to his view in a very lively manner ; adding further, I have just now seen that boy sitting by the fire with his face red, as if the blood had been running down his forehead, and I could not avoid seeing this : and as for the accomplishment of it within forty- eight hours, there is no doubt, says he, it having appeared in the day-time. The minister became very angry at his man, and charged him never to speak one word more of the second sight, or if he could not hold his tongue, to provide himself another master ; telling him he was an unhappy fellow, who studied to abuse credulous people with false predictions. There was no more said on this subject until the next day, that the boy of whom the seer spoke, came in, having his face all covered with blood ; which hap- pened by his falling on a heap of stones. This account was given me by the minister and others of his family.
Some of the inhabitants of Harries sailing round the Isle of Skie, with a design to go to the opposite main land, were strangely surprised with an apparition of two men hanging down by the ropes that secured the mast, but could not conjecture what it meant. They pursued the voyage, but the wind turned contrary, and so forced them into Broadford in the Isle of Skie, where they found Sir Donald M' Donald keeping a sheriff's' court, and two criminals receiving sentence of death there : the ropes and mast of that very boat were made use of to hang those criminals upon. This was told me by several who had this instance from the boat's crew.
One who had been accustomed to see the second sight, in the Isle of Egg, which lies about three or four leagues to the south-west part of the Isle of Skie, told his neighbours that he had frequently seen an apparition of a man in a red coat lined with blue, and having on his head a strange sort of blue cap, with a very high cock on the fore-part of it, and that the man who there appeared was kissing a comely maid n the village where the seer dwelt ; and therefore declared
424 SECOND SIGHT.
that a man in sucli a dress would certainly be connected with such a young woman. This unusual vision did much expose the seer to ridicule, for all the inhabitants treated him as a fool, though he had on several other occasions foretold things that afterwards were accomplished ; this they thought one of the most unlikely things to be accomplished, that could have entered into any man's head. This story was then dis- coursed of in the Isle of Skie, and all that heard it laughed at it ; it being a rarity to see any foreigner in Egg, and the young woman had no thoughts of going anywhere else. This story was told me at Edinburgh, by Normaud M'Leod of Grabau, in September 1688, he being just then come from the Isle of Skie ; and there were present, the laird of M'Leod, and Mr. Alexander M'Leod Advocate, and others. About a year and a half after the late revolution, Major Ferguson, now colonel of one of her Majesty's regiments of foot, was then sent by the government with six hundred men, and some frigates, to reduce the islanders that had appeared for King James and perhaps the smaU Isle of Egg had never been regarded, though some of the inhabitants hid been at the battle of Kelicranky, but by a mere accident, which determined Major Ecrguson to go to the Isle of Egg, which was this : A boat's crew of the Isle of Egg happened to be in the Isle of Skie, and killed one of Major Ferguson's soldiers there; upon notice of which, the INIajor directed his course to the Isle of Egg, w^here he was sufficiently re- venged of the natives : and at the same time, the maid above mentioned being very handsome, was then forcibly carried on board one of the vessels, by some of the soldiers, where she was kept about twenty-four hours, and ill-used, and brutishly robbed at the same time of her fine head of hair. She is since married in the Isle, and in good reputation ; her misfortune being pitied, and not reckoned her crime. — Martin's Western Islands of Scotland.
CIECTTMSTATs^CE BELATED BY RET. J. GRIFFITHS.
r The following remarkable circumstance is related of the late Eev. John Grriffiths, of Gland wr, Carm.arthenshire, whose literary attainments were well known and most highly
ZSCHOKKE. 425
tippreciated in South Wales. Until it occurred he was a dis- believer in corpse candles and spectral funerals, and when- ever an opportunity presented itself, always declaimed agamst the belief of those things, both in chapels and other places ; but returning home on horseback one night through a narrow lane, his mare suddenly started ; not perceiving any thing he urged her on, when to his astonishment she reared aside as if frightened, but as he still could not see anything, he dashed the spur in her side, which he had no sooner done than she leaped over the hedge into a field ; much surprised at this, he dismounted and led her into the road, and thinking if his optical could not, his auricular nerves might discover the cause, he stopped and listened, when he distinctly heard footsteps treading, as if a funeral passed : wishing to know where they would proceed to, he followed the sounds to his own chapel, where they ceased at a certain part of the burial ground attached to it ; and he related that in the course of a week after this, a person was buried near the spot where the steps had ceased to be heard : after '-his, he discontinued ridiculing; the credence given to tne super- natural lights, &c. — HowelCs Cambrian Superstitions.
