Gucht Sculp.
AN ESSAY ON THE History
and
Reality OF APPARITIONS. BEING An Account of what they are, and what they are not; whence they come, and whence they come not.
AS ALSO
How we may distinguish between the Apparitions of Good and Evil Spirits, and how we ought to Behave to them. WITH A great Variety of Surprizing and Diverting Examples, never Publish'd before.
By Death transported to th' Eternal Shore,
Souls so remov'd revisit us no more:
Engross'd with Joys of a Superior Kind,
They leave the trifling Thoughts of Life behind.
LONDON,
Printed: And Sold by
. ROBERTS
in
Warwick-Lane.
M DCC XXVII.
THE PREFACE.
A VERY short Preface may suffice to a Work of this Nature.
Spectre
and
Apparition
make a great Noise in the World; and have (at least formerly) had a great Influence among us.
Between our Ancestors laying too much stress upon them, and the present Age endeavouring wholly to explode and despise them, the World seems hardly ever to have come at a right Understanding about them.
Some despise them in such an extraordinary manner, that they pretend to wish for nothing more than to be convinc'd by
nstration; as if nothing but seeing the
Devil
could satisfie them there wa
such a Person; and nothing is more wonderful to me, in the whole System of
Spirits,
than that Satan does not think fit to justify the Reality of his Being, by appearing to such in some of his worst Figures, and tell them in full Grimace who he is, when I doubt not but they would be as full of the
Pannick
as other People.
Again, some People are so horribly frighted at the very mention of an Apparition, that they cannot go two Steps in the dark, or in the dusk of the Evening, without looking behind them; and if they see but a Bat fly, they think of the
Devil,
because of its Wings; and as for a Screech Owl, at its first appearance, they make no scruple of running into the House in a Fright, and affirming they have seen the
Devil.
How to bring the World to a right Temper between these Extreams is a Difficulty we cannot answer for; but if setting things in a true light, between Imagination and solid Foundation, will assis
towards it, we hope this Work may hav
some Success.
Not that I expect to fortify my Readers, and establish their Minds against the Fears of what they may see, so that they shall make an Apparition of the
Devil
familiar to them; there is such a kind of Aversion in the Minds of Men to the
Angel of Light,
that no body cares to see him in Imagination, much less to be forc'd to see him whether they will or no.
But now on the other hand, if it is true that the
Devil
very rarely does appear, that almost all real Apparitions are of friendly and assisting Angels, and come of a kind and beneficent Errand to us, and that therefore we need not be so terrified at them as we are; if it be true that when any evil Spirit does appear, it is limited by a Superior Power, and can do us no harm without special Licence; methinks this should take off the Terror from our Minds, and cause us to arm our Souls with Resolution enough to meet the
Devil,
whatever Shape he thinks fit to appear in: For I must tell you,
Good People,
as was said in another Case, he that is not able to see the
Devil
in whatever Shape he is pleas'd to appear in, is not really qualified to live in this World, no not in the quality of a common Inhabitant.
But the Mistake lies chiefly here, that we either will allow no Apparition at all, or will have every Apparition be the
Devil;
as if none of the Inhabitants of the World above, were able to show themselves here, or had any Business among us, but the
Devil,
who I am of the Opinion has really less Business here than any of them all; nay, we have some reason to believe he has indeed no Business here at all, but that of a
roaring Lyon,
&c. and therefore if you meet him, and had Courage for it, the properest Question you could ask him would be, not,
In the Name of GOD, what art thou?
but,
In the Name of GOD, what
Business
hast thou here?
Bid him be gone to his Den, and tell him you will pray to God to chain him up else: I dare say he would turn Tayl at such an Attack seriously made; and it would be the best way in the World to get rid of him.
That we
ay then be perfectly easy about this undetermin'd thing call'd Apparition, I have endeavour'd here to bring the thing into a narrow Compass, and to see it in a true light. I
ave first given you several Specimens of real Apparitions well attested, and the truth of them so affirm'd, that they may be depended upon: If in any of them I am not so well assur'd of the Fact, tho' they may be as certain, yet I have frankly told you so, and adher'd to the Moral only: But all together may convince the Reader of the Reason and Reality of the thing it self.
On the other hand, I have given you Specimens of those Am
sements and Delusions which have been put upon the World for Apparitions; and you may see the difference is so Notorious, (whether the Cheat be Political or Whimsical, Magical or Imaginary,) that no Man can be easily deceiv'd, that will but make use of the Eyes of his Understanding, as well as of those in his Head.
If, after all, you will give up your Reason to your Fancy, which at best is but a Distemper, and that you will call every Shadow an Apparition, and every Apparition a
Devil,
you must be content to be the Subject of constant Delusion; for he that will imagine he sees the
Devil
always about him, whether Satan is really near him or no, shall never want walking Shado
s to amuse him, 'till he really calls up t
e
Devil
he fears, and bespeaks the Mischief he was before in Danger of.
THE CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION.
Of Apparitions in General: the Certainty and Nature of them.
Page 1
Chap. I.
Of Apparitions in particular, the Reality of them, their Antiquity, and the Difference between the Apparitions of former Times, and those which we may call Modern; with something of the Reason and Occasion of that Difference.
p. 8
Chap. II.
Of the Appearance of Angels immediately in Mission as from Heaven; and why we are to suppose those kinds of Apparitions are at an End.
p. 18
Chap. III.
Of the Appearance of the
Devil
in Humane Shape.
p. 21
Chap. IV.
Of the Apparition of Spirits Unembodied, and which never were Embodied; not such as are vulgarly call'd Ghosts, that is to say, departed Souls returning again and appearing visibly on Earth, but Spirits of a superior and angelick Nature; with an Opinion of another Species.
p. 25
Chap. V.
Of the Appearance of Departed Unembodied Soul.
p. 44
Chap. VI.
Of the Manner How the Spirits of every Kind which can or do appear among us manage their Appearance, and How they proceed.
p. 58
Chap. VII.
Of the many strange Inconveniences and ill Consequences which would attend us in this World, if the Souls of Men and Women, unembodyed and departed, were at Liberty to visit the Earth, from whence they had been dismiss'd, and to concern themselves about Human Affairs, either such as had been their own, or that were belonging to other People.
p. 95
Chap. VIII.
The Reality of Apparition farther asserted; and what Spirits they are that do really appear.
p. 123
Chap. IX.
More Relations of particular Facts, proving the Reality of Apparitions; with some just Observations on the Difference between the good and evil Spirits, from the Errand or Business they come about.
p. 166
Chap. X.
Of the different Nature of Apparitions; how we should Beh
ve to them; when to be afraid of or concern'd about them, and when not.
p. 191
Chap. XI.
Of Apparitions in Dream, and how far they are or are not real Apparitions.
p. 201
Chap. XII.
Of Apparitions being said to happen just at the time when the Person so happening to appear is said to be departing; the Fiction of it confuted.
p. 263
Chap. XIII.
Of the Consequence of this Doctrine; and seeing that Apparitions are real, and may be expected upon many Occasions, and that we are sure they are not the Souls of our departed Friends; how are we to act, and how to behave to them, when they come among us, and when they pretend to be such and such, and speak in the first Person of those departed Friends, as if they were really themselves?
p. 313
Chap. XIV.
Of Sham Apparitions, and Apparitions which have been the Effect of Fraud.
p. 344
Chap. XV.
Of Imaginary Apparitions, the Apparitions of Fancy, Vapours, waking Dreams, delirious Heads, and the Hyppo.
p. 364
THE History
and
Reality OF APPARITIONS.
INTRODUCTION. Of Apparitions in General: the Certainty and Nature of them.
O F all the
Arcana
of the invisible World, I know no One Thing about which more has been said, and less understood, than this of Apparition: It is divided so much between the Appearance of good and the Apparition of bad Spirits, that our Thoughts are strangely confus'd about it.
FIRST, We make a great deal of Difficulty to resolve whether there are any such things as Apparitions or no; and some People are for reducing them all into Fancy, Whimsie, and the Vapours; and so shutting the Door against Apparitions in general, they resolve to receive no Visits from the invisible World, nor to have any Acquaintance with its Inhabitants 'till they come there; Not satisfy'd with that, they resolve for us all, as well as for themselves, and will have it, that because they have no Notion of it themselves, therefore there is really no such thing, and this they have advanc'd with great Assurance, as well in Print as in other Discourses. I name no body.
I HAVE, I believe, as true a Notion of the Power of Imagination as I ought to have, and you shall hear farther from me upon that Head; I believe we form as many Apparitions in our Fancies, as we see really with our Eyes, and a great many more; nay, our Imaginations sometimes are very diligent to embark the Eyes (and the Ears too) in the Delusion, and persuade us to believe we see Spectres and Appearances, and hear Noises and Voices, when indeed, neither the
Devil
or any other Spirit, good or bad, has troubled themselves about us.
BUT it does not follow from thence that therefore there are no such Things in Nature; that there is no Intercourse or Communication between the World of Spirits, and the World we live in; that the Inhabitants of the invisiblc Spaces,
be those where you please,
have no Converse with us, and that they never take the Liberty to stop down upon this Globe, or to visit their Friends here; and in short, that they have nothing to do with or say to us, or we with or to them. The Enquiry is not, as I take it, whether they do really come hither or no, but who they are that do come?
SPIRIT is certainly something that we do not fully understand, in our present confined Circumstances; and as we do not fully understand the thing, so neither can we distinguish of its Operations. As we at present conceive of it, 'tis an unrestrain
d, unlimited Being; except by such Laws of the invisible State, which at present we know little of; its way of conversing we know nothing of, other than this, that we bel
eve, and indeed see Reason for it, that it can act in an invisible and imperceptible manner; it moves without being prescrib'd or limited by Space, it can come and not be seen, go and not be perceiv'd; 'tis not to be shut in by Doors, or shut out by Bolts and Bars; in a Word, it is unconfined by all those Methods which we confine our Actions by, or by which we understand ourselves to be limited and prescrib'd.
YET notwithstanding all this, it converses here, is with us, and among us; corresponds, tho' unembodied, with our Spirits which are embodied; and this conversing is by not only an invisible, but to us an inconceivable way; it is neither tied down to Speech or to Vision, but moving in a superior Orb, conveys its Meaning to our Understandings, its Measures to our Conceptions; deals with the Imagination, and works it up to receive such Impressions as serve for its purpose; and yet at the same time we are perfectly passive, and have no Agency in, or Knowledge of the Matter.
BY this silent Converse, all the kind Notices of approaching Evil or Good are convey'd to us, which are sometimes so evident, and come with such an irresistible Force upon the Mind, that we must be more than stupid if we do not perceive them; and if we are not extremely wanting to our selves, we may take such due Warning by them, as to avoid the Evils which we had Notice of in that manner, and to embrace the Good that is offer'd to us: Nor are there many People alive who can deny but they have had such Notices, by which, if they had given due Attention to them, they had been assisted to save themselves from the Mischiefs which followed; or had, on the other hand, taken hold of such and such Advantages as had been offer'd for their Good: for it is certainly one of the grand and most important Difficulties of human Life, to know whether such or such things, which present in our ordinary or extraordinary Circumstances, are for our good, as they seem to be, and as may be pretended, or not, and whether it is proper for us to accept them or no; and many unhappily stand in the Way of their own Prosperity, for want of knowing what to accept of, and what to refuse.
NOW by what Agency must it be that we have Directions, for good or foreboding Thoughts of Mischiefs which attend us, and which it is otherwise impossible we should know any thing of; if some intelligent Being, who can see into Futurity, had not convey'd the Apprehensions into the Mind, and had not caused the Emotion which alarms the Soul?
AND how should that intelligent Being (whatever it is) convey these Forebodings and sudden Misgivings, as we rightly call them, into the Mind, if there was not a certain Correspondence between them, a way of talking perfectly unintelligible to us, uncommon, and without the Help of Sounds or any other perceptible Way?
For Spirits without the Helps of Voice converse.
AS thus there is a Converse of Spirits, an Intelligence, or call it what you please, between our Spirits embodied and cased up in Flesh, and the Spirits unembodied; who inhabit the unknown Mazes of the invisible World, those Coasts which our Geography cannot describe; who, between
Somewhere
and
No-where
dwell, none of us know
where,
and yet we are sure must have Locality, and for ought we know, are very near us; why should it be thought so strange a thing, that those Spirits should be able to take upon them an Out-side or Case? why should they not be able, on Occasion, or when they think fit, to dress themselves up as we do
a la Masquerade,
in a Habit disguis'd like Flesh and Blood, to deceive human Sight, so as to make themselves visible to us? As they are free Spirits, why may they not be like what my Lord
Rochester
expresses in another Case,
A Spirit free to chuse for their own Share
What Case of Flesh and Blood they please to wear?
Roch.
Sat. against Man.
I do not by this affirm that it is so, and that a Spirit may thus assume a real Case of Flesh and Blood; for I resolve to affirm nothing that will not bear a Proof, and to suggest nothing without Probability, in all this Work.
BUT it is enough to the present purpose if these invisible Inhabitants can assume an Appearance, a Form sufficient to make them perceptible to us; at the same time not being at all vested with any Substance, much less of the Species which they represent.
IF they can assume a visible Form, as I see no Reason to say they cannot, there is no room then to doubt of the Reality of their appearing; because what
may be
we cannot but believe sometimes
has been,
as what
has been,
we are sure
may be.
TO say that the unembodied Spirits can have nothing to do with us, and that we have Reason to believe they are not at all acquainted with human Affairs, is to say what no Man can be assured of, and therefore is begging the Question in the grossest manner.
I SHALL therefore spend but very little time to prove or to argue for the Reality of Apparition. Let Mr.
Glanville
and his Antagonists, the
Hobbists
and
Sadduces
of those Times, be your Disputants upon that Subject; nor shall I trouble you with much Antiquity or History: a little that is most unexceptionable may be necessary. If there is an invisible World, and if Spirits residing or inhabiting are allowed to be there, or placed there by the supreme governing Power of the Universe; it will be hard to prove, that 'tis impossible they should come hither, or that they should not have Liberty to show themselves here, and converse in this Globe, as well as in all the other Globes or Worlds, which, for ought we know, are to be found in that immense Space; Reason does not exclude them, Nature yields to the Possibility, and Experience with a Cloud of Witnesses in all Ages confirm the Reality of the affirmative.
THE Question therefore before me is not so much whether there are any such things as Apparitions of Spirits; but WHO, and WHAT, and from WHENCE they are; what Business they come about, who sends them or directs them, and how and in what manner we ought to think and act, and behave about them, and to them; and this is the Substance of this Undertaking.
THE Angels are said to be
ministring Spirits,
and we know they have been made use of (as such) on many Occasions, by the superior Appointment of him that created them; why then it may not be thought fit by the same Power, to make or substitute a Ministration of these unembodied Spirits to the Service of the embodied Souls of Men, which are also God's Creatures, we cannot tell.
UPON what foot, and to what end, either on their Side or on ours, and from what Appointment, is very difficult to ascertain; and yet some probable Guesses might be made at it too, if it was the proper Work before me; but I am rather adjusting the Fact, and asc
rtaining the Reality of Apparitions in general, than inquiring into the Reasons of them; either the Reasons in Nature, or in Providence, which are perhaps farther out of our Reach than some People imagine.
IT is as difficult too to determine whether the Spirits that appear are good or evil, or both; the only Conclusion upon that Point is to be made from the Errand they come about; and it is a very just Conclusion, I think; for if a Spirit or Apparition comes to or haunts us only to terrify and affright, to fill the Mind with Horror, and the House with Disorder, we cannot reasonably suppose that to be a good Spirit; and on the other hand, if it comes to direct to any Good, or to forewarn and preserve from any approaching Evil, it cannot then be reasonable to suppose 'tis an evil Spirit.
THE Story of an Apparition disturbing a young Gentleman, at or near
Cambridge,
is remarkable to this Purpose: He set up, it seems, for a kind of profess'd Atheism; but hearing a Voice, supposed it was the
Devil
spoke to him, and yet owned that the Voice assured him
there was a God,
and
bid him repent.
It was a most incongruous Suggestion that the
Devil
should come Voluntier to an Atheist, and bid him repent; or, that the
Devil
should with a like Freedom assert the Being of a GOD.
IF then it was a real Apparition of, or a Voice from an invisible Spirit; (I say
if,
because it might be a Phantom of his own Imagination) it must be from a good Spirit, or from an evil Spirit over-rul'd by a superior and beneficent Power; and if that were to be supposed, then it would justify our taking farther Notice of those things called Voices and Apparitions, than I shall venture to advise.
THE Possibility however of Apparitions, and the Certainty of a World of Spirits, as I can by no means doubt, so I shall take up none of your time to answer the Objections and Cavils of other People about it; because I think the Evidence will amount to a Demonstration of the Facts, and Demonstration puts an end to Argument.
CHAP. I. Of Apparitions in particular, the Reality of them, their Antiquity, and the Difference between the Apparitions of former Times, and those which we may call Modern; with something of the Reason and Occasion of that Difference.
NOTHING can be a stronger Testimony of the Reality of Apparitions in General, than to descend to the particular Appearances which we are assur'd have been seen and convers'd with from the superior World. And first I begin with such as have been evidently from Heaven it self, and by the soveraign Appointment of Providence upon extraordinary Occasions. And tho' I shall trouble my Readers with as little as possible out of Scripture, especially at the Beginning of my Work, because I am unwilling they should throw it by, before they read it out, which there would be some Danger of, if I should begin too grave!
YET, as I cannot go back to Originals, or begin at the Beginning, without a little History out of those ancient Times, you must bear with my just naming the Sacred Historians. I'll be as short as I can.
NOTHING is more certain, if the Scripture is at all to be believed among us, than that GOD himself was pleased, in the Infancy of Things, to appear Visibly, and in Form, to several Persons, and on several Occasions, upon Earth; assuming or taking up the Shape of his Creature Man, when he thought fit to converse with him, that he might not be a Terror to him.
THUS
Adam
was frequently visited in
Eden,
and we have no room to doubt but it was in a visible Form, because
Adam
both heard him speak, and as the Text says,
They heard the Voice of the
Lord God
walking in the Garden in the Cool of the Day.
Gen. iii. 8.
BY all the History of the Antediluvean World, we have reason to believe, that as God did frequently speak to Men, so he as frequently appear'd to them; for we find they conversed with God Face to Face.
Cain,
tho' wicked, talk'd with GOD, and GOD with him, when he was charg'd with the Murther of his Brother
Abel;
and the Text is express,
Gen.
iv. 16. that after it,
Cain went out from the Presence of the Lord.
So that God not only spoke to him by a voice, but was Visible and Present to him.
AND as I must carry the
Devil
along with me, hand in hand, in every Period of Time, so even in
Paradise
the
Devil
assum'd a Shape. For we must allow Satan to be a Spirit, and indeed, we have good reason to say he is
a Spiri
, free
to CHUSE what
Case of Flesh and Blood
he pleases to put on, or at least seemingly to put on.
THUS he without doubt spoke in the Mouth of the Serpent in the Garden, or else took upon himself that Shape, tho' the former is the most probable; because the Serpent was curst for being but the Instrument, however passive he might be.
MR.
MILTON
makes no doubt of the Devil's assuming a Shape of any kind,
Beast
as well as
Man,
when he brings him in whispering to
Eve
in her Sleep, and placing himself close at her Ear, in the Shape of a Toad, which he expresses in his Sublime Poem, and with that inimitable Manner, peculiar to himself.
FIRST he brings Satan leaping over the Mound or Fence, which God had placed round the Garden, as a Wolf leaps over the Hurdles into a Sheep-fold; and being gotten into Paradise, he places himself upon the Tree of Life, in the Shape of a
Raven
or Cormorant. There's the
Devil
's first Apparition.
THENCE he views the whole Garden, and all the Creatures in it, and at last he spies
Adam
and
Eve,
to his great Surprise. But after a while spent in admiring their Form, their Beauty, Felicity and Innocence, as he resolv'd to ruin them, so he comes down from the Tree to be nearer them; and mixing among the Cattle, where he takes upon him now one Shape, then another, as it best suited him, to be near
Adam
and
Eve,
and yet to be unperceived by them; this the Poet describes thus;
Then from his lofty Stand on that high Tree,
Down he alights among the sportful Herd
Of those four-footed Kinds;
himself now one,
Now other,
as their
Shape
best serv'd his End
Nearer to view his Prey, and unespy'd
To mark what of their State he more might learn.
—About them round,
A Lion now
he stalks with fiery Glare;
Then
as a
Tiger,—
Milt. Parad. lib. IV. ver. 395.
Again, when he makes the Angels find Satan, as I have observed, whispering evil Thoughts to
Eve
in a Dream, and in her Sleep, he says,
—Him there they found,
Squat
like a Toad,
close at the Ear of
Eve;
Assaying, by his devilish Art, to reach
The Organs of her Fancy, and with them forge
Illusions, as he list, Phantasms, and Dreams.
Ib. ver. 799.
'TIS evident then, that the
Devil
can assume a Shape, whether of Man or Beast, and appear as such, in order to disguise himself from our Sight. We shall have a farther Account of him presently, but in the mean time let us see higher, and go into the After-Ages.
ABRAHAM
is the first Example, after
Noah,
of an open Converse with his Maker; and the Scripture distinguishes the very manner; sometimes 'tis said, that the Lord
had said to Abram,
Gen. xii. 1. and again, the
Lord said to Abram,
Gen. xiii. 14. again
The Word of the Lord came to Abram,
and
the Word of the Lord came to Abram in a Vision.
Gen. xv. 1. 4, to the 7th.
BUT there are other express Places in which it is said in plain Words, God appeared to him. Gen. xii. 7.
The Lord appear'd unto Abram:
and Gen. xvii. 1.
The Lord appeared to Abram, and said unto him:
and ver. 22.
And he left off talking with him, and God went up from Abraham.
'Tis undeniable that God appeared, and was with him, and left off talking with him, and went from him: all Marks of a visible Apparition.
AGAIN, Chap. xviii. here it is still more explicit, and God not only appeared, but appeared in a Human Shape. Ver. 1.
And the Lord appeared to him in the Plains of Mamre, as he sat in the Door of his Tent.
First 'tis said, he lift up his Eyes and looked, and behold, three Men stood by him. So visible were they, that he entertains them, invites them to Dinner, and prepares a fat Calf to be dress'd, and Cakes, and Butter, and Milk. In short, he made a Feast; so much was he, as it may be said, deluded; so real was the Appearance; nay, when he sat it all before them, 'tis said thy DID EAT.
NOW, ver. 13. 'tis said expresly one of these was the LORD; nay, in the Original it is JEHOVAH; that was when he charg'd
Sarah
with laughing, and she deny'd it.
N. B. Sarah
was the first of Human Kind, that ever told GOD a LYE to his Face. But she was frighted, that's certain; the Text says so.
IN the 17th Verse, when God tells
Abraham
what he had resolv'd to do to
Sodom;
'tis plain, he speaks in the first Person as God;
And the Lord said, shall I hide from Abraham the thing that I do?
Hereupon
Abraham
takes upon him to plead with God in behalf of
Sodom;
and in this he speaks as to God himself, ver. 30.
O let not the Lord be angry, and I will speak:
and before that, ver. 27.
Behold now I have taken upon me to speak unto the
LORD,
which am but Dust and Ashes.
THUS I think 'tis evident, that God himself did appear in Humane Shape to
Abraham,
and that more than once. The next Chapter is as plain, that he did the same to LOT; or if it should be objected that it is not so clear that it was God himself, it was two Angels; tho' Interpreters do generally agree, that it was Christ himself, who is called an Angel, the Angel of the Covenant. But if that were doubtful, then it will still be allow'd that it was an Apparition of Angels in Human Shape, which will stand good in my next Article.
BUT as I am upon the Highest and Supreme Instances first, I must finish it by two particular Quotations, which cannot be disputed. (1.) One is of
Jacob,
Gen. xxxii. 24.
There wrestled a man with him:
and ver. 28. the Man is said to be GOD himself,
as a Prince hast thou Power with
GOD,
and hast prevail'd:
and ver. 30. after he had blessed him,
Jacob
call'd the Place
Peniel,
that is
the Face of
GOD. For, says he,
I have seen
GOD
Face to Face.
Again
Jacob
says, Gen. xlviii. 3.
God Almighty appeared to me at Luz in the Land of Canaan, and blessed me.
(2.) BUT there is yet a stronger Testimony than all this, for it is spoken from the Mouth of GOD himself upon a very particular Occasion, which was to honour
Moses,
and establish him in the Reverence and Regard of the People, when the Seventy Men or Elders were appointed to take Part of his Work off his Hands, and judge of smaller Matters among the People; which is nobly express'd, Numb. xi. 17.
They shall bear the Burthen of the People with thee.
In the next Chapter
Miriam,
and even
Aaron
himself, spake against
Moses;
that is in short rose in Rebellion; and God, to honour his Servant, tells them how he had, and would distinguish
Moses
from all the rest. ver. 8.
With him will I speak Mouth
to
Mouth,
even APPARENTLY,
and not in Dark Speeches,
and
the Similitude of the
LORD
shall be
BEHOLD.
HERE is a positive Declaration from Heaven, that GOD would appear visibly to
Moses;
the like Instance is not to be seen in the whole Bible. The Word
Apparently
is plain, it can be no otherwise understood, without gross Equivocating with the Text.
COME we next to the Times of our Blessed Saviour, and there we have two eminent Appearances within the Compass of our present Argument.
1. THE HOLY GHOST appearing in the Shape of a
Dove.
2. THE Appearance of JESUS CHRIST after his Resurrection, when in the glorify'd Body wherewith he ascended; and that this was an Apparition, is plain, from the several Circumstances of his Appearance.
FIRST,
When he join'd the two Disciples going to
Emaus:
that he appear'd as a Man, the Text is plain from his walking with them, and Discourse to them; and that it was but an Apparition is also plain. Luke xxiv. 16.
Their Eyes were holden that they should not know him:
and ver. 31. when their Eyes were opened to know him he vanished out of their Sight.
SECONDLY,
When he appear'd to
Mary Magdalen
at the Sepulchre, but forbad her to touch him,
John
xx. 17. And again
ver.
19. when he came into the Room where the Disciples were assembled, and when the Doors were shut, and said,
Peace be unto to you.
Thus it is evident Christ has appear'd, and he has told us he shall appear again, coming in the Clouds of Heaven; and we look for that blessed Hope, and glorious Appearing.
THUS then you have GOD himself,
Father, Son
and
Holy Ghost,
appearing in distinct Times, in several Shapes or Forms of Appearance, all giving Testimony in general to the Reality of this Truth, That Spirits can assume Humane or other Shapes, and be made visible to Mankind; and this is what we call Apparition.
HAVING thus brought an Instance of the most exalted Kind, even the Appearance or Apparition of God himself, 'tis needful to state a little the Difference between those Appearances, and that which we are now to discourse of.
'TIS an Objection natural to the Case in hand, We do not question, much less enquire, whether infinite Power, to whom all things are not possible only, but easy, can assume a Humane Shape, or any other; and appear,
when, where, how,
and in
what Form
he thinks fit; and that he has, or may have so appeared. But there is a manifest Difference between what God is able, or may please to do upon extraordinary Occasions, and what any of his Creatures may or can do.
BESIDES 'tis evident, or at least we have reason to believe, that God himself did appear in those Times upon those extraordinary Occasions only, and that he has never appear'd since; except that should be call'd an Appearance or Apparition which spoke to St.
Paul
at his Conversion, when it is expresly said, he saw a Light, and heard a Voice, but saw no Man; tho' afterwards he calls it seeing him, 1
Cor.
xv. 8.
Last of all he was seen of me also.
Whereas St.
Paul,
we all know, did speak there of seeing Christ in the Flesh, while he was on Earth. But I say, except this, we have no Example of any Appearance of the Divine Majesty in Humane Shape, or in any other manner whatsoever.
THAT therefore we must distinguish this from the Subject we are now entering upon, for
hat the Appearances of God are extremely different from the Apparitions of Creatures, whether Angels, Devils, or Souls of Men. That the Question is not, Whether God can do this or that; but, Whether the Spirits, Spirits Inferior, can do it: and, which is yet more to our Purpose, Suppose it has been so formerly, and in ancient times, whether they do continue to do so still, or have power to do it, let the Occasion be what it will.
THUS the Enquiry is reduc'd to a narrower Compass. I take upon me the Affirmative; and we are now to look back into Time for the Confirmation or Proof of it, and by enquiring what has been, inform our selves of what may be, is, or is to be expected, as occasion may require.
AND first to describe the Thing, and explain what is generally understood by the Apparition of Spirits; that I may not hold you in Suspence, or Criticise upon the bare Words
Spirit
and
Apparition,
I come plainly to the Meaning, as I am to be understood in this Work: By
Apparition
of Spirits, then, I mean, when the Invisible Inhabitants of the unknown World, be they who they will, assume Humane Shapes, or other Shapes, and show themselves visibly to us, so as that we can see them, speak to them, hear them speak, and the like.
THIS is what our People vulgarly call
Walking;
and when any such thing appears, they know not what otherwise to call it, they say
Something walks;
and if it be the Appearance of any known Person lately dead, they say
Such a one Walks.
THUS I lay every thing down with the utmost plainness, that I may leave the Reader in no Uncertainty about my Meaning in the Subject I am upon, or give room for Cavilings or Disputings at either the Thing it self, or the manner of Expressing ti.
We speak in Vain
Of Truth it self, unless we speak it Plain.
Words wrapt in Clouds, till their full Meaning's known
Such Words are not the Hearer's, but our own.
The End of Speaking's lost—
For Speech was given to be understood.
ASKING Pardon for giving this Loose to m
Thoughts, I return to the Subject, left I shoul
be but an Apparition my self.
THE Apparitions I am to speak of are these.
1. THE Appearance of Angels.
2. OF Devils.
3. OF the departed Souls of Men.
THESE are those, who we mean by the Inhabitants of the Invisible World, or Worlds; the World of Spirits, and the Superior Beings, who are said to converse with the Spirits embodied, by Vision or Apparition, or any other Superior Way.
BY Apparition also I am to understand such Appearances of these superior Beings as are Spontaneous and Voluntary, or at least so far as relates to us; that is to say, I distinguish between those Apparitions which appear of their own accord, or by superior Mission and Authority; and those which that dark Race of People among us, who would be call'd Magicians, talk of; Spirits, or things call'd Spirits, which are raised, as we foolishly call it, by the Arts of Men; by Witchcraft, Sorcery, Magick, and such other Infernal Arts, as are, or have been made use of for that Purpose; and by which they tell us Spirits are call'd down from the superior Regions (o
where-ever their Abode has been) to show themselves visibly, speak to, and converse with Mankind, answer Questions, foretel Events, and the like; as
Samuel
is said to be brought to appear to
Saul,
1
Sam.
xxviii. 14. How far these Magicians, Witches, and other Dealers in these dark Things,
ave or have not Power to cause such Appearan
es, and to sorm Apparitions; and how far they
mpose upon, and delude the World in it, That I may speak of by it self, and indeed it well deserves Consideration. But for the present, I say, I am talk
ng of another Kind of Apparitions.
CHAP. II. Of the Appearance of Angels immediately in Mission as from Heaven; and why we are to suppose those kinds of Apparitions are at an End.
THAT Angels have appeared to Men, we have abundant Testimony in the Histories of Times Past, as well Sacred as Prophane; nor shall I spend one Moment of your Time to examine, or confirm it, except as it comes necessarily in by the occasion of other Discourse: For it is not the Appearance of Angels as such, but the Appearance of Angels in the Shape of Men, that is the present Enquiry.
THAT this has been, is evident, and in general the Scripture gives this Testimony to it: when the Apostle advises to Hospitality, and to entertain Strangers, he adds,
For thereby some have entertain'd
Angels
unawares.
Heb. xiii. 2. This must be meant of Angels in Humane Shape, otherwise the hospitable Person could not be mistaken in such a manner: Besides, it plainly refers to
Abraham, Gen.
xviii. 1. sitting in the Door of his Tent,
ver.
2. three Men stood by him; two of these were certainly Angels; who the third was, I have shewn already. It may likewise include
Lot,
in whose Story,
Gen.
xix. it is express'd,
ver.
1. that they were two Angels, and
ver.
8.
Lot
calls them
these Men,
and
ver.
10, 12, 16. they are called
the Men;
so that LOT believ'd them to be Men only, and as such he not only invited them unto his House,
ver.
2. but he made them a Feast, and they did eat,
ver.
3.
THESE Apparitions of Angels, in the Shape of Men, are undeniable on other Occasions; but when they appear as Angels, it is said so plainly, and in so many Words; as in the Case of
Abraham,
when he was going to offer his Son
Isaac,
Gen. xxii. 11.
The Angel of the Lord called to Abraham out of Heaven;
and again ver. 15.
The Angel of the Lord called the second time.
THERE are innumerable Examples of Angels appearing as Angels; but we are upon the Appearance of Angels as Men, and in the Shape and Habit of Men. The next Instance is, of an Angel appearing to
Joshua,
and who is called the Captain of the Lord's Host,
Josh.
v. 13.
Joshua looked, and behold there stood a Man over-against him, with a Sword drawn in his Hand.
Immediately
Joshua,
Soldier-like, gives him the
qui vive,
or in
English, who are you for?
art thou for us, or for our Adversaries? and the Spectre or Apparition spoke immediately again,
ver.
14. and then
Joshua
perceived that it was not a Man, but an Angel in Apparition; and in the Heads or Contents of the Chapter, 'tis expresly said,
an Angel appears to
Joshua.
ANOTHER Example is, of the Angel that appear'd to
Manoah
the Father of
Sampson;
his Wife indeed calls him a Man of God, and that he appear'd to her; but says, that his Countenance was like an Angel of God, very terrible;
Judges
xiii. 6. But still when he appear'd a second time, it was in the Shape of a Man, or else why did
Manoah
desire him to stay 'till he could dress a Kid for him? and the Words are express, ver. 16.
He knew not that it was an Angel of the Lord.
