Читать книгу Discover the Truth Behind Witchcraft Stories - William Godwin - Страница 28

Table of Contents

‘Strange and True News from Westmoreland’—‘The Politic Wife’—‘How the Devill, though subtle, was guld by a Scold’—‘The Devil’s Oak’—Raising the Devil—Arguments in Favour of Devils—The Numbers of Devils.

In the foregoing examples we have seen the Devil in human form, and properly apparelled, but occasionally he showed himself in his supposed proper shape—when, of course, his intentions were at once perceived; and on one occasion we find him called upon by an Angel, to execute justice on a bad man. It is in

STRANGE AND TRUE NEWS FROM WESTMORELAND.

Attend good Christian people all,

Mark what I say, both old and young,

Unto the general Judgment day,

I think it is not very long.

A Wonder strange I shall relate,

I think the like was never shown,

In Westmoreland at Tredenton, Of such a thing was never known. One Gabriel Harding liv’d of late, As may to all men just appear, Whose yearly Rent, by just account, Came to five hundred pound a year. This man he had a Virtuous Wife, In Godly ways her mind did give: Yet he, as rude a wicked wretch, As in this sinful Land did live. Much news of him I will relate, The like no Mortal man did hear; ’Tis very new, and also true, Therefore, good Christians, all give ear. One time this man he came home drunk, As he us’d, which made his wife to weep, Who straightway took him by the hand, Saying, Dear Husband, lye down and sleepe. She lovingly took him by the arms, Thinking in safety him to guide, A blow he struck her on the breast, The woman straight sank down and dy’d. The Children with Mournful Cries They ran into the open Street, They wept, they wail’d, they wrung their hands, To all good Christians they did meet. The people then, they all ran forth, Saying, Children, why make you such moan? O, make you haste unto our house, Our dear mother is dead and gone. Our Father hath our Mother kill’d, The Children they cryed then. The people then they all made haste And laid their hands upon the man. He presently denied the same, Said from Guilty Murder I am free, If I did that wicked deed, he said, Some example I wish to be seen by me. Thus he forswore the wicked deed, Of his dear Wife’s untimely end. Quoth the people, Let’s conclude with speed, That for the Coroner we may send. Mark what I say, the door’s fast shut, The People the Children did deplore, But straight they heard a Man to speak, And one stood knocking at the door. One in the house to the door made haste, Hearing a Man to Knock and Call, The door was opened presently, And in he came amongst them all. By your leave, good people, then he said, May a stranger with you have some talk? A dead woman I am come to see; Into the room, I pray, Sir, walk. His eyes like to the Stars did shine, He was clothed in a bright grass green, His cheeks were of a crimson red, For such a man was seldome seen. Unto the people then he spoke, Mark well these words which I shall say, For no Coroner shall you send, I’m Judge and Jury here this day. Bring hither the Man that did the deed, And firmly hath denied the same. They brought him into the room with speed, To answer to this deed with shame. Now come, O wretched Man, quoth he, With shame before thy neighbours all, Thy body thou hast brought to Misery, Thy soul into a deeper thrall. Thy Chiefest delight was drunkeness, And lewd women, O, cursed sin, Blasphemous Oaths and Curses Vile A long time thou hast wallowed in. The Neighbours thou wouldst set at strife, And alwaies griping of the poor, Besides, thou hast murdered thy wife, A fearful death thou dy’st therefore. Fear nothing, good people, then he said, A sight will presently appear, Let all your trust be in the Lord, No harm shall be while I am here. Then in the Room the Devil appear’d, Like a brave Gentleman did stand, Satan (quoth he that was the Judge) Do no more than thou hast command. The Devil then he straight laid hold On him that had murdered his wife, His neck in Sunder then he broke, And thus did end his wretched life. The Devil then he vanished Quite from the People in the Hall, Which made the people much afraid, Yet no one had no hurt at all. Then straight a pleasant Melody Of Musick straight was heard to sound, It ravisht the hearts of those stood by, So sweet the Musick did abound. Now, (quoth this gallant Man in green) With you I can no longer stay, My love I leave, my leave I take, The time is come, I must away. Be sure to love each other well, Keep in your breast what I do say. It is the way to go to Heaven, When you shall rise at Judgment day. The people to their homes did go, Which had this mighty wonder seen, And said, it was an Angel sure That thus was clothed all in green. And thus the News from Westmoreland I have related to you o’er, I think it is as strange a thing, As ever man did hear before.