ZSCHOKKE.
Zschokke writes thus of his singular gift of second sight: — " If the reception of so many visitors was troublesome, it repaid itself occasionally either by making me acquainted with remarkable personages, or by bringing out a wonderful sort of seer-gift, which I called my inward vision, and which has always remained an enigma to me. I am almost afraid to say a word upon this subject ; not for fear of the impu- tation of being superstitious, but lest I should encourage that disposition in others ; and yet it forms a contributioa to psycholoe:y. So to confess.
" It is acknowledged that the judgment which we form of strangers, on first meeting them, is frequently more correct than that which we adopt upon a longer acquaintance with them. The first impression which, through an instinct of the soul, attracts one towards, or repels one from anotlier, becomes, after a time, more dim, and is weakened, either through his appearing other than at first, or through our becoming accustomed to him. People speak, too, in reterence
426 SECOND SIGHT.
to such cases of involuntary sympathies and aversions, and attach a special certainty to such manifestations in children, in whom knowledge of mankind by experience is wanting. Others, again, are incredulous, and, attribute all to physio- gnomical skill. But of myself.
'' It has happened to me occasionally, at the first meeting with a total stranger, when I have been listening in silence to his conversation, that his past life, up to the present moment, with many minute circumstances belonging to one or other particular scene in it, has come across me like a dream, but distinctly, entirely, involuntarily, and unsought, occupying in duration a few minutes. During this period I am usually so plunged into the representation of the stranger's life, that at last I neither continue to see distinctly his face, on which I was idly speculating, nor to hear intel- ligently his voice, which at first I was using as a commentary to the text of his physiognomy. For a long time I was disposed to consider these fleeting visions as a trick of the fancy ; the more so that my dream- vision displayed to me the dress and movements of the actors, the appearance of the room, the furniture, and other accidents of the scene ; till, on one occasion, in a gamesome mood, I narrated to my family the secret history of a sempstress who had just before quitted the room. I had never seen the person before. Nevertheless the hearers were astonished, and laughed, and would not be persuaded but that I had a pre- vious acquaintance with the former life of the person, inasmuch as what I had stated was perfectly true. I was not less astonished to find that my dream-vision agreed with reality. I then gave more attention to the subject, and, as often as propriety allowed of it, I related to those whose lives had so passed before me the substance of my dream- vision, to obtain from them its contradiction or confirmation. On every occasion its confirmation followed, not without amazement on the part of those who gave it.
" Least of all could I myself give faith to these conjuring tricks of my mind. Every time that I described to any one my dream- vision respecting him, I confidently expected him to answer it was not so. A secret thrill always came over me when the listener replied, ' It happened as you say ;' or when, before he spoke, his astonishment betrayed that I
ZSCHOKKE. 427
"was not wrong. Instead of recording many instances, I will give one which, at thetime,niade a strong impression upon me. " On a fair day, I went into the town of "VYaldshut accom- panied by two young foresters who are still alive. It was evening, and, tired with our walk, we went into an inn called the Vine. We took our supper with a numerous company at the public table; when it happened that they made themselves merry over the peculiarities and simplicity of the Swiss, in connection with the belief in Mesmerism, Lavater's physiognomical system, and the like. One of my com- panions, whose national pride was touched by their raillery, begged me to ra ake some reply , particularly in answer to a young man of superior appearance, who sat opposite, and had in- dulged in unrestrained ridicule. It happened that the events of this very person's life had just previously passed before my mind. I turned to him with the question, whether he would reply to me with truth and candour, if I narrated to him the most secret passages of his history, he being as little knoiiN-n to me as I to him? That would, I suggested, go something beyond Lavater's physiognomical skill. He promised, if I told the truth, to admit it openly. Then I narrated the events with which my dream-vision had furnished me, and the table learnt the history of the young tradesman's life, of his school years, his peccadilloes, and, finally, of a little act of roguery com- mitted by him on the strong box of his employer. I described the uninhabited room with its white walls, where, to the right of the brown door, there had stood upon the table the small black money-chest, &c. A dead silence reigned in the company during this recital, interrupted only when I occasionally asked if I spoke the truth. The man, much struck, admitted the correctness of each circumstance — even, which I could not expect, of the last. Touched with his frankness, I reached my hand to him across the table^ and closed my narrative. He asked my name, which I gave him. We sat up late in the night conversing. He may be alive yet.