THERE are other Examples in Scripture, where the Angels have appeared in Humane Shape, and convers'd with Men upon Earth, besides such as have appear'd in their real Angelick Form as Angels. How and in what they were known to be Angels, in what Form they have been seen, and in what Voice they spoke, is not discover'd to us in the Scripture. Some are of Opinion, that even those Angels appear'd in the Shape of Men, and cloathed as Men; as the Angel that met
Balaam
with a flaming Sword in his Hand; the Angels which
Jacob
saw ascending and descending on the Ladder; the Angels that spoke to
Zacharias
in the Temple, to the
Virgin Mary
in the Chamber, and that sat in the Sepulchre after Christ was risen, and asked the Disciples,
why seek ye the Living among the Dead?
and so in several Cases: All that can be answer'd is, that the Text call'd them Angels, and so far we are not to doubt it; but I must also allow, that they seem to me to have been in the Figure of Men; as for those in the Sepulchre, St.
Luke
says expresly, they saw
two Men
in shining Garments,
Luke
xxiv. 4. and in the same Chapter, ver. 23. 'tis said, they had seen a Vision of Angels.
THUS far it relates to good Angels, such as have been seen on Earth in Apparition, but have made such an Appearance by vertue of the superior Mission, as the Angel
Gabriel,
who tells
Zacharias, I am sent to speak unto thee.
THAT these have upon many occasions been seen in Humane Shape is evident; and tho' much more time might be spent upon the Proof, I think 'tis needless; indeed the Evidence is sufficient.
THERE is a Question still remaining, relating to this Part,
(viz.)
How comes it to pass that all this is ceased, and that the Angels have done coming, or are no more sent of such Errands? but that all the Angels we have any Account of in these Days, are of a worse kind, and generally come upon worse Errands? and which particular Observation is the very reason of our Doubts, whether the Appearance of the other is real or not.
THIS Question might be answer'd many Ways, but 'tis too grave for the Times; and as we are not writing Divinity, I shall not load you with serious Points: The short Account of it is this:
We have
now
a more sure Word of Prophecy:
(that is) that since the Preaching of the Gospel, and the Revelation of God by a written Word, there is no more need of what the Text calls
a ministration of Angels.
The Scripture is a daily Revelation, and the Spirit of God, who is promised to lead us, is a daily Inspiration, there is no more need of Vision and Apparition; and this is that glorious Difference between the Revelations of those Days, and these of ours, and the reason of the Difference between the Apparitions of these Times and of those.
WHEN I am speaking things serious, I am to speak very short, that I may not shock your reading; the Taste of the Times happening at this Juncture to lye another way: but my next Article perhaps may make you amends, I mean the Appearance of the grand Arch-Angel of all, and, as I suppose, the only Arch-Angel out of Heaven, namely the Devil.
CHAP. III. Of the
APPEARANCE
of the
DEVIL
in Humane Shape.
PRAY observe, when I am speaking of the Appearance of the Devil, it is not to tell you that he can and does appear among us at this time; so you need not look over your Shoulders to see for him, or at the Candles, to see if they burn BLUE, at least not yet; 'tis time enough for that by and by.
BUT I am examining now the matter of Fact only, as (1.) Whether the Devil can appear here, yea or no; whether he is allow'd to come, that his Chain reaches so far, and that his Tether is long enough? also, (2.) Whether he is ever sent or directed to come, or that he comes of his own accord, and about his own Business? And as all these will lead me to enquire what has been; from thence we may best judge, what is, or may be.
THAT he has upon special Occasions appear'd in former Times is certain, as well from Scripture as ancient History, and a small Retrospect will satisfie you in that Point. If it appears that he has been here, then 'tis very probable his Chain is long enough, and that he is allow'd the Liberty to come so far from Home. For we have no Authority to say, or to believe, that his Tether is shorten'd, or that he is more restrain'd now than ever he was before.
HIS entring the Garden of God in the beginning of Time, and the Havock he made there, the turning
Adam
and
Eve
out, and even turning the whole frame of Nature upside down by his vile Doings there; all this I have mention'd: But we have more yet to say of him; for he is still in Being, and still the same malicious Devil, the same Destroyer and Accuser that ever he was; the Flame of Fire set to guard the Garden, did not burn him; the Deluge didn't drown him: Nor has Justice thought fit yet to take him into its Iron Hands, tho' it will certainly do it at last; and, as the Scripture says in another Case, his Damnation slumbereth not; for Justice is truly represented
With Leaden Feet and Iron Hands, to show
It will be certain, tho' it may be slow.
THE first time we meet with the Devil's personal Appearance upon Earth, I mean after the Flood, is in the Story of
Job;
nor by all the Calculations of Times, which the learned Chronologers of those Days have made, could that be long after it; for
Eliphaz
the
Temanite
could not be farther off than the Grandson of
Esau,
or thereabouts. Gen. xxxvi. 11.
IN
Job
's Time, the Text says that
the Sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, and
Satan
came also among them.
So that it seems the Angel of Light was dress'd up like the Sons of GOD, even in those ancient Days; and it is not likely that this was the first Time neither: Again, it seems by the Text, that tho' GOD himself might know Satan in that Disguise, yet the People, among whom he came, did not know him.
THE Answer likewise which he makes to the Question, implies strongly, that Satan had been wont to walk among those Sons of God in Disguise long before that; for when God sa
s to him,
whence comest thou?
his Answer seems to be a kind of general, I come from following my known Business, my old Trade; doest thou know I am a roaring Lion, and doest thou ask me whence I come? Why, I come from seeking who I may devour, ranging the World,
going to and fro in the Earth,
and
walking up and down
in this Disguise, as thou now seest me, that I may do all the Mischief I can.
GOD'S Return again to Satan confirms it, as if the Lord had said; Well, Satan, then thou must have seen my Servant
Job? Hast thou consider'd
him,
that there is none like him in the Earth?
THE Devil makes an Answer that implies he knew
Job
very well. Do I know him to be a good Man! yes: But then I know him to be a rich Man too: 'Tis an easy thing for a Man to be honest, that is so rich; he can have no room for asking more: What should he steal for, or be a Knave for, that is the richest Man in the World? What should he covet, that has no room for Desire? But if thou hast a Mind to try his Honesty, and his Piety, his Fear of thee, and his Hatred of Evil, blast his Wealth, and take his prodigious Flocks and Herds of Cattle away; level him, bring him to be like other Men in Riches, and reduce him to Beggary, and then see if he won't be like other Men in Crime; nay, he'll be raging and furious, and
curse thee to thy Face.
THIS, tho' it may seem remote, is to my Purpopse thus: it shows that the Devil was no Stranger among the People. He had walk'd up and down in Disguise, so as to know them all, and their Circumstance; He had been dress'd up like one of the rest in Human Shape, so that he could not be known from the very best of Men, no not from the Sons of God.
SOME are of Opinion, by
the Sons of God
there, is meant the patriarchal Heads of Families, who had, in right of Primogeniture, the Priesthood in Course, and were the only Sacrificers at that Time, as
Abraham,
and as
Job
were; so that in short Satan has long ago dress'd himself in the Habit of the Clergy. Bless us all! we hope he does not do so still; for if the Devil should put on the Gown and Cassock, or the black Cloak, or the Coat and the Cord, and be walking about the World in that Disguise now, how easily may we be cheated, and mistake the Sons of God for the Prince of Darkness? and how could we tell one from t'other? But of that hereafter.
CHAP. IV. Of the Apparition of Spirits Unembodied, and which never were Embodied; not such as are vulgarly called Ghosts, that is to say, departed Souls returning again and appearing visibly on Earth, but Spirits of a superior and angelick Nature; with an Opinion of another Species.
THERE appears a Qu
s
ion here in the very Beginning of the Debate, which will be very hard to decide, and perhaps impossible: However, that we may not stumble at the Threshold, I will touch it as gently, and yet as clearly as I can. The Question is this; Whether are there any Spirits inhabiting the invisible World, which have never yet been embodied, and yet are not to be reckon'd of the Species of Angels
Good
or
Bad?
BY Angels Good and Bad, I suppose I may be easily unde
stood to mean what you all think you mean when you sort or rank them into only two Kinds,
viz.
Angels or
Devils;
in which vulgar and general, not to say foolish way of expressing it, I humbly conceive the self-wise World much mistaken. It is true it is a Speculation, and every one is at Liberty to think for themselves, and among them so am I; in which, tho' I have a better Opinion of my own Judgment than always to sacrifice it to vulgar Notions, and that too at the Price of my Reason; yet I have withal so little Pride, and so mean an Opinion of my own Thoughts, that I shall not venture to advance any thing, in a Case so exceedingly liable to Cavil and Exception.
TWO Places in Scripture speak of Angels in a different Style from the ordinary and usual way of understanding the Word.
Mat.
xviii. 10. speaking of little Children, Christ says, that
in Heaven their Angels do always behold the Face of my Father which is in Heaven:
the other is
Acts
xii. 15. when
Peter
knock'd at the Door where the Disciples were gather'd together, and they believing him to be in Chains, and in the Prison, said
it is his Angel.
THE learned Expositors and Annotators extremely differ upon the Meaning of these Texts, and 'tis not my Business here to reconcile them. Some will have it to mean nothing but a kind of an Exclamation or Admiration; What can it be! is it an Angel! And of the first, about Children, they say it only intimates, that their Souls, when glorify'd, shall
always,
if they go away in Peace,
behold the Face of GOD in Heaven.
OTHERS run out to an imaginary Scheme of Guardian Angels attending every Man and Woman while they are upon Earth; a Notion so uncertain, if granted, and that has so many Difficulties to reconcile, before it can be believed, that 'tis much better to leave it where it is, and which I shall explain presently a much easier Way.
NOW, I say, 'tis not my present Business to reconcile these distant and clashing Opinions, at least not in this Work. I have started a Question; possibly my Opinion is with the affirmative, at least I think it possible, and that it is Rational to believe it; perhaps I may name you as improbable a Notion, and much more inconsistent with the Christian Religion, which yet Philosophy bids us call rational, and directs us to believe.
HOW are we put to it to form Inhabitants for the Planetary Worlds: Philosophy says they are habitable Bodies, solid, opaac, as this Earth, and we will have them be inhabited also, whether it be with or without, for or against our Reason and Understanding; 'tis no Satisfaction to them, or will it stop their Cavils, to say 'tis not Fact; that they are not habitable; that both
Saturn
and
Jupiter
are uncomfortably dark, unsufferably cold, would congeal the very Soul (if that were possible) and so are not habitable on that Account; that
Mercury
and
Venus
are insufferably hot, that the very Water would always boyl, the Fire burn up the Vitals; and that, in short, no human Creatures could subsist in such Heat: But this is not satisfactory neither; but rather than not have all those opaac Worlds be inhabited, and even their
Satellites
or Moons about them too, they will have God be obliged to create a Species of Bodies suitable to their several Climates.
IN
Saturn
they are to live without Eyes, or be a Kind so illuminated from their own internal Heat and Light, that they can see sufficiently by their own Beams.
IN
Jupiter
there must be another Kind, that can live in Twilight, and by the Reflection of its own Moons, and subsist in continued Frost.
IN
Mercury
the Species must be all Salamanders, and live in the continued Fire of the Sun's Beams, more intense than what would be sufficient to burn all our Houses, and melt our Copper, Lead, and Iron in the very Mines; so the Inhabitants must be of a Kind better able to bear the Fire than those Metals, and would still live tho' they were continually calcining if not vitrifying into Glass.
IN
Venus
the Heat would boil the Water, and consequently the Blood in the Body, and a Set of human Bodies must be form'd that could live always in a hot Bath, and neither sweat out their Souls, or melt their Bodies.
IN
Mars,
so very dry in its Nature, no Vegetables or Sensatives could subsist that we have any Notion of, for want of Moisture; and the Men that liv'd there must be dried up sufficiently for pulverizing on any suitable Occasion, I mean human Beings, and of our Species.
NOW if God must not be supposed to have created so many habitable Bodies without peopling them, and that it would reflect upon his Wisdom to lay so much of his Creation waste; that all the Planets should seem to be made for nothing but to range about the Waste as a kind of dark Inhabitants; of no use but to shine a little, and that with but borrow'd Beams too, upon this little Point called Earth, where only a Set of Rationals can exist; I say, if this must not be supposed, but on the contrary there are certainly People of one Kind or another in all those Bodies, let the Trouble of making them be what it will; if this be the Case, and that this must be believed in spight of so many Difficulties and Inconsistencies; then allow me to argue a little upon the following Enquiry.
WHY may I not as well suggest, and that with every jot as much Probability, that there are, or at least may be, a certain Number of appointed Inhabitants in the vastly-extended Abyss of Space, a kind of Spirits (other than the Angels good or bad, and other than the unembodied or uncased Souls of Men) who dwell in the invisible World, and in the Vast
No-where
of unbounded Space, of which we can neither say what it is, what it contains, or how determined: That Great Waste, of whose Extent 'tis hardly possible even the Soul itself can conceive, and of which all the Accounts we give, and Guesses we make, are so remote, look so Enthusiastic, so improbable, and so like impossible, that instead of informing the ignorant Part of the World by it, we only arm them with Jest and Ridicule, and resolve them into incurable Unbelief; depending that what it is not possible to Conceive of, is not possible to Be.
NOW is this immense Space indeed a Void? is it all a Waste? is it utterly desolate? or is it inhabited and peopled by the Omnipotent Maker, in a manner suited to his own Glory, and with such Inhabitants as are spirituous, invisible, and therefore perfectly proper to the Place?
I MUST needs say, 'tis much more rational to suggest this to be, than to bring out a Species of human bodies to live in the Intense Heat of
Mercury,
or the acute Cold of
Jupiter
and
Saturn.
The latter is agreeable to the general Understanding we all have of spirituous Beings: We are well assured there are some always there, and that they can very well subsist there; that the Place is suitable to them, and that there are Spirits of some Kind or other; and why not such as we suggest?
IT remains then only to examine what Communication these Spirits have with us, whether they are or are not able to hold Conversation with us, and whether they really do converse familiarly with us, yea or no?
IF it should be granted that there are such Spirits in Being, and that they pass and repass, exist, and have Egress and Regress there; that they inhabit, as a certain bombastic Author has it,
Thro' all the liquid Mazes of the Sky;
I say, if this should be granted, then it remains that here is a fourth Species that may assume Shapes; for Spirits may do that, and may appear among us, may converse with our embodied Spirits, and from those we may receive abundance of additional Intelligence from the World of Spirits, whether by Dream, Vision, Appearance, or any superior way, such as to them in their great Knowledge of things shall seem meet. To speak as distinctly of this nice Part as I can, admit me to explain my self a little.
IF we grant that Spirit, tho' invisible in it self, may assume Shape, may vest it self so with Flesh and Blood, that is seemingly, so as to form an Appearance, then all Spitit may do it; since we have no Rule given us by which we may distinguish Spirits one from another, I mean as to their actings in the Capacity of Spirits: We may indeed, as I have said already, distinguish them by the Effect, that is to say, by the Errand they come on, and by the manner of their Operations, as whether they are good or evil Spirits; but not by their Nature as Spirit. The
Devil
is as really a Spirit, tho' a degenerated, fallen, and evil Spirit, I say, he is as much a Spirit to all the Intents and Purposes of a Spirit that we are capable to judge of, as an Angel; and he is called the evil Spirit; He has Invisibility, and Multipresence, as a Spirit has; he can appear tho' the Doors be shut; and go out, tho' bolted and barr'd in; no Prison can hold him, but his last eternal Dungeon; no Chains can bind him, but the Chains fasten'd on him by Heaven, and the Angel of the bottomless Pit; no Engine or human Art can wound him; in short, he is neither to be seen, felt, heard, or understood, unless he pleases; and he can make himself be both seen and heard too, if he pleases; for he can assume the Shape and Appearance of Man or Beast, and in these Shapes and Appearances can make himself visible to us, terrify and affright us, converse in a friendly or in a frightful manner with us, as he thinks fit; he can be a Companion and Fellow-Traveller in the Day, an Apparition and a horrible Monster in the Night: in a Word, he can be among us, and act upon, and with us, visibly or invisibly as he pleases, and as he finds for his purpose.
NOW if he does, and can do thus, meerly as he is a Spirit, and by his spiritual Nature, we have a great deal of Reason to believe, that all Spirit may do the same; or at least I may ask, Why may not all Spirit do the same? and if there are any Kinds of Spirit, as is not improbable, besides those we have hitherto conceiv'd of, they may be reasonably supposed to be vested with the same Powers, and may exert those Powers in the same or a like manner.
IF any Man asks me how I make out the Probability of these differing Species of Spirits? I answer as above, by this, That it appears there are invisible Operations and a secret Converse carried on among Men from the World of Spirits, where-ever that is, which cannot, at least to our Understandings, b
supposed to be the Work either of those particular or proper Angels which reside in Heaven, or the infernal Angels either; that these Spirits, or if you please to call them Angels, appear and converse for Good, and therefore may not be supposed to be the
Devil,
or from the
Devil:
It is said indeed, that they act by a visible kind of Restraint, in doing Good with a sort of an Imperfection and manifest Debility; so as sometimes to act, as it were, to no purpose, being not able to make the Good they aim at effectual, and therefore cannot be from Heaven, the Fountain of Good; who, as he is Good, so he is infinitely able to do all the Good that he appears willing to do: But this, I think, confirms rather than confutes my Opinion; for, it proves them to be sent, and under particular Commission; it only suggests, that 'tis probable there are Spirits who may be more confin'd and restrain'd in their Power of acting, some than others, and this is not at all inconsistent with the Nature of the thing.
THE great, and perhaps the strongest Argument which our learned Men produce for the Credit of their new Philosophy is, that by this they can the better solve the Difficulties of several other
Phoenomena,
which before were hardly intelligible, or at least which they could not account for any other way.
IN like manner, tho' the Certainty of my Suggestion cannot be arrived to, or supposing it cannot, and that at best it is but a Speculation, scarcely can be called an
Hypothesis,
and that no Evidence can be given fo
it, yet this must be said of it, that by this Notion we may solve several other Difficulties which we cannot understand any other Way:
such as,
FIRST,
HOW it is, and from whence, or by whose Agency we frequently receive such kind Notions of Good or Evil as 'tis certain we do, and yet without receiving any farther Assistance, which perhaps it is not in the Power of the kind Informer to give us, either for the avoiding or embracing the Evil or the Good which they give us Notice of?
WHAT can it be that communicates these approaching distant things, and which it is so much our Interest and Concern to know? If it were an evil Spirit, I mean a
Devil,
as I have said above, he would never concern himself so much for our Benefit, seeing he is known to will our Ruin to the utmost of his Endeavour, and to wish us to fall into all possible Mischief and Disaster.
ON the other hand, it cannot be from Heaven or from the Angels; for the Works of God are all, like himself, perfect, and he would not so far dishonour his Messengers, as to allow them, nay to send them (for they could never come unsent) to give us Notice of Evil, and yet take it out of our Power to avoid it; or to foretell good things at hand, and then give us no Power to embrace them, or to lay hold of them; and it would neither consist with the infinite Goodness, or with the infinite Justice, to do thus by his Creatures.
BESIDES, 'tis a kind of incongruous acting, unworthy of the supreme Power, unworthy an Angel's appearing; it rather shews that it is the Product of some intelligent Being, who tho' it means Good, and has a beneficent Nature that would contribute to our Safety and Prosperity if it could, yet is under some Limitations of its actings, is not able to proceed in the Good it has attempted, that can just do us so much Service as to give us Notice of what may await us behind the dark Curtain of Futurity; but has no Power to go any farther, or to give any Assistance to us in pursuing proper Methods for our Deliverance; no, not so much as to give Directions, much less Powers to act; as a Child discovering a Fire begun in a House, may cry out and alarm the Family, but is able to do no more, no no
so much as to tell them whereabout it is, or which way they should go about to escape from it, much less to quench or prevent it.
THESE imperfect Notices, I say, seem to proceed from some good and kind Being, which is n
ar us, existing, tho' out of our Knowledge, yet not so remote, but that it is in Condition to see and know things good or evil, which tho' approaching, is yet out of our View, and which, if we could take the silent Hint, it might be infinitely for our Advantage, but is able to do no more.
NOW, if such Notices, whether to the Mind by Dreams when asleep, or by waking Impulse, or by Voice, or by Apparation; if they were from Heaven they would never be so imperfect and unassisting; we cannot suppose Heaven would concern itself to give us Notices of Danger impending, of Enemies
ying in wait, of Mischiefs approaching, and would
hen leave us to fall into the Snare by an unavoid
ble Necessity.
AS to what these Spirits therefore are, where
hey reside, what Circumstances they are in, and
ow they have access to our Understandings, I ac
nowledge the Difficulty to be great, and do not pre
nd to enter upon it here; that they may sometimes
pear is not improbable: But I hope I may say, that all Apparitions are not the
Devil,
nor yet may they be Angels immediately from Heaven, for many Reasons.
FIRST,
From the Meanness of the Occasions, I mean of some of the Occasions, on which these things happen. That there are Angels sent from Heaven on particular Messages and Errands, to fulfil the Mind and Will of their Maker and Sovereign, all Men must grant; I have already prov'd it, and abundance of Examples may be given of it, besides those already named; but we never find thos
Angels coming upon trifling Errands, and for thing
of mean Import.
The Angel of the LORD
appear'd to
Gideon
at the Threshing-floor, to summon hi
to the Deliverance of the whole Nation of
ISRAEL
The Angel of the LORD
appear'd to
David
wit
his drawn Sword, threatning Destruction of
Jerusalem:
The
Angels
appear'd to the Shepherds to signify the Birth of
CHRIST;
as an
Angel
had don
to the Virgin to salute her, and tell her what grea
a Work was to be wrought in her:
Angels
appear'd to minister to
CHRIST
after his Temptation in the Wilderness; and an
Angel
appear'
strengthening him in his Agony, and Angels hav
appear'd on many other such eminent Occasions
but not except such Occasions were eminent, an
that particularly so.
But here you have an old Woman dead, one tha
it may be, has hid a little Money in the Orchard o
Garden; and an Apparition, is suppos'd, comes an
discovers it, by leading the Person it appears to to the Place, and making some Signal that h
should dig there for somewhat; or a Man is dead and having left a Legacy to such and such, th
Executor does not pay it, and an Apparition com
and haunts this Executor 'till he does Justice. Is
likely an Angel should be sent from Heaven to fin
out the old Woman's e
then Dish with thirty o
forty Shillings in it? or an Angel should be sent t
harrass this Man for a Legacy of perhaps five or ten Pounds? and as to the
Devil,
will any one charge
Satan
with being sollicitous to have Justice done? they that know him at all, must know him better than to think so hardly of him.
WHO then must it be? and from whence? To say it is the Soul or Ghost of the departed Person, and that he could not be at rest, 'till the injur'd Person be Righted, is advanc'd upon no Principle that is agreeable to the Christian Doctrine at all; for if the Soul is happy, is it reasonable to believe that the Felicity of Heaven can be interrupted by so trivial a Matter, and on so slight an Occasion? if the Soul be unhappy, remember the great Gulph fix'd; there is no room for us to believe that those miserable Souls have any Leisure or Liberty to come back upon Earth on an Errand of such a Nature.
IN a word, there is nothing but Difficulty in it on every side: Apparitions there are, we see no room to doubt the Reality of that Part; but what, who, or from whence, is a Difficulty which I see no way to extricate our selves from, but by granting that there may be an appointed, deputed sort of stationary Spirits in the invisible World, who come upon these Occasions, and appear among us; which Inhabitants or Spirits (you may call them Angels if you please) Bodies they are not, and cannot be, neither had they been ever embodied; but such as they are, they have a Power of conversing among us, and particularly with Spirits embodied, and can by Dreams, Impulses and strong Aversions, move our Thoughts, and give Hope, raise Doubts, sink our Souls to-day, elevate them to-morrow, and many ways operate upon our Passions and Affections; may give Intimations of Good or Evil; but cannot, thro' some unknown Restraint upon their Power, go any farther, speak any plainer, or give the least Assistance to us, no, not by Council or Direction to guide us or tell us how to act for our own Preservation.
I AM told that these may be good
Angels
for all that, and that it is no just way of arguing, to say such things are too trifling to send an Angel from Heaven upon so mean an Errand, and upon so inconsiderable an Affair; since we see Providence daily giving Testimony, not of its Government only, but of its Care and Concern, in and about the meanest Affairs of Life: and that the Scripture it self frequently gives Examples of it, in his feed
ng the Ravens, taking care of the Sparrows, clothing the Grass of the Field, numbring the Hairs of our Head, &c. So that Infinite is not limited or ty'd up, to or from any degree of acting
Nor is there any thing great, or any thing sma
l, but as God is seen
n his least Creatures, Insects, Mites, and the like; so he is active in the most trifling Event: Nor does that Providence, who yet protects us in, and delivers us from Danger, always act
alike, but as the Sovereignty of his Actings is no
to be disputed, so neither is his Wisdom impeach'd by suff
ring Evil to fall upon Man, which the least hint from his Light might have guided him to prevent.
I THINK this is the utmost that can be said in the Case, and yet it does not reach us at all
for this is not the meaning of my Objection, n
nor is it the Substance of it; I am not speaking o
Providence concerning it self in the Care of i
Crea
ures, I acknowledge all that; but then this Providence acts in its own Way, and by its own invisible Operations; nor is there any occasion for th
Agency of such extraordinary Instruments, an
therefore it may be, that Angels are never sent a
Expresses upon such Things.
THE King or Government of a Nation may influence the whole Body of the People, at whatever Distance, by the Power of his Laws, directin
the Magistrates, and the Inferior Officers, to act i
the Name of the Supreme; and this is done without any Step out of the ordinary way of the Administration. But if any extraordinary Occ
sion require, then a Messenger is dispatch'd with particular Instructions, and
pecial Power, as the particular Case may require.
SO Providence, (which is, in a word, the administration of Heaven's Government in the World) acts in its ordinary Course, and in the usual Way, with an universal Influence upon all Things, and nothing is below its Concern; but when extraordinary Things present, then the particular express Messengers from Heaven,
(viz.
the Angels) are sent with Instructions on that particular Affair which they are disp
tch'd about, and no other. And I may venture to say, these are never sent upon Trifles, never sent but on extraordinary Occasion
, and to execute some special Commission; and this comes directly to the Case in hand.
IN the next Place I demand, when cou'd it be said, or what Example can be given, where an Angel from Heaven has been sent to give any particular Person Notice of approaching Dangers, and at the same time left the Mind unalarm'd, and in a state of Indolence, not capable of rouzing it self up to shun and avoid the Danger threaten'd, or without Direction and Assistance to prevent or escape it; this is what I alledge is unworthy of the Divine Wisdom and Goodness.
LOOK into all the Messages or Notices that have been given from Heaven on such Occasio
s, in all the Histories of the Scripture, or almost
lsewhere, and you will see the difference evidently. Take a few for Example.
TWO Angels are sent to
Sodom,
not only to destroy the City for its Wickedness, but to save
L
t.
Well, they come to him, they tell him what they are about to do, and that they are sent to do it; namely, to burn the City. This might have been enough; and perhaps, had it been notic'd to him by the Spirits I am speaking of, this had been all; and if
Lot
had not taken their kind Information, it had been his own Fault; nay, as it was, the Text says,
Lot
linger'd, and 'tis plain he left the City with a kind of Reluctance.
BUT the kind Messengers do not satisfie themselves with giving him the Warning, but they rouse up his Indolence. See
Gen.
xix. 12.
Hast thou any here?
any that thou hast a Respect for, or Interest in, bring them out of this Place. ver. 13.
We will destroy this Place.
There's a hint of the Danger approaching, and which is a wise Direction what to do, but this does not satisfie: the Man is not barely caution'd, and directed, but he is to be sav'd; and therefore the beneficent Hand is not content to allarm and counsel him; but, ver. 15.
When the Morning arose they hasten'd
LOT; they stirred up his unconcern'd Temper, ARISE,
lest thou be consum'd in the Iniquity of the City;
and even this being not enough, for LOT linger'd still, and, as I said, seem'd loth to leave the Place; they as it were dragg'd him out;
ver.
16. they laid hold of his Hand, and upon the Hand of his Wife, and upon the Hand of his two Daughters, and brought him forth, and set him without the City; and what is the reason of all this? the Words are express,
the Lord being merciful to him.
THE rest of the Story is well known: when they had brought him forth, they let him know he would not be safe even there; but adds, Escape for thy Life, look not behind thee: Nay, he tells him whither he should go,
ver.
17. Escape to the Mountain lest thou be consum'd. Here was a Message like a Work of Heaven; here was the Warning of Danger, and Directions to take proper Measures for Deliverance, and those Measures pointed out even to the very Place where he should be safe.
TAKE another Place exactly like this,
Matt.
ii. 13. An Angel is sent to
Joseph
in a Dream, to warn him of the Danger attending the Holy Infant, then in the Virgin Mother's Arms: the Words are express; HEROD
will seek the young Child to destroy him:
Does the blessed Notice leave
Joseph
to sleep on, to say 'tis nothing but a Dream? I don't see any Danger, I believe there's nothing in it; as is our Language often on such Occasions. No, no; This Message was from Heaven, who never gives such Notice of Evil, and then leaves us unallarm'd, undirected, supine and easie, 'till it falls upon us without Remedy; the Angel adds presently, ARISE and
take the young Child and his
Mother, and
flee into
Aegypt, and
be thou there 'till I bring thee Word.
THUS you see the Nature of the Divine Proceedings, the effectual manner of Notices from Heaven; the Danger is told, and then the Way to avoid it; and always with a hasting Allarm, Up, get thee out of the City; Arise, flee into
Aegypt;
and the like.
ANOTHER is in the Story of
Peter
in the Prison: an Angel is sent to deliver him,
Acts
xii. and what does the Angel do? a Light shin'd in the Prison, and he smote him on the Side; this was to awaken and alarm him; this, and a Light to show him the Way, was sufficient to have put him upon trying to escape. But the Angel did not come so far to do his Work by Halves, but having awak'd him he goes on with his Work, and to perfect his Deliverance; ARISE QUICKLY
Peter,
and rais'd him up, and then made th
Chains fall off from his Hands.
NOR yet had he don
;
gird thy self,
says the Angel, and
bind on thy Sandals,
or as we would say, put on your Shoes: still
Peter
was at a loss what to do; then the Angel adds,
cast thy Garment about thee, and follow me.
Then he leads him through all the Wards, and opens the Iron Gate for him, and never left him 'till he had brought him out into the Street; nay, through one Street, that the Keepers should not know which way to pursue him.
THIS was an Appearance or Apparition to the Purpose; and such have been all those Transactions of Heaven, which have been under the Hands of express Messengers. You see all these three were done by Angels sent on purpose;
Peter
expresses it in so many Words, Acts xii. 11.
Now I know of a surety, that the
LORD
has sent his Angel, and hath deliver'd me.
NOW let us see how it has far'd with those who have receiv'd Notices of approaching Danger from the invisible World, by the Hands of other Messengers.
JULIUS CAESAR
had several Hints given him of his approaching Fate; one particular Southsayer pointed out the very Day to him, namely,
the Ides of March,
but he had no Power to avoid his Fate. The kind Spirit that foreboded, and gave hints to him, that he was in Danger, as if contented with having done his parr, left him to be murther'd. No Assistance given him to rouze up his Spirits to take the Alarm: He is not led by the Hand, and told,
go not into the Senate House,
as was done for
Lot; escape for thy Life.
The kind Monitor does not name the Traytors and Assassinators to him, and say
Brutus,
and
Cassius, Casca,
and others, wait there to kill you; as the Angel to
Joseph, Herod will seek the young Child to destroy him.
AND on the other side,
Caesar,
bold and unalarm'd, indolent, and having things not sufficiently explain'd to him; (and the good Spirit, as may be suppos'd, able to do no more for him;) goes on, enters the Senate House, mocks the Southsayer, and tells him the
Ides of March are come,
who sharply return'd,
But they are not past.
In a word, neglecting his own Safety, and wanting a compleat Information, he goes into the Senate, and is murther'd.
JULIAN
the Apostate is another Example: He had a thousand ill Omens, as they call'd them, which attended him at and before his undertaking the
Persian
War; such as the dying of the Consul
Julianus
of his own Name, the burning of the Temple of
Apollo,
and several other Accidents; and tho' he was the most superstitious of all the Heathen Emperors that were before him, and sent to all the Oracles, to all the Augurs and Southsayers he could hear of, insomuch that the Citizens of
Antioch
made a Jest of him for it; Yet he was so blinded by his Flatterers, or deluded by the Priests, who construed the worst and most portentous things, to mean the best Events; or, which is beyond it all, by the superior Decree of an appointed Vengeance; that he went on and was kill'd in the very beginning of the War; the first Battel with the
Persians
carried him off.
I MIGHT multiply Examples of the like kind, even on both sides, and especially on the last; but 'tis sufficient; our own Experience will confirm it: secret Notices are daily given us of capital Dangers attending, and yet how do the most vigilant Observers of those Signals, and the most eminent Omen-Hunters, even after those Notices, sit still, and grow indolent? or else, amaz'd and bewilder'd, they say, I know there's something a coming to me, some Mischief attends me, I have plain Notice of it; but I don't know what it is, I can't tell what to do; I can do nothing to avoid or prevent it. And thus they fall into the Pit, as we may say, with their Eyes open, and in spight of the kind Spirit's beneficent Warning.
WHAT can this be? but because the Spirit, tho' really kind and beneficent, yet limited and impotent in Power, was able to do no more than to give the Hint, leaving the Person to his own Prudence to guard and direct himself?
I MIGHT add here what 'tis rational enough to suggest,
viz.
that Heaven in its infinite Wisdom and Goodness may have appointed these Good Spirits to give such Notices, yet allowing them to do no more, that the Mind of Man being duly alarm'd at approaching Evil, and believing something very fatal to him is at Hand; but seeing no kind Being directing what M
thods to take for his Deliverance, or for escaping the impending Mischief, should turn his Eyes (at least) a little upwards, and call for Direction and Council from that Hand, who alone can both direct and deliver.
BUT hold! whither am I going? This looks like Religion, and we must not talk a Word of that, if we expect to be agreeable. Unhappy Times! where to be serious, is to be dull and grave, and consequently to write without Spirit. We must talk politely, not religiously; we may show the Scholar, but must not show a Word of the Christian; so we may quote prophane History, but not sacred; and a Story out of
Lucan
or
Plutarch, Tully,
or
Virgil
will go down, but not a Word out of
Moses
or
Joshua.
