Читать книгу The True Story vs. Myth of Witchcraft - William Godwin - Страница 201

There is a story of Cromwel recorded by Echard, the historian, which well deserves to be mentioned, as strikingly illustrative of the credulity which prevailed about this period. It takes its date from the morning of the third of September, 1651, when Cromwel gained the battle of Worcester against Charles the Second, which he was accustomed to call by a name sufficiently significant, his “crowning victory.” It is told on the authority of a colonel Lindsey, who is said to have been an intimate friend of the usurper, and to have been commonly known by that name, as being in reality the senior captain in Cromwel’s own regiment. “On this memorable morning the general,” it seems, “took this officer with him to a woodside not far from the army, and bade him alight, and follow him into that wood, and to take particular notice of what he saw and heard. After having alighted, and secured their horses, and walked some little way into the wood, Lindsey began to turn pale, and to be seized with horror from some unknown cause. Upon which Cromwel asked him how he did, or how he felt himself. He answered, that he was in such a trembling and consternation, that he had never felt the like in all the conflicts and battles he had ever been engaged in: but whether it proceeded from the gloominess of the place, or the temperature of his body, he knew not. ‘How now?’ said Cromwel, ‘What, troubled with the vapours? Come forward, man.’ They had not gone above twenty yards further, before Lindsey on a sudden stood still, and cried out, ‘By all that is good I am seized with such unaccountable terror and astonishment, that it is impossible for me to stir one step further.’ Upon which Cromwel called him, ‘Fainthearted fool!’ and bade him, ‘stand there, and observe, or be witness.’ And then the general, advancing to some distance from him, met a grave, elderly man with a roll of parchment in his hand, who delivered it to Cromwel, and he eagerly perused it, Lindsey, a little recovered from his fear, heard several loud words between them: particularly Cromwel said, ‘This is but for seven years; I was to have had it for one-and-twenty; and it must, and shall be so.’ The other told him positively, it could not be for more than seven. Upon which Cromwel cried with great fierceness, ‘It shall however be for fourteen years.’ But the other peremptorily declared, ‘It could not possibly be for any longer time; and, if he would not take it so, there were others that would.’ Upon which Cromwel at last took the parchment: and, returning to Lindsey with great joy in his countenance, he cried, ‘Now, Lindsey, the battle is our own! I long to be engaged.’ Returning out of the wood, they rode to the army, Cromwel with a resolution to engage as soon as possible, and the other with a design to leave the army as soon. After the first charge, Lindsey deserted his post, and rode away with all possible speed day and night, till he came into the county of Norfolk, to the house of an intimate friend, one Mr. Thoroughgood, minister of the parish of Grimstone. Cromwel, as soon as he missed him, sent all ways after him, with a promise of a great reward to any that should bring him alive or dead. When Mr. Thoroughgood saw his friend Lindsey come into his yard, his horse and himself much tired, in a sort of a maze, he said, ‘How now, colonel? We hear there is likely to be a battle shortly: what, fled from your colours?’ ‘A battle,’ said the other; ‘yes there has been a battle, and I am sure the king is beaten. But, if ever I strike a stroke for Cromwel again, may I perish eternally! For I am sure he has made a league with the devil, and the devil will have him in due time.’ Then, desiring his protection from Cromwel’s inquisitors, he went in, and related to him the story in all its circumstances.” It is scarcely necessary to remind the reader, that Cromwel died on that day seven years, September the third, 1658.

Echard adds, to prove his impartiality as an historian, “How far Lindsey is to be believed, and how far the story is to be accounted incredible, is left to the reader’s faith and judgment, and not to any determination of our own.”