" Now I can well imagine how a lively imagination could picture, romance-fashion, from the obvious character of a person, how he would conduct himself under given cir- cumstances. But whence came to me the involuntary- knowledge of accessory details, which were without any
428 SECOND SIGHT.
sort of interest, and respected people Avho for the most part were utterly indifferent to me, with wliom I neither had, nor wished to have, the slightest association ? Or was it in each case mere coincidence ? Or had the listener, to whom I described his history, each time other images in his mind than the accessory ones of my story, but, in surprise at the essential resemblance of my story to the truth, lost sight of the points of difference ? Yet I have, in consideration of this possible source of error, several times taken pains to describe the most trivial circumstances that my dream-vision has shown me.
" JSTot another word about this strange seer-gift, which I -can aver was of no use to me in a single instance, which manifested itself occasionally only, and quite independently of any volition, and often in relation to persons in whose history I took not the slightest interest. jS'or am I the only one in possession of this faculty. In a journey with two of my sons, I fell in with an old Tyrolese who travelled about selling lemons and oranges, at the inn at Unterhauer- stein in one of the Jura passes. He fixed his eyes for some time uponme, joined inour conversation, observed that though I did not know him he knew me, and began to describe my acts and deeds to the no little amusement of the peasants and astonishment of my children, whom it interested to learn that another possessed the same gift as their father. How the old lemon-merchant acquired his knowledge, he was not able to explain to himself nor to me. But he seemed to attach great importance to his hidden wisdom." — Mayo's Truths in Popular Superstitions.
OCCUEEENCE IN THE FA:SIILY OF DE. FEEEIEE.
A gentleman connected with the family of Dr. Ferrier, an officer in the army, was quartered early in life, in the middle of the eighteenth century, near the castle of a gentleman iu the north of [Scotland, who was supposed to possess the second sight. Strange rumours were afloat respecting the old chieftain, and that he had spoken to an apparition which ran along the battlements of the house, and had never been cheerful afterwards. His prophetic vision excited surprise, which was favoured by his retired habits. One day, whilst Dr. Farrier's friend was reading a play to the ladies of this
TE.\.>'CE OF TUE RET. W. TE^"K■A>'T. 429*
family, tlie chief, who had been walking across the room, stopped suddenly and assumed the look of a seer : he rang the bell, and ordered the groom to saddle a horse, to proceed immediately to a seat in the neighbourhood, and to inquire
after the health of Lady ; if the account were favourable,
he then directed him to call at another castle, to ask after another lady whom he named. The reader immediately closed his book, and declared that he would not proceed till these abrupt orders were explained, as he was confident they were produced by the second sight. The chief was very unwilliiig to explain himself, but at length he owned that the door had appeared to open, and that a little woman, without a head, had entered the room ; that the appa- rition indicated the sudden death of some person of his acquaintance, .and the only two persons who resembled the figure were those ladies after whose health he had sent to inquire.
A few hours afterwards, the servant returned with an account that one of the ladies had died of an apoplectic fit^ about the time when the vision appeared. — Si^ns be/ore Death.
TRANCE AND SOMNAMBULISM
TRAIS'CE OF THE REY. W. TEN:S"A?fT.