WELL, we must comply however; the Humour of the Day must prevail; and as there is no instructing you without pleasing you, and no pleasing you but in your own Way, we must go on in that Way; the Understanding must be refin'd by Allegory and Enigma; you must see the Sun through the Cloud, and relish Light by the help of Darkness; the Taste must be rectify'd by Salts, the Appetite whetted by Bitters; in a word, the Manners must be reform'd in Masquerade, Devotion quicken'd by the Stage not the Pulpit, and Wit be brighten'd by Satyrs upon Sense.
THIS Hypothesis, of a new suppos'd Class of Spirits, would lead me into a great many useful Speculations; and I might remark with great Advantages from it, upon the general Indolence, which it is evident has so fatally possess'd ou
Men of Wit in this Age. To see a Fool, a Fop, believe himself inspir'd, a Fellow that washes his Hands fifty times a-day, but if he would be truly cleanly, should have his Brains taken out and wash'd, his Scull Trapan'd, and plac'd with the hind-side before, that his Understanding, which Nature plac'd by Mistake, with the Bottom upward, may be set right, and his Memory plac'd in a right Position; To this unscrew'd Engine talk of Spirits, and of the invisible World, and of his conversing with unembodied Soul, when he has hardly Brains to converse with any thing but a Pack of Hounds, and owes it only to his being a Fool, that he does not converse with the
Devil!
who if he has any Spirit about him, it must be one of these indolent Angels I speak of; and if he has not been listed among the Infernals, it has not been for want of Wickedness, but for want of Wit.
I DON'T wonder such as these go a mobbing among those meanest of mad Things call'd
FreeMasons;
rough Cheats, and confess'd Delusions are the fittest things to amuse them. They are like those foolish Fish that are caught in large Nets, that might get out at every Square of the Mash, but hang by the Gills upon the meer Thread, and chuse to hamper and tangle themselves, when there is no occasion for it, and are taken even in those Snares that are not laid for them.
CHAP. V. Of the Appearance of Departed Unembodied Soul.
I NOW come to the main and most disputed Part of shadowy Appearance,
viz.
the Apparition of Unembodied Soul.
IT is a material Difficulty here, and ought to be consider'd with the utmost Plainness,
(viz.)
what we mean by
Unembodied Soul;
whether we understand Souls which have been encas'd in Flesh, but being unhous'd are now moving about, in what State we know not, and are to be spoken of as in their separate Capacity: Or whether there is any such thing as a Mass of Soul, as a learned but pretty much inconsistent W
iter calls it, which waits to be embodied, as the superior Disposer of that Affair, (be that who or what he pleases) may direct.
THIS I confess is to me something unintelligible, looks a little
Platonick,
and as if it were a-kin to the Transmigration-Whimsie of the Ancients; but if they would found it upon any thing rational, it must be upon the Suggestion mention'd above,
viz.
of a middle Class of Spirit, neither AngelickHeavenly, or Angelick-Infernal: But Spirits inhabiting the invisible Spaces, and allow'd to act and appear here, under express and greatly strain'd Limitations, such as are already describ'd, and of which much more may still be said.
BUT that I may clear up your Doubt as to the Part I am upon, I have added at the Head of this Section, the Word
Departed,
to intimate to you, that I am Orthodox in my Notion; that I am none of the Sect of Soul-Sleepers, or for imprisoning Souls in a
Limbus
of the Ancients; but that, in a few Words, by the Appearance of Souls Unembodied, I mean such as having been embodied or imprison'd in Flesh, are discharg'd from that Confinement, or as I call it unhous'd and turn'd out of Possession. For I cannot agree that the Soul is in the Body, as in a Prison; but rather that, like a rich Nobleman, he is pleas'd to inhabit a fine Country Seat or Palace of his own Building, where he resolves to live and enjoy himself, and does so, 'till by the Fate of things his fine Palace being over-turn'd, whether by an Earthquake or otherwise, is bury'd in its own Ruins, and the noble Owner turn'd out of Possession, without a House.
THIS Soul, we are told, and I concur in the Opinion, has sometimes made a Tour back into this World; whether Earth, or the Atmo
phere of the Earth, call it where you will, and express it how you will, it matters not much: Whence it comes, how far the Journey, how, and why it came hither, and above all, how it goes back again, and what those various Apparitions are which counterfeit these Spirits: enquire within, and you shall know farther.
THAT the Unembodied Souls of Men Dead, as we say Departed, have appeared, we have affirm'd from the Authority of the Scripture; which I must allow to be an authentick Document, whatever the Reader may please to do; 'till a History more authentick, and of better Authority may be produc'd in the Room of it.
AS to the Appearance of
Samuel,
rais'd by the Witch, I despise it, as it is offer'd in the Capacity of a Soul, much more as the Unembodied Soul of
Samuel;
which tho' it might have been caus'd to appear, as the Sovereign of all Spirits, with whom the Soul of
Samuel
is at Rest, had thought fit; yet could no more be summon'd from that Rest, by the Conjuration of an old Witch, than the
Devil
could fetch it out of Heaven by Force. Nor was it likely that God, who refus'd so much as to speak to that abandon'd Prince, whom he had so righteously rejected, and that would answer him neither by
Urim,
or by
Thummim,
that would neither hear his Prayer, or accept his Offering, would hear a Witch, a Creature likewise sentenc'd to Death by his own righteous Law, and send
Samuel
at her Infernal Paw-wawing from Heaven, to tell
Saul
that tomorrow he should be cut in Pieces by the
Philistines;
there seems to be no Consistency at all in it, no, none at all.
THE Appearance of the Thing call'd
Samuel,
was, in my Opinion, neither more or less than a Phantasm or Spectre, which (as the
Devil
is allow'd to do) might personate the old departed Prophet, and who, at the Witch's Summons, and by Heaven's Permission, came up to pronounce the dreadful Sentence upon
Saul,
and let him see what was the Effect of his forsaking God, and rejecting his Prophet
Samuel.
And thus it might be allow'd also to speak in the first Person of the Prophet, as it did; nor do I say, or think, as some do, that it was the
Devil
in
Samuel
's Likeness; if it had, 'tis not likely the old Woman would have been so frighted as to cry out, seeing she was better acquainted with the
Devil,
than to be surpriz'd, if it had been her old Familiar.
BUT she saw something she did not expect, and perhaps had never seen before; for she tells the King, she saw Gods ascending out of the Earth; by which I cannot but understand, she saw some of those Spirits which I have mention'd, which are not Infernal, and who might foresee what the
Devil
himself cannot; for I have no reason to believe that Satan knows any thing of Futurity.
IF it be asked here, by what Authority the Witch could bring up one even of these Spirits; that indeed may be difficult to answer, other than thus, that it might be as
Balaam
was over-rul'd to bless, when he intended to curse; and that at her Call, and to pronounce the approaching Fate of
Saul,
and
Israel
with him, she might be over-rul'd, and so call'd up, or call'd in, a good Spirit instead of the
Devil.
AS for the Spectre's speaking in the Name of
Samuel
in the Scripture, and the Text representing it as if it were really
Samuel
himself, 1 Sam. xxviii. 15.
And
Samuel
said to
Saul,
why hast thou
isquieted me, to bring me up?
I take it to be an Expression
ad Hominem,
to the common Understanding, and to be understood as all Allegorick or Figurative Expressions are understood; and it no more proves that it was
Samuel,
and is no more to be taken litterally, than the other Words in the same Verse are to be litterally understood.
1.
WHY hast thou disquieted me?
as if it was in
Saul
's Power, by the Conjurations of an abhorr'd condemn'd Limb of the
Devil,
a proscrib'd Witch, to disquiet the departed Soul of
Samuel;
the Meaning is no more than this, What is your Business with me, what do you trouble me for? You that despised me, and acted contrary to all my Directions, and would go on in your Perverseness in spite of me, and of all I could say to you; what do you come to me for, now I am dead?
2.
TO bring me up?
intimating that
Samuel
was below, or was called
ab Inferis;
which is contrary to Reason as well as Religion, and neither consists either with our Notion, or any body's else, except it be the Soul-sleepers, who tell us, the Soul sleeps with the Body in the Grave 'till the Resurrection; and if so, then must the old Woman have had Power to awake him whenever she pleas'd.
UPON the whole, it seems this Woman was a Witch of some Eminency, and had more than ordinary Power in her way. For when
Saul
applies to her, she asks him, Whom shall I bring up? intimating that she was able to bring up who she would, either from
Heaven
or
Hell.
THIS Boldness plainly infers, that she had no Power at all, but this; that being a Witch, and one that had a Familiar Spirit, she could cause her Familiar or Devil, call it what we will, to appear and personate who she pleas'd to name. For why should not the
Devil
be as able to dress himself up like one dead Person, as another? and why not appear as well in the Shape of a dead Man, as of a living One?
SO that to me there is no more Difficulty in his Dressing himself like
Samuel,
than there was in calling himself so, or than speaking in the first Person of
Samuel,
as above; Why disquiet ME, and why bring ME up? All that seems inexplicable in it is, how he should be able to tell
Saul
what should happen,
(viz.)
that GOD would deliver
Israel
into the Hands of the
Philistines,
and him
(Saul)
with them, and that to-morrow he should be with him; that is, among the Dead, should be killed in the Battel. This indeed has something difficult in it, because the
Devil
is not allow'd to be a Prophet, or able to predict what is to come. But these things may be all answer'd by the Story of
Balaam,
where the wicked Creature, tho' a Wizard, and a Conjurer, yet was directed, not only to bless
Israel
in spite of all the Gifts and Rewards that the King of
Moab
offer'd him, but was enabled to prophesy of Christ, and foretel the glorious appearing of the Messiah; Numb. xxiv. 17.
I shall see him but
not now,
I shall bohold him but
not nigh;
There shall come
a Star
out of
Jacob,
and
a Scepter
shall arise out of
Israel; and again,
out of
JACOB
shall come he that shall have Dominion.
This was a plain and direct Prophecy of Christ, who is call'd in the
Revelations
the Morning-Star; and yet this
Balaam
as a Witch, a Dealer with an Evil Spirit, and receiv'd the Wages of Unrighteousness.
THE next Testimony which we find in
cred History, of the Reality of Appa
iti
ns,
s it r
cts the Souls of departed Persons, is the Appearance of
Moses
and
Elias
with
Jesus Christ
in the Mount, at his Transfiguration; they not only were there, really and personally, in their Habits, and so as to be known to the Disciples, but they appear'd talking with Christ; so that it was a Perfect and Compleat Apparition,
(viz.)
the particular Persons appearing, and known by the Persons to whom they appear'd,
Mat.
xvii. 3. And in another Place, the manner of the Apparition is describ'd, as also what they talk'd of,
Luke
ix. 38.
Who appeared in Glory, and talk'd of his Decease, which he should accomplish in
Jerusalem.
THIS is so plain and unquestionable an Appearance of departed Souls, that they who dispute it, must not only doubt of the Divinity of Scripture, but must dispute its being an authentick History; which its Enemies will hardly deny.
WE have yet another Testimony, and this is as positive and express as the rest; Matth. xxvii. 52.
And the Graves were opened, and many of the
BODIES
of the Saints which slept
AROSE,
and came out of the Graves after his Resurrection, and went into the holy City, and appeared unto man
THIS is a remarkable Place, and would admit of a long Exposition; but I must not preach, and if I might, I am no Annotator; as far as it is to my present Purpose,
the Bodies arose,
that was extraord
ary but that their Souls were als
h their Bodies, is not to be douted, at least by me; for I have no Notion of the Body w
lking about without the Soul, nor do we ever read of bodily Apparitions.
AN Apparition is vulgarly call'd by us a Ghost, by our Northern People a
Ghest;
now the Ghost is a Spirit, and the Apparition of a Spirit has some Sense in it; the Spirits also assuming a Shape or Body, whether Real, or in Appearance only, has something in it to be talk'd about; but the Apparitions of Body, moving, appearing, walking, or whatever we may call it, without Soul or Spirit, is what was never heard of, and scarce ever suggested.
IT may be observ'd, that those Apparitions quoted from the Scripture, are not Apparitions in Vision; Dreams in the Night, or supposed Appearances only, but plain, open, day-light Visions; the former would not be to my purpose at all. These were Apparitions that were spoken to, and conversed with; and this is a Proof of what I alledge,
viz.
that Spiri
s Unembodied may appear, may reassume humane Shape, their own former Likeness, or any other, and may show themselves to the World, or to as many Persons as they please.
THE Difficulties which attend this are not a few, tho' none of them destroy the thing it self; as (1.) Whether the Souls of good or bad People unembodied, are really in a State or Condition for such an Appearance? and whether it consists with the just Notions we ought to have of the unalterable State? I mean such Notions as conform to the Scripture, which, if the Parable of the rich Man and
Lazarus
be a just Representation of it, seems impossible to be, except on such an extraordinary Occasion as that of our Saviour's Transfiguration and Resurrection; that is, by Miracle.
LAZARUS,
says the Text, was, upon his Death, carried by the Angels into
Abraham
's Bosom; the rich Man died, and in Hell he lift up his Eyes. That this is suppos'd to be immediately, is evident, because the rich Man speaks of his Brethren that were then alive: If he was not carried thither immediately, he would certainly not have been carried there at all 'till after the Great
Audit;
so that it was plain he was there presently after his Death: and that
Lazarus
was carried immediately to Heaven is evident also; because the rich Man is brought in seeing him there, and desiring he may be sent to him.
TO say this is but a Parable, is to say what may be granted without Prejudice to the Point in hand. For as it is a Parable, it would not have been apposite, if it had not represented things as they were really to be; it would have been a Delusion, and brought to deceive; whereas it is a Parable of our Lord's own bringing, and all those Parables that Christ uttered, were the most perfect Representations and Illustrations of the things which they were brought to set forth; nor is any one of them lame in their Allusions, but instructive in every Article; as the Parable of the Prodigal Son, for Example, and the Parable of the King making a Marriage for his Son, and so of the rest. And why must this alone be lame, and unapt for the purpose?
IF then this Parable is suited to represent the State of the Souls of the Departed, those Souls then can no w
be concern'd in the Apparitions which we are speaking of; except as is before excepted,
viz.
on such extraordinary Occasions, as that of our Saviour
must be acknowledg'd to be.
IF then, neither the Souls or Spirits of the Blessed or the Cursed, the Happy or Miserable, the Sav'd or the Condemn'd, are concern'd in those Appearances, who then are these Inhabitants of the invisible World? What are they that constitute and possess this World of Spirits, so much talk'd of? And if the immense Spac
s are taken up, if they are peopled by any spirituous Creatures, if any thing but Stars and Planets range through the
empty Place,
as
Job
calls it,
Job
xxvi. 7. what are they, and what are the Spirits that inhabit those Worlds?
THERE must certainly be a World of Spirits, or of Spirit, from whence we receive the frequent Visits in Publick, and the frequent Notices in Private, which are so perceptible to us, and which we are so uneasy about: if they are neither good Spirits or bad, if they have neither Power to do us Good or Hurt, as I see a great d
al of Reason to believe, then we have not so much Re
on to be terrified about them as we generally are: but of that herea
ter.
AS to the Locality of the
Devil,
and his Appearance, that indeed is another Ar
cl
and he may,
as is said already,
cov
r him
lf with what Shapes, human or brut
h
pleases; but then this would bring all Apparition to b by the Appearance of the
Devil,
and all the Empire of the Air to be possess'd by him; which I cannot grant: Particularly, because, as I
aid, some of these Apparitions come of good Errands, to prevent Mischief, to protect Innocence and Virtu
, and to discover Injury, Injustice and Oppr
ssion; all which are things very much out of
e
Devil
's way, remote from his Practice, and much more remote from his Design: The Spirits I speak of must be of a higher Original; they must be Heaven-born, of the glorious Original of angelick Species; and as all things are known by their Consequences, so they are known by their Actings; they do Heaven's Work, are under his immediate Government and Direction, and are honour'd with his special Commission; they are employed in his immediate Business, namely, the common Good of his Creature Man: They that
do
Good, demonstrate in the best manner that they
are
good.
SO that every way we should meet with some Difficulty in this Case, unless solv'd, as I said before, by the denominating another Class of Spirits neither immediately celestial, or at all infernal; neither embodied, or that have been embodied, or that shall ever be embodied.
IT cannot be expected I should describe what these are, and in what Condition; it is sufficient that I only say Such may be there, and that they may be such as he thinks good to place there who made that empty Place; I may as well ask the Enquirer what sort of Inhabitants they are who possess the Moon or any of the Planets, and whether they dwell in a State of Innocence, or have contracted Guilt; and if the latter, whether there is a glorious Establishment of Redemption, and a Covenant of Life granted for them, as there is here, by the Purchace and Merit of a Saviour?
IT is no fair Question to ask me a Demonstration for an
Hypothesis;
or is it reasonable to tell me they will not believe it, because I cannot prove the Affirmative of what I do not affirm. I advance the Probability, and say, that it is the more Probable, because (as they say of the new Philosophy) by this we can solve several other
Phoenomena,
which we cannot otherwise account for; and I alledge it is much more probable and more rational to suggest it, than it is that the Planets should be inhabited, for which 'tis certain that God must have created a new Sp
cies of Creatures, or that none can dwell there.
THE Waste or the empty Space,
as
ob
it
is full of Spirits; I believe that may be t
ke
for granted: they are placed there,
if they
by the powerful Hand of the Creator: the
is no Philosophy can be pleaded against the Place being habitable; whereas the Objections against the Planets being habitable are unanswerable, but by th
Absurdity of bringing Almighty Power in to
several new Species of Creatures, some to liv
Fire, some in Frost, some in all Darkness and Ice, some in boiling Waters and scalding Air.
THE Inhabitants which I suggest are created for the Regions of the invisible World, are Spirits, invisible Substances, Bodies without Body, such as are proper for the Expanse in which they live, and eligible for us to conceive of; and tho' we cannot grasp a Spirit with our Hands, feel it and see it, yet we can in some manner conceive of it. But, for the planetary Inhabitants, we cannot account for them to our selves or any one else, nor can we conceive any thing of them that we can say is probable or rational
IS it at all irrational to suppose, or improbable to be, that God may have made a Degree of Angels or of ministring Spirits (whether they are angelick, or of other Species is not for us to determine) who may be of a differing Degree, appointed for a differing Residence, and to different Employments from the superior Angels, for a Season?
AS there are different Degrees of Glory in Heaven, Stars of different Magnitude and Lustre in the Firmament, so may there not be Angels or Spirits of differing Quality and Degrees of Power and Favour? why else are they called
Thrones, and Dominions, Principalities, and Powers?
they are all Titles of Honour given to the Angels in the Scripture,
Eph.
i. 21. and vi. 12. If there be several Titles, there must be several Degrees.
THERE can be no Superior, if there are no Inferior; what can we understand by Thrones and Principalities in Heaven, but Degrees of Angels? Besides, what do we understand by
Angels
and
ArchAngels?
1
Thess.
iv. 16.
shall descend with the Voice of an Arch-Angel;
and again,
Jude
ver. 3.
Michael the Arch-Angel.
IF there are Angels which are not Arch-Angels, but of an inferior Degree; so there may be also different Degrees among the Angels which are not Arch-Angels; and some of these may be appointed their Residence in the Air or Atmosphere of this World, (Earth) or within the Compass of this particular Solar System, (for I allow there may be several like Systems
)
THUS those that will suppose these Appearances to be of none but Angels, I shall not contend at all with them: I exclude no Species of Spirits, but the departed unembodied Souls of Men: I have allowed Apparitions to the
Devil
himself upon his own wicked and proper Occasions. I only cannot grant, that because God can, therefore he does employ him, upon his own gracious and beneficent Orders to his Creature; This must at least seem to bring Providence to a Necessity of employing him for want of other Officers, which I think is highly detracting, and dishonouring of the divine Majesty, as if he was oblig'd to employ the
Devil,
as we say, for want of a Better.
BUT excluding Satan, I think God does not want Agents; he has apparently posted an Army of ministring Spirits, call them Angels if you will, or what else you please; I say, posted them round this
Convex,
this Globe the Earth, to be ready at all Events, to execute his Orders and to do his Will, reserving still to himself to send express Messengers of a superior Rank on extraordinary Occasions.
I MAKE no question but these are the Angels which carried away
Lazarus
into
Abraham
's Bosom, I mean which are supposed to do so.
I DOUBT not, these are the Angels of which Christ says, his Father, if he had pray'd, would have sent him
more than
twelve Legions for his Guard.
TO say it is not to be expected God sh
uld cause such an Host of glorious Spirits to attend on this little Point the Earth, and this despicable Species called Man, would be but to oblige me to say, What may not God be supposed to do for that Creature whom he
so lov'd
as to send his only begotten Son to redeem? So at least that Question is fully answer'd.
NOW, these Spirits, let th
m be what they will, and call them Angels if you please, I conceive these are they whose Appearances give us so much Difficulty to solve: These may, without any Absurdity, b
supposed capable of assuming Shape, conversing with Mankind, either in the ordinary or extraordinary Way, ei
her by Voice and Sound, tho' in Appearan
e
a
d
orrow'd Shapes; or by private Notices of things, Impulses, Forebodings, Misgivings, an
ot
r
mperceptible Communications to the Minds of Men, as God their great Employer may direct.
NOR are these Notions of them at all absurd or inconceivable, tho' the Manner how they act may not be understood by us: 'Tis but Soul conversing with Soul, Spirit communicating to Spirit, one intellectual Being to another, and by secret Conveyances, such as Souls converse by.
NEITHER is the Apparition of these Spirits any Absurdity; these may be intimate with us, appear to us, be concerned about us, without any thing unintelligible in it: Why may not one Spirit be so as well as another; and one Kind or Species of Spirits as well as another?
IF these are innocent, good-meaning, and bene
cent Spirits, why may it not consist with the Wisdom and Goodness of God to suffer such to be conversant with Men, and to have Acce
s to the Spirits embodied; as well as to allow the
Devil
and evil Spirits to converse so among us to our Hurt?
BUT let me give one Caution here, and enter my Protest against the Power, or Pretences to the Power, of raising, or as 'tis call'd, bringing up these Spirits. To call them, and summon them up for Intelligence of human Affairs, and this by Magick and Conjurations, which we vulgarly and justly enough call the
Black Art;
I cannot allow this Part of Science to have any Influence upon, or Command over, any good Spirit: But that, as the
Witch
of
Endor
obtain'd of the
Devil
to personate the old Prophet
Samuel,
and appear in his Shape, speak in his Name, and act the Prophet in Masquerade; so these
Men of Art
may bring the
Devil
to mimick a good Spirit, call himself an Inhabitant of the World of Spirits, and so delude Mankind, as he does in almost every thing he says to them; But he cannot really call up one of these independent free Spirits, who are perfectly out of his reach where-ever they are; and whose angelick Nature places them above, not under him, or at his Command.
SATAN is a conquer'd, subdu'd Enemy; and these indeed were his Conquerors, and are still his Terror; He abhors them, and hates them, and flees before them: And what if I should say they were placed in this Situation, (namely, in the invisible Regions near and about this World) for this very Reason,
viz.
to keep under this ArchEnemy and Rebel? as a conquering Prince having obtained a glorious Victory over a powerful Rebel, tho' he retires from the Country with his Troops, the War being over, yet leaves a good Body of Forces to keep the Peace of the Country, and to awe the Rebels from any farther Attempt.
THUS they are Guardian Angels really, and in the very Let
er of it, without being oblig'd to attend at every particular Man's Ear or Elbow. Mankind are thus truly said to be in the Hands of God always; and Providence, which constantly works by Means and Instruments, has the Government of the World actually in his Administration, not only by his infinite Power, but by immediate Deputation, and the subdued
Devil
is a Prisoner of War both chain'd and restrain'd.
CHAP. VI. Of the Manner How the Spirits of every Kind, which can or do appear among us, manage their Appearance; and How they proceed.
THE Possibility being thus settled, and it being granted that Spirits, or detach'd Angels, do converse with Mankind visibly as well as invisibly, and have Access to us, to our Souls as well as Bodies, as well by secret Communication, as by open and publick Apparition; it remains to enquire into the Manner how this Conversation is carried on.
I HAVE already entred my Protest against all those Arts call'd Magical and Diabolic, by which Man is made capable (at least) of being Aggressor in this Communication, that he can call up these Spirits, or call 'em down rather, and begin the Conversation when he pleases.
WHETHER by Compact and secret Hellish Familiarity with the
Devil
he may not obtain Leave to use Satan with such Freedom, I will not determine; I doubt he may: for the
Devil
may depute such and such Powers and Privileges to his Confederates, as to his Honour in his great Wisdom shall seem meet: But that he can empower them to do the like with those good and beneficent Spirits of the invisible World, who are (I have suppos'd) Spirits, not
Devils,
that I deny, nor do I see any Reason to grant it.
I COME then to the Manner the Spirits, which I would suppose may inhabit the utmost Waste, are able to correspond with us: and first, as Spirits or Angels, call them as you will, they are to be supposed, like other Spirits, to have an extensive Knowledge, and a View of all created Substances, at least on this side Heaven; a vast capacious Understanding, an unbounded Sight, a Liberty of Loco-mo
ion, passing from one Region to another, from one Planet to another; they are not congeal'd by Cold, or calcin'd by Heat; that they are able to exist in all Climates, even from
Saturn
to
Mercury;
that they may go and come, appear and disappear, here or where else they please; in a word, that they are free Agents, as well in their Motions as Actings. Hence they are necessarily to be supposed to know all things needful to he known, relating to us, as well as to other things; that they can take Cognizance of human Affairs, and that not by Grant or License, or by second hand Information from Hell, from the infernal Spirit, or any other Place, but by their own angelick and spirituous Penetration; and that they have no Dependance upon Satan, or any Power or Person concern'd with him; that they act also as Spirit on all Occasions.
THO' we see nothing of them, they see us; tho' we know nothing of them, they know and are conversant about us, are capable of being affected and moved in our Behalf, and to concern themselves for our Good on many Accounts: Hence they often give us Notices and Warnings of Evils attending us, tho' they cannot act so upon material Objects, as to interfere with our Affairs, over-rule our Fate, or direct us how to avoid the Evils which they foresee, or to embrace the Good which they see attending us; of which, and the Reasons of it, I have spoken already.
AS they can thus communicate things to our Imagination, so we may suppose, that in Prosecution of that beneficent Concern which they have for us, they can and frequently do assume human Shape, and come to us, talk to us, and converse intimately with us in Apparition and by Voice, nay even in Dialogue, Question and Answer, a
they see Occasion.
THIS conversing in Apparition, is what we call
Walking;
and when any such thing is seen, we say a Spirit
walks,
or
haunts
such a Place; and tho' this is a mighty terrible thing in the vulgar Appearance, and the People, when these things appear to them, are apt to say they see the
Devil;
yet it i
very often a Mistake, and a very wide Mistake, as appears by the Consequence.
I HAVE heard of a Man who travell'd four Years thro' most of the Northern Countries of
Europe
with the
Devil;
if all those Spectres or Apparitions are
Devils,
which I must not grant; nor was this Spectre so insincere as to conceal it self all
he while from him, but discover'd to him that he was but an Apparition, without Body, Substance, or any thing but Shape.
IF the Account I have of this Apparition be true, and I have had it by me many Years, he did him Good, and not Hurt; he guided him thro' Desarts and over Mountains, over frozen Lakes, and little Seas cover'd with Snow; he diverted him with Discourses of various Subjects, always issuing for his Good, and for the Encrease of Knowledge: He went with him over the Sea from
Ireland
to the Coast of
Norway:
He procur'd Winds for him, without buying them of Witches and
Laplanders:
He did not raise Storms for him, because being a Traveller and upon a Voyage, he had no Occasion of them; but he foretold Storms punctually and exactly, prevented the Ship's putting out to Sea when Storms were approaching; found the Ship's Boat and Anchors, when the first was driven away in the Night, and the second weigh'd and run away with by the
Norwegians
in the Dark, the Ship having been obliged to slip and run up into Harbour; I say, he found them, that is to say, directed the Seamen where to find them, and to discover the Thieves.
HE did a thousand things for him, and for his Accommodation, in his Travels; he was acquainted where-ever he came, and procured his Fellow-Traveller Entertainment and good Usage; he knew the Affairs of every Country, and the very People too; he spoke every Language,
German, Norse
or
Norway, Polish Prussian, Russian, Hungarian, Tartarian,
and
Turkish.
HE past Rivers without Bridges, tho' he would never let his Fellow-Traveller see him do tha
, or help him to do it; nor would he let him see him mount into the Air upon any occasion whatever; but would set him in his Way, give him very faithful Directions how to find the Places he was going to, and then strike off some other Way, as if he had Business at this or that Place, and would not fail to meet him again punctually at the place he appointed.
SOMETIMES he would be seen at a distance a Mile or more, to-day on his right, to-morrow on his left Hand, and keeping even pace with him, come into the same Village or Town where he lodg'd, and take up as it were at another Inn; but if he enquir'd for him in the Morning he was always gone, and the People knew nothing of him, except that they just saw such a Man the Evening before, but that he did not stay.
WHEN he had travelled thus with him from
Ireland,
as I said, to the Coast of
Norway,
where they were driven in by Storm; and after that by Sea round the said Coast of
Norway
to
Gottenburgh,
where they put in again by contrary Winds, he persuaded the Traveller not to go any farther in that Ship.
THE Traveller being Bound with the Vessel to
Dantzick,
and having a considerable Quantity of Goods on Board, would by no means be prevail'd with to quit the Ship: His Fellow-Traveller told him he had the Second-sight, and that he was assur'd the Ship should never come to
Dantzick.
However the Traveller not giving so much Credit to him as that requir'd, and not knowing any thing of him at that time, but that he was a strange, intelligent, foreseeing Man (as he call'd him) would continue the Voyage; whereupon the Stranger left him, and the Ship pursuing the Voyage was surpriz'd with another dangerous Storm; I say another, because they had had one before. In this Tempest the Ship was driven upon the Coast of
Rugen,
an Island on the
German
side of the
Baltic,
where with much Difficulty they put into
Straelsund,
a Sea-Port of
Pomeren,
and there the Traveller went on Shore.
HERE walking pensively and concern'd about the event of his Fortune, and fearing the Ship would really be lost, as his first Man had foretold him; I say, walking very anxious upon the Key at
Straelsund,
there meets him a Man who he was utterly a Stranger to, but who salutes him in
English,
calls him by his Name, and asks him what he did there.
SURPRIZ'D with such a Salutation, and glad to see any Man in such a strange remote Country that he was like to be acquainted with, and much more that could call him by his Name, he return'd his Compliment, and answer'd that indeed he had not much Business there, but that he came thither by a very unfortunate occasion.
I KNOW you are, says the Gentleman; you came in here last Night in yon Ship; pointing to the Vessel which lay in the Road betwen the City and the Island of
Rugen.
I DID so,
says the Traveller,
and I am like to have but ill Luck with her.
I DOUBT so,
says the Stranger,
and I suppose that made you look so much concern'd.
I CANNOT deny,
said he,
but I might look troubled, I think I have Cause, for I am here in a strange Country, without Acquaintance or Interest, and know not yet what Condition the Ship is in, or my Goods, which I doubt are damag'd.
I AM assur'd,
says the Gentleman,
the Ship will not be able to pursue her Voyage, but perhaps your Cargo may be safe. I understand the Goods you have on Board are Herrings.
THEY are so,
says the Traveller;
I have twelve Last of Herrings on board, and we have had a long Voyage already.
I KNOW you have,
said the Gentleman;
but pull up your Spirits, your Fish is all safe, and you may get it on Shore; and you shall either sell it here, or get Ships here to Reload it again for
Dantzick;
and seeing you are a Stranger, adds he, I will get you some assistance.
ALL this while he had not ask'd him his Name; but now he said to him, Will you not let me know, Sir, who it is I am thus much oblig'd to?
FIRST, returns he, let me see and get you some help, that you may go cheerfully about your Business, and we'll talk of that afterwards; so he bad him walk a little there, and he would come to him again.
HE had not walked long but he sees a Messenger coming to him, to tell him, that there was an
English
Gentleman desir'd to speak with him at such a House, and that he was to guide him to the place.
ACCORDINGLY he follows the Messenger, who brings him to a Publick House where were Three Gentlemen sitting in a Room, and the Man he had conversed with made a fourth, who call'd him in, and bad him sit down, which he did.
THE Three Gentlemen saluted him very kindly, and one of them also in
English,
and told him they had receiv'd an Account of his Circumstances from
hat G
ntleman, and that they sent for him to comfort and assist him.
THIS was a kind and agreeable Surprize to him, and he could not but receive it with all Civility and Acknowledgment possible. After which they ask'd him to Sup with them, which he accepted of, and at Supper hearing the whole of the Case, they sent for a Merchant of that City to come to them.
WHEN the Merchant was come they recommended the Stranger's Affair to him; and he, the Merchant, was so assistant to the Stranger that he bo
ght all his Cargo of Fish, or procur'd others to buy it, giving him a Price to his Satis
ction, and gave him as much Money there as he requir'd, and good Bills payable at
Dantzick
for the rest.
IN the mean time, (
or this was transacting several Days) the Three Gentlemen continued exceeding courteous and obliging to him; and after many other Civilities, they being travelling into
Poland,
invited the Traveller to go with them as far as
Dantzick,
which they knew he was bound for, and that they would subsist him at their own Charge so far. The Traveller considering his own Condition, and that the Ship he came in was not in Condition to pursue the Voyage, resolv'd to accept of the Offer, and accordingly prepar'd to go with them: But he was extremely concern'd that he could not see the kind Stranger who had first saluted him as above, and who brought him to th
Gentlemen that were now so extraordinary civil to him; he enquir'd after him of the Messenger that fetch'd him to that House, but he knew him not; he ask'd the People of the House, but they could give no A
count of him; he ask'd the three Gentlemen about him, but they knew nothing of him; the
English
Gentleman among them said, he thought he belong'd to that Gentleman, pointing to another of the three who was a
German;
the
German
answer'd that he understood he was the third Gentleman's Friend, who was a
Swede,
that is a
Pomeranian,
for
Pomeren
is under the Dominion of the
Swedes.
But the
Swede
said he thought he was the
English
Gentleman's Brother, for he spoke
English
very well; in a word, no body knew him, and he saw him no more.