In the old days the Devil was used as a butt at which people shot their little arrows of wit. In the miracle plays, when introduced, he filled the part of the pantaloon in our pantomimes, and was accompanied by a ‘Vice,’ who played practical jokes with him, slapping him with his wooden sword, jumping on his back, etc.; and in the carvings of our abbeys and cathedrals, especially in the Miserere seats in the choir, he was frequently depicted in comic situations, as also in the illuminations of manuscripts. He was often written about as being sadly deficient in brains, and many are the instances recorded of him being outwitted by a shrewd human being, as we may see by the following ballad.

THE POLITIC WIFE;

or, The Devil outwitted by a Woman.

Of all the plagues upon the earth,

That e’er poor man befal,

It’s hunger and a scolding wife,

These are the worst of all:

There was a poor man in our country

Of a poor and low degree,

And with both these plagues he was troubled,

And the worst of luck had he.

He had seven children by one wife,

And the times were poor and hard,

And his poor toil was grown so bad,

He scarce could get him bread:

Being discontented in his mind,

One day his house he left,

And wandered down by a forest side,

Of his senses quite bereft.

As he was wandering up and down,

Betwixt hope and despair,

The Devil started out of a bush,

And appeared unto him there:

O what is the matter, the Devil he said,

You look so discontent?

Sure you want some money to buy some bread,

Or to pay your landlord’s rent.

Indeed, kind sir, you read me right,

And the grounds of my disease,

Then what is your name, said the poor man,

Pray, tell me, if you please?

My name is Dumkin the Devil, quoth he,

And the truth to you I do tell,

Altho’ you see me wandering here,

Yet my dwelling it is in hell.

Then what will you give me, said the Devil,

To ease you of your want,

And you shall have corn and cattle enough,

And never partake of scant?

I have nothing to give you, said the poor man,

Nor nothing here in hand,

But all the service that I can do,

Shall be at your command.

Then, upon the condition of seven long years,

A bargain with you I will frame,

You shall bring me a beast unto this place,

That I cannot tell his name:

But, if I tell its name full right,

Then mark what to you I tell,

Then you must go along with me

Directly unto Hell.

This poor man went home joyfully,

And thrifty he grew therefore,

For he had corn and cattle enough,

And every thing good store.

His neighbours who did live around,

Did wonder at him much,

And thought he had robb’d or stole,

He was grown so wondrous rich.

Then for the space of seven long years

He lived in good cheer,

But when the time of his indenture grew near,

He began to fear:

O what is the matter, said his wife,

You look so discontent?

Sure you have got some maid with child,

And now you begin to repent.

Indeed, kind wife, you judge me wrong,

To censure so hard of me,

Was it for getting a maid with child,

That would be no felony:

But I have made a league with the Devil,

For seven long years, no more,

That I should have corn and cattle enough,

And everything good store.

Then for the space of seven long years

A bargain I did frame,

I should bring him a beast unto that place,

He could not tell its name:

But if he tell his name full right,

Then mark what to you I tell,

Then I must go along with him,

Directly unto Hell.

Go, get you gone, you silly old man,

Your cattle go tend and feed,

For a woman’s wit is far better than a man’s,

If us’d in time of need:

Go fetch me down all the birdlime you have,

And set it down on the floor,

And when I have pulled my cloathes all off,

You shall anoint me all o’er.

Now when he had anointed her

From the head unto the heel,

Zounds! said the man, methinks you look

Just like the very De’el.

Go, fetch me down all the feathers thou hast,

And lay them down by me,

And I will roll myself therein,

’Till never a place go free.

Come, tie a string about my neck,

And lead me to this place,

And I will save you from the Devil,

If I have but so much grace.

The Devil, he stood roaring out,

And looked both fierce and bold;

Thou hast brought me a beast unto this place,

And the bargain thou dost hold.

Come, shew me the face of this beast, said the Devil,

Come, shew it me in a short space;

Then he shewed him his wife’s buttocks,

And swore it was her face:

She has monstrous cheeks, the Devil he said,

As she now stands at length,

You’d take her for some monstrous beast

Taken by Man’s main strength.

How many more of these beasts, said the Devil,

How many more of this kind?