After a regular course of study in theolog}', Mr. Tennant Avas preparing for his examination by the presbytery, as a candidate for the Gospel ministry. His intense application affected his health, and brought on a pain in his breast, and a slight hectic. He soon became emaciated, and at length was like a living skeleton. His life was now threatened. He was attended by a physician, a young man who was attached to him by the strictest and warmest friendship. He grew worse and worse, until little hope of his life was left. In this situation his spirits failed him, and he began to entertain doubts of his final happiness. He was conversing one morning with his brother, in Latin, on the
430 TRANCE AND SOMNAMBULISM.
state of his soul, when he fainted and died away. At the usual time he was laid out on a board, according to the common practice of the country, and the neighbourhood were invited to attend his funeral the next day. In the evening his physician and friend returned from a ride in the country, and was afflicted beyond measure at the news of his death. He could not be persuaded that it was certain ; and on being told that one of the persons who had assisted in laying out the body thought he had observed a little tremor of the flesh under the arm, although the body was cold and stiff", he endeavoured to ascertain the fact. He first put his own hand into warm water, to make it as sensi- tive as possible, and then felt under the arm, and at the heart, and affirmed that he felt an unusual warmth, though no one else could. He had the body restored to a warm bed, and insisted that the people who had been invited to the funeral should be requested not to attend. To this the brother objected, as absurd, the eyes being sunk, the lips discoloured, and the whole body cold and stiff. However, the doctor finally prevailed, and all probable means were used to discover symptoms of returning life. But the third day arrived, and no hopes were entertained of success but by the doctor, who never left him, night nor day. The people were again invited and assembled to attend the funeral. The doctor still objected ; and at last confined his request for delay to one hour, then to half an hour, and finally to a quarter of an hour. He had discovered that the tongue was much swollen, and threatened to crack. He was endeavouring to soften it by some emollient ointment put upon a feather, when the "bi'other came in about the expiration of the last period, and mistaking what the doctor was doing for an attempt to feed him, manifested some impatience, thinking it foolish to feed a lifeless corpse, and insisted that the funeral should proceed.
At this critical and important moment, the body, to the great alarm and astonishment of all present, opened its •eyes, gave a deep groan, and sunk again into apparent death. This put an end to all thoughts of burying him ; and every effort was again employed in hopes of bringing about a speedy resuscitation. In about an hour the eyes again opened, a heavy groan proceeded from the body, and
TRANCE or THE EET. W. TENNAXT. 431
again all appearance of animation vanished. In another hour life seemed to return with more power, and a complete revival took .place, to the great joy of the family and friends, and to the no small astonishment and conviction of very many who had ridiculed the idea of restoriug a dead body to life.
Mr. Tennant continued in so weak and low a state for six weeks that great doubts were entertained of his final recovery. However, after that period he recovered much faster. It was about twelve months before he was completely restored. After he was able to walk about the room, and to take notice of what passed around him, his sister, on a Sunday afternoon, having staid at home to attend him, was reading in the Bible, when he took notice of it, anvl asked her what she had in her hand. She answered that it was the Bible. He replied — " What is the Bible ? I know not what you mean." This affected the sister so much, that she burst into tears, and informed him that he was once well acquainted with it. On her reporting this to her brother when he returned, Mr. Tennant was fouud upon examination to be totally ignorant of every transaction of his life previous to his sickness. He could not read a single word, neither did he seem to have any idea what it meant. As soon as he was capable of attention, he was taught to read and write, as children are usually tauglit, and after- wards began to learn the Latin language, under the tuition of his brother. One day as he was reciting a lesson in Cornelius Nepos, he suddenly started, clapped his hand to his head, as if something had hurt him, and made a pause. His brother asking him what was the matter, he said that he felt a sudden shock in his head, and it now seemed to him as if he had read the book before.
By degrees his recollection was restored, and he could speak Latin as fluently as before his illness. His memory so completely revived, that he gained a perfect knowledge of the past transactions of his life, as if no difficulty had previously occurred.
This event at the time made considerable noise, and afforded not only matter of serious contemplation to the devout Christian, especially when connected with what follows in this narrative, but furnished a subject of deep
432 TRANCE AND SOMNAMBULIS]*!.
investigation and learned inquiry to the real philosopheF and curious anatomist.