IN a Week more or thereabout the four Gentlemen (for now they were so many) set out together, with every one a Servant; except our Traveller, who had none. Every one that knows the Country from
Stetin
to
Dantzick
and
Poland,
knows that it is a desart and wild Country very thin of Inhabitants, and consequently not full of Towns; with several Woods and Wasts in their Way, very difficult to Travel, and this oblig'd them several times to take Guides by the Way, so that they made up with their Guides always Eight, sometimes Ten in Company, very well arm'd, and tolerably well mounted.
THE third Day after they were past the
Oder,
and began to come out of that Part of
Pomeren
which lies East of
Stetin,
and is call'd the
Ducal Pomeren,
they observ'd a Man mean in Apparel, but appearing something more than meerly what Poverty represents, travelling the same Way as they did, but always keeping at about the distance of half a Mile from them on their left Hand.
HE travelled on Foot, but kept full pace with them, and often was some way before them; whether he was in a Track or Road, as they were, they could not tell, but he kept such an equal Distance as if the Road he was in was Parallel with theirs; indeed sometimes they lost sight of him for a while; yet they were sure to find him again at some little distance, either before them or behind them; and this continued three Days before they took any extraordinary notice of him.
BUT the third Day they were a little more curious about him, and one of them (with a Servant attending) rode from the Company, intending to speak with him; but as soon as he saw them come towards him, the Stranger fled farther to the Left from them; still however keeping on his Way forward, but plainly shunning being spoken with; so the Gentleman and his Servant came back again, having made no Discovery; except this, that the Stranger kept no Path or Track, that there wa
no Road or Way in the Place where he marcht, bu
that he only kept at such a certain distance from them; from whence they concluded that he was only some poor Man that was travelling ove
that wild Country, and having gotten some Intelligence of their Journey kept pace with them, to guide him the Way: But two Things amuse
them strangely that Third Day of their Travel.
1. THEY observed that Riding over a large Plain, where there were some few scattering House
which lay on the other side of the Road South, (for he kept all along (before) on the North side o
them) I say, passing over this Plain, the Travelle
keeping a little behind them cross'd the Road, and going up to one of the said scatter'd Houses, knock'd at the Door and went in.
UPON this they resolv'd if possible to get some knowledge of him; so th
y rode all up to another of those Houses: Here calling to the Inhabitants, tho' it was no Inn or House of Entertainment, but a Poor Husbandman's Cottage, they got Leave to refresh themselves, having Provisions and Wine of their own, and giving the good Wife a
mall Bottle of about half a Pint of Brandy at part
ng, the People were abundantly satisfied.
HERE talking of the Traveller, and at what House he call'd in the Village, (for tho' the Houses stood stragling over the waste, yet as there were near twenty of them in all it was call'd a Town) here, I say, talking of the Traveller and of his knocking at the Door of one of the Houses, the Woman of the House understanding their Language, hastily ask'd, What, says she, have you seen the
Owke Mouraski?
Who she meant, they did not know; but describing
he Person to her, and she also to them, they began to come to an Understanding. Did he not keep Pace with you,
says she,
on the North side of the Road all the Way? Yes, said they.
AY,
says she,
and had you offer'd to ride towards
m, you would always have found him as far off as
first.
THAT amused them. Why, what is he?
says one
f the Gentlemen.
NAY we know not,
says she,
nor desire to
now.
WHY so?
says he.
BECAUSE,
says she,
he brings no good luck; pray at what House do ye say he knockt at the Door?
THEY describ'd the House, at which the Woman and all the Children fell a crying, and making
great sign of Sorrow.
WHAT'S the Matter,
says the Gentlemen,
what
re you disturb'd at?
O'
says the good Woman,
that
Owke Mouraski
never calls at any House in the Town, but some or other of the Family dies that Year.
BY this it seem'd that he came often that Way,
o he ask'd the Woman how often he was used to
e seen thereabouts.
SHE answered, Not often, perhaps once or twic
a Year; and
says she,
sometimes he passes by an
calls or knocks at no House in his Way, and the
adds she,
we are glad to see him.
WHY,
says the Gentleman,
what do you ta
him to be the
Devil?
NO, no,
says she,
not the
Devil,
no, he is a ver
good Man.
BUT why are you so afraid of him then?
says
BECAUSE,
says she,
he knows more than
the Men in the World; he knows if any o
is to die, and then he knocks at the House to
them to be ready.
N. B.
Here the Woman enquired more exac
about the House where the Traveller called, a
the Gentleman going to the Door pointed it
to her, at which she left off crying, and th
rejoyc'd as much as she had lamented before;
it seems she had mistaken it for another Ho
which stood near it, and where her own Fath
and Mother lived.
THEN he asked her what Countryman the Tr
veller was.
SHE said, they did not know that, for no Bo
ever spoke to him, they were afraid.
WHY,
says he,
when he knocks at the Doo
don't ye speak to him?
NO,
says she,
nor does he speak a word; but ju
as he goes away he will sometimes say—repeating a word which I do not remember, b
signifies
be comforted;
and then they are sure th
Person shall be sick only, but shall not die.
BUT,
says he,
do they entertain him, or give hi
any thing?
YES,
says she,
they set Bread before him, an
he takes a small Piece in his Hand; but no Bod
can say they ever saw him Eat.
BUT what do you take him to be then?
says he
A GOOD Angel, says the Woman; adding ano
er hard Word of their own, signifying that he
id no Hurt to any body; and, says she, to some Families he is a Messenger of Good. All this gave them Amusement, but no particular Satisfaction, and rather prompted their Curiosity to make farther En
uiry about him. After about an Hour's refreshing themselves at this poor Cottage, they proceeded on their Journey, and having rode about two Miles, they saw their old Object again on the left or north
ide of their Road, as before, and he kept in their sight in the same manner all the rest of the Day.
THERE was a Town, I think 'tis call'd
Kintzigen,
or some such like Name, at a few Miles distance, and where their Guide told them they should lodge, and before they came to the Town there was a River, not a great or very wide River, but too large to ride thro' it, and at the Town there is a ve
y good stone Bridge; built, as they were told, by
he Ancestors of the Kings of
Prussia,
that is, as I suppose, the old Dukes of
Pomerania.
ACCORDINGLY they pass'd this Bridge, and
hen went into the Town. It was most natural to them to observe what Course the Traveller would take to pass the River, who as he went on must necessarily come to the Bank, at near a Mile distance from the Town, so they halted a little, one of them alighting from his Horse, as if something had required their stay, that the Traveller might go on before them, which he did.
OBSERVING him as narrowly as possible, they follow'd him (with their Eyes) down to the very Edge of the River, nor did he stop or take notice of them, tho' they saw him plainly to the very Bank; but here not being able to keep him exactly in their sight every Moment, they immediately saw him going up the rising Grounds, on the other side, without being capable of giving the least accou
how he pass'd the Water.
THIS was the other Passage, which, I say, am
sed them very much.
AS soon as they came into the Town where the
were to lodge, their Guide looking beyond th
House where they stop'd, called to them, Lo
yonder, says he, is your Traveller sitting at th
Door of such an Inn or House, pointing to th
Place; and there they saw him plain at the Door
ting a piece of Bread, and having a Pot or Jug
Polish
Beer standing by him. One of the Gentleme
(resolving, if possible, to speak with him) walk'd up
his Boots to the Place, seeing him sitting all the wh
he was going, 'till coming very near, and happe
ing to turn his Eyes but one Moment from hi
when he look'd again, the Man was gone.
HE ask'd the People of the House about hi
but they knew nothing of him, only that as th
said there was such a Man, but he was gone,
they neither knew who he was, or whither he w
gone.
THEN he ask'd them if they did not know th
Owke Mouraski;
they said Yes, they had heard
but they did not know him.
WHY,
says the Gentleman,
don't you know th
this was he that sat upon the Bench?
NO,
they said,
that could not be he, that was
poor Countryman, a Traveller.
THE Gentleman assured them that was he;
which they seemed very much concerned, but seeme
very willing not to believe him.
WHY,
says he,
are you afraid of him?
NO,
says they,
but we don't like his coming t
us, for, they say, he brings no good to the Fami
where he comes.
BUT this Discourse ended, and the Gentlema
gain'd no Information there.
THE next Day they had his Company again, as before; and passing by a single House upon the Road, near a Village, but standing quite out of the Road, they observ'd the Traveller to stop at that House, and go in.
BY this time their Curiosity was very much heighten'd, and they began to be something uneasy about him; it was not very pleasant, they thought, to have the Devil so near them, and they could think him to be nothing less; so they all turn'd back, and resolv'd to go to the House, and if he was there to speak with him, if possible; and if not, to inform themselves as much as they could about him.
WHEN they came within about a quarter of a Mile of the House, they saw the Traveller on the other side, having gone out at the back Door, and travelling forward as unconcern'd, and taking no notice of them, just as before.
THIS surprized them; however they went up to the House, and enquired about him, as they did before: but here they receiv'd a quite differing Account of him; here the People bless'd him, called him by the same Name, but took him for their good Angel, (as they call'd him,) that he always brought them good Tidings, that they were sure it would fare well with them after he had been with them; and a great deal more.
BUT to bring this Story to a conclusion, so far as it serves the present Occasion: This Spectre, or Apparition, for so I must call it, attended them 'till they came within two Leagues of
Dantzick,
where the Gentlemen separated, after a Day or two staying in the City; the three Gentlemen going from thence to
Mariemburgh
in
Polish Prussia,
and our Traveller was left in
Dantzick.
WHILE he was here a Man made acquaintance
ith him who was bound to
Koningsberg,
and our Traveller bein
resolv'd to go for
Petersburg,
was glad to have this new Acquaintance, which he had, as we may say, pick'd up, to go with him; so they embark'd together in a small Hoy, upon the Sea or Lake call'd the
Frischaff,
which carry'd them to
Koningsberg.
He gives a strange tho' diverting Account of his Conversation with this Man, who told him so many Stories of several kinds, that it amaz'd him; and he look'd as if he knew all the World, and all the People in it, and all things that had happened in it, or would happen in it for ever to come, and something longer.
HOWEVER, as the
Frischaff
is not above three or four Days sail, and they were quickly at
Koningsberg,
the Conversation was soon over, and this new Acquaintance ended; but the Traveller continuing his Journey, enquired in the City if there were any Passengers or Gentleman travelling towards
Riga,
either by Land or by Sea; and being directed to a House where Strangers used to resort, he found there several People bound for
Riga,
some Merchants, some Country-People, some SeafaringPeople, but most enclin'd to go by Sea, there being Vessels always ready at the
Pillan,
which is a Town at the Mouth of the
Haff,
ready to Sail for
Riga,
if Goods or Passengers presented.
BUT among them all there was an ancient Man, habited like a
Russ,
or rather like a
Greek
Priest, with a long venerable Beard, a purple Robe or long Garment, such as the
Russians
wear, a high stiffcrown'd Furr-cap, and a close Vest about his Body, girded with a Silk Sash; and he declar'd himself for
Riga;
but that being an old Man, he would not go by Sea, but that he had two Horses in the City besides his own, having brought two Servants with him from
Grodno
in
Lithuania,
but one of them had left him; so he offer'd the Traveller to lend him one of his Horses for his Company, if he would travel with him to
Mittan
in
Courland,
and thence to
Riga.
IT will take up too much Room here, to give a full Account of the Travels of this wandring Person, and how in almost every Place he found a new Shape ready to thrust into his Company, and that for four Years intimate Ramble; but that at last, being in
Turkey,
his latest Companion discover'd to him that he was an Inhabitant of an invisible Region, that he had been in his Company in all his Journey in all the differing Figures that he had met with, and that in a Word he was the same Person that embark'd with him in
Ireland,
landed with him in
Norway,
left him at
Gottenburg,
found him at
Straelsund,
dogged him upon the way to
Dantzick,
sailed with him to
Koningsberg,
lent him a Horse to go to
Riga,
and so on; and that he had only put on so many Shapes and Appearances, that he might not be uneasy with him, and tired of his Company.
HOW they went on together after that, and the Conversation that pass'd between them after the Discovery; how familiar Friends they were for some Months after, and what Reasons he gave why he would never believe that it was a Devil, but a good and kind Spirit sent to take Care of him, and assist him in his Travels; all that, as foreign to my present Purpose, I omit. Perhaps the Story may see the World by itself, and well worth reading it will be, if it does. But of that by the by.
AS I do not here enter into the Authority of the Story, (tho', as I said, I have seen it in Manuscript many Years ago) so I have no more to say from it than this, that if such good Spirits are conversant with Mankind, and resident in the invisible Spaces, we know not where; if we have reason to believe they are not Angels, and yet really by their Actions cannot be Devils; then it follows that there are a certain middle Species of Spirits in Being; let them be what they will, let them be employ'd, directed, limited and restrain'd, how and in what manner he pleases who is their Maker, and who ought to be their Guide and Director; that's not the matter, nor can it be enquired into here; the Question before us is only whether such there are, or no?
NOW if it be granted that there are such, and that brings it down to the present Case, if there are such, then all Apparitions are not Devils; no, nor are they walking disturbed Souls of Men lately embodied and departed: a Notion empty and not to be defended; incongruous, and inconsistent either with Scripture, the Christian Religion, or Reason, and founded only in the bewildred Imaginations and Dreams of ignorant People, who neither know how or by what Rules to judge of such Things, or are capable of right Conceptions about them; who do not give themselves time to ex
rcise that little Power of thinking that they are Masters of, and so are left to the Darkness of their own Fancies, thinking every thing they see is a Devil, meerly because they know not what else to make of it, what other Name to give it, or that it can be possible any thing but Devils or Ang
ls can come of such Errands.
BY this Mistake they give the Devil the Honour of many an Action, which he is too much a Devil to have any hand in; ascribe Works of Charity and Benevolence to him; make him move injurious and knavish Men to do Justice, Thieves to make Restitution, cruel and inhuman Wretches to be merciful, Cheats to turn honest, Robbers to desist, and Sinners to repent.
STORY tells us, that
Hind
that famous out-law'd Robber, the most famous since
Robin Hood,
met a Spectre upon the Road, in a Place called
StangateHole,
in
Hunti
gtonshire,
where he used to commit his Robberies; and famous for many a Highway Robbery since that.
THE Spectre appeared in the Habit of a plain Country Grazier; and as the Devil, you may suppose, knew very well the Haunts and Retreats that this
Hind
used to frequent; he comes into the Inn, and taking up his Quarters, puts up his Horse, and makes the Hostler carry up his Portmanteau, which was very heavy, into his Chamber; when he was in the Chamber he opens his Pack, takes out his Money, which seemed to be in several small Parcels, and puts it together into no more than two Bags, that it might make an equal weight to each side of his Horse, and make as much show of it as possible.
HOUSES that entertain Rogues are seldom without Spies to give them due Intelligence;
Hind
gets Notice of the Money, sees the Man, sees the Horse, that he may know him again; finds out which Way the Countryman travels, meets him at
Stangate-Hole,
just in the bottom between the two Hills, and stops him, telling him he must deliver his Money.
WHEN he nam'd the Money the Grazier feigns himself surprized, puts on the Pannick, trembles, and is frighted, and with a pitiful Tone says,
I am
(as you see)
but a poor Man; indeed, Sir, I have no Money;
[there the Devil shew'd that he could speak Truth when it serv'd his Occasion.] O you
old Dog,
says he, have you no Money? Come, open your Cloak-bag, and give me the two Bags, one on one side your Saddle, and one on t' other: what, have you no Money, and yet your Bags were too heavy to lie all on one side? Come, come, deliver, or I'll cut you to Pieces this Moment. (There he was out too, and threatened more than he cou'd do.) Well, the poor Devil whines and cries, and tells him he must be mistaken, he took him for another Man sure, for indeed he had no Money.
COME, come, says
Hind,
come along with me; and so he takes his Horse by the Bridle and leads him out of the Road into the Woods, which are very thick there on both sides, and the business was too long to stand in the open Road all the while to do it.
WHEN he had gotten into the Woods, Come, Mr. Grazier, says he, dismount, and give me the two Bags this Minute. In short he dismounts the poor Man, cuts his Bridle and his Girts, and opens his Cloak-bag, where he finds the two Bags.
Very well,
says
Hind,
here they are, and heavy as before; so he throws them on the Ground, cuts them open, in one he finds a
Halter,
and in the other a piece of solid Brass in the exact shape of a Gibbet, and the Countryman behind him call'd to him,
There's your Fate,
HIND,
take care.
IF he was surprized at what he had found in the Bags, (for there was not a Farthing of Money but in the Bag where the Halter was, of which presently,) I say, if he was surprized at what he found in the Bags, he was more so at hearing the Countryman call him by his Name, and turn'd about to kill him, because he thought he was known; but he had no Life nor Soul left in him, when turning about, as I say, to kill the Fellow, he saw nothing but the poor Horse. He sunk down to the Earth, and lay there a considerable time; how long, that (being alone) he could not tell, but it must be some Minutes. At last coming to himself he goes away terrified to the last degree, and ashamed, wondring what it should be.
I HINTED that there was no Money but one Piece found, which the Story says was
Scots,
a Piece call'd in
Scotland a Fourteen,
in
English, a Thirteen Pence Half-Penny,
to pay the Hangman with; from whence it may be suppos'd that Saying is used to this Day,
that Thirteen Pence Half-Penny is Hangman's Wages.
NOW tho' the Story has some Mirth in it, and may with the many Stories of that Robber be laid by as Romances, yet it is thus far to my Purpose; That this was a Spirit, that must be acknowledg'd. A good Angel from Heaven wou'd hardly have been sent to give him such an ineffectual insignificant Hint, which had no sufficient Effect, whatever it might have just then to surprize him, for he rob'd continually after that, and was hang'd at last for it.
THE
Devil,
as before, cannot rationally be suspected in the Case; for why should the
Devil
both bauk him, threaten and caution him? threaten him with hanging him, fright him with the Gibbet and Haltar, and caution him to take care. This was not for the
Devil
's Purpose, it was more for his Interest to have him go on, though he came to the Gallows at last.
IF then it was neither
good
Angel or
Bad,
what must it be, and how must we judge of it? what Name must we give him, and who was this Country Graz
er?
TO come off of this, some will have it be, that it is the
Devil
under Constraint, the
Devil
in Commission, that he is sent on such Errands by a superior Power that has him at Command; and that when he is directed to do
so
and
so,
he must obey, he dare do no otherwise. This is begging the Question in the grossest manner imaginable. Besides, why the
Devil
sent of such Errands?
1. IT
is not probable,
it is not to be gather'd from the ordinary Course of Providence. The
Devil
indeed was permitted, or, if you will have it, he was commission'd to strip and afflict Poor
Job;
and he was again permitted to enter into the Herd of Swine; but this does not amount to a Paralel: In both those Examples he was only employ'd as an Instrument, and, as we may express it, in his ordinary Business, in the way of his Calling, that is to say in doing Mischief: But here he is suppos'd employ'd in doing Good, cautioning a harden'd Rogue to leave off his wicked Course, and escape the Gallows. Now this is quite out of
Satan
's road of Business; 'tis also out of the ordinary course of Heaven's Conduct, for when do we find God employing the
Devil
in any good Work? I do not remember one clear Example of it, in all the sacred History.
2. IT would argue that Heaven should want Instruments, which is not at all just to infer; will they pretend, that, for want of more proper Agents, God should employ the
Devil
to save a High-way Man from the Ga
lows? and, which is more than all the rest, should not bring it to pass neither? But if you will allow that this was one of the Imaginary species of Spirits, who, willing to save a poor Wretch that was running head long to the
Devil,
took all these Measures to alarm him, and bring him to just Reflections, but was not able to reclaim him, was not admitted to give him Notice, when he was about the fatal Act he was surpriz'd in, or to warn him when the Officers came to apprehend him, this seems rational.
IF the
Devil
should be suppos'd to be employ'd in such a Work as this was, and so contrary to his Inclination, either he would perform it like himself, treacherous and unfaithful, or at best, reluctant and unwilling. Perhaps you will say he durst not perform it treacherously and unfaithfully; and it may be not: But why must it be suppos'd Heaven should employ his wor
t and wickedest Creature, whom he had long since disbanded, and cast out of his Service, rejecting him as unworthy to be employ'd; and who, if he was employ'd, and durst not decline the Work, yet, it must be acknowledg'd, would obey with the utmost
version and Unwillingness; when at the same time Millions of faithful Agents, willing and chearfully-obed
ent Servants, are ready at command
to execute his Will with the utmost Vigour and Fidelity?
BUT to leave arguing upon Inscrutables, let us come to Narration of Facts.
I HAVE another Account received from a particular Acq
aintance in a neighbouring Nation. I could name Persons and Places in a more exact manner to these Accounts; but some Reasons of State forbid us at this time to enter into the Circumstances of Families. For where Matters of Apparition and Witchcraft are the Substance of the Histor
, it has never been found reasonable to name Hou
s and Families; and as this Apology will be all
w'd to be just, I expect it will be accepted by the R
ader in all the Examples I shall give of this kind.
A CERTAIN Person of Quality, being with his Family at his Country-Seat for the SummerSeason, according to his ordinary Custom, was ob
g
d up
n a par
icular Occas
on of Health to leave his said Seat, and go to
Aix La Chapplle,
to u
e the Baths there: This was it seems in the Month of
August,
being two Months sooner than the usual time of his returning to Court for the Winter.
UPON thus removing sooner than ordinar
, he did not then di
furnish the Ho
se, as was the ordinary Usage of the Family, or carry away his Plate and other valuable Goods, but left his Steward and three Servants to look after the House and the
Padre
or
Parish Priest
was desired to keep his Eye upon them too, and to succour them from the Village adjoining, if there was Occasion.
THE Steward had no publick Notice of any Harm appro
ching; but for three or four Days successively he had secret strange Impulses of Dread and Terror upon his Mind that the House was beset, and was to be assaulted by a Troop of Banditti, or as we call them here,
House-breakers,
who would murther them all, and after they had robb'd the House, would set it on Fire; and this follow'd him so fast, and made such Impression upon his Mind, that he could think of nothing else.
UPON this the third Day he went to the
Padre,
or
Parish Priest,
and made his Complaint; upon which the Priest and the Steward had the following Discourse, the Steward beginning thus:
FATHER, said he,
you know what a Charge I have in my Custody, and how my Lord has intrusted me with the whole House, and all the rich Furniture is standing; I am in great Perplexity about it, and come to you for your Advice.
WHY, what's the Matter? you have not heard of any Mischief threatned, have you?
NO, I have heard of nothing; but I have such Apprehensions, and it has made such Impression upon me for these three Days, that *
* Here he told him the particulars of the Uneasiness he had been in, and added, besides what is said above, that one of the Servants had the same, and had told him of it, tho' he had communicated nothing to that Servant in the least.
IT may be, you dream'd of these things?
NO indeed,
Padre,
I am sure I could not dream of them, for I could never sleep.
WHAT can I do for you? What would you have me do?
I WOULD have you first of all tell me what you think of these things, and whether there is any Notice to be taken of them * —
* Here the
Padre
examin'd him more strictly about the Particulars, and sent for the Servant and examin'd him apart; and being a very judicious honest Man, he answer'd him thus:
LOOK you, Mr.
Steward,
I do not lay a very great Stress upon such things, but yet I don't think they are to be wholly slighted; and therefore I would have you be upon your Guard, and if you have the least Alarm let me know.
THAT is poor Satisfaction to me to be upon my Guard, if I am over-power'd. I suppose, if any Villains have a Design to attack me, they know my Strength.
SHALL I reinforce your Garrison?
I WISH you would.
WELL, I'll send you some Men with FireArms, to lye there this Night.
ACCORDINGLY the Priest sent him five stout Fellows with Fuzees, and a dozen of Hand-Granadoes with them, and while they continu'd in the House nothing appear'd; but the
Padre
finding nothing come of it, and being loth to put his Patron to so continued a Charge, sent for the Steward, and in a chiding angry Tone, told him his Mind.
I KNOW not how you will answer it to my Lord, but you have put him to a prodigious Expence here, in keeping a Garrison in the House all this while.
I AM sorry for it,
Padre;
but what can I do?
DO! Why, compose your Mind, and keep up your Heart, and don't let my Lord spend two or three hundred
Livres
here, to cure you of the Vapours.
WHY, you said your self,
Padre,
that it was not to be wholly slighted?
THAT'S true; but I said also, I would not lay too great a Stress upon it.
WHAT must I do then?
DO! Why, dismiss the Men again, and take what Care you can; and if you have any Notice of Mischief that may be depended upon, let me have Notice too, and I'll assist you.
WELL then, the good Angel must protect my Lord's House, I see, for no body else will.
Amen,
says the
Padre,
I trust the good Spirits will keep you all: So he bless'd the Steward, (in his way) and the Steward went away grumbling very much that he took away his Garrison, and left him to the good Spirits.
IT seems, for all this, that the Steward's Notices, however secret, and from he knew not who, wer
not of so light an Import as the
Padre
though
they were; for as he had this Impulse upon hi
Mind that such Mischief was brewing, so it reall
was, as you will see presently.
A SET of Robbers, who had Intelligence th
the Nobleman with his Family was gone to
A
La Chapelle,
but that the House was left furnish'
and all the Plate and the things of Value were le
in it, had form'd a Design to plunder the Hous
and afterwards to burn it, just as the S
eward h
said.
THEY were two and twenty strong in the whol
and thoroughly arm'd for Mischief. Yet while th
additional Force, which the
Padre
had plac'd t
reinforce the Steward, were in the House, o
whom, including the other four, three sat up eve
Night, they did not dare to attempt it.
BUT as soon as they heard that the Guard w
dismiss'd, they form'd their Design anew, and,
make the Story short, they attack'd the House
bout Midnight. Having, I suppose, proper I
struments about them, they soon broke open a Wi
dow, and twelve of them got into the Hou
the rest standing Centinel at such Places as th
thought proper, to prevent any Succours from t
Town.
THE poor Steward and his three Men were
great Distress; they were indeed above Stairs, a
had barricadoed the Stair-Cases as well as th
could, hearing the Fellows were breaking in; but when they found they were got in, they expected nothing but to be kept above Stairs 'till the House was plunder'd, and then to be burnt alive.
BUT it seems the good Spirits the Priest spoke of, or some body else, made better Provision for them, as you will see presently.
WHEN the first of the Fellows were gotten in
o the House, and had open'd the Door, and let in as many of their Gang as they thought fit, which (as above) was twelve in Number they shut the Door
gain, and shut themselves in; leaving two without the Door, who had a Watch-word, to go and call more Help if they wanted it.
THE twelve ranging over the great Hall, found
ittle there to gratify their greedy Hopes; but brea
ing next into a fine well-furnish'd Parlour, where
he Family usually sat, Behold, in a great easy Chair, sat a grave ancient Man, with a long full
ottom'd black Wig, a rich brocaded Gown, and Lawyer's lac'd Band, but looking as if in great
urprize, seem'd to make Signs to them for Mercy,
ut said not a Word, nor they much to him, ex
ept that one of them starting, cry'd, HA!
who's
ere?
IMMEDIATELY the Rogues fell to pulling
own the fine Damask Curtains in the Windows,
nd other rich Things; but One said to Another
ith an Oath, Make the old Dog tell us where the
late is hid; and another said,
if he won't tell you,
ut his Throat immediately.
THE ancient Gentleman, with Signs of En
eaty, as if begging for his Life, and in a great
right, points to a Door; which being open'd
ould let them into another Parlour, which was
he Gaming-Room, and serv'd as a Drawing-Room
o the first Parlour; and by another Door open'd
to the great
Salon,
which look'd into the Gardens. They were some time forcing their way into that Room; but when they came in, they were surpriz'd to see the same old Man, in the same Dress, and the same Chair, sitting at the upper end of the Room, making the same Gestures, and silent Entreaties, as before.
THEY were not much concern'd at first, but thought he had come in by another Door, and began to swear at him, for putting them to the Trouble of breaking open the Door, when there was another way into the Room. But, another wickeder than the first, said, with a heavy Curse,
the old Dog was got in by another Door,
on purpose to convey away the Plate and Money, and bad knock his Brains out. Upon which the first swore at him that if he did not immediately show them where i
was, he was a dead Dog that Moment.
UPON this furious Usage, he points to the Doo
which opened into the
Salon,
which being a thi
Pair of Folding-Doors open'd presently, and i
they run into the great
Salon;
when looking at th
farther end of the Room, there sat the ancien
Man again, in the same Dress and Posture as before.
UPON this Sight, those that were foremos
among them cry'd out aloud, Why, this old Fellow deals with the
Devil
sure, he's here afore u
again.
BUT the Case differ'd a little now; for whe
they came out of the first Parlour, being eager fo
the Plate and Money, and willing to find it ALL
the whole Body of them run out into the secon
Parlour; but now the ancient Man pointing to th
third Room, they did not all immediately rush ou
into the
Salon,
but four of them were left behin
in the Parlour or Gaming-Room mention'd jus
now, not by order or design, but accidentally.
BY this Means they fell into the following Confusion; for while some of them call'd out from the
Salon,
that the
old Rogue was there before them again;
others answer'd out of the Parlour, How the
Devil
can that be? why, he is here still in his Chair, and all his Rubbish: with that, two of them run back into the first Parlour, and there they saw him aga
sitting as before. Notwithstanding all this, far from guessing what the Occasion should be, they fancied they were gamed, or suggested that they were but jested with, and that there were three several old Men all dress'd up in the same Habits for the very same Occasion, and to mock them, as if to let them know that the Men above in the House were not afraid of them.
WELL,
says one of the Gang,
I'll dispatch one of the old Rogues, I'll teach one of them how to make Game at us: upon which, raising his Fuzee as high as his Arm would let him, he struck at the antient Man, as he thought it was, with all his Force; but behold! there was nothing in the Chair, and his Fuzee flew into a thousand Pieces, wounding his Hand most grievously, and a Piece of the Barrel striking him on the Head, broke his Face, and knock'd him down backward.
AT the same time, one of those in the
Salon
running at the antient Man that sat there, swore he would tear his fine brocaded Gown off, and then he would cut his Throat: but when he went to take hold of him, there was nothing in the Chair.
THIS happening in both Rooms, they were all in most horrible Confusion, and cry'd out in both Rooms at the same Moment, in a terrible manner.
AS they were in the utmost Amazement at the thing, so after the first Clamour they stood looking upon one another for some time, without speaking a Word more; but at length one said, Let's go back into the first Parlour and see if that's gone too; and with that Word, two or three that were on that side, run into the Room, and there sat the antient Figure as at first; upon which they called to the Company, and told them, they believed they were all bewitch'd, and 'twas certain they only fancy'd they saw a Man in the other Rooms, for there was the real old Man sitting where he was at first.
UPON this they all run thither, saying, they would see whether it was the
Devil
or no; and one of them said, Let me come; I'll speak to him; 'tis not the first time I have talk'd with the
Devil.
NAY,
says another,
so will I; and then added with an Oath, Gentlemen that were upon such Business as they were, ought not to be afraid to speak to the
Devil.
A THIRD (for now their Courage began to rise again)
calls aloud,
Let it be the
Devil,
or the
Devil
's Grandmother, I'll parley with it, I am resolv'd I'll know what it is: and with that he runs forward before the rest, and crossing himself, says to the antient Man in the Chair,
in the Name of St
Francis,
and St.
—(and so reckon'd up two or three Saints Names that he depended were enough to fright the
Devil) What art thou?
THE Figure never mov'd or spoke; but looking at its Face, they presently found, that instead of his pitiful Looks, and seeming to beg for his Life, as he did before, he was chang'd into the most horrible Monster that ever was seen, and such as I cannot describe; and that instead of his Hands held up to them to cry for Mercy, there were two large fiery Daggers, not flaming, but red hot, and pointed with a livid bluish Flame, and in a word, the
Devil
or something else, in the most frightful Shape that can be imagin'd. And it was my Opinion, when I first read the Story, the Rogues were so frighted, that their Imagination afterwards form'd a thing in their Thoughts more terrible than the
Devil
himself could appear in.
BUT be that as it will, his Figure was such, that when they came up to him, not a Man of them had Courage to look in his Face, much less talk to him; and he that was so bold, and thus came arm'd with half a Regiment of Saints in his Mouth, fell down flat on the Ground, having fainted away (as they call it) with the Fright.
THE Steward and his three Men were all this while above stairs, in the utmost Concern at the Danger they were in, and expecting every Moment the Rogues would strive to force their Way up, and cut their Throats; They heard the confus'd Noise that the Fellows made below, but cou'd not imagine what it was, and much less the Meaning of it: but while it lasted it came into the Mind of one of the Servants, that as it was certain the Fellows were all in the Parlour, and very busy there, whatever it was about, he might go up to the Top of the House and throw one of their Hand-Granadoes down the Chimney, and perhaps it might do some Execution among them.
THE Steward approved of this Design, only with this Addition; if we throw down but into one Parlour, they will all fly into the Gamingroom, and so it will do no Execution; but, says he, take three, and put down one into each Chimney, for the Funnels go up all together, and then they will not know which Way to run.
WITH these Orders two of the Men, who very well knew the Place, went up, and firing the Fuzees of the Granadoes, they put one Shell into each of the Funnels, and down they went roaring in the Chimney with a terrible Noise, and (which was more than all the rest) they came down into the Parlour where almost all the Rogues were, just at the Moment that the Fellow that spoke to the Spectre was frighted into a swooning Fit, and fallen on the Floor.
THE whole Gang was frighted beyond Expression; some run back into the gaming Parlour whence they came, and some run to the other Door which they came in at from the Hall; but all, at the same Instant, heard the
Devil,
as they thought it was, coming down the Chimney.
HAD it been possible that the Fuzees of the Granadoes could have continued burning in the Funnel of the Chimnies, where the Sound was a thousand times doubled by the hollow of the Place, and where the Soot burning fell down in Flakes of Fire, the Rogues had been frighted out of their Understandings; imagining, that as they had one dreadful
Devil
just among them in the Chair, so there were ten thousand more coming down the Chimney to destroy them all; and perhaps to carry them all away.
BUT that could not be; so after they had been sufficiently scared with the Noise, down came the Shells into the Rooms, all three together: It happen'd as luckily as if it had been contriv'd on purpose, that the Shell which came down into the Parlour where they all were, burst as soon as ever it came to the Bottom, so that it did not give them time o much as to think what it might be, much less to know that it was really a Hand-Granadoe; but as it did great Execution among them, so they as certainly believ'd it was the
Devil,
as they believed the Spectre in the Chair was the
Devil.