I have seven more such, said the poor man,

But have left them all behind.

If you have seven more such, said the Devil,

The truth unto you I tell,

You have beasts enough to cheat me

And all the Devils in Hell.

Here, take thy bond and indenture both,

I’ll have nothing to do with thee:

So the man and his wife went joyfully home

And lived full merrily.

O, God send us good merry long lives,

Without any sorrow or woe,

Now here’s a health to all such wives

Who can cheat the Devil so.

There is

‘A Pleasant new Ballad you here may behold

How the Devill, though subtle, was guld by a Scold.’

The story of this ballad is, that the Devil, being much amused with this scolding wife, went to fetch her. Taking the form of a horse, he called upon her husband, and told him to set her on his back. This was easily accomplished by telling her to lead the horse to the stable, which she refused to do.

‘Goe leade, sir Knave, quoth she,

and wherefore not, Goe ride?

She took the Devill by the reines,

and up she goes astride.’

And once on the Devil, she rode him; she kicked him, beat him, slit his ears, and kept him galloping all through Hell, until he could go no longer, when he concluded to take her home again to her husband.

‘Here, take her (quoth the Devill)

to keep her here be bold,

For Hell would not be troubled

with such an earthly scold.

When I come home, I may

to all my fellowes tell,

I lost my labour and my bloud,

to bring a scold to Hell.’

In another ballad, called ‘The Devil’s Oak,’ he is made out to be a very poor thing; the last verse says:

‘That shall be try’d, the Devil then he cry’d,

then up the Devil he did start,

Then the Tinker threw his staff about,

and he made the Devil to smart:

There against a gate, he did break his pate,

and both his horns he broke;

And ever since that time, I will make up my rhime,

it was called “The Devil’s Oak.”’

But popular belief credited to certain men the power of being able to produce the Devil in a visible form, and these were called necromancers, sorcerers, magicians, etc. Of them Roger Bacon was said to have been one, and Johann Faust, whom Goethe has immortalized, and whose idealism is such a favourite on the lyric stage. But Johann Faust was not at all the Faust of Goethe. He was the son of poor parents, and born at Knittlingen, in Würtemberg, at the end of the fifteenth century. He was educated at the University of Cracow, thanks to a legacy left him by an uncle, and he seems to have been nothing better than a common cheat, called by Melancthon ‘an abominable beast, a sewer of many devils,’ and by Conrad Muth, who was a friend both of Melancthon and Luther, ‘a braggart and a fool who affects magic.’ However, he was very popular in England, and not only did Marlowe write a play about him, but there are many so-called lives of him in English, especially among the chap-books—in which he is fully credited with the power of producing the Devil in a tangible form by means of his magic art.

But the spirits supposed to be raised by these magicians were not always maleficent; they were more demons than devils. It will therefore be as well if we quote a competent and learned authority on the subject of devils.

Says Gyfford: ‘The Devils being the principall agents, and chiefe practisers in witchcrafts and sorceryes, it is much to the purpose to descrybe them and set them forth whereby wee shall bee the better instructed to see what he is able to do, in what maner, and to what ende and purpose. At the beginning (as God’s word doth teach us) they were created holy Angels, full of power and glory. They sinned, they were cast down from heauen, they were utterly depriued of glory, and preserued for iudgement. This therefore, and this change of theirs, did not destroy nor take away their former faculties; but utterly corrupt, peruert, and depraue the same: the essence of spirits remayned, and not onely, but also power and understanding, such as is in the Angels: y^e heavenly Angels are very mighty and strong, far above all earthly creatures in the whole world. The infernall Angels are, for their strength called principalityes and powers: those blessed ones applye all their might to set up and aduaunce the glory of God, to defend and succour his children: the deuils bend all their force against God, agaynst his glory, his truth and his people. And this is done with such fiercenes, rage and cruelty, that the holy ghost paynteth them out under the figure of a great red or fiery dragon, and roaring lyon, in very deed anything comparable to them. He hath such power and autority indeede, that hee is called the God of the world. His Kingdome is bound and inclosed within certayne limits, for he is y^e prince but of darknes; but yet within his sayd dominion (which is in ignorance of God) he exerciseth a mighty tyranny, our Saviour compareth him to a strong man armed which kepeth his castle.