The \\Titer of these memoirs was greatly interested bj these uncommon events, and on a favourable occasion earnestly pressed Mr. Tennant for a minute account of what his views and apprehensions were while he lay in this extraordinary state of suspended animation. He discovered great reluctance to enter into any explanation of his per- ceptions and feelings at this time; and being importunately tirged to do it, at length consented, and proceeded with a solemnity not to be described.
"While I was conversing with my brother," said he, "on the state of my soul, and the fears I had entertained for my future welfare, I found myself in an instant in another state of existence, under the direction of a superior being, who ordered me to follow him. I was accordingly wafted along, I knew not how, till I beheld at a distance an ineffable glory, the impression of which on my mind it is impossible to communicate to mortal man. I immediately reflected on my happy change, and thought, ' well ! blessed be God, I am safe at last, notwithstanding all my fears.' I saw an innumerable host of happy beings surrounding the inexpressible glory, in acts of adoration and joyous worship ; but I did not see any bodily shape or representa- tion in the glorious appearance. I heard things unutterable. I heard their songs and hallelujahs of thanksgiving and praise with unspeakable rapture. I felt joy unutterable, and full of glory. I then applied to my conductor, and requested leave to join the happy throng; on which he tapped me on the shoulder, and said, ' You must return t» the earth.' This seemed like a sword through my heart. In an instant I recollected to have seen my brother stand- ing disputing with the doctor. The three days during which I had appeared lifeless seemed to me not more than ten or twenty minutes. The idea of returning to this world of sorrow and trouble gave me such a shock that I repeatedly fainted." He added : — " Such was the effect on my mind of what I had seen and heard, that if it be pos- sible for a human being to live entirely above the world and the things of it for some time afterwards, I was that person. The ravishing sound of the songs and hallelujahs that I
THE EOCHESTEB APPAEITIOI^^. 433
heard Tvas never out of my ears, when awake, for three years. All the kingdoms of the earth were in my sight as nothing but vanity ; and so great were my ideas of heavenly glory, that nothing which did not in some measure relate to it could command my serious attention."
It is not surprising that after so affecting an account, strong solicitude should have been felt for further informa- tion as to the words, or at least the subjects, of praise and adoration which Mr. Tennant had heard. But when he was requested to communicate these, he gave a decided negative, adding : — " You will know them, with many other parti- culars, hereafter, as you will find the whole among my papers ;" alluding to his intention of leaving the writer hereof his executor, which precluded any further solicita- tion.
It was so ordered, however, in the course of Di-sdne Providence, that the writer was sorely disappointed in his expectation of obtaining the papers here alluded to. Mr. Tennant's death happened during the revolutionary war, w^hen the enemy separated the writer from him, so as to render it impossible to attend him on his dying bed ; and before it was possible to get to his house after his death, the writer being with the American army at the Yalley- !Forge, his son came from Charleston and took his mother and his father's papers and property, and returned to Carolina. About fifty miles from Charleston the son was suddenly taken sick, and died among entire strangers ; and never since, though the writer was left executor to the son, could any trace of the father's papers be discovered by him. — Philadelphia Evangelical Intelligencer.
THE EOCHESTEB APPAEITIOK.
The following narrative was communicated in a letter from Mr. Thomas Tilson, minister of Aylesworth, in Kent, to Mr. Baxter, as a contribution to his celebrated work, " The Certainty of the "World of Spirits."
Eev. Sir, — Being informed that you are writing about spectres and apparitions, I take the freedom, though a stranger, to send you the following relation : —
TOL. IT. " FT
484 TKA^rcE AND so:*iXAMBi:LiSir.
Mary, the ^vife of John Goffe, of Rochester, being afflicted with a long ilhiess, removed to her father's house at West- Mulling, which is about nine miles distant from her own ; there she died, June the 4th, 1691.
The day before her departure, she grew impatiently desi- rous to see her two children, whom she had left at home to the care of a nurse. She prayed her husband to hire a horse, for she must go home, and die Avith her children. AVhen they persuaded her to the contrary, telling her she was not fit to be taken out of her bed, nor able to sit on horseback, she intreated them however to try : " If I cannot sit," said she, " I will lie all along upon the horse, for I must go to see my poor babes."