THE Noise of the bursting of the Shell was so sudden and so unexpected, that it confounded them, and the Mischief was also terrible; the Man that fainted and who lay on the Ground was killed outright, and two more that stood just before the Chimney; five of them were desperately wounded, whereof one had both his Legs broke, and was so desp
rate, that when the People from the Country came in, he shot himself thro' the Head with his own Pistol, to prevent his being taken.
HAD the rest of them fled out of the Parlour into the two other Rooms, 'tis probable they had been wounded by the other Shells; but as they heard the Noise in both the outer Rooms, and besides were under the Surprise of its being not a Hand-Granado, but the
Devil,
they had no Power to stir; nor, if they had, could they know which way to go to be safe: so they stood stock still 'till both the Shells in the other Rooms burst also; at which being confounded, as well with the Noise as with the Smoke, and expecting more
Devils
down the Chimney where they stood, they run out all that Way, and made to the Door, helping their wounded Men along as well as they could; whereof one died in the Fields after they were got away.
IT must be observ'd, when they were thus alarmed with they knew not, what coming down the Chimney, they cryed out, that the
Devil
in the Chair had sent for more
Devils
to destroy them; and 'twas suppos'd that had the Shells never come down they would all have run away. But certain it was, that the artificial
Devil
joyning so critically as to Time with the visionary
Devils,
or whatever they were, compleated their Disorder, and forced them to fly.
WHEN they came to the Door to the two Men, they made signals for their Comrades, who were posted in the Avenues to the House, to come to their Relief; who accordingly came up, and assisted to carry off their Wounded Men: but after hearing the Relation of those that had been in the House, and calling a short Council a little way from the Door, (which, tho' dark as it was, the Steward and his Men could perceive from the Window,) they all resolved to make off.
THERE was another concurring Accident, which tho' it does not relate to my Subject, I must set down to compleat the Story,
viz.
That two of these Granadoes by the Fire of their Fuzes set the Chimneys on Fire; the third being in a Funnel that had no Soot in it, the Room having not been so much used, did not. This Fire flaming out at the top, as is usual, was seen by some Body in the Village, who run immediately and allarmed the Priest or
P
d
,
and h
again rais'd the whole Town, believing there was some
hief fallen out, and that the House was set on Fir
.
HAD the rest of the Gang not
solv'd to make off, as is said above, they had certain
fallen into the Hands of the Townsmen, who ran immediately with what Arms came next to Hand, to the House. But the Rogues were fled, leaving, as above, three of their Company dead in the House, and one in the Field.
I MUST confess, I cannot draw many Inferences to my purpose from the Particulars of this Story, which however I have told for your Diversion; but from the General I may; namely, This Apparition was certainly not in favour of the Robbery; and if all the Particulars are true in Fact as related, we can hardly with Justice place them to Satan's Account. Take him as a Destroyer and a Father of Mischief, he could not be suppos'd to have appear'd to prevent the Robbing the House, or to assist the Steward in the House in defence of his Master's Goods: what Good Spirit this must be, and from whence, is then a remaining Question, and that brings it to my purpose again.
I SHALL give you another Story out of more Authentick Records, tho' related in a different manner by several People, as their several Interests inclin'd them.
JAMES
IV. King of
Scotland
being perswaded by the Clergy
and the Bishops to break with
England,
and declare War against
Henry
VIII, contrary to the Advice of his Nobility and Gentry, who were to bear both the Expence and the Blows of a Battel;
I say,
the King, thus over-ruled by the Clergy, raises an Army, and prepared to march to the Frontiers; but the Evening before he was to take the Field, as he was at
Vespers
in the Chappel Royal at his Palace of
Lithgo
or
Linlithgow,
an antient Man appear'd to him with a long Head of Hair of the Colour of Amber, (some Accounts would represent it as a Glory painted round a Head by the Limners) and of a venerable Aspect, having on a rustick Dress, that is to say, in that Country Language, a belted Plaid girded round with a Linnen Sash. This Man was (as it seems by the Story) perceived by the King before he came close up to him, and before he was seen by any of the People; and the King also perceiv'd him to be earnestly looking at him, and at the Noble Persons about him, as if desiring to speak to him.
AFTER some little time he press'd thro' the Crowd, and came close up to the King, and, without any Bow or Reverence made to his Person, told him with a low Voice, but such as the King could hear very distinctly, That he was sent to him to warn him, not to proceed in the War which he had undertaken at the Sollicitation of the Priests, and in Favour of the
French;
and that if he did go on with it he should not prosper. He added al
o, that he should abstain from his Lewd and Unchristian Practices with wicked Women, for that if he did not, it would issue in his D
struction.
HAVING deliver'd his Message he immediately vanish'd; for tho' his pressing up to the King had put the whole Assembly in disorder, and that every one's Eye was fix'd upon him, while he was delivering his Message to the King; yet not one could see him any more, or perceive his going back from the King; which put them all into the utmost Consternation.
THE King himself also was in great Confusion; he would fain have believ'd the Spectre was a Man, and would have spoken to it again, and would have ask'd some Questions of him. But the People constantly and with one Voice affirm'd that it was an Angel, and that it immediately disappear
d after the Message was deliver'd; that they plainly saw him and felt him thrusting to get by them as he went up, but not one could see him go back.
THE King upon this was satisfied that 'twas not a real Body, but an Apparition; and it put him into a great Consternation, and caused him to delay his March a-while, and call several Councils of his Nobility to consider what to do.
BUT the King being still over-perswaded by those Engines who were employ'd by Monsieur LA MOTTE, the
French
Ambassador; continu'd in his Designs for a War, and advanc'd afterwards with his Army to the
Tweed,
which was in those times the usual Boundary of the two Kingdoms.
HERE the Army rested some time, and the King being at
Jedburgh,
a known Town in those Parts, as he was sitting drinking Wine very plentifully in a great Hall of the House, where his HeadQuarters was then held, suppos'd to be the old Earl of
Morton
's House in that Town; the Spectre came to him a second time, tho' not in the Form which it appear'd in at
Lithgo;
but with less regard or respect to the Prince, and in an imperious Tone told him, he was commanded to warn him not to proceed in that War, which if he did, he should lose not the Battel only, but his Crown and Kingdom: and that after this, without staying for any Answer, like the Hand to King
Ahasuerus,
it went to the Chimney, and wrote in the Stone over it, or that which we call the Mantle-piece, the following Distich,
Laeta sit illa dies, Nescitur Origo secundi
Sit labor an requies, sic transit gloria Mundi.
THAT the King did not listen to either of these Notices, our Histories, as well as
Buchanan
the Historian of
Scotland,
take Notice of very publickly; and that he marcht on, fought the
English
at
Flodden-Field,
and there lost his Army, all his former Glory, and his Life, is also recorded; I need say no more of it.
THESE two Apparitions were certainly from such Spirits as we are speaking of,
viz.
such as mean well to Mankind, and being Good and Beneficent in their Nature, would prevent the ruin or destruction of those whom they appear to: But have not always Power to direct the Measures, or to oblige the Persons to hearken to their Advice.
HAD it been a Heavenly Vision, 'tis more than probable it would have laid hold of the King's Hand, as the Apparition of Angels did to
Lot,
and as it were dragg'd him away, and said You shall not go forward, that you may not be d
eated and slain, both you and your Army.
AGAIN, had it been the
Devil,
or an Apparition from Hell, the Message would never have been for Good; it would never have warn'd him to avoid the Battel, which should be so fatal to him, and in which so much Innocent Blood should be shed to gratify the Priests, who 'twas not doubted were brib'd or otherwise influenc'd by
France,
and by which the King should be sure to lose his Life.
THE
Devil
is too great a lover of Mischief to concern himself in such an eminent manner for a Publick Good; too great an Enemy to Mankind to take the Trouble to caution the King twice, and send, as we may say, two Expresses to him to save his Life, and prevent a War; nor can we suppose the
Devil
concern'd to promote Peace in the World, but just the contrary; 'tis his business to Foment Distractions, publick Confusions, and War.
BUT should we suppose for once that the
Devil
stand
ng Neuter between the two Nations, should go so far out of his way as to endeavour to keep the Peace for that time only; yet what shall we say to the other Part of the Message at
Lithgo, viz.
That he should abstain from his Lewdness, and from his scandalous Life, his familiarity with Women, and the like? Did ever the
Devil
pretend to this in his Life? if this cou'd be the
Devil,
then he must be allow'd to act very much out of his ordinary Way, as some express it; 'tis not his profess'd, avow'd Practice.
WHAT then must these Appearances be, and from whence? And how reasonable is it from all these things to believe, that there are some other Spirits which we yet know nothing of, or but very little, who do so far concern themselves for the good of Mankind, as that they frequently appear to us to warn us of Danger, to alarm us at the Approach of Impending Mischief; advising and cautioning us from evil Courses, and evil Actions, as what is destructive to our present as well as future Felicity?
IF it be Objected, that some have owned themselves to be the Souls of departed Persons, as of near Relations, Wives, Husbands, &c. and have appear'd in their Likness, and even in their Cloaths; it is answer'd, That is no Argument against the thing at all; because as Spirits are allow'd in our present Discourse to assume any Shape, so it is not doubted but they may take up the Shape of the Dead as well as of the Living, and may assume the very Cloaths, Countenances, and even Voices of dead Persons; and it must be so, or else we must fall into all the absurdities of Souls remaining in a wandring, unappointed, unsettled state after Life; which, if it should be granted, we must in many things contradict the Scripture, and the receiv'd Opinions of all the reform'd Churches, and almost of all good Men even in all Ages.
CHAP. VII. Of the many strange Inconveniences and ill Consequences which would attend us in this World, if the Souls of Men and Women, unembodyed and departed, w
re at Liberty to visit the Earth, from whence they had been dismiss'd, and to concern themselves about Human Affairs, either such as had been their own, or that were belonging to other People.
I BELIEVE there are few speculative Delusions more universally receiv'd than this,
that those things we call
Spectres, Ghosts,
and
Apparitions,
are really the departed Souls of those Persons who they are said to represent.
WE see, or pretend to see, our very Friends and Relations actually cloath'd with their old Bodies, tho' we know those Bodies to be embowell'd, s
parated, and rotting in the Grave; as c
rtainly as the Head and Quarters of a Man
xecuted for Treason are drying in the Sun upon the Gates of the City: we see them dress'd up in the very Cloaths which we have cut to pieces and given away, some to one body some to another, or appli
d to this or that use; so that we can give an Account of every Rag of them: we hear them speaking with the same Voice and Sound, tho' the Organ which form'd their former Speech we are sure is perished and gone.
THESE Similitudes of things fix it upon our Thoughts, that it must be the same; that the Souls of our late Friends are actually come to revisit us; which is to me, I confess, the most incongruous and unlikeliest thing in the World.
FIRST,
They must have a very mean Opinion of the future State, and the exalted Condition of the Blessed, that can imagine they are to be interrupted in their Joy; and even
disquieted,
as
Samuel
said to
Saul,
by the importunities of this World's Affairs:
Why hast thou disquieted me, to bring me up?
as if it was in the Power of a despicable Witch to bring him up, for it intimates a Force, whether he would or not; which does not at all correspond with the high Thoughts we are directed to entertain of the perfect Felicity of that State, of which Eye has not seen, or Ear heard, or Heart conceived.
SECONDLY,
They must have likewise very mean Thoughts of the State of everlasting Misery, who can think that the Spirits in Prison can get loose from those determined Chains, to come hither and attend upon the Trifles of Life; nor do I know whether it would be worth their shifting Hell, and coming back to this World in the wandring Condition those Things call'd Ghosts are understood to be; or indeed to reassume a Body, without making Life a State of farther Probation. For what would Life be here for a few Years subjected to human Infirmity, want, distress, and casualty, and no alteration possible of their future State, no Hope, no room for changing the Sentence? They know little of that Hell call'd Despair, that can think it more supportable in this World, than the Eternal State, which it is a prospect of, is in that to come.
BUT this is too grave abundance for the Times
and therefore I say no more of that Part; but I must bring the Case nearer to our present Taste, as well as to our Capacity.
LET us next enquire into the Necessity of disturbing or disquieting our departed Friends, with or about the Concerns of their Families: If their coming is by the Permission of Providence, then I demand what Occasion is there for it? and of what Service is it? seeing the same Providence is able to employ other Servants of the same Errand, and to do the same Business, and who will not only do it as well, but to be sure much better. It is answer'd, the Sovereignty of Providence is not to be disputed, He may do what he pleases, and employ who he pleases: but then the Wisdom of Providence too is not known to act inconsistent with itself; and, which is a sufficient Answer to all the rest, we are allowed to judge of all these things by our reasoning Powers, nor have we any other Rules to judge by; and it can be no Crime to reason with calmness, and with due respect to superior Power, upon the ordinary Administration even of Heaven itself.
I'LL suppose that no Apparitions were allow'd to shew themselves on Earth, but on Occasions of some unusual Consequence, and that then they might always be expected; and there are many affirm it to be so; (tho' I openly say I do not,) but suppose it, I say; and that whenever these things have appear'd it was in especial Cases, such as of manifestly injur'd Right, Oppression of Widows and Orphans, Wrong done to Persons unable to do themselves Justice, depress'd Poverty, and many such Cases which Souls are said to be anxious about, even after Death; I say, if it were so, the World is at this time (and, perhaps, has always been) so full of Violence, Injustice, Fraud and Oppression, that the Souls of our depa
ted Friends would hardly ever be at rest.
HOW many weeping Widows, starving Orphans and oppress'd Families have in our Age suffer'd by the loss of the Money which their Fathers and other Ancestors left for their Subsistance and Establishment in a certain City Chamber, or put into a certain Exchequer upon the publick Faith? According to this Notion, neither the visible or invisible World would have been at Peace: the habited visible World would have been continually haunted with Ghosts, and we should never have been quiet for the Disturbance of Spirits and Apparitions: the invisible World would have been in a continued Hurry and Uneasiness; Spirits and Unembodied Souls asking leave to go back again to see their Wills rightly perform'd, and to harrass their Executors for injuring their Orphans; and all the Ages of Time would have been taken up in giving Satisfaction to them in such and such Cases.
IT was the Saying of a
Roman,
(indeed, I mean, a
Roman
in Religion) that it was a Sign to him, past all Dispute, that the Dead could never come to the Quick, because the Testators of all those Chatities given by departed Souls of Saints for the Maintenance of Hospitals, Chantries, Colleges, Churches, and religious Houses, as well in Money as in Lands and Inheritances, did not walk, and haunt King
Hen.
VIII, and pull him not out of his Throne only, but out of his Grave, for taking away, as he did, all those Rents and Revenues, Lands and Estates from the religious Houses to which they belong'd.
NOW if they were not disquieted for so great a Piece of Injustice, why should they be forcibly disturb'd for Trifl
s, compar'd to those great Events?
AGAIN, should departed Souls get leave to come back to this World, to see Justice done to their Famili
s and Relations, how comes it to pass that they have not done it on such frequent Occasions as are daily given them in the World? And why do any People enjoy peaceably the Estates which they got wrongfully? The Works of Heaven are all perfect. Would he have sent Angels or Spirits to procure Justice to be done only in Part, and not in the Whole? And how much Arrears is the wicked Part of the World then in, to the better Part? And which way is it possible Right should now be done?
BESIDES, to go back to publick Things; what Rage, what Violences, Rapins, Ruins, not of Persons only, but of Nations, have we seen and heard of in the World? and yet we see Death puts an End to all Grievance, or Complaints of Grievance whatsoever; the departed Souls rest undisturb'd about it, Resentment all dies with them; and whatever the Apparitions, which we call Souls, have pretended, or we have pretended for them, the Souls themselves are perfectly unconcern'd at it all.
WHAT Apparitions have been, have certainly been of those blessed Angelick Spirits, who may so far have concern'd themselves in some Cases of Violence, Oppression, manifest and atrocious Frauds, to allarm the Offenders, and thereby bring them to do Right, as well for their own good as for the Relief of the oppress'd Sufferers, who, perhaps, have invok'd the Divine Justice against them.
HENCE give me leave to observe, tho' it is still a little serious, and perhaps you may think it is out of the way, that 'tis not a thing of the least Concern to us to have the Cry of the Poor against us, or to have the Widows and Orphans, who we have injur'd and oppress'd, look up to Heaven for Relief against us, when they, perhaps, have not Money to go to Law, or to obtain or seek Remedy against us in the ordinary way of Justice. I had much ra
her have an unjust Enemy draw his Sword upon me, than an injur'd poor Widow cry to Heaven for Justice against me; and I think I should have much more Reason to be afraid of the Last than the First, the Effect is most likely to be fatal.
Job.
xxxiv. 28. and
Exod.
xxii. 22, 23.
Ye shall not afflict any Widow or Fatherless Child: If thou afflict them in any wise, and they cry at all unto me, I will surely hear their Cry;
and
v.
24.
And your Wives shall be Widows, and your Children Fatherless.
But this is a Digression, and of a kind I shall not fall often into.
BUT as much as I think there is Reason to apprehend the Prayers of the oppress'd Widow and Orphan, or of any injur'd Fellow-Creatures; yet I must acknowledge I see no Reason to be afraid of their Ghosts, or of their Souls visiting me, in order to terrifie me into a Change of the evil Practice, and a humour or resolve of doing Right to their Families.
CONSCIENCE, indeed, is a frightful Apparition itself, and I make no Question but it oftentimes haunts an oppressing Criminal into Restitution, and is a Ghost to him sleeping or waking: nor is it the least Testimony of an invisible World that there is such a Drummer as that in the Soul, that can beat an
llarm when he pleases, and so loud, as no other Noise can drown it, no Musick quiet it or make it hush, no Power silence it, no Mirth allay it, no Bribe corrupt it.
CONSCIENCE raises many a
Devil,
that all the Magick in the World can't
lay;
it shows us many an Apparition that no other Eyes can see, and sets Spectr
s before us with which the
Devil
has no Acquaintance; Conscience makes Ghosts walk, and departed Souls appear, when the Souls themselves know nothing of it.
THIS thing called Conscience is a strange bold Disturber, it works upon the Imagination with an
invincible Force; like Faith, it makes a Man view things that are not, as if they were; feel things that are not to be felt, see things that are not to be seen, and hear things that are not to be heard; it commands the Senses, nay even the Tongue it self, which is so little under Command, submits to this sovereign Mandate; and tho' I do not see that Conscience always over-rules it to Silence, yet it often makes it speak, even whether it would or no, and that to its own Ruin and Destruction; making the guilty Man accuse himself, and confess what his Policy had before so effectually conceal'd, that no Eye had seen it, no Evidence could prove it.
THE Murtherer sees the murther'd Innocent as plainly before his Eyes, as if he was actually sent back from his Place to charge him;
nay,
he sees him without Eyes, he is present with him sleeping and waking; he sees him when he is not to be seen, and testifies to his own Guilt, with no need of other Witness.
I HAVE heard a Story which I believe to be true, of a certain Man who was brought to the Bar of Justice on Suspicion of Murther, which however he knew it was not in the Power of human Knowledge to detect. When he came to hold up his Hand at the Bar, he pleaded,
Not Guilty;
and the Court began to be at a Loss for a Proof, nothing but Suspicion and Circumstances appearing; however such Witnesses as they had they examin'd as usual; the Witness st
nding up, as is usual, upon a little Step, to be visible to the Court.
WHEN the Court thought they had no more Witnesses to examine, and the Man in a few Moments would have been acquitted; he gives a Start at the Bar, as if he was frighted; but recovering his Courage a little, he stretches out his Arm towards the Place where the Witnesses usually stood to give Evidence upon Tryals, and pointing with his Hand, My Lord, says he, (aloud) that is not fair, 'tis not according to Law, he's not a legal Witness.
THE Court is surpriz'd, and could not understand what the Man meant; but the Judge, a Man of more Penetration, took the Hint, and checking some of the Court that offer'd to speak, and which would have perhaps brought the Man back again to himself; Hold,
says the Judge,
the Man sees something more than we do, I begin to understand him; and then speaking to the Prisoner,
WHY,
says he,
is not he a legal Witness? I believe the Court will allow his Evidence to be good, when he comes to speak.
NO, my Lord, it cannot be just, it can't be allowed,
says the Prisoner,
(with a confused Eagerness in his Countenance, that shew'd he had a bold Heart but a guilty Conscience.)
WHY not, Friend, what Reason do you give for it?
says the Judge.
MY Lord,
says he,
no Man can be allowed to be Winess in his own Case; he is a Party, my Lord, he can't be a Witness.
BUT you mistake,
says the Judge,
for you are indicted at the Suit of the King, and the Man may be a Witness for the King, as in case of a Robbery on the Highway we always allow the Person robb'd is a good Witness; and without this the Highway-man could not be convicted; but we shall hear what he says, when he is examined.
THIS the Judge spoke with so much Gravity, and so easie and natural, that the Criminal at the Bar answer'd, Nay, if you will allow him to be a good Witness, then I am a dead Man: the last Words he said with a lower Voice than the rest, but withal called for a Chair to sit down.
THE Court order'd him a Chair, which if he had not had, 'twas thought he would have sunk down at the Bar; as he sat down he was observed to be in a great Consternation, and lifted up his Hands several times, repeating the Words,
a dead Man, a dead Man,
several times over.
THE Judge, however, was at some Loss how to act, and the whole Court appear'd to be in a strange Consternation, tho' no body saw any thing but the Man at the Bar; at length the Judge said to him, Look you Mr.—calling him by his Name, You have but one way left that I know of, and I'll read it to you out of the Scripture; and so calling for a Bible he turns to the Book of
Joshua,
and reads the Text,
Josh.
vii. 19.
And
Joshua
said unto
Achan,
my
Son,
give, I pray thee, Glory to the
Lord God of Israel, and
make Confession unto him,
and
tell me
now
what thou hast done, hide it not from me.
HERE the Judge exhorted him to confess his Crime, for he saw, no doubt, an Evidence ready to convict him, and to discover the whole Matter against him; and if he did not confess, Heaven would, no doubt, send Witness to detect him.
UPON this the self-condemn'd Murtherer burst out into Tears and sad Lamentations for his own miserable Condition, and made a full Confession of his Crime; and when he had done, gave the following Account of his Case, as to the Reasons of his being under such a Surprize,
viz.
That he saw the murther'd Person standing upon the Step as a Witness, ready to be examined against him, and ready to shew his Throat which was cut by the Prisoner, and who, as he said, stood staring full upon him with a frightful Countenance; and this confounded him: (as well it might) and yet there was no real Apparition, no Spectre, no Ghost or Appearance, it was all figur'd out to him by the Power of his own Guilt, and the Agitations of his Soul, fir'd and surprised by the Influence of Conscience.
THE Soul of th
Murther'd Person seeks no Revenge; all that Part is swallowed up in the Wonders of the eternal State, and Vengeance entirely resign'd to him to whom it belongs; but the Soul of the Murtherer is like the Ocean in a Tempest, he is in continual Motion, restless and raging; and the Guilt of the Fact, like the Winds to the Sea, lies on his Mind as a constant Pressure, and adds to that, (still like the Seas) 'tis hurry'd about by its own Weight, rolling to and again, Motion encreasing Motion, 'till it becomes a m
er Mass of Horrour and Confusion.
IN this distracted Condition, Conscience, like a Storm at Sea, still breaks over him; first gathers about him in a thick black Cloud, threatning the Deaths that it comes loaded with; and after hovering about him for a-while, at last bursts with Lightnings and Thunder, and the poor shatter'd Vessel suffers Shipwreck, sinks, and is over-whelm'd in the Middle of it.
IF Justice does not overtake him, if he is not discover'd and detected, and brought to publick Shame, as the Laws of Go
and Man require; How is he put to the Question (so they call it in Countries abroad, when Men are put to the Rack to make them confess) how is he tortur'd with the Terrors of his own Thoughts, haunted with the Ghosts of his own Imagination, and Apparitions without Apparition? the murther'd Person is always in his Sight, and Cries of Blood are ever in his Ears, 'till at last, less able to bear the Torture of Mind than the Punishment of his Carcass, he even dies for fear of Death, murthers himself, and goes away in Horror; or, if Heaven is merciful to him, delivers himself up to Justice, and dies a Penitent.
I COULD give many flagrant Instances of this, enough to crowd up this whole Work, but I have not room for it; take one or two for Examples.
A GENTLEMAN, and a Man in good Circumstances too, committed a Murther in or near St.
Pancras Soaper-Lane, London,
many Years ago; the Murther was attended with some very cruel and barbarous Circumstances, such as he could not expect to be pardoned for, so he fled, and making his Escape into
France,
got out of the Reach of Justice.
HIS personal Safety was for a-while so much Satisfaction to him, that he did not make any Reflections at all upon the Fact; but after a-while, he took shipping from
France,
and went over to
Martinico,
where he liv'd several Years; and even for two or three Years he carried it off well enough; but the first Shock given to his Soul was in a Fit of Sickness, when being in Danger of Death, he saw, as he was between sleeping and waking, the Spectre, as he thought, of the murther'd Person, just as in the Posture when he killed him, his Wound bleeding, and his Countenance ghastly; the Sight of which exceedingly terrify'd him, and at length awaken'd him.
BUT being awake, and finding it was but a Dream, and that the murther'd Person did not really appear to him, and, as he call'd it, haunt him, he was easie as to that Part; but being in a high Feaver, and believing he should die, Conscience began to stare at him, and to talk to him; he resisted a long time, but Death approaching, he grew very pensive, tho', as he said, still more afraid of dying, than penitent for his Crime.
AFTER he recover'd he grew easie, and began to forget things again; came over to
Europe
again, and being at
Roan
in
Normandy,
he dream'd he saw the murther'd Man again, and that he look'd frightful and terrlble; and with a threat'ning Aspect, and this threw him into a kind of Melancholy, which encreas'd exceedingly; the Spectre, as he call'd it, coming to him every Night.
BUT this was not all; for now as he dreamed of it all Night, so he thought of it all Day; it was, as we say, before his Eyes continually, his Imagination form'd Figures to him, now of this kind, then of that, always relating to the murther'd Man; so that, in short, he could think of nothing else: And tho' he was satisfied there was no real Ghost, as he called it, or Apparition, yet his own terrified Conscience made the Thought be to him like one continued Apparition, and the murther'd Man was never out of his Sight.
HE was so reduced by the constant Agitation of his Soul, that he was in a very weak Condition, and in a deep Consumption: But in the midst of these Tumults of his Soul, he had a strong Impression upon his Mind, that he could never die in Peace, nor ever go to Heaven, if he did not go over to
England,
and either get the Parliament's Pardon (for it was in those Days when there was no King in
Israel)
or that if he could not obtain a Pardon, that then he should surrender into the Hands of Justice, and satisfy the Law with his Life, which was the Debt he owed to the Blood of the Man he kill'd, and cou'd no other way be expiated.
HE withstood this as a wild distracted thing, and the Fruit of his disturb'd Mind: What,
said be to himself,
should I go to
England
for? to go there is to GO and DIE; and these Words, GO and DIE, run daily upon his Mind: But tho' they came first into his Thoughts, as an Answer to his other Distractions, yet they turn'd upon him soon after, and he dream'd that the dead murther'd Man
aid to him, GO and DIE; and repeating it said, GO to
England
and DIE; and this follow'd him by Night and by Day, asleep and awak
, that he had it always in his Ears, GO to
England
and DIE.
IN short, and to pass over some Cirumstances, tho' worth telling, which happen'd to him in the mean time, he was so continually terrify'd by the Reproaches of his Conscience, and the Voice which he thought follow'd him, that he answer'd it once in his Sleep thus; Well, if it must be so, let me alone, I will GO and DIE.
IT was some time however before he did; but at last, unable to support the Torture of his Mind, he resolv'd to come over to
England,
and did so: He landed at
Gravesend,
and there took Passage in the Tilt-Boat for
London.
WHEN he arriv'd at
London,
intending to land at
Westminster,
he took a Wherry at
Billinsgate,
to carry him through Bridge. It happen'd, that two Lighters loaden with Coals run foul of the Boat he was in, and of one another, over-against
QueenHith,
or thereabouts; and the Watermen were so very hard put to it, that they had much ado to avoid being crush'd between the Lighters, so that they were oblig'd to get into one of the Lighters, and let the Boat sink.
THIS occasion'd him, contrary to his Design, to go on Shore a little to the Eastward of
Queen-Hith;
from thence he walk'd up on Foot towards
Cheapside,
intending to take a Coach for
Westminster.
AS he pass'd a Street, which crosses out of
Bread-streat
into
Bow-lane,
being almost Night, and he not well knowing the Streets, having been absent eighteen Years, he heard some body cry, Stop him, stop him! It seems a Thief had broke into a House in some Place, as he pass'd by, and was discover'd, and run for it, and the People after him, crying Stop him, Stop him!
IT presently occurr'd to him, that being so near the Place where the Murther was committed, and where he had lived, some body that knew him had seen him, and that it was him they cry'd after; upon which he began to run with all his Might.
HAD the People cry'd
stop Thief,
he had had no need to be alarm'd, knowing, as he said, that he had stolen nothing; but the Crowd crying only
stop him, stop him,
it was as likely to be him as not; and his own Guilt concurring, he run,
as above.
AS he run with all his Might, it was a good while before the People overtook him; but just at the Corner of
Soaper-lane,
near about where now stands the
Rummer Tavern,
his Foot slipt, and his Breath failing him too, he fell down.
THE People, not knowing who he was, had lost their Thief, and pursu'd him; but when they came up to him, they found he was not the right Person, and began to leave him; but his own Guilty Conscience, which at first set him a running, and which alone was his real Pursuer, continuing to follow him close, and which at last had thrown him down too, so encreas'd his Fright, that believing they all knew him, he cry'd out, It is very true, I am the Man, it was I did it.
IT seems, when he first fell, some People, who upon hearing the Noise in the Street came running to their Doors, as is usual in such Cases; I say, some People, at the Door of a House, just against where he fell, said one to another, There he is, that's he, they have catch'd him; and it was upon that Saying that he answer'd,
It is very true, I am the Man, and I did it;
for still he imagin'd they knew him to be the Murtherer, that kill'd the Man so long ago; whereas there was no body there that
ad any Knowledge of the Matter, and the very Memory of the thing was almost forgotten in the Place, as it might well b
, having been done eighteen Years before.
HOWEVER, when they heard him cry
I am the Man,
and
I did it,
one of the People that came about him said, What did you do? Why, I kill'd him, says he; I kill'd Mr.—and then repeated his Name; but no body remember'd the Name.
WHY, you are mad, says one of the People; and then,
added another,
the Man's a distracted, disorder'd Man. They pursu'd a little Shoplifting Thief, and here they have frighted a poor Gentleman, that they own is not the Person, but is an unhappy disorder'd Man, and fancy'd they pursu'd after him.
BUT are you sure he is not the Man?
SURE? says another; Why, they tell you so themselves. Besides, the Man is distracted.
DISTRACTED!
says a third,
how do you know that?
NAY,
says the other,
he must be distracted, or in Drink; don't you hear how he talks?
I did it, I kill'd him,
and I don't know what. Why, here's no body kill'd, is there? I tell you the poor Man is craz'd. Thus they talk'd a-while, and some run forward towards
Cheap-side,
to look for the real Thief, and so they were about to let him go. But one grave Citizen, and wiser than the rest, cry'd,
nay hold,
let's enquire
a little further;
tho' he's not the Thief they look for,
there may be something in it; let us go before my
Lord Mayor
with him:
and so they did. I think the Lord Mayor then in Being, was Sir
William Turner.
WHEN he came before the Lord Mayor, he voluntarily confess'd the Fact, and was afterwards executed for it: and I had the Substance of this Relation from an Ear-witness of the thing, so that I can freely say that I give entire Credit to it.
IT was remarkable also, that the Place where this Man fell down when he run, believing he was pursued and known, tho' at first he really was not, was just against the very Door of the House where the Person liv'd that he had murther'd.
MANY Inferences might be drawn from this Story, but that which is particularly to my Purpose, is, to shew how Men's Guilt crowds their Imagination with sudden and surprizing Ideas of things; brings Spectres and Apparitions into their Eyes, when there are really no such things; forms Ghosts and Phantasms in their very View, when their Eyes are shut: They see sleeping, and dream waking; the Night is all Vision, and the Day all Apparition, 'till either by Penitence or Punishment they make Satisfaction for the Wrong they have done, and either Justice or the injur'd Person are appeased.
BUT to bring all this back to our Business: here's no other Apparation in all this, than what are form'd in the Imagination; the Ghosts, the Souls of the most injur'd Person, whether injuriously murther'd, or injuriously robb'd and plunder'd, sleeps in Peace, knows nothing of the Murtherer or Thief, except only that it gives that Part all up to the Eternal Judge: the Murtherer has the Horror of the Fact always upon him, Conscience draws the Picture of the Crime in Apparition just before him, and the Reflection, not the injur'd Soul, is the Spectre that haunts him: Nor can he need a worse Tormenter in this Life; whether there is a worse hereafter, or no, I do not pretend to determine. This is certainly
a Worm that n
ver dies;
'tis always gnawing the Vitals, not of the Body, but of the very Soul—But I say
here was no Apparition all this while of any kind, no Spectre, no Ghost, no not to detect a Murtherer.
1. NO
Devil
or Evil Spirit; as for
Satan,
he would rather protect, or at least shelter him, that he might commit another Murther.
2. NO Soul of the deceased, however injur'd
the Man acknowledg'd he never saw any real Apparition.
WHAT was it then the Man was exercis'd with? I answer, he was harrass'd by the Reflection of his own Guilt, and the Sluices of the Soul were set open by the Angels or Spirits attending, and who by Divine Appointment are always at hand to execute the vindictive Part of Justice, as well as the more merciful Dispensations of Heaven, when they have them in Commission.
THESE abandon'd him to the Fury of an enrag'd Conscience, open'd the Sluices of the Soul, as I call them, and pour'd in a Flood of unsufferable Grief, letting loose those wild Beasts call'd Passions upon him, such as
Rage, Anguish, Self-reproach,
too late
Repentance,
and final
Desperation,
all to fall upon him at once; so the Man runs to Death for Relief, tho' it be to the Gallows, or any where, and that even by the meer Consequence of Things.
BUT if then Oppression, Injury, Robbery, and even Murther it self, will not bring the departed injur'd Soul back in Ghost or Apparition; if when it is once Uncas'd, Dismiss'd, or Unembodied, its State is determin'd, and that it can receive no such Impressions as to be disquieted afterwards, much less brought back hither to haunt or perplex the Persons left behind, what then shall we say?