‘And what shall we saie for the wisedome and understanding of Angels, which was giuen them in their creation, was it not far aboue that which men can reach unto? When they became diuels (euen those reprobate angels) their understanding was not taken awaie, but turned into malicious craft and subtiltie. He neuer doth any thing but of an euill purpose, and yet he can set such a colour, that the Apostle saith he doth change himselfe into the likenesse of an angell of light. For the same cause he is called the old serpent, he was subtill at the beginning, but he is now growne much more subtill by long experience, and continuall practise, he hath searched out and knoweth all the waies that may be to deceiue. So that, if God should not chaine him up, as it is set forth, Revel. 20, his power and subtiltie ioined together would overcome and seduce the whole world.

‘There be great multitudes of infernall spirits, as the holy scriptures doe euerie where shew, but yet they doe so ioine together in one, that they be called the divell in the singular number. They doe all ioine together (as our Saviour teacheth) to uphold one kingdome. For though they cannot loue one another indeede, yet the hatred they beare against God, is as a band that doth tye them together. The holie angels are ministring spirits, sent foorth for their sakes which shall inherit the promise. They haue no bodilie shape of themselues, but to set foorth their speedinesse, the scripture applieth itselfe unto our rude capacitie, and painteth them out with wings.

‘When they are to rescue and succour the seruants of God, they can straight waie from the high heauens, which are thousands of thousands of miles distant from the earth, bee present with them. Such quicknesse is also in the diuels; for their nature being spirituall, and not loden with any heauie matter as our bodies are, doth afford unto them such a nimblenes as we cannot conceiue. By this, they flie through the world over sea and land, and espie out al aduantages and occasions to doe euill.’3

Indeed, ‘there be great multitudes of infernall spirits,’ if we can believe so eminent an authority upon the subject as Reginald Scott, who gives ‘An inuentarie of the names, shapes, powers, gouernement, and effects of diuels and spirits, of their seuerall segniories and degrees: a strange discourse woorth the reading.

‘Their first and principall King (which is of the power of the east) is called Baëll; who, when he is conjured up, appeareth with three heads; the first, like a tode; the second, like a man; the third, like a cat. He speaketh with a hoarse voice, he maketh a man go invisible, he hath under his obedience and rule sixtie and six legions of divels.’4

All the other diabolical chiefs are described at the same length, but I only give their names, and the number of legions they command.

Agares		31
Marbas or Barbas		36
Amon or Aamon		40
Barbatos		30
Buer		50
Gusoin		40
Botis or Otis		60
Bathin or Mathinn		30
Purson or Curson		22
Eligor or Abigor		60
Leraie or Oray		30
Valefar or Malefar		10
Morax or Foraij		36
Ipos or Ayporos		36
Naberius or Cerberus		19
Glasya Labolas or Caacrinolaas		36
Zepar		26
Bileth		85
Sitri or Bitru		60
Paimon		20
Belial		none
Bune		30
Forneus		29
Ronoue		19
Berith		26
Astaroth		40
Foras or Forcas		29
Furfur		26
Marchosias		30
Malphas		40
Vepar or Separ		29
Sabnacke or Salmac		50
Sidonay or Asmoday		72
Gaap or Tap		36
Shax or Scox		30
Procell		48
Furcas		20
Murmur		30
Caim		30
Raum or Raim		30
Halphas		26
Focalor		3
Vine		none
Bifrons		26
Gamigin		30
Zagan		33
Orias		30
Valac		30
Gomory		26
Decarabia or Carabia		30
Amduscias		29
Andras		30
Andrealphus		30
Ose		none
Aym or Haborim		26
Orobas		20
Vapula		36
Cimeries		20
Amy		36
Flauros		20
Balam		40
Allocer		36
Vuall		37
Saleos		none
Haagenti		33
Phœnix		20
Stolas		26

‘Note that a legion is 6666, and now by multiplication count how manie legions doo arise out of euerie particular,’

Or a grand total of 14,198,580 devils, not including their commanders.

How many of these fall to the share of England? I know not, but they were very active in the sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, especially in the seventeenth. They seem to us, nowadays, to have frittered away their energies in attending on witches, in entering into divers persons and tormenting them, and in making senseless uproars and playing practical jokes. Let us take about half a dozen of these latter. Say, for argument sake, that they are not very abstruse or intellectual reading; at all events, they are as good as the modern stories of spiritual manifestations, and are as trustworthy.