A minister who lives in the town was with her at ten o'clock that night, to whom she expressed good hopes in the mercies of Grod, and a willingness to die ; " but," said she, " it is my misery that I cannot see my children."
Between one and two o'clock in the morning, she fell into a trance. One "Widow Turuer, who watched with her that night, says, that her eyes were open and fixed, and her jaw fallen : she put her hand upon her mouth and nostrils, but could perceive no breath ; she thought her to be in a fit, and doubted whether she were alive or dend.
The next day, this dying woman told her mother that she had been at home with her children. " That is impossible," said the mother, " for you have been here in bed all the while." "Yes," replied the other, "but I was with them last night when I was asleep."
The nurse at Eochester, AVidow Alexander by name, affirms, and says she will take her oath of it before a magis- trate, and receive the sacrament upon it, that a little before two o'clock that morning she saw the likeness of the said Mary Gofie come out of the next chamber (where the elder child lay in a bed by itself, the door being left open), and stood by her bed-side for about a quarter of an hour ; the younger child was there lying by her ; her eyes moved, and her mouth went, but she said nothing. The nurse, more- over, says, that she was perfectly awake ; it was then day- light, being one of the longest days in the year. She sat up in lipr bed, and looked steadfastly upon the apparition ; in that time she heard the bridge clock strike two, and a while
THE KOCnESTEE APPAEITION. 435
after, said, " In the name of tlie Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, what art thou ?" Thereupon the appearance re- moved and went away ; she slipped on her clothes and followed, but what became of it she cannot tell. Then, and not before, she began to be grievously aftrighted, and went out of doors and walked upon the wharf (the house is just by the river side) for some hours, only going in now and then to look at the children. At five o'clock she went to a neighbour's house, and knocked at the door, but they would not rise ; at six she went again, then they rose and let her in. She related to them all that had passed : they would persuade her she was mistaken, or dreamt ; but she -t3onfidently affirmed, " If ever I saw her in all my life, I saw her this night."
One of those to whom she made the relation, Mary, the wife of Mr. J. Sweet, had a messenger who came from Mulling that forenoon, to let her know her neighbour Goffe was dying, and desired to speak with her ; she went over the same day, and found her just departing. The mother, -amongst other discourse, related to her how much her daughter had longed to see her children, and said she had seen them. This brought to Mrs. Sweet's mind what the nurse had told her that morning ; for, till then, she had not thought fit to mention it, but disguised it rather as the woman's disturbed imagination.
The substance of this I had related to me by John Car- penter, the father of the deceased, next day after the burial. -July 2, I fully discoursed the matter with the nurse and two neighbours, to whose house she went that morning.
Two days after, I had it from the mother, the minister that was with her in the evening, and the wom^an who sat up with her that last night : they all agree in the same story, and every one helps to strengthen the other's testimony.
They all appear to be sober, intelligent persons, far enough from designing to impose a cheat upon the world, or to manage a lie, and what temptation they should be under for so doing, I cannot conceive.
Your most faithful friend and humble servant,
Thomas Tilson. — Siffus before Death.
4S6 TEAKCE AND SOMNAMBTILISAt.
EEPLIES TO DE. EKAID S QUEEIES EEGAEDIXG THE FAKEER AVHO BUEIED HIMSELF ALITE AT LAHOEE IN 1837.
I was present [says Sir Claude Wade] at the Court of Bunjeet Singh when the Fakeer mentioned by the Honour- able Captain Osborne was buried alive for six weeks ; and, although I arrived a few hours after his actual interment, and did not, consequently, witness that part of the phe- nomenon, I had the testimony of Eunjeet Singh himself, and others the most credible -witnesses of his Court, to the truth of the Fakeer having been so buried before them ; and, from my having myself been present when he was disinterred, and restored to a state of perfect vitality, in a position so close to him as to render any deception impossible, it is my firm belief that there was no collusion in producing the extraordinary fact which I have related. Captain Osborne's