HOW then can we think they should come back for Trifles, nameless Trifles, or Trifles not worth naming? and what are we to call those real Apparitions which we have Reason to believe are, and frequently have been seen in the World? what are they, nay, what can they be, but these Angels or Spirits, call them what you will, who inhabit, or have their Station in the great Void or Wast? who have the Guard, not of our
Atmosphere
only, nay not of the
Solar System
only, tho' that is of Immense and Inconceiveable Extent, and full of distant Planetary Worlds, but even of the whole System of the Creation, the System of
Empty Space.
THESE may, and no doubt do visit us every Day, whether they are visible to us or no; their Business is among us, they are posted in their Station as describ'd, on purpose to take Cognizance of us, and of things belonging to us, and done by us.
IF Murther, Rapine, and Oppression is exercis'd upon any, these frequently, if not always, concern themselves, either to detect it, or to bring the Offender to Justice, or both, especially in Cases of Blood: And this is the best way we can account for the Discovery of Murther, which is so general, that it is our receiv'd Opinion, that Murther very seldom goes undiscover'd; that
Murther will out,
that is, will come out to be known and punished.
IF instead of saying Murther
very seldom goes und
scover'd,
they had said
seldom goes unpunish'd,
I believe it might have been universally true; for sometimes secret Murthers are never discover'd to the Persons who knew of the Fact, or in the Place where it was committed: but how are they pursu'd by the Divine Vengeance, that is to say under the Ministry of these happy Instruments, who fail not to pursue the Murtherer? perhaps it may be the only Case wherein they are Agents of Justice, without a mixture of Mercy.
HOW many secret, and 'till then undiscover'd Murthers do these happy Instruments oblige the guilty Wretches to discover, which no Human Eye had been Witness to? Some are discover'd, as in the Example above, and brought to Punishment: Some at the Gallows, whither the Criminal is brought for other Crimes; some upon sick Beds, and in View of Eternal Judgment; some in Shipwrecks, some in Battels, some one way, some another.
NOR can it be deny'd, that tho' these angelick ministring Spirits were to be constant Messengers of Justice in such Cases, yet it would be much more merciful than to give the Soul of the injur'd murther'd Person leave to come back arm'd with Power, and with the Terrors of its invisible State, to do it self Justice, inflam'd with the Resentments which it might be reasonable to suppose it must have at the Injury receiv'd, able to tear the Murtherer in Pieces, and in Condition to ca
ry on its own Quarrel, and execute the Divine Justice, in revenge of its private Quarrel.
1. THIS would be inconsistent with the supreme Prerogative of Heaven, by which he has taken all executive Justice into his own Hand, all Retribution, all retaliating Justice; and that on purpose to restrain the Rage and Fury of Men, who would be unbo
nded in the vindictive Part, and set no Limits to their Vengeance; which for that very Reason, I say, God has declar'd he takes into his own Hand;
Vengeance is
MINE,
I will rep
y.
Rom. xii. 19.
2. IF it were not thus, the World would be a Field of Blood and Confusion, the departed Soul of a murthered Person would be always harrassing, not the Murtherer only, but all the Persons concern'd in his Injury; and without Mercy would call every one a Murtherer, that was on the side of his Enemy, whether guilty or not; in a word, suppose he dy'd fighting, he would come back to revenge his own Death, fir'd with a double Rage, and arm'd with an irresistible Ability to revenge.
BUT not to confine my self to the Case of a Murtherer only; If Souls after Death could return to visit those who they had any Concerns with here, let the Occasion be what it would, the World would be all Confusion and Disorder; Q
arrels and Contentions would never cease, Feuds of Families would not die, but the injur'd Person would always come back to right himself.
AND how do we know that they would, even in that enlightned State of Being, be impartially just, considering they would act in their own Causes? Are we sure they would not insist upon pretended Right, as they did perhaps when living? if so, then we must have Appeals even from the Spirits themselves; for they would be as liable to do Injury in their Revenge, as those yet living had been to do to them.
HERE we might make a rational Excursion upon the present State of Things: What would be the case, if all the injur'd Souls now in a determin'd State, were able to come back, and demand Justice of the present Age? what work would it make among us? how many wealthy Landlords would be turn'd out of Possession, and rich Tradesmen oblig'd to refund? How would the strong Oppressor be challeng'd by the weak, the injur'd Poor be the ruin of the Rich? How many Adulterers would be bound to dislodge from the Arms of the fair Intruder? How many injur'd Ladies would claim their Properties, and turn the Usurpers out of Bed?
HOW would young—be call'd upon to do right to a whole Family, whose Tears for the marrying one Sister, and debauching the other, have hitherto been in vain? How would the civil Rape be discover'd, and the Artifices be detected, which broke two Hearts, for want of doing right to one?
HOW long ago would the Soul of—have appear'd to do her self Justice, which a wheedl'd
C
—a brib'd—and a sleepy—deny'd her, and to demand the Sentence, which the plain acknowledgment of her Murtherers cou'd not extort from them?
HOW would she have haunted the Retirement of the guilty Wretch, and have beaten him out of all his Subterfuges, 'till he had come upon his Knees to the Hangman, and begg'd to be dismiss'd from a Hell so much worse than that he had reason to expect he was going to? or have been his own Drudge, and have anticipated Justice by an immediate dispatch?
BUT they have been left to the Iron Hands of yet slumbring Justice; which Conscience (however it may at present forbear) must soon tell them, will be not the less certain for the delay.
BUT let us leave the Mechanick Criminals, and enquire of the superior Ranks of Men: How many usurping Tyrants possess the Thrones of oppress'd, and perhaps murther'd Princes; while the Blood of Armies, nay, of whole Nations (speaking as to Number) has been sacrific'd to support the Ambition of one Man?
WHAT Mercy to Mankind has the supreme Lord exhibited, in this wise allotment of Things?
viz.
That the Grave buries all the Rage of humane Resentment: the Oppressed and the Oppressor rest together; the Murtherer and the Murthered; the most inveterate Enemies; the conquer'd in Battel, and the Slain of the conquering Army, make one heap of quiet and peaceable Dust, blended together, and mould'ring into the common Element of Earth.
ALL the Animosity, being fled with the enrag'd Souls, carries with it the very remains of the Quarrel, and they no more appear Enemies, but freely encorporate their Dust with one another. The late D.
Ha
—
n,
might have been buried in the same Grave, nay, in the same Coffin, with the Lord
Mo
—
n;
and their Swords left in their Hands; the Souls of the noble Enemies would never have concerned themselves again with the Quarrel.
HEAVEN, who thought fit to cool the Rage of their Minds, by their own unhappy Hands, and make 'em reciprocally the Executioners of the Divine Pleasure upon themselves, has thought fit also to take from both the power of determining any more who was right, and who was wrong, and oblig'd them mutually to refer the further enquiry to himself.
THE two
Danish
Soldiers who fought at
Beverly,
one kill'd upon the spot, and the other immediately shot to Death for fighting, and buried together; there they lie quiet in one Grave, the Souls of them never visit one another, to complain of the Injury.
COULD Souls departed come back to demand Redress of Grievances, and to put Men in mind of the Injustice done them; could they challenge the living Possessors of their Estates for the Frauds by which they were obtained; what Confusion would
Exchange-Alley
and the
Exchange
of
London
be in? what distraction would it make in all the Affairs of Life? and how soon would the Men who amass'd immense Wealth,
Ann.
1720, disappear, like
W
—of
Hack
—, and sink under the guilt of their good Fortune?
IN a word, it would invert the Order of Eternal Justice, for it would make this Earth be the Place of Rewards and Punishments, and take the Executive Power out of the Hands of the great Governour of the World.
DEPEND then upon it, the Souls of our departed Friends, or Enemies, are all in their fix'd and determin'd State; whether arriv'd at a full Consummation of Felicity or Misery, that is not the case, nor is it any part of the Question; but they are so remov'd from all possibility of return Hither, or concern with us, that the very Suggestion, however it has for many Ages prevail'd in the World, is full of Absurdity. The Joys of the Happy are so compleat, so exalted, so superior, that the greatest Affairs of this World are too trifling, to take up the least Moment, or give the least Interruption to their Felicity; as a poor or mean Man, that having a vast Estate left him in his immediate Possession, quits his decay'd out-of-repair Cottage upon the Waste, and having his Hands full of Gold, or even Bags of Gold, scorns to take up the Rags and Rubbish of his old dirty Habitation; but says to his Servants, Let any one take 'em that will, I have enough here.
ON the other hand, the rejected and condemn'd Soul, loaded with his own Crime, and sinking under the Weight of inexpressible Horror; shall he have any thought about the hated World he came out of! he who abhors and hates the place where he spent a long Life of such Crime, as now loads him with insupportable Punishment, is he at leisure, or in composure for concerning himself in Life any more, where he has already so miserably ruin'd himself, Soul and Body!
IF he was to come back hither for any thing, it would probably be to take the heaps of his illgotten Treasure from the unjust Possessor, his Heir; and making restitution with it to the Poor, whom he had oppress'd, to the Widows he had robb'd, and in general to all those he had injur'd, leave his Family in Poverty and Rags, instead of their Robes and Velvet; and in Hospitals and Almshouses, rather than Palaces and Parks, and with Coaches or Horses. Proving the Proverb untrue, and showing that the Son may not be always happy, tho' the Father be gone to the
Devil.
I DOUBT it would make but sad work among some Families, who now possess large Estates; if the Notion some People entertain about Spirits, and about haunting of Houses, should be true: Namely, that the Souls departed could not be at rest 'till Satisfaction was made in such and such cases, where Injury had been done to Orphans and Widows; and 'till such Injustice was prevented as was farther like to be done by their means.
AS to what Rest the Souls of those departed would have, I am not to resolve; but I doubt the Souls and Bodies too of those that remain, would have small Rest here, if that were true.
IS it not rather a Proof that the Soul cannot return hither, to do Right to the injur'd race of those whom it had oppress'd with Violence, when embodied, that the Ghost or Soul of—sleeps in its absent State, and does not call upon his too happy Heir, and charge him to make reparation in its Name, for all the Ravages and Plunder, out of which he rais'd those Millions he left behind? If Usury, Extortion, Perjury and Blood are Injuries that disquiet the Souls unembodied, How is it that the Souls of all the Families, and even Nations of Families oppress'd and ruin'd by the late—do not come and do themselves right out of the immense Wealth, left in possession to those, who, 'till that Justice be obtain'd, could have no Claim to it?
BUT to let the Injur'd and the Injurious sleep together, as they do, without disturbing or being disturb'd by one another, let us ask a few Questions of the living? How would a certain wandring Right Honourable, most simply elevated Object of human Pity, be terrified at the Apprehensions of meeting the dishonour'd Souls of his Ancestors? and particularly of his pious Grandfather, who would if it were possible chastise him for his Lunacy, and drive him home to the Feet of a merciful Sovereign, to ask Pardon for the most preposterous things that ever humane Rage drove any Man in his Senses to be guilty of!
IF the Souls of wise Men could be disquieted for the mad things done by their Posterity, what Regret must the Ancestors of all the exil'd Heirs of Noble Blood now have, who see their Sons forfeiting the ple
tiful Fortunes they left them, by the most ridiculous and utterly improbable Scheme of the late
Preston
and
Dumblain
Affair? an Attempt without Success, because without rational Prospect, without humane Probability; and fo
which, as the late happy Lord
Derwentwater
said, they should not have been sent to the
Tower,
but to
Bedlam.
IF Souls could return, how should our Friends the
A
—
s
and
B
—
s
and
S
—
s
sleep in their Beds, while they enjoy the ruins of so many Families, and the fortunes of so many Sufferers, who hang'd themselves in Desperation for the loss? and why do they not see Apparitions every Night from the injur'd Ghosts of—
L
—
Ba
—
W
—
Hu
—and a thousand more; who, could they repass the Gulph, would certainly harrass them, 'till they should be glad to dismiss themselves the same way, and run to that Hell which they know nothing of, from that Hell of Self-reproach, which they would be no longer able to endure?
I COULD descend to Particulars, 'till I fill'd a Roll too long for your reading; and I know not whether it might not be true, as Sir
W
—
B
—
d
said in another case, that he believ'd all would come up that was under Ground, and his Grandfather would come with the rest and call for his Estate again.
THE Doctrine of disquiet Souls returning hither, to do or obtain Justice, to make or demand Restitution, and that they could not be at rest 'till such and such things were settled, Wills perform'd, dispossess'd Heirs righted, conceal'd Treasons discover'd, conceal'd Treasures found out, and the like, were it true, would make the World uninhabitable: Ghosts and Apparitions would walk the Streets at Noon-Day; and the living might go on one side of the Street, and the dead on the other; the latter would be infinitely more numerous.
NOTHING can be more proposterous than such a Notion. It is true, that the examples given, or pretended to be given, of it, are but few, and that very part is against them; for if the thing is real, why are they but few? It must be acknowledg'd, as the times go, the cases of the injur'd and oppress'd are not few: On the contrary, as God said of the old World, the whole Earth is fill'd with Violence. Whence is it then, if injur'd Souls, or the Souls of injur'd, oppress'd, ruin'd People could return, that there are not Millions haunting the Doors, nay the Closets and Bed-Chambers, of those that enjoy the Wealth which was so unjustly obtain'd?
IF it could be at all, the Number would be infinitely more; for why should one guilty Soul be uneasy, and not another? All the guilty would come back to make Restitution as far as they were able, and all the Sufferers would come back to obtain it.
AGAIN, the Condition of those that enjoy the illgotten Wealth of their Ancestors would be deplorable: the Souls of guilty Parents would harrass their Sons for the Estate, to make Restitution; and the Souls of the oppress'd Sufferers would haunt them, to get their own restor'd: so that they only would be easy in the World, who had nothing to restore, or who enjoyed nothing but what was of their own getting; they only would sleep at Night who had ballanc'd with the Day, who had earn'd what they Eat, and had Eaten no more than they earn'd.
BUT this we see is not the case: that the Souls of the most guilty remain where they are, and the Souls of the most oppress'd do not come hither to complain, strongly implies, and is to me a sufficient proof, that their State is determin'd; that the Gulph is fixed; that they can only look back with Self-Reproach, but cannot come back to give themselves the Satisfaction of doing Justice to those they have injur'd; that the murther'd Person cannot come back, no, not to detect the Murtherer; or the plunder'd Traveller to discover the Highwayman. It is plain to me, and will pass for Evidence, that they cannot, because they do not; and 'tis plain to me that some do not, because all do not; for if any, why not all?
IT does not consist with the inlightned Justice of that State which we believe is beyond Life, to let one injured Soul come hither to obtain Justice against the Oppressor of his Family, and not let another have the same Liberty; or to let one injurious Soul return to make Restitution, and make his Peace, that he may be at Rest, as they call it; and lock up another from it, who would be equally willing to do it, and is equally miserable in the want of it.
THAT it is not so, is a sufficient Testimony to me that it cannot be so; and the miserable Condition the World would be in here, if it were so, makes it clear to me that the Wisdom of Providence has otherwise determined it.
NOR would the Advantage be any thing considerable, at least not in proportion to the Disorder it would bring along with it; and were we to allow the Possibility, it would bring in so many Absurdities with it in Points of Religion, that it would destroy the establish'd Doctrines of all Religion: For Example,
FIRST,
We believe that the final Estate of the Soul is determined with Life, and
as the Tree falls so it must lie;
that
This is the State of Tryal, That the State of Retribution:
If so then, to what purpose should the Souls of the Dead desire to come back, unless they were to have a farther Probation, or that there was a Possibility of retrieving their State, and recovering from the Sentence they were under? and if the divine Wisdom had left room for that, it would have as well spared them in Life 'till it had been done.
SECONDLY,
To what Purpose should the Soul come back to do Justice, if doing that Justice could make no Alteration of its future State? If it could make any Alteration, then there must be room after Death to recover the Soul from eternal Death; and if there was, the Eyes may be supposed to be so open'd there, that none would omit or neglect it.
THIRDLY,
If coming hither, or doing Justice here, can be no Help to the Souls departed, and yet they desire it, you must then suppose a strong Desire of doing disinterested Good may possess the Souls of those who are in a State of Condemnation; which is inconsistent with the other Circumstances of Hell, which we have just Reason to believe shuts out all good Desires, and all good Principles, from the Souls that are there.
FOURTHLY,
The Supposition of Souls being in a Condition after Death to return hither, destroys all the Descriptions which the Scripture gives us of the future Condition, either of the good or bad Souls: but that I hinted before.
UPON the whole, 'tis a Notion, however it may have been received here, perfectly inconsistent with either Reason or reveal'd Religion; and I may venture to say it cannot be, 'tis impossible, and that all the Pretences of a Ghost or Apparition saying it is such a Person, and that it cannot be at Rest 'till so and so be done, and that now it shall go to God, must be a Delusion, and must be added by the Persons relating the Story; for that no Ghost or Spirit really happy could say so, or would impose so much upon us.
CHAP. VIII. The Reality of Apparition farther asserted; and what Spirits they are that do really appear.
THE affirming, as in the foregoing Chapters, that the unembodied Souls of Men do not appear again, or concern themselves in the Affairs of Life; that the Good would not if they could, and the Bad could not if they would; does not at all destroy the Reality of the thing call'd Apparition, or do I pretend to argue from thence that there is no such thing as any Apparition at all: on the contrary, I insist it is reasonable to believe (not withstanding all that has been said) that there are such things as the Apparition of Spirits; and this I think I have already prov'd past the Power of any Scruple or Cavil, as also that there have been such things in all Ages of the World.
THE Doctrine of the Existence of Spirits is established in Nature; where those Spirits reside, is Matter of Difficulty, and our Speculations are various about them; but to argue that therefore there are none, that they exist not, that there are no such Beings, is absurd, and contrary to the Nature of the thing; we may as well argue against the Existence of the Sun when it is clouded and eclips'd, tho' we see its Light, only because we cannot see its Beams, or the Globe of its Body: But let us go back to the Principle.
SPIRIT,
as it is to be consider'd here,
is to be reduced to four general Heads.
FIRST,
The Author of all
Spirit,
the Fountain of all Being, the Original Cause of Life, and the Creator both of Spirit and of all the Subsequents of it. This we justly adore, as the Infinite Eternal Spirit:
GOD is a SPIRIT.
SECONDLY, Angels
or good Spirits; which
re real Spirits, we have Demonstration of it, and they have and do appear daily, as the great Author of all Spirit directs, for the Service of Mankind, for they are
ministring Spirits.
THIRDLY, Devils
or evil Spirits; these are really Spirit too, of a spirituous N
ture; 'tis true they are deprived of their Beauty, their Original Glory, because depriv'd of their Innocence; they are deform'd as well as defil'd by Crime, but they are not depriv'd of their Nature; they are Spirits still, tho' cast down and cast out, and are call'd
wicked Spirits.
FOURTHLY, Souls
of Men, whether good or bad; their Condition may be as you please to speak of it, Happy or Unhappy; the Case is the same, it does no way alter their Nature, but still they are
Spirits.
The
Spirits of just Men made perfect;
there's the happy Spirits:
the Spirits in Prison,
and there's the unhappy; but both are Spirits, and are to be discours'd of as such in this Place.
NOW let us bring all this down to our present Purpose. I have asserted
their Being,
let me enquire into
their State,
as it respects our Subject; how far they may or may not, can or cannot appear among Men, in their present Circumstances. How they have visited this Earth at several Times, and on what Occasions, has been mentioned already, and as much at large as the design'd Brevity of this Work admits of.
IT remains to enquire what we have to expect of them for the future, and in particular, who we may expect to see at any time hereafter; which of them may visit us for the time to come, and which may not, or can not be reasonably expected; and this I shall do with the same Clearness if possible, and in very few Words.
OF the four Kinds of Spirit, then, let us consider the First and the Last.
FIRST,
GOD, the Soul and Life, the Being of all
Spirit,
has appear'd, as I have said; but we are to expect him
no more:
I do not say he cannot appear to us, but I believe I may say he has determined to bless the World with no more such glorious Exhibitions, no more personal Appearances of the Eternal Face, 'till the most glorious Appearance spoken of in Scripture,
Tit.
ii. 13.
Looking for the blessed Hope and the glorious appearing of the GREAT GOD
—
SECONDLY,
The dismiss'd, departed, unembodied Spirits, which we call Souls of Men, whether happy or miserable, can by no means appear among us; all Apparition of that Kind is fictitious and imaginary; never was practicable, except once by Miracle, and never can again be practicable, and therefore is not to be expected. We are told indeed, that once, on the extraordinary Occasion of the Resurrection of Christ, and to honour that Resurrection with a Miracle of the most sublime Nature,
the Graves were opened, and the Bodies of the Saints arose and appeared,
&c. The Word is they
Arose,
and came out of their Graves after his Resurrection,
Mat.
xxvii. 53. I might enlarge upon the Nature of this Apparition of the Saints which slept; the manner of it, and especially the Reason of it, and shew you how it was really miraculous, and done to convince the doubting Disciples of the Truth of the Resurrection, which some of them, being perhaps originaly
Sadduces,
might still question; but my Business is with an Age not too much delighted in serious Excursions, so I must not make any Trespass, however seasonable, or turn grave, however useful.
LET it then be sufficient to the Purpose, this Apparition of Souls was extraordinary and miraculous, and we are to expect them no more; their State is determined, the happy are too happy, and their Happiness too firmly fix'd, to suffer any such Interruption; the Unhappy have their Confinement too firmly fix'd, to break Prison, and get out; in a word, these cannot, and the other would not if they could; and we are not to expect to see or hear from them any more on this Earth; 'till the Restitution of all things, and 'till they shall be all summon'd to that grand Appearance, which we believe will one Day happen, whatever our flaming Age pretend to say to the contrary.
ALL Apparition then of these two Heads or Species being concluded impossible in Nature, and not to be expected, we must look for it then among the Angelick Spirits; and here indeed it is to be found: Angels of all the Kinds have appear'd, may and do appear, and of them alone are all the Apparitions, which have any Reality in them, form'd.
THIS is bringing the Matter into a narrow Compass, and putting an end to Cavil and Quarrel about it; there is no need to wrangle upon it any more; but when you at any time see an Apparition, or Appearance of Spirit assuming Shape and Voice, and you are sure it is really an Apparition, not a
Deceptio Visus,
a Cloud, a Vapour of the Imagination; I say, whenever you see such an Apparition, depend upon it; 'tis an Angel, or a
Devil.
I HAVE only one Distinction to make here, which tho' it be necessary, shall be very short and clear,
viz.
That when I speak of Angels I mus
be understood as follows,
FIRST,
The Word Angel is to be understood of good Angels; for the
Devils,
as I have said, ar
also Angels: Satan is called an Angel of Light but the evil Angels I shall always treat with their new Sirname,
Devil;
so that when I speak of Angels, I am always to be understood of the good Angels.
SECONDLY,
But of good Angels, these I distinguish also into two Kinds:
(1.) THE Angels which are actually in Heaven, such as we read of,
Gabriel, Michael,
and others not distinguished by Name; these have appeared amongst Men, upon this Earth, as I have also said before at large; but even these, we have Reason to believe, we shall see no more; God having pleased to discover himself to his People now in another Way, by another Ministration, namely, by his Spirit, and by an Evangelick, not an Angelick Ministry.
(2.) THAT Rank of Angels or Spirits, call them as we please, (and whether inferior or not, we are not to determine,) who are plac'd by the Direction of God himself in a nearer Situation to us; plac'd, I say, by their Maker, under his superior Providence, for the Direction and Conduct of human Creatures, and of their Affairs, or at least to Guard them from the Invasions, Threatning, and Hellish Designs of the Prince of Darkness and his Angels; and these, as I said, might well be call'd Guardian Angels to the whole Earth.
NOW, these two sorts of Spirit,
viz.
the Guardian Angels, the good Spirits detach'd, as I may and did call it, from Heaven, to have the Inspection over, and Care of his new Creation, as well here as elsewhere; these, and the
Devils,
that other sort of Angels, of whom I may have Occasion to speak (more than a great deal) in this Work; These, I say, may, and do appear, and all Apparition is really between them; all Spirit you can speak of, or pretend to see the Appearance of, must be one of these two, must be
Angel
or
Devil,
there is no other, there can be no other: Miracle, and something more than miraculous, and Things which we have no Reason to look for, only excepted.
BUT on the other hand, as certain as that no other Spirit does, or can, and as certainly as they do not, or cannot appear; so as certain, and past dispute is it, that these Spirits, both good and bad, do appear to us upon all Occasions; I mean all Occasions which they judge needful, and which happens to them, whether by choice or constraint. It is not indeed in us to determine how they are mov'd to go upon these Errands, or in what manner; I may perhaps give some probable Opinions about the Manner and Causes both of their Mission and Permission; for I take those two Heads to contain the Regulation of their Actings; I say
Commission
and
Permission,
and without these we are sure never to be visited in this manner, either by one or other.
IT is true that this gives a considerable Sanction to the Thing call'd Apparition in general, and makes it appear to be more solemn than we are willing to make it; for by this Rule, neither
Devil
or
Angel
appears but upon some extraordinary Occasion; and if it be so, I do not see why we should like it the worse; for if they were to shew themselves upon every trifling Occasion, they would either terrifie Mankind so as to make the World intollerable to him, or familiarise themselves so as not to be regarded.
NOW as it would be the
Devil,
not the good Spirits, that would thus haunt the World upon Trifles; (for the other cannot be supposed to do it) so they would carry on the Familiarity too far, and Men would be so far from being frighted and terrified at him, that in short there would be more Danger in the Intimacy; and, as we say in another Case, Mankind and the
Devil
might be too well acquainted.
BUT first to the Fact, that these Spirits, both good and bad, Do thus APPEAR; and then to the Reason of it. That they do appear, the History, Experience, and Report of all Ages confirm it; they always have, and still do. The Appearances of Spirits are confirmed many ways, History is full of Examples; and sacred History itself, tho' it does not give Relation of particular Apparitions, yet confirms the thing, as a Reality, and out of Question.
CHRIST himself, after his Resurrection, seeing his Disciples frighted and terrified at his Appearance, takes a great deal of Pains to convince them that he was not a Spirit or an Apparition, as they feared:
Luke
xxiv. 37.
They were terrified and affrighted, and suppos'd that they had seen a Spirit.
This would be what it is too dishonourable to say of the sacred Writ, if Apparition of Spirit in the Shape of Body did never come, and that there were no such thing in Nature.
SEE then what our blessed Lord says to them upon it,
v.
39.
Behold my Hands and my Feet, that it is I myself: handle me, and see; for a Spirit hath not Flesh and Bones, as ye sce me have.
This is as direct and positive as any thing of its kind can be suppos'd, or desir'd to be. If there were no such things as Spirits appearing, how could Jes
s Christ have expressed himself in such a manner? the Language is plain, You think you see a Spirit, that is an Apparition, and you may have some Reasons for your Apprehension, because I came in thus unseen, when the Door was shut: Now a Spirit may indeed assume a Shape, and look like the Person it appears for; but if you were to come near to it, you would find a Spirit, an Apparition, has only the Appearance,
it has not Flesh and Bones as
you see me have:
Therefore I am not a
Spectre
or
Apparition,
but a real Body.
SO when he came walking upon the Sea to his Disciples, and they were so frighted that they cried out, believing that they had seen a Spirit; it must be out of Question that there were such things, and that they, the Disciples, had heard of them; nay, perhaps, they had seen such Apparitions themselves before that; why else should they be so frighted as to cry out,
Matth.
xiv. 26.
And when the Disciples saw him walking on the Sea, they were troubled, saying, It is a Spirit; and they cried out for fear.
And why, when our Saviour spoke to them, did he not reprove them for being frighted at their own Imagination, and fa
cy, (like Children,) that they saw a Spirit, when there were no such things in the World, and no Apparitions to be seen?
ON the other hand he speaks kindly to them, knowing that Apparitions are frightful Things to People not used to see them, and bids them
be of good Cheer,
it is not a Spirit,
it is I, be not afraid;
'tis no Apparition, but myself in reality. So also you have the Story,
Mark
vi. 50.
AGAIN, you have a perfect Description of an Apparition in the very manner we are just now discoursing about it,
Job
iv. 15, 16.
Then a Spirit passed before my Face, the Hair of my Flesh stood up. It stood still, but I could not discern the Form thereof: an Image was before mine Eyes, there was silence, and I heard a Voice. Eliphaz
as a Man of Sense, he was not deluded to speak of Things not in Being, he saw an Apparition, not a Fancy.
AGAIN,
Joshua
saw an Apparition, as I mention'd once before,
Josh.
v. 13.
A Man with a drawn Sword in his Hand.
This was an Angel, that is to say a Spirit, and yet it spoke to him, and had the Shape of a Ma
in Arms, with a Sword in his Hand. Had
Joshua
offer'd to touch it, or been permitted to touch it, he would not have found it had
Flesh
and
Bones;
we have our Saviour's Words for it,
A Spirit has not
FLESH
and
BONES; an Apparition is a Spirit assuming a Shape of Flesh and Blood, but without the Reality.
AND this Answers all those fanciful People who say to us, that they saw such or such a Person: I saw him, says the Ignorant frighted Visionist, perfectly! I know him well enough! I am sure 'twas him! I saw him plainly! Hence they conclude it must be the Soul of such a Person, because, say they, it had his very Countenance and his Cloaths on: nay, riding on the same Horse as he us'd to ride on: when the truth of the Case is this, the Man is dead, his Body rotting in the Grave, his Soul carried into the remote Regions of eternal Felicity or Horror unalterable, and that immoveable, as to returning this Way: his Cloaths that were seen, are lying in the Chest, or the Press, where they usually lay, and the poor Horse grasing in the Field, or perhaps quiet in the Stable, and not at all disturb'd. All that is to be said, the good Angel that perhaps had some secret Commission to the Relict or Remains of the Man's Family; to give them Notice of some Evil, to warn, to admonish, &c. assumes the Shape and Appearance of the Man himself, cloaths himself in his Likeness, forms the Apparition in Air, of his Cloaths, his Countenance, his Horse, as a Painter cloathes the Cloth he paints on with Faces, Postures, Habits, Garments, all i
Colours, while the passive Person represented is no way affected with, or concerned in the Draught representing him.
AND why should not this Spirit, thus commission'd to go on such an Errand, be able to amuse us with the Appearance of a Person departed; taking up his Shape, Count
na
ce, Cloaths, &c. tho' the Soul of the Pe
son is not affected with, or concern'd in it? when it is known that we often see Apparitions of Persons living, whom we see and speak to, and converse with; know their Faces, their Voices, their Cloaths; and yet the Persons themselves know nothing of the matter.
I HAVE by me a very diverting History upon this Subject, which I shall abridge for the present purpose, as follows,
viz.
A CERTAIN young Lady of—born in the County of—had been long courted by a young Gentleman, whose Father had a very good Estate in the same Town: she had kept him Company too openly, but had not yielded to his Importunities for a criminal Conversation, tho' her Reputation suffer'd for it as if she had; but at length she was so far over-persuaded, that she made an Appoin
ment to be at such a time at a Farmer's House, a Tenant of his Father's, and who were, it seems, let into the wicked Secret. Accordingly she dresses herself up with the best of her Art, to recommend herself (to the
Devil,
I may say;) and away she goes to meet him, having her Servan
Maid to attend her, because it was over some Fields that she was to go.
WHEN she was n
ar the House she finds some Excuse or Err
to send ba
k her Maid to the Town; the Wench, it s
ems, not being privy to the Business.
AS she turns about to dismiss her Maid, the Maid offer'd to go farther 'till she was nearer the House; but her Mistress sees the Minister of the Town coming along the Path, and making that the Excuse, O, says she, there's our Minister, Dr.—coming, so I shall have his Company; you may go back,
Mary,
I shall be safe enough.
THE Maid sees the Minister also, and goes back accordingly.
AS soon as the Minister came up to her, (for he seem'd to overtake her presently) he gives her the usual Compliment, and asks her how she came to be in the Fields alone?
SHE answer'd she had not been alone, but having Occasion to send b
ck her Maid, she dismiss'd her the sooner because she saw him coming; and besides, says she, I am going but to that House there, naming the Farmer's Name.
O, MADAM, says the Doctor, are you going thither? then I know your Errand.
SHE was surpriz'd and blush'd, but recovering a little, What Errand Sir? says she
WHY, Madam, says he, it may not be proper for me to name the Business; but you know it well enough.
WHAT d' ye mean Sir? says she. I don't understand you
WHY, says he, your Favourite the young Esquire is there before you.
SHE was terribly surprized then, and could hardly speak to him, being touch'd with Shame and Indignation; supposing the young Gentleman had boasted of her Favours before he had receiv'd them, and had betray'd her: however, she made still strange of it: and having, it may be suppos'd, conquer'd her Modesty so far as to make a Promise or Appointment to sacrifice her Virtue to him, she might the easier conquer the Surprize; so she seemed to slight it.
BUT, Madam, says the Minister, if you would take my Advice—and there he stop'd.
WHAT
dvice, Sir? says she. I don't understand what you mean.
WHY, I wou'd advise you to go back to the Town again; and not go into the way of Mischief.
SHE still withstood, and put him off with the usual Answer, I don't understand you; what do y
mean? and the like; but at last the Minister raising his Voice a little, like to that of a stern Reprover,
COME, come, young Lady,
says he,
you can't conceal your wicked Purposes; you have made Mr.—an Appointment; he prevail'd on you last Night, and you have now deck'd yourself up with your Ornaments to meet him, and prostitute your Virtue, and your Honour, and your Conscience, all to his corrupt vicious Appetite; and I know it, you may see that I do; my Advice to you is to go back and break your wicked Promise, and repent that you made it. I shall give him the same Advice pr
sently.
IF she was surpriz'd before, she was confounded now, partly with Horror at the Fact itself, which now she was struck a little with the Sense of; and partly, but Tenfold more, with the Shame of its being known. It put her into such Confusion, that at first she could not answer a Word; but after a-while she said, If you know the Gentleman is there, Sir, I shall not go, especially since you have such hard Thoughts of me: and upon saying this she turns about and goes directly back again, and the Minister went from her towards the H
use. As the Farmer liv'd but a very little way from the Place where she stood talking with him, she look'd behind her and saw him go into the House, and the Door shut after him.
ANY one will suppose upon this shock to her Design, and being not only disappointed in her wicked Pleasures, but expos'd and betray'd, as she imagin'd, by her Lover; she w
nt directly home without any stay, and there gave vent to her Passions with the utmost Rage, and with all the Resentment that such base Treatment could inspire her with.
THE Gentleman, on the other hand, being extremely disappointed, and not knowing what could be the reason of it, after he had waited a long time, came back to see what was the Matter, believing she must be taken ill, or that something had happen'd very extraordinary.
WHEN he came to the House, (she liv'd it seems with an Aunt, whose Husband was also dependent upon the young Gentleman's Father,) he enquir'd for his Mistress; but her Maid brought him Word, that she could not be spoken with.
THAT Answer not being satisfactory, and having refus'd to be answered with two or three more such Excuses, at last she sent him Word plainly, that she had nothing to say to him; and that she not only would not see him now, but would never see him more.
SURPRIZ'D with this, and not able to guess the Meaning of it, he goes away; but the next Morning writes her a very civil obliging Letter, wherein, among abundance of the usual Expressions of Lovers, he begs to know what he had done, that should merit such Treatment, and that she would let him into so much at least of the Causes of her Displeasure, as should put him in a way to clear himself; protesting that he kn
w not the least Step he had taken to disoblige her, except in punctually attending her Appointment; and having the Mortification of sitting five Hours by himself, in Expectation of her Company.
IN Answer to this, she sent him a long Letter, full of Reproaches for his vile Usage of her, drawing her into a sinful, shameful Compliance with him, and then exposing her, and triumphing over her Weakness; making her with one hand the pretended Object of his Amour, and with the other the Sport of his Companions. She upbraided him with telling her that he sat five Hours alone, whereas he had much better Company than she could have been; seeing the good Doctor, who had admonished her not to expose her self in meeting him, had given him the same good Advice that he had done to her, and so had not made so bad a use of his Treachery in betraying her, as he expected.
SHE concluded with telling him, 'twas her Happiness that this came to her Knowledge, before she had thrown her self into the Arms of a Traitor; and tho' he had done her the Injustice to boast of her Weakness, she thank'd God, he triumph'd when he had gain'd but half a Victory; hat she was infinitely beholden to him for her Deliverance, and that it was the only Obligation he had ever laid upon her.
IF I could give you the Entertainment of all the Letters that pass'd between them, while they were both under the Amusement of the mysterious Part, and perfectly ignorant of the Occasion, and then add the Surprize of the Discovery, it would make two Acts of a good Comedy; but I must shorten the Story as much as I can.
HE was so surpriz'd with this Answer from his Mistress, that he could not tell what to make of it, and especially those Paragraphs which related to the good Doctor's admonishing her, and being in his Company; all which as he really had known nothing of it, so there was no guessing at the meaning of it. 'Twas impossible so much as to have the least Notion about it; 'twas all Confusion and Darkness, and without the least Meanin
that he could come at. In a word, abundance of
etters pass'd between them, but still she continu'd using him after the same manner, talk'd the same style, about his betraying her, and that he acted the very Part of the
D
il,
first to tempt, and then to accuse; first
o draw her in with a thousand Importunities, and then expose her for complying. She reproach'd him with the many Sollicitations and Protestations of Affection, and appeal'd to him to testifie, whether he had made an easie Conquest, and whether she had not
so long
withstood his most incessant Assaults; challeng'd him to tell how long he had besieg'd her, and whether she had yielded at last but on an honourable Capitulation, tho' unhappily she had granted Possession without the due Securities. She ask'd him why, when he triumph'd over her Honour, he had not had so much Generosity to own what the Treaty had cost him, and how long it was before he had gain'd that little he had to boast of?
HE protested at large, that he was perfectly surpriz'd at the whole Affair, understood not one Word of it, could not dive into her Meaning, abhorr'd the Thought of what she charg'd him with; and at last very warmly insisted upon her explaining her self, and that otherwise, as she did him so much Injustice, he would do himself Justice; for he heard she made it too publick, and that tho' he had not done it yet, being tender of her Character, yet he could not bear to be treated in this manner, and not know something of the Reason of it.
AT last he press'd her to let him but speak with her; which, tho' it was long before she would grant, yet she did consent to at last, lest he should expose her.
AT this Interview they began to come to an Understanding; she own'd that she was coming to the Place, but that she saw the Minister go in just before her, which made her go back again; but she did not tell him a Word of her seeing the Minister on the Way.
HE protested there was no Minister came to him, or into the House; and afterwards brought the People of the House to testifie the same; that he sat all the while in the Parlour reading a Book, and that no Creature came near him, nor so much as to the Door.
THIS startled her; and at last, with much Importunity, she told him the whole Story of her meeting with the Doctor in the Fields; and, in a word, how the Doctor told her where she was going, and to who; that he was there wating for her; and, which confounded her worse than all, had told her what she was going about; adding, that she had made the Promise the Night before, and that he, meaning the Gentleman, had told him so.
N. B.
In this Part she was mistaken; the Doctor said
he had been told of it as soon as she had made the Promise,
and she in her Surprize understood it, that he said the Gen
leman told him.
HE was so full of this heavy Charge, and himself in every Part so clear of it, that it was impossible he should sit still with it. He knew not what to make of it, he knew very well that he had never open'd his Mouth to any one, Man, Woman or Child about it; that the Farmer, or any of his Family, knew not a Word of it, only that he was to me
t her there, as they had frequently done before, and innocently enough; and he could not suppose she could be so weak to talk of it her self; so that he could not yet imagine what it could be.
A FEW Days furnish'd him with an Opportunity to talk with the Minister himself, who came frequently to his Father's House; and being one Day very free wi
h him, he jested with him, for hindring him of two or three Hours of very good Company.
THE Doctor answer'd him, he should be very sorry to be guilty of any thing so rude, and desir'd to know how it could be.
WHY, Doctor, says he, we were with some Friends very merry at such a House; (insinuating that there was more Company;) and such a Lady, says he, (naming her,) was coming to us, and you met her, and persuaded her to go back again.
SIR,
says the Doctor,
I have only one Satisfaction in the whole Story, and that is, that it cannot be true, as I shall soon satisfie you.
NAY Doctor,
says the Gentleman,
I don't tell it you as of my own Knowledge.
NO Sir,
says the Doctor,
and I should not have so little Respect as to tell you it was false, if you had told it me as of your own Knowledge.
BUT do you assure me,
says the Gentleman,
that it is not true?
I DO assure you,
says the Doctor,
upon my Word, that I know nothing of it.
WHY, Doctor, says the Gentleman, do you give me your Word that you did not meet her in the Fields, next to Farmer
Gi
—'s House on the eleventh Day of the very last Month, being
August?
for I have it all down in black and white * here.
* He pulls out his Pocket-Book, and looks for the Day of the Month.
NOT only not that Day,
says the Doctor,
but I never saw her in those Fields, or any other Fields, in my Life.
WHY, you surprize me Doctor,
says the Gentleman;
it is impossible.
I APPEAL to the Lady her self,
says the Doctor.
NAY, Doctor,
says the Gentleman,
if you appeal to her, you must be cast; for I will swear she told me so her self.
THIS confounded the Doctor for a little while, but he presently recover'd himself; Sir,
says he,
I was going to desire of you, that we might wait upon Mrs.—together, and that I might hear it from her self; but upon recollecting all the Circumstances, I am very happy in one thing, namely, that let her say so her self, and forty Ladies more, I can prove to you, that it is impossible it should be true.
THAT will indeed put an End to it all,
says the Gentleman;
but how can you do that?
WHY, Sir,
says the Doctor,
are you sure she does not give you a wrong Day?
NO, no,
says the Gentleman,
I have a Reason why it can't be a Mistake of the Day, for I have a Memorandum of the Day upon a remarkable * Occasion.
* He had set it down in his Book upon the Occasion of his being disappointed.
AND it is not the Lady's Mistake then,
says the Doctor;
for you know Women are not always the exactest in their Accounts of Days, nor Months, unless it be on worse Accounts than I believe you were to meet about.
WELL, Doctor,
says the Gentleman,
but I am sure of the Day, for I have it in my Book.
NAY, if it was mistaken a Day or two,
says the Doctor,
it matters not; for, as I said before, I never saw her in the Fields in my Life; or if I might see her among other People, I am sure I never spoke to her. But besides Sir, I tell you, this cannot be true, for I was at
London
all the last Month 'till the 27th Day, so that 'tis impossible.
HERE the Discourse necessarily broke off: the Gentleman was loth to discover his Surprize, but told him he would enquire farther into it; and upon that he goes immediately back to the Lady, reproaches her a little wi
h her forming such a Story to pick a Quarrel; but not telling her that he had been with the Minister at all; only, as he might easily know by other Circumstances, that the Doctor was out of Town, he told her, that he would not have charg'd her with such a thing in such harsh Terms, if he was not, upon looking back a little upon things, come to a Certainty, that it was not only false, but that it was impossible to be true.
THEY had a long Dialogue upon that Head; and as he did not presently tell her the Circumstances, thinking he had a little Advantage upon her, he jested with her pretty smartly upon it, seem'd to laugh that she should first put such a Sham upon him, and then to tell such a formal Story to make it good, and to excuse her Breach of Promise, and that not a Word of Truth should be in it.
SHE receiv'd his making a Jest of it with Disdain, and told him she began now to discover what a kind of a Man she was so near being r
in'd by; and that she had been in good Hands indeed, that could pretend to banter her thus; that she sho
ld have been fin
ly us'd, if the good Minister had not been sent from Heaven to save her from being doubly undone.
HE told her she was soon angry; but it touch'd her home; however Madam, says he, you shan't slander the good Man, for he had no hand in it.
WELL, well, says she, I can better laugh at you for that Folly, than I should have done for something too vile to name, if I had fallen into your Hands: For,
says she,
I had too much Reason to say now, that I was sure to have been both betray'd, and expos'd.
HE said she grew scurrilous, and went from one Story to another; that she told him a false Story, and wanted to drop it; he desir'd her to stick to one thing, and go through that first.
SHE colour'd, and raising her Voice, told him 'twas below a Gentleman to give a Woman the Lie; that she believ'd, if she had been a Man, he durst not have said so to her.
HE told her she was mad, and that she had happen'd to speak a false thing, and was in a Rage because she could not come off of it.
SHE told him, he show'd her again that he was no Gentleman; that if he gave her
the Lie
again she would spit in his Face; and that if he would furnish her with a Sword, she would do her sel
justice, and give him Satisfaction as fairly as if she was a Man; and that for his giving her the Lie, she threw it back in his Face, he might make the best of it.
THAT'S Gallantly done,
says he,
Madam indeed, there's a Sword for you; and offers her his own, laying it down upon the Table before her.
YOU an't even with me yet,
says she;
I scorn as much to take up a Sword against a Naked Man; as you ought to have scorn'd, if you had been a Gentleman, to give
the Lie
to a Woman.
HE began now to find she was too hard for him; but he came back to the Question.
WELL Madam,
says he,
will you own your self in the wrong, if I prove to you what I said just now, that what you charge me with not only is false, but can't be true?
AY, ay,
says she,
what can't be true must be false; but what does that do for you?
WELL,
says he,
will you venture so much upon it as—
HERE she interrupted him with some warmth
says she,
I'll venture my Life upon it.
NO Madam, not your Life,
says he,
you shall only oblige your self to perform your Promise, if I do prove it; and I'll promise never to ask you more, if I do not.
I CAN'T go that length again, to save Life; but I'll freely consent to die any Death in the World, that is not by lingring Torture, if you can do it.
WHY then Madam,
says he,
you know our Appointment was such a Day: so he reckon'd up the Days to her, 'till she understood the Calculation, and agreed that it was so.
WELL, it was such a Day,
says she,
and that Day I saw and talk'd with the Doctor in such a place.
WELL Madam,
says he,
and that Day, and all that part of the Month for several Days both before and after it,
the Doctor was at London.
I remember it, and you shall know it by very good Circumstances, such as cannot be deny'd. I know it by several Particulars.
HERE he related to her several Circumstances, as if he knew them by his own Affairs, not let
ing her know at all that he had seen the Doctor and talk'd with him about it.
SHE laught at him at first, and told him, that he had been too old for her before; but she was too old for this now: that she might be imposed upon in many things; but when she saw a Man that she knew, and had known from a Child, and talk'd with a Man she had talk'd to a thousand times, and had heard Preach for almost fifteen Years, he must not think to run her down with Words: that she assur'd him 'twas so, and there was an end of the thing.
WELL Madam,
says he,
and you pretend he came to the House too while I was there? How do you pretend to prove that?
ONLY,
says she,
that I stood still with my Eyes open, saw him at the Door, saw little
Jacky G
—
s,
the Farmer's Son, open the Door to him, make him a Bow, saw the Doctor go in, saw the Door shut to again when he was in; that is all,
says she,
and smil'd.
WELL,
says he,
I can only say this, I will have the bottom of it out; for I will not be charg'd as guilty of using you ill, while I know nothing of it.
NO, no,
says she,
I don't say I am us'd ill, I am us'd well, very well: and here she puts on an Air of Satisfaction, and sings,
To flee from the
Devil
's, to bid him pursue;
And
e
ertai
l
needs no invi
ing:
But if you assail, he will quickly turn Tail,
For the
Devil
was never for fighting.
The
Devil
can tempt, but he cannot compel;
He can wheedle, delude, and invite us;
But he never would fill up his
Quota's
in Hell
If he only should Bully and Fright us.
But when once we're got out of his Clutches,
He rages and roars like a Bull:
His Malice and Emptiness such is,
And yet he's of Venom so full.
The way then to deal with the Devil,
Is at his own Weapons to fight him:
When he sets up his Roar, provoke him the more,
And let him but see that you slight him.
For the Devil's a Coward in Nature,
A pitiful sorry Poltroon;
If you take but the Whip, he'll give you the Slip;
And before you can lash him, he'll run.
HER Singing put him into a Passion; for he took her Song of the
Devil
to mean himself; and he told her 'twas all a scandalous Fiction of her own, and she should hear more of him; and so offered to go out.
SHE bad him do his worst, and made him a Curtsy, as if she suppos'd he had been just going away; and now she laught outright at him.
BUT he cou'd not go away yet; he told her he would not have her expose her self, that she ought not to use him so, and she would but force him to make her ashamed of it.
SHE told him it was good Advice, to bid her not expose her self, and she had the more need of it; because he had exposed her so much already.
THEN he told
er he would bring the Farmer and all his Family to her, to prove that the Doctor had not been there that Day, nor for five Months before; and the Boy should testify that he never saw him, nor open'd the Door, nor let him in.
WELL Sir,
says she,
now you come close to the Point; pray let all this be done: But let me ask one thing for you to think of as you go on; Do you think I know Doctor—our Minister?
YES Madam,
says he,
I believe you know him well enough, and that makes me wonder at you the more.
WELL, and do you think my Maid
Mary
knows him?
says she.
YES,
says he,
I believe she does; for she was born in the Town.
WELL,
says she,
then I have one Witness of my side; you shall hear what she says.
WHY Madam,
says he,
was
Mary
with you?
YOU shall hear presently,
says she.
So she rings a little Bell, and in comes her Maid.
Mary,
don't you remember you walk'd out into the Field with me one Day last Month?
WHAT, when you went to Farmer
Gi
—'s, Madam, and sent me back again?
YES; don't you remember you would fain a gone further?
YES Madam, I was afraid you should go over the last Field alone.
BUT what did I say to you,
Mary?
WHY you would make me go back; by the same Token we saw our Minister Dr.—a coming after us, and you said the Doctor would see you safe; and so I came away contented when I saw him.
ARE you sure 'twas the Doctor,
Mary?
SURE, Madam! yes: why he spoke to me.
WHAT did he say to you?
HE said, How d'ye do Mrs.
Mary?
and touch'd his Hat, just as he us'd to do.
WELL Sir,
says she,
then you see I wa'n't drunk, nor I did not walk in my Sleep. If it were convenient I would send for the Doctor this Minute, and he should tell you what he said to me.
CONVENIENT or not convenient,
says he,
I'll send for him, or go to him, for I will find it out: and then he swore a little.
THAT'S much about as kind as all the rest,
says she;
rather expose any body than your self; but do your worst,
the Snare is broken and I am escap'd,
'twill expose your self at last.
COME Madam,
says he,
you shall see I can talk it with the Doctor, and that before your Face; and yet he shall know nothing of the matter.
I KNOW a little too much of that,
says she;
he know nothing of it! and then she smil'd.
THIS put him almost out of all Temper, and he gave her ill Words again; and at last added the whole Story, and told her downright, that he had talk'd with the Doctor already; and that he solemnly protested he knew nothing of it, and had never seen her or spoken with her for so long time, naming the time when he spoke last to her; likewise he told her what the Doctor said of his having been at
London
all those three Weeks when this happen'd.
SHE begun to be amaz'd, and a little confounded at this; but recovering her self, she told him, that if the Doctor was there himself, she had a direct answer to give him, for she was not a Papist
o believe a Priest against her own Senses.
WHAT answer can you give, Madam,
says he,
when the Doctor shall prove by twenty Witnesses, if need were, that he was at
London,
almost a hundred Mile off, all the while?
WHY my Answer would be this, that 'twas either he or the
Devil.
WELL then it was the
Devil, says he;
I won't dispute that with you, Madam.
NO, no,
says she
I can satisfy you that it could not be the
Devil;
I can convince you; you will acknowledge it presently: Do you think the
Devil
would have turn'd me back again, when he knew the dreadful Errand I was going on?
NAY,
says he calmly,
I confess that's the best thing you have said yet; who then cou'd it be?
says he;
for 'tis plain it could not be the Doctor.
THEN,
says she,
it must be some heavenly Appearance in the Doctor's Cloaths, for I knew not his Face and his Voice only, but his very Gown; and if it was a good Angel, I have the more reason to be thankful that he hindred me from running into the Arms of the
Devil:
and with that she fell a crying, she could hold out no longer.
WELL, they parted after this Scuffle, for he was a little daunted himself.
BUT my Story does not end here; for a little while after something happen'd that explain'd all the rest: The Lady had a Visit to pay at a Neighbour's House, who liv'd a little out of the Town, only over one little Enclosure, which she was oblig'd to cross: Now as she was going over that Close or Enclosure, who should she meet but the Doctor again; and she saw him a good while before he came up to her.
SHE was surpriz'd at seeing him; and if she could have avoided him she would: but 'twas impossible. When he came up to he
, he pull'd off his Hat very courteously, and immediately began to discourse of what he had said to her before; but took no Notice at all of its having been deny'd.
SIR,
says she,
I have been very ill us'd upon that Day's Work.
I KNOW it,
says he,
I know it, repeating the Words: But your Innocence shall be cleared up, I will do it my self; do you be thankful that you escap'd the Snare: And so, giving her no time to answer, he pass'd by her without taking any farewell: which being a little Particular, made her turn her Head to look at him: But tho' it was in the middle of the Field, which was too large for him to be out of it if he had flown as swift as a Pidgeon, (for it was not above a Moment, not a Second of Time) he was gone, and she saw nothing.
SHE was exceedingly surpriz'd, and ready to sink into the Ground; she was so frighted that she could not help fitting down even upon the Grass; for her Joints trembled under her, so that she could not stand.
IT happen'd that a poor Woman of the Town came cross the Close at the very juncture, and knowing her, she call'd to her to come and help her up. She did not tell the Woman what had happen'd to her, but that she was taken with a fit of trembling, and that if she had not sat down she must have fallen down; all which was true: so the poor Woman help'd her up, and led her home, where she continued very ill of the Fright for several Days.
IN this time she had a very great desire to see the Gentleman, for by what the Apparition said to her she made no doubt but he had seen it too.
AFTER some time he had heard that she was very ill, and thinking what he had said to her might have had some influence upon her, to hurt her, he resolv'd to go and see her; for tho' he had ruffled her pretty much; yet, as he said afterwards, he lov'd her very well; and the better for her so seasonably recovering her Vir
ue and good Principles; and much better than he believ'd he should have done, if he had had his Will of her, as he should certainly have had, if she had met him that time at the Farmer's.
WITH these kind Thoughts h
went to visit her; and tho' she was very ill, yet she would be brought out of her Chamber to see him.
AFTER some Civilities, he frankly told her the reason of his Visit word for word as above, and that he came to chear her up a little.
SHE thank'd him; but told him it was true it had extremely troubled her, to think first how near she had b
en to her utter Ruin, and then how needlesly she had been expos'd for it; and that tho' she had no Guilt, as he very well knew, other than that which was in the first wicked Consenting; yet she had been as much expos'd, as if she had been really his Whore.
HE protested to her that he never had opened his Lips of it to the Doctor, or any one else; and that it was the Resentment at the charging him with it, that had made him so angry, and nothing else; for that he scorn'd any thing so base.
SHE told him it was impossible for any one to believe otherwise before; but that she believ'd he was satisfied how it all was, now; and that something had happen'd since, which had open'd her Eyes, tho' it had almost kill'd her; and she believ'd he knew something of it too.
HE wanted to know what it was, for he protested he knew nothing. What
says he,
is there any more Mysteries?
SHE said,
she could not tell him, because she suppos'd he would not believe her.
HE answer'd,
he would believe her in every thing, that he ought to believe any body in.
SHE told him,
she believ'd there would be no occasion to tell him, for that she did not doubt but he would be inform'd the same way that she was, if he was not already.
HE importun'd her earnestly to let him know what it was; and that with such a serious kind of Discourse, that she fancy'd he had seen something too; but it seems he had not: However he entreated her so much, that at last she let him know the whole Story, as above.
THER
is a great deal more belongs to this Story, which would be very diverting, and not without its Uses too; but as the particular Relation does not come within the verge of my own Knowledge, I cannot vouch all the Particulars, at least not sufficiently.
HOWEVER, 'tis enough to the Case in hand: If the Apparition came to prevent this poor deluded young Lady from prostituting her self to a Man that had wheedled her in upon such dishonourable Terms; it could not certainly be the
Devil,
or any Spirit of his Class, or under his Government and Direction; he would never have exhorted her to go back, reproach'd her with the Crime, and prevail'd upon her to believe it had been reveal'd to him by the Treachery of her Lover.
THIS must be certainly one of those Angelick Guards which the God of Nature, in Mercy to Mankind, has placed as a detach'd Body of Spirits to counter-act the
Devil,
prevent the Arch-enemy seducing his Creatures, and over-whelming the World with Crime; and if the Story be as I have receiv'd it and now handed it down, it seems a merciful Disposition of Providence in Favour of the Gentleman, as well as the Lady; and be it a Parable or a History, the Moral is the same, and the Improvement of it the same too: They that are
unning the same Course of Folly would have Reason to be very thankful if they were sure to meet with the same kind of Disappointment, and would never say it was the
Devil
that told it them.
THE Gentleman it seems did not slight the Story so much as she expected he would, nor did he question the Truth of any or every Part of it; for she told it with so much Steadiness, always agreeing in every Particular, and gave so concurring Accounts of the Circumstances as they related to what had happened before, that it was apparent 'twas no Delusion.
THAT which made him most uneasy, was that the Apparition seem'd to promise to appear to him; and he had no Desire to be convinc'd that way. Indeed the Story, at least so far as I have the Particulars, breaks off a little abruptly there and does not say whether he ever saw any thing or no. But it said, it made him be quite another Man in his Way of living than ever he was before; and particularly he was very thankful that he had been prevented being so wicked with her as in all Probability he had been, if this had not happen'd.
NOW this Apparition, as is said above, could not with any manner of Reason, be supposed to be the
Devil;
for why should an
Evil Spirit
appear, to keep any Person from doing Evil? Why should it assume a real Shape, namely that of a Minister in his Gown and Cassock, and that it was in Appearance the very Minister of the Parish; for all this she constantly affirm'd, and t
o things are natural Inferences from it.
FIRST,
That the Appearance was real.
SECONDLY,
That it was a good Spirit.
LET the Divines read us Lectures upon the Nature of Spirits, and upon how far they can or cannot take Cognizance of human Affairs; That I have nothing to do with here; my Business is to observe the Matter of Fact,
viz.
that they do come hither, do appear, and are seen, talk'd to and convers'd with, and that they do come on good Errands, and therefore are not likely to be evil Spirits or
Devils.
TAKE another Historical Relation, which, tho' I name no Names, I have very good Authority for the Truth of, and that more particularly than for the other.
A GENTLEMAN of a very good Estate married a Lady of also a good Fortune, and had one Son by her, and one Daughter, and no more, and after a few Years his Lady died. He soon married a second Venter; and his second Wife, tho' of an inferior Quality and Fortune to the former, took upon her to discourage and discountenance his Children by his first Lady, and made the Family very uncomfortable, both to the Children and to their Father also.
THE first thing of Consequence which this Conduct of the Mother-in-Law produced in the Family, was that the Son, who began to be a Man, ask'd the Father's Leave to go abroad to travel. The Motherin-Law, tho' willing enough to be rid of the young Man, yet because it would require something considerable to support his Expences abroad, violently oppos'd it, and brought his Father also to refuse him, after he had freely given him his Consent.
THIS so affected the young Gentleman, that after using all the dutiful Applications to his Father that he could possibly do, as well by himself as by some other Relations, but to no purpose; and being a little encouraged by an Uncle, who was Brother to his Mother, his Father's first Lady, he resolv'd to go abroad without Leave, and accordingly did so.
WHAT Part of the World he travelled into I do not remember; it seems his Father had constantly Intelligence from him for some time, and was prevail'd with to make him a reasonable Allowance for his Subsistance, which the young Gentleman always drew Bills for, and they were honourably paid; but after some time, the Motherin-Law prevailing at home, one of his Bills of Exchange was refus'd, and being protested, was sent back without Acceptance; upon which he drew no more, nor did he write any more Letters, or his Father hear any thing from him for upwards of four Years, or thereabouts.
UPON this long Silence, the Mother-in-Law made her Advantage several Ways; she first intimated to his Father that he must needs be dead; and consequently, his Estate should be settled upon her eldest Son, (for she had several Children.) His Father withstood the Motion very firmly, but the Wife harr
ss'd him with her Importunities; and she argued upon two Points against him, I mean the Son.
FIRST,
If he was dead, then there was no room to object, her Son being Heir at Law.
SECONDLY,
If he was not dead, his Behaviour to his Father in not writing for so long a Time was inexcusable, and he ought to resent it, and settle the Estate as if he were dead; that nothing could be more disobliging, and his Father ought to depend upon it that he was dead, and treat him as if he was so; for he that would use a Father so, should be taken for one dead, as to his filial Relation, and be treated accordingly.
HIS Father however stood out a long time, and told her that he could not answer it to his Conscience; that there might happen many things in the World, which might render his Son unable to write; that he might be taken by the
Turks,
and carried into Slavery; or he migh
be among the
Persians
or
Arabians
(which it seems was the Cafe) and so could not get any Letters convey'd; and that he could not be satisfied to disinherit him, 'till he knew whether he had Reason for it or no, or whether his Son had offended him or no.
THESE Answers, however just, were far from stopping her Importunities, which she carried on so far, that she gave him no Rest, and it made an unquiet Family; she carried it very ill to him, and in a word, made her Children do so too; and the Gentleman was so wearied out with it, that once or twice he came to a kind of Consent to do it, but his Heart fail'd him, and then he fell back again, and refused.
HOWEVER, her having brought him so near it, was an Encouragement to her to go on with her restless Sollicitations, 'till at last he came thus far to a provisional Agreement, that if he did not hear from his Son by such a time, or before it, he would consent to a re-settling the Estate.
SHE was not well satisfied with the conditional Agreement, but being able to obtain no other, she was oblig'd to accept of it as 'twas; tho', as she often told him, she was far from being satisfied with it as to the Time, for he had fix'd it for four Years, as above.
HE grew angry at her telling him so, and answer'd, that she ought to be very well satisfied with it, for that it was time little enough, as his Son's Circumstances might be.
WELL, she teiz'd him however so continually, that at last she brought him down to one Year: But before she brought him to that, she told him one Day in a Heat, that she hoped his Ghost would one time or other appear to him, and tell him, that he was dead, and that he ought to do Justice to his other Children, for he should never come to claim the Estate.
WHEN he came, so much against his Will, to consent to shorten the time to one Year, he told her, that he hoped his Son's Ghost, tho' he was not dead, would come to her, and tell her he was alive, before the Time expired: For why, says he, may not injur'd Souls walk while embodied, as well as afterwards?
IT happen'd one Evening after this, that they had a most violent Family Quarrel upon this Subject, when on a sudden a Hand appeared at a Casement, endeavouring to open it; but as all the iron Casements, used in former Times, open'd outward, but hasp'd or fasten'd themselves in the Inside; so the Hand seem'd to try to open the Casement, but could not. The Gentleman did not see it, but his Wife did, and she presently started up, as if she was frighted, and forgetting the Quarrel they had upon their Hands, Lord bless me!
says she,
there are Thieves in the Garden. Her Husband ran immediately to the Door of the Room they sat in, and opening it, look'd out.
THERE'S no body in the Garden,
says he;
so he clapt the Door again, and came back.
I AM sure,
says she,
I saw a Man there.
IT must be the
Devil
then,
says he,
for I'm sure there's no body in the Garden.
I'LL swear,
says she,
I saw a Man put his Hand up to open the Casement; but finding it fast, and I suppose,
adds she,
seeing us in the Room, he walk'd off.
IT is impossible he could be gone,
says he;
did not I run to the Door immediately? and you know the Garden Walls on both sides hinder him going
PRY'THEE,
says she angrily,
I an't drunk nor in a Dream, I know a Man when I see him, and 'tis not dark, the Sun is not quite down.
YOU'RE only frighted with Shadows,
says he, very full of Ill-nature:
Folks generally are so that are haunted with an evil Conscience: it may be 'twas the
Devil.
NO, no, I'm not soon frighted,
says she;
if 'twas the
Devil,
'twas the Ghost of your Son: it may be come to tell you he was gone to the
Devil,
and you might give your Estate to your eldest Bastard, since you won't settle it on the lawful Heir.
IF it was my Son,
says he,
he's come to tell us he's alive, I warrant you, and to ask you how you can be so much a
Devil
to desire me to disinherit him; and with those Words,
Alexander, says he aloud,
repeating it twice, starting up out of his Chair, if you are alive show your self, and don't let me be insulted thus every Day with your being dead.
AT those very Words, the Casement which the Hand had been seen at by the Mother, open'd of itself, and his Son
Alexander
look'd in with a full Face, and staring directly upon the Mother with an angry Countenance, cry'd
Here,
and then vanish'd in a Moment.
THE Woman that was so stout before, shriek'd out in a most dismal manner, so as alarm'd the whole House; her Maid ran into the Parlour, to see what was the matter, but her Mistress was fainted away in her Chair.
SHE was not fallen upon the Ground, because it being a great easie Chair, she sunk a little back against the side of the Chair, and Help coming immediately in, they kept her up; but it was not 'till a great while after, that she recover'd enough to be sensible of any thing.
HER Husband run immediately to the Parlour Door, and opening it went into the Garden, but there was nothing; and after that he run to another Door that open'd from the House into the Garden, and then to two other Doors which open'd out of his Garden, one into the Stable-yard, and another into the Field beyond the Garden, but found them all fast shut and barr'd; but on one side was his Gardener, and a Boy, drawing the Rollingstone: he ask'd them if any body else had been in the Garden, but they both constantly affirmed no body had been there, and they were both rolling a Gravel-walk near the House.
UPON this he comes back into the Room, sits him down again, and said not one Word for a good while; the Women and Servants being busy all the while, and in a Hurry, endeavouring to recover his Wife.
AFTER some time she recover'd so far as to speak, and the first Words she said,
L—d bless me! what was it?
NAY, says her Husband, 'twas
Alexander
to be sure.
WITH that she sell into a Fit, and skream'd and shriek'd out
gain most terribly.
HER Husband not thinking that would have
ffected her, did what he could to persuade her out of it again; but that would not do, and they were oblig'd to carry her to Bed, and get some help to her; but she continued very ill for several Days after.
HOWEVER this put an end for some considerable time to her Sollicitations about his Disinheriting her Son-in-Law.
BUT Time, that hardens the Mind in cases of a worse Nature, wore this off also by degrees, and she began to revive the old Cause again, tho' not at first so eagerly as before.
NAY he us'd her a little hardly upon ittoo, and
f ever th
y had any Words about it he would bid her hold her Tongue, or that if she talked any more upon that Subject, he would call
Alexand
r
again to open the Casement.
THIS aggravated Things much; and tho' it terrify'd her a great while, yet at length she was so exasperated, that she told him she believ'd he dealt with the
Devil,
and that he had sold himself to the
Devil
only to be able to fright his Wife.
HE jested with her, and told her any Man wou'd be beholden to the
Devil
to hush a noisy Woman, and that he was very glad he had found the Way to do it, whatever it cost him.
SHE was so exasperated at this, that she threaten'd him if he play'd any more of his hellish Arts with her, she wou'd have him Indicted for a Wizard, and having a Familiar; and she could prove it, she said, plain enough, for that he had rais'd the
Devil
on purpose to fright his Wife.
THE Fray parted that Night with ill Words and ill Nature enough, but he little thought she intended as she said, and the next Day he had forgot it all, and was as good-humour'd as if nothing had happened.
BUT he found his Wife chagreen'd and disturbed very much, full of Resentment, and threatning him with what she resolv'd to do.
HOWEVER he little thought she intended him the Mischief she had in her Head, offering to talk friendly to her; but she rejected it with Scorn, and told him she would be as good as her Word, for she wou'd not live with a Man that should bring the
Devil
into the Room as often as he thought fit, to murther his Wife.
HE strove to pacify her by fair Words, but she told him she was in earnest with him: and in a Word she was in earnest; for she goes away to a Justice, and making an Affidavit that her Husband had a Familiar Spirit, and that she went in Danger of her Life, she obtain'd a Warrant for him to be apprehended.
IN short, she brought home the Warrant, shew'd it him, and told him she had not given it into the Hands of an Officer, because he should have the Liberty to go voluntarily before the Justice of the Peace, and if he thought fit to let her know when he would be ready, she would be so too, and would get some of her own Friends to go along with her.
HE was surpriz'd at this, for he little thought she had been in earnest with him and endeavour'd to pacify her by all the Ways possible; but she found she had frighted him heartily, and so indeed she had, for tho' the thing had nothing in it of Guilt, yet he found it might expose him very much, and being loth to have such a Thing brought upon the Stage against him, he used all the Entreaties with her that he was able, and begged her not to do it.
BUT the more he humbled himself, the more she triumph'd over him; and carrying Things to an unsufferable height of Insolence, she told him at last she would make him do Justice, as she call'd it; that she was sure she cou'd have him punish'd if he continu'd obstinate, and she wou'd not be expos'd to Witchcraft and Sorc
ry; for she did not know to what length he might carry it.
TO bring the Story to a Conclusion; she got the better of him to such a degree, that he offer'd to refer the thing to indifferent Persons, Friends on both Sides; and they met several Times, but could bring it to no Conclusion. His Friends said there was nothing in it, and they would not have him comply with any thing upon the Pretence of it; that he called for his Son, and some body open'd the Casement and cry'd
here;
that there was not the least Evidence of Witchcraft in that, and insisted that she cou'd make nothing of it.
HER Friends carried it high, instructed by her: She offer'd to swear that he had threatned her before with his Son's Ghost; that now he visibly rais'd a Spectre; for that calling upon his Son, who was dead to be sure, the Ghost immediately appear'd; that he could not have called up the
Devil
thus to personate his Son, if he had not dealt with the
Devil
himself, and had a familiar Spirit, and that this was of dangerous Consequence to her.
UPON the whole, the Man wanted Courage to stand it, and was afraid of being expos'd; so that he was grievously perplex'd, and knew not what to do.
WHEN she found him humbled as much as she cou'd desire, she told him if he would do her Justice, as she call'd it, (that is to say, settle his Estate upon her Son,) she would put it up, on Condition that he should promise to fright her no more with raising the
Devil.
THAT part of the Proposal exasperated him again, and he upbraided her with the Slander of it, and told her he defy'd her, and she might do her worst.
THUS it broke off all Treaty, and she began to threaten him again; however, at length, she brought him to comply, and he gives a Writing under his Hand to her, some of her Friends being by, promising that he would comply if his Son did not arrive, or send an Account of himself, within four Months.
SHE was satisfy'd with this, and they were all made Friends again, and accordingly he gave the Writing; but when he deliver'd it to her in Presence of her two Arbitrators, he took the Liberty to say to her, with a grave and solemn kind of Speech:
LOOK you, says he, you have worry'd me into this Agreement by your fiery Temper, and I have sign'd it against Justice, Conscience and Reason; but depend upon it, I shall never perform it.
ONE of the Arbitrators said, Why, Sir, this is doing nothing; for if you resolve not to perform it, what signifies the Writing? Why do you promise what you do not intend shall be done? This will but kindle a new Flame to begin with, when the Time fix'd expires.
WHY,
says he,
I am satisfy'd in my Mind that my Son is alive.
COME, come,
says his Wife,
speaking to the Gentleman that had argued with her Husband, let him sign the Agreement, and let me alone to make him perform the Conditions.
WELL,
says her Husband,
you shall have the Writing, and you shall be let alone; but I am satisfy'd you will never ask me to perform it; and yet I am no Wizard, adds he, as you have wickedly suggested.
SHE reply'd that she would prove that he dealt with the
Devil,
for that he rais'd an evil Spirit by only calling his Son by his Name; and so began to tell the Story of the Hand and the Casement.
COME, says the Man to the Gentleman that was her Friend, give me the Pen; I never dealt with but one
Devil
in my Life, and there it sits, turning to his Wife; and now I have made an Agreement with her, that none but the
Devil
wou'd desire any Man to sign: and I will sign it; I say, give me the Pen, but she nor all the
Devils
in Hell will ever be able to get it executed, remember I say so.
SHE began to open at him, and so a new Flame
ould have been kindled, but the Gentlemen mo
erated between them; and her Husband setting
is Hand to the Writing put an end to the Fray
t that time.
AT the end of four Months she challeng'd the
erformance, and a Day was appointed, and her two
riends that had been the Arbitrators were invited to Dinner upon this Occasion, believing that he Husband would have executed the Deeds; and accordingly the Writings were brought all forth, engross'd, and read over; and some old Writings which at her Marriage were sign'd by her Trustees in order to her quitting some part of the Estate to her Son, were also brought to be cancell'd. The Husband being brought over by fair Means or foul, I know not whether, to be in a Humour for Peace sake to execute the Deeds, and disinherit his Son; alledging that, indeed, if he was dead it was no wrong to him, and if he was alive he was very unkind and undutiful to his Father in not letting him hear from him in all that time.
BESIDES it was urg'd that if he should at any time afterwards appear to be alive, his Father (who had very much encreas'd, it seems, in his Wealth,) was able to give him another Fortune, and to make him a just Satisfaction for the Loss he should sustain by the Paternal Estate.
UPON these Considerations, I say, they had brought over the poor low-spirited Husband to be almost willing to comply; or at least, willing or unwilling, it was to be done, and (as above) they me
accordingly.
WHEN they had discoursed upon all the Particulars, and (as above) the new Deeds were read over, she or her Husband took the old Writings up to cancel them; I think the Story says it was the Wife, not her Husband, that was just going to tear off the Seal, when on a sudden they heard a rushing Noise in the Parlour where they sat, as if some body had come in at the Door of the Room which opened from the Hall, and went thro' the Room towards the Garden Door, which was shut.
THEY were all surpriz'd at it, for it was very distinct, but they saw nothing. The Woman turn'd pale, and was in a terrible Fright; however, as nothing was seen, she recover'd a little, but began to ruffle her Husband again.
WHAT, says she, have you laid your Plot to bring up more Devils again?
THE Man sat compos'd, tho' he was under no little Surprize too.
ONE of her Gentlemen said to him, What is the meaning of all this?
I PROTEST, Sir, says he, I know no more of it than you do.
WHAT can it be then?
said the other Gentleman.
I CANNOT conceive,
says he,
for I am utterly unacquainted with such Things.
HAVE you heard nothing from your Son? says the Gentleman.
NOT one Word,
says the Father,
no not the least Word these five Years.
HAVE you wrote nothing to him,
says the Gentleman,
about this Transaction?
NOT a Word, says he, for I know not where to direct a Letter to him.
SIR,
says the Gentleman,
I have heard much of Apparitions, but I never saw any in my Life, nor did I ever believe there was any thing of Reality in them; and indeed I saw nothing now: but the passing of some Body, or Spirit, or something, cross the Room just now, is plain; I heard it distinctly. I believe there is some unseen Thing in the Room, as much as if I saw it.
NAY,
says the other Arbitrator,
I felt the Wind of it as it pass'd by me. Pray, adds he, turning to the Husband, do you see nothing yourself?
NO, upon my Word,
says he,
not the least Appearance in the World.
I HAVE been told, says the first Arbitrator, and h
ve Read that an Apparition may be seen by some People, and be Invisible to others, tho' all in the same Room together.
HOWEVER the Husband solemnly protested to them all that he saw nothing.
PRAY, Sir,
says the first Arbitrator,
have you seen any thing at any other time, or heard any Voices or Noises, or had any Dreams about this Matter?
INDEED,
says he,
I have several times dream'd my Son is alive, and that I had spoken with him; and once that I ask'd him, why he was so undutiful, and slighted me so, as not to let me hear of him in so many Years, seeing he knew it was in my Power to disinherit him.
WELL, Sir, and what Answer did he give?
I NEVER dream'd so far on as to have him answer; it always wak
d me.
AND what do you think of it yourself,
says the Arbitrator,
do you think he is dead?
NO, indeed,
says the Father,
I do believe in my Conscience he is alive, as much as I believe I am alive myself; and I am going to do as wicked a thing of its Kind as ever any Man did.
TRULY, says the second Arbitrator, it begins to shock me, I don't know what to say to it; I don't care to meddle any more with it, I don't like driving Men to act against their Consciences.
WITH this the Wife, who, as I said, having a little recover'd her Spirits, and especially encourag'd, because she saw nothing, started up; What's all this Discourse to the purpose,
says she,
is it not all agreed already? what do we come here for?
NAY,
says the first Arbitrator,
I think we meet now not to enquire into why it is done, but to execute Things according to Agreement, and what are we frighted at?
I'M not frighted,
says the Wife,
not I; come, says she to her Husband haughtily, sign the Deed; I'll cancel the old Writings if forty
Devils
were in the Room; and with that she takes up one of the Deeds, and went to tear off the Seal.
THAT Moment the same Casement flew open again, tho' it was fast in the Inside, just as it was before; and the Shadow of a Body was seen, as standing in the Garden without, and the Head reaching up to the Casement, the Face looking into the Room, and staring directly at the Woman with a stern and an angry Countenonce; HOLD, said the Spectre, as if speaking to the Woman; and immediately clap'd the Casement to again, and vanish'd.
IT is impossible to describe here the Consternation this second Apparition put the whole Company into; the Wife, who was so bold just before, that she wou'd do it tho' forty
Devils
were in the Room, skream'd out like a Woman in Fits, and let the Writing fall out of her Hands: The two Arbitrators were exceedingly terrify'd, but not so much as the rest; but one of them took up the Award which they had sign'd, in which they awarded the Husband to execute the Deed to dispose of the Estate from the Son.
I DARE say, said he, be the Spirit a good Spirit or a bad, it will not be against cancelling this; so he tore his Name out of the Award, and so did the other, by his Example, and both of them got up from their Seats, and said they would have no more to do in it.
BUT that which was most unexpected of all was, that the Man himself was so frighted, that he fainted away; notwithstanding it was, as it might be said, in his favour.
THIS put an end to the whole Affair at that time; and, as I understand by the Sequel, it did so for ever.
THE Story has many Particulars more in it, too long to trouble you with; but two Particulars, which are to the Purpofe, I must not omit,
Viz.
1. THAT in about four or five Months more after this second Apparition, the Man's Son arriv'd from the
East-Indies,
whither he had gone four Years before in a
Portugueze
Ship from
Lisbon.
2. THAT upon being particularly enquired of about these Things, and especially whether he had any Knowledge of them, or any Apparition to him, or Voices, or other Intimation as to what was doing in
England,
relating to him; he affirmed constantly that he had not, except that once he dreamed his Father had written him an angry Letter, threatning him that if he did not come home he would disinherit him, and leave him not one Shilling. But he added, that he never did receive any such Letter from his Father in his Life, or from any one else.
CHAP. IX. More Relations of particular Facts, proving the Reality of Apparitions; with some just Observations on the Difference between the good and evil Spirits, from the Errand or Business they come about.
I MAKE no Remarks upon any of these Stories; the present Business is to bring Examples of such Things, to prove the Reality of Apparitions in general: As to who, or what it is, that in such cases may appear, and why, and upon what Occasions; that we shall speak of hereafter.
I SHALL bring one Example now within my own Knowledge, and in which I had some Concern; not but that other Accounts may be as authentick as this, tho' I cannot so positively vouch them at second or third Hand. When I offer those to you, therefore, I tell you honestly that I have such and such Relations from good Hands, or I have such a Story by me in Manuscript, and I leave you to make such use of them as you please.
THIS Caution of mine, however, ought not to lessen the Credit of any of the Relations here publish'd; for why may not the Account given by another Hand be as true as this which I give you from my own Knowledge; and why must an Author, in such cases as these, be made answer
ble for the Particulars of every History, or be bound to leave it out, which would be the Reader's Loss, not his own.
HOWEVER the following I can vouch from my own Knowledge.
A. B.
was a Merchant in
London,
and as he drove a considerable Trade beyondsea, he establish'd a Factor, or as the Language of Trade calls it a HOUSE, at a certain Port in the
English
Colonies in
America,
and sent over his Servants or Apprentices thither, as is usual for Merchants to do.
ONE of his said Apprentices being fitted out, and ready to Embark, his Cargo being actua
ly on board the Ship, and the Ship fallen down the River as far as
Gravesend;
his Master was getting his Letters and Invoyces, and other Dispatches, ready for him, he being to go down the River the same Evening.
THE Hurry which thus dispatching him put his Master into, occasion'd, that when he was call'd to Dinner at the usual Hour, he did not take the young Gentleman with him as usual, but told him he must be content to stay in the Counting-house 'till he came to relieve him.
ACCORDINGLY Dinner being over, he goes down to send him up to Dinner. And when he came to the Counting-house Door, there sat his Man with the Book-keeper also, writing as he left him.
IT happen'd just that Moment, some occasion extraordinary oblig'd him to step back again, and go up Stairs to the Dining-Room, from whence he came; and intending not to stay, he did not speak to the young Man, but left him in the Countinghouse, and went immediately up Stairs.
IT was not possible that he, or any one else, except such as could walk invisible, could go by, or pass him unseen: Good Manners would have hinder'd the young Man from thrusting by his Master upon the Stairs, if he had been going up; but he is positive he did not, and cou'd not pass, without being seen.
BUT when he came to the top of the Stairs there sat the young Man at Dinner with the other Servants; the Room they din'd in being a little Parlour, which open'd just against the Stairs, so that he saw him all the way of the upper Part of the Stair-case, and could not be deceived.
THE Master did not speak to him, which he was very sorry for afterwards; but the Surprize made him pass by the Room, and go into the Dining-Room, which was to the right Hand of it, but he sent one immediately to look, and he was there really at Dinner; so that what he (the Master) saw below in the Counting-house, must be the Apparition, as it certainly was.
BUT this was not all: The young Gentleman embark'd as above, and arriv'd safe with all his Effects in
America,
tho' he never liv'd to return. However, I cannot say his Apparition in the manner as related could have the least Relation to his being sick, and dying abroad, which was not 'till three Years afterwards. But what follow'd was of another kind.
THIS young Man had an elder Brother, who liv'd in
London;
he was a fine Gentleman, and a Scholar, and was at that time studying Physick. He was also a stout brave Gentleman, and in particular understood a Sword, that is to say how to use a Sword, as well as most Gentlemen in
England.
HE had an accidental Rencounter with a Gentleman in the Street, in that short Street which goes out of
Fleet-street
into
Salisbury-Court;
and being so compleat a Master of his Weapon, he wounded his Antagonist, and drove him into a Tavern in the Street, from whence came out two Men more upon him with their Swords, but both of them found the Gentleman so much an Over-match for them, that they left him as fast as the first; whereupon a fourth came out, not with a Sword, but a FireFork taken hastily up out of the Tavern Kitchen, and running at this Gentleman with it, knock'd him down, and broke his Skull, of which Wound he afterwards died.
WHILE this was done in
London,
his Brother, as far off as
Boston
in
New-England,
writing to his Master the Merchant, (and who gives this Account of it) after other Business, writ this Postscript.
SIR, I beg you will be pleas'd in your Return to this to let me have some Account, as much as conveniently may be, of how my Brother does, and what Condition he is in; which you will excuse my Importunity for, when you read the following Account,
(viz.)
THE
20
th of—last, about six a Clock in the Morning, lying in my Bed, and broad awake, my Brother, or an Apparition of my Brother, came to the Bed's Feet, and open'd the Curtain, looking full in my Face, but did not speak. I was very much frighted, but however I so far recover'd as to say to him, Brother, what is the matter with you?
HE had a Napkin-Cap on his Head, which was very bloody, he look'd very pale and ghastly, and said, I am basely murther'd by—naming the Person, but I shall have Justice done me; and then disappear'd.
NOW this Letter was so dated, that it was impossible any Account could be sent of the Disaster, that could reach thither in that time; for it was not dated above fourteen Days after the Fact was committed in
London;
and that it was Genuine I am well assur'd, because I saw the Letter within an Hour after it was receiv'd in
London,
read it my self, and knew the young Man's Hand, and the young Man also perfectly well, as I did his Brother that was kill'd also, very intimately.
THE young Man was sober, religious and sensible, not given to Whimsie, or light-headed Fancies, not vapourish or distemper'd, not apt to see double, or to dream waking, as many of our Apparition-making People are; he was besides that a Scholar, and very serious: the first I mention as a Protection to him from foolish Imagination, and the last from Falshood; and I am satisfy'd, the Reader may depend upon both the Stories, I mean as to the Truth of them.
IN my speaking of Apparitions as I have stated the Case, I must take leave to differ from the Notions of the Ancients, who 'tis evident understood all Apparition to be the Souls, or as we call them, the Ghosts, of departed Persons; but when they came to make rational Conclusions from those first Opinions, What wild Additions were they driven to make, to the first just Conceptions which they had form'd in their Minds?
THEIR first Conceptions,
I say,
were indeed just, consistent with Reason, and with Nature; for they concluded, that when the Body is dead, and the Soul separated, the State was determin'd. This Mr.
Pope
expresses very well in his Translation of
Homer,
For to the farther Shore
When once we pass, the Soul returns no more.
THIS was, I say, a rational and just Sentiment; but then they were confounded in all those Imaginations, by seeing the Apparitions of their departed Friends, as if come back from those eternal Shades; and how to reconcile this they did not know.
TO get over this Difficulty, they were driven to strange Shifts, and some of them it must be confess'd were very foolish ones: such as these;
1. THAT the Soul wandered about in the Air, 'till such time as the Body obtain'd its due Funeral Rites: from this Notion, the Friends of the de
ased were mightily concern'd to see the Funeral Pile erected for their departed Friends, and to have the Body honourably burn'd; then the Ashes of the Bones were deposited in an Urn, and that Urn bury'd in the Earth; when this was done the Soul was admitted to pass the Flood, (that is) to be transported into the
Elysian
Fields, from whence they never should return any more; but in case these Rites were not perform'd for any Person, the Soul wander'd restless, and unfix'd, in a state of Perplexity, for an hundred Years. Hence those Lines in
Virgil,
Aeneid. vi.
Hae
omnis, quam c
rnis inops inhumataque turba est:
Portitor ille, Charon: hi, quos veluit unda, sepulti.
Nec ripas datur horrendas nec rauca fluenta
Transportare prius, quam sedibus ossa quierunt.
Centum errant annos, volitantque haec littora circum:
Tum demum admissi stagna exoptata revisunt.
Aeneid lib. vi. line 325.
NOW between this Time, or during this Interval, that is to say, between Death and the Funeral Pile, they pretended they allow'd the separated or unembodied Souls of Men might appear, and visit their Friends, or harrass their Enemies; and on this Occasion, the Ghost of
Patroclus,
slain by
Hector
at the Siege of
Troy,
is brought in visiting his Friend
Achilles,
and begging of him to get his Funeral Rites perform'd, that he might be admitted to Rest.
—Thus the Phantosm said,
Sleeps my
Achilles,
his
Patroclus
dead?
Living, I seem'd his dearest, tendrest Care,
But now forgot, I wander in the Air:
Let my pale Corse the Rites of Burial know,
And give me Entrance in the Shades below:
'Till then the Spirit finds no Resting-place,
But here and there th' unbodied Spectres
ace
The Vagrant Dead—
Iliad lib. xxiii.
2.
HOMER
's Notion of the State of the Dead, was something like the ancient Philosophy of the
Aegyptians,
which gave the Soul a Shape like the Body, and that it was only a Receptacle of the Mind; the Mind they made to be the sublime and superior Part, and that only.
THUS in the Case of Apparitions, they allow'd that this Case or Shell call'd the Soul, might appear after Death, but the Mind could not, but was exalted among the Gods, and took up its Eternal Abode; from whence
"—It could return no more.
THUS the Ghost of
Patroclus,
going with his Speech to
Achilles,
says thus,
When once the last the Funeral Flames ascend,
No more shall meet
Achilles
and his Friend:
No more our Thoughts to those we love make known.
THIS last Notion, tho' gross and absurd in it self, was the utmost Refuge they had, by which to solve the Difficulty of Apparitions. They imagin'd that the Soul was not only separated by Death from the Body, but that there was a Separation of the Understanding from its Case or Vehicle, as they call'd it; so that the Soul, which was but the Image and Form of the Body, might be in Hell; the Body it self burnt to Ashes remain'd in the Urn; and the Understanding or Mind, which was the sublime divine Part, be in Heaven with the Gods: This
Homer
expresses thus,
—'Tis certain Man, tho' dead, retains
Part of himself; the immortal Mind remains.
The Form subsists without the Body's Aid,
Aerial Semblance, and an empty Shade.
AGAIN he explains it in his
Odyssey,
lib. xi. line 600. speaking in the Name of
Ulysses,
Now I the Strength of
Hercules
behold,
A Towring Spectre of Gygantick Mould,
A shadowy Form! For high in Heav'n's Abodes
Himself resides, a God among the Gods.
HERE
Homer
fancies
Hercules,
that is the Mind, the sublime Part of
Hercules,
was in Heaven, and exalted there to the highest Degree too;
A
God
among the
Gods.
and yet at the same time his Soul, his
or Image, was in Hell. And
Plutarch
gives us the same Description at large.
WHAT learned Nonsense, and what a great deal of it is here, to reconcile a thing, which upon the Christian Foundation is made as easie, as any thing not immediately visible to the common Eye, can be made?
NATURE dictated, and Reason confirm'd, that the first Principle, namely, the Soul, or as they call it, the Mind or Understanding, fled to Heaven immediately after Death, and return'd no more.
THUS
Andromache
mourning for the Loss of her Husband
Hector,
is brought in speaking according to the Doctrine of the Ancients:
Thou to the dismal Realms
for ever
gone,
And I abandon'd.—
THE Dead once pass'd to the
dismal Realms
(as they call'd the Shades below) were
gone for ever,
and to return no more; but then they were perplex'd to find that they did return, as in this Case of
Patroclus
to
Achilles;
tho' that (by the way) was a Dream only, not an Apparition, or as we may call it an Apparition in a Dream, and no more.
BUT they had their Apparitions, and we read of many Apparitions of the Dead to the Living; as particularly in the famous Example of
Caesar
appearing to
Brutus:
and this perplex'd them so, that they knew not how to support the Principle of the Soul not returning, under the Experience of Souls actually returning in Apparition, visiting and conversing with their Friends, which was incontestible, daily Experience making it known to all Parties.
TO reconcile this they fled to Invention, and first to that of the Interval between the Death and the Funeral of the departed Souls; of which before.
BUT this is liable to so many just Exceptions, so many Absurdities, that it could not satisfie Men of Sense; for first they were obliged to say and prove, (which would be very difficult) that none of the Souls of the Dead ever appear'd after the Funeral Rites were solemnized; which if one Example had contradicted, all the Arguments in the World could not then have supported the Fiction; and this I cannot doubt was contradicted on many Occasions.
AND this no doubt made the ancient System of the
Aegyptians
be reviv'd, and pass better among them afterwards; tho' whether the
Romans
receiv'd it or no, we do not find ascertain'd in any Part of their History.
BESIDES, there was an Absurdity in the very Doctrine it self; for if the Apparition of a departed Soul was limited by this Circumstance of burning the Body, or performing the Funeral Rites; it put the State of the Dead in that particular Respect into the Power of the Living:
for Example,
If the Living, who had Possession of the dead Bodies of Persons slain, suppose them Friends, had Poss
ssion of the Body, the Soul of that Body, tho' unembodied and dismiss'd, could not be admitted to rest, or as they express'd it, could not pass into the Shades or R
alms below; so if the Enemy had Possession of the Body, it was in the Power of the Enemy to keep the Soul out of Heaven: an Absurdity so gross, one would think the wiser Heathens could never entertain such a Thought: Yet that such it was, the Words of
Patroclus
's Ghost quoted from
Homer
makes evident.
Let my pale Corse the Rites of Burial know,
And give me Entrance in the Shades below.
UNHAPPY
Patroclus!
How gross would this sound, how harsh and unmusical in our Times, when Christianity has given us more just
Ideas
of things?
Patroclus
could not get leave to go to the Shades below, 'till his Funeral Rites were perform'd; that is, in our Sense, could not be admitted, no not into Hell it self, 'till his Body was burn'd on the Funeral Pile or Pyre, and his Ashes deposited in an Urn; that is, buried like a Gentleman.
BY which Rule, the Souls of those poor Creatures who were killed in the Wars, and were left unburied in Heaps in the Field, or only a Pile of Stones thrown upon them, as was often the Case, are wandring still, and neither admitted into Heaven or Hell.
AGAIN, it was in the Power of the Enemy, if he had a Body in Possession, to preserve his Hatred against that Enemy even beyond Death, and by keeping him unburied, keep his Soul or Spirit suspended, wandring, and forgotten in the Air, and neither admitted to one or other Place, whether above or below.
THUS
Achilles
had the Body of
Hector
in his Power twelve Days, and
Homer
brings him in triumphing over his Enemy in that case, and in a manner unworthy of a Man of Honour. When he speaks to the Ghost of his Friend
Patroclus,
and vows to sacrifice twelve
Trojan
Prisoners at his Funeral Pile; he adds,
Achilles'
Promise is compleat,
The bloody
Hector
stretch'd before thy Feet,
Lo! to
he Dogs his Carcase I resign.
Gloomy he said, and horrible in View,
Before the Bier the bleeding
Hector
threw,
Prone on the Dust.
Iliad lib. xxiii. line 35.
So again,
Achilles
mourning over the Body of
Patroclus
as it lay on the Funeral Pile, and the Fire not yet kindled; I say, there again he threatens to deny
Hector
a Soldier's Burial.
But heavier Fates on
Hector
's Corse attend,
Kept from the Flames for hungry Dogs to rend.
THIS was a terrible Curse, and very cruel to poor
Hector
after he was dead, not to suffer his Soul to enter into the Shades below, which would be (to speak it in our Language) not to give him leave to go to Hell; that the Gods it seems thwarted
Achilles,
and would not let his Cruelty take place, but he was oblig'd to grant
Priam
a Truce, and let the
Trojans
bury him.
So spake he, threatning: But the Gods made vain
His Threat, and guard inviolate the Slain.
Celestial
Venus
hover'd o'er his Head,
And roseat Unguents, heavenly Fragrance! shed;
She watch'd him all the Night, and all the Day,
And drove the Blood-hounds from their destin'd Prey.
SO that the Burying of
Hector
was made the Care of the Gods, defeating the cruel Vengeance of
Achilles.
TO what Length did this foolish Notion of the Ancients carry this Point! putting it into the Power of a Man's Enemy to keep his Soul out of Heaven too, as long as his Enemy thought fit to keep the Body out of the Grave.
HAPPY it is for us in these malicious Days that it is otherwise here; when not Enemies only, but even cruel Creditors, might arrest the dead Body of their Debtor, and even send the Soul of him to the
Devil,
or keep it hovering and wandring in the Air 'till their Debts were paid: As Times go now, and as Charity stands now rated among us, no poor Debtor could be at Rest any more after he was Dead, than he could before, 'till his Debts were all paid.
NAY, tho' it had pleas'd a merciful Father to forgive him his Sins, and as we allow it's possible, in spi
e of the cruel
T—S—
that a Brankrupt may die in the State of a pardoned Penitent; yet I say 'till the Debt was paid the more inexorable Creditor should refuse to let him be admitted into Heaven 'till he was paid the utmost Farthing.
I MUST confess if this were the Case among us, I believe it would be the hardest thing in the World to get a poor Bankrupt's Composition accepted, or his Certificate signed; for if it was in the Power of the Creditors to send their Debtors to the
Devil,
I should be apt to say with the Disciples of our Lord,
Who then shall be saved?
HOW often do we find a Creditor give it for an Answer, when a solliciting Friend comes begging him to compound, and to accept the utmost Shilling that the Debtor has to offer: How often,
I say,
do we find the cruel Creditor reply,
No not I, I'll sign none of it, the
Devil
shall have him before I'll sign it?
NAY, if his Soul was to hover in the Air, as the Ancients fancy'd, 'till the Body was buried; I question whether they would let the Debtor go either to Heaven or Hell 'till they had their Money; especially if the hovering or wandering in the Air was a worse Condition, as I don't know but, while the
Devils
are said to be there, it may.
BUT to return to the Ancients and their Notion of Futurity, and of Souls departed, the Difficulty, as I have observed, was very perplexing: They granted that after the Souls of Men were once determined, and transported in
Charon
's Ferryboat to the other side of the River
Styx,
or the
Stygian
Gulph, they could return no more; and all their other Fables upon that Subject would have been overthrown and come to nothing, if it had been otherwise; such as
Cerberus
barking continually at the Gate,
Charon
the Ferry-man carrying all over but bringing none back, and the like.
BUT notwithstanding this, as I have said, they found several of these Souls visiting the World in Apparition, and this quite destroy'd all the Scheme of their being in a determin'd State; so that they knew not what to think of next.
HOW would it have unravell'd all those hard Knots, and made every thing easie to their Understanding, had they been let into this just way of reasoning? had they discover'd that there is an Angelick World, an invisible World of Spirits, some of whom being placed by their merciful Maker, as an advanc'd Body, at or near the out
r Circumference of the Earth's Atmosphere, have a Power given them at least to take Cognizance of human Affairs; and to converse with this World, either by Apparition, Voices, Noises, good or bad Omens, or other sensible Conveyances to the Mind, by which they can give Notices of Good or Evil, and can intimate to Man many things useful to him in the Conduct of his Life.
THAT the Spirits inhabiting this invisible World are at hand; (how near is not necessary to us to know) can assume Bodies, Shape, Voice, and even can personate this or that Man or Woman; so as to appear in the very Figure, Countenance, and Cloaths or Dress of our departed Friends, speak with their proper and distinct Voices, and in the first Person of this or that particular Man or Woman, and in their Names; and can thus suit themselves in their several Appearances, to the Occasion they appear for:
HAD they known these things, I say, they would have rejoic'd in the Discovery, and it would have made every thing easie to them.
Patroclus
would never have troubled
Achilles
with a Visit from the Air, upon pretence of his being left to be wandring about the Atmosphere for want of his Funeral Rites; the Dogs, or the Crows, or the Worms might have feasted themselves on
Hector
's Carcass, it would never have disturb'd
Hector
in the least, much less would her Goddess-ship
Venus
have concern'd herself to protect his Corps 'till the funeral Pile was prepar'd.
THE Doctrine of the Soul's being a Shell or Case form'd into a Shape, as a Mould is form'd into Shape to receive the Brass or Copper, and throw out a Statue or Figure of this or that Heroe, which it is appointed to form; I say, this absurd Doctrine of the Soul, Body and Mind being three distinct Persons in every Man, would not have found Place in the World; but all things would have been conceiv'd regularly of, and the World would have been rightly inform'd of future things, as well as of things present.
HOWEVER, to bring it down to our Case, all this concurs to the Doctrine of Spirits, and the Reality of their Appearance, which is the Case before us: Their Friends departed did appear; what it was appear'd they knew not, only negatively they knew it was not their Bodies, however the Shape might be assumed; nor could they reconcile that Part to their Understanding. How it could be, that the Body seem'd to appear and did not appear; or, as we might say, appear'd as if they had appear'd; but when a Tryal was offer'd, no Body could be found, as was the Case of
Patroclus
and
Achilles
in
Homer,
which Mr.
Pope
thus translates,
He said, and with his longing Arms essay'd
In vain to grasp the visionary Shade.
Like a thin Smoke he sees the Spirit fly,
And hears a feeble lamentable Cry.
HOW gross an Ignorance is here in so great a Man as
Achilles?
to go about to grasp a Vision! to feel a Shade! One can hardly excuse the Poet for allowing
Achilles,
who was the Heroe of the whole Poem, to be so weak, even in those Days; but it must be allowed 'twas all in a Dream, and imaginary, and it might well awake him indeed, as it did, to grasp at a Man in Armour, and find nothing in his Arms but Smoke.
THE Result of it all is this, namely, the Reality of Apparition was a certain, undoubted, and received thing; 'tis evident that they were not questioned; for upon the Reality of the Appearance of Souls, all those Pains were taken to settle the Possibility of it. That it was so, the Frequency of the thing left them no Room to question; it would have been ri
iculous to have disputed it; but how it could b
, how to reconcile it to all the Notions of Soul and Body, the future and the present State, that was what no body could explain, and no body could understand; which Ignorance put their Invention so much on the Rack to find out and form Schemes for the bringing the Particulars together, and making the Appearance possible, whichthey daily found was in Fact real.
'TWAS a little strange that tho' they were satisfied by daily Demonstration that the Thing was true, yet they were obliged to believe it was not true at the same time. They frequently saw their Friends appear, and yet knew they were not in a Condition from whence they could return to appear. But the strangest thing of all, at least to me, is, that they should not, all this while, conceive the Possibility of Spirits assuming human Shape, and appearing in their Figures, in their Shapes, and in their Names.
THIS would have put an end to all the Difficulty, and have reconciled all the Doubts that attended it, and at the same time would have led them into several sublime Truths, such as they were perhaps perfectly ignorant of; as particularly into the great Doctrine of the Unity of infinite Power; the universal Empire of Providence, and its Government and Influence of and upon all the Affairs of this World, even the most minute things in Life; and many other valuable Inquiries.
THAT Apparitions were believed to be real in those Days, is evident from many Instances of it given in History, tho' I have not room to look far back. 'Tis said that
Alexander
the Great was haunted by the Ghost of his Friend
Clitus,
whom he had most ungratefully tortur'd to Death, after a long Series of the most faithful Services, and successful also; but there is no particular Account of it in
Plutarch.
THE Apparition of the Ghost of
Julius Caesar
to
Brutus
a little before the Battel at
Philippi,
tho' it be certain, is nevertheless variously reported; some Accounts relate it to be the Ghost of
Julius Caesar,
and vulgar Opinion concurs with that Report; which is so receiv'd at this time, that they show you an original antient Piece of fine
Italian
Painting at
Naples,
where the Phantome is represented bloody and wounded, with
Casca
's Dagger sticking in his Shoulder, which he,
Casca,
reaching his Arm over his Shoulder fix'd in or near his Collar Bone before, and left sticking there; according to which our Frontespiece to this Work is at least design'd: Whether that Part of the Story be right represented or not, is difficult to determine.
BUT according to other Accounts, the Apparition was only of a Man, without any Similitude of
Caesar;
and that when
Brutus,
who was busy writing Dispatches for his Army which was then drawing together to fight the
Octavian
Troops, look'd up and saw him, he boldly ask'd,
What art thou?
and the Apparition answer'd,
I am thy evil Genius, and I will meet thee again at
Philippi; to which the undaunted Hero, unconcern'd at the Sight, and as if he desir'd him not to disturb him at that time, he being then otherwise engaged, answer'd,
Well, I'll meet thee there,
and so went on with his writing.
BRUTUS
was, without doubt, a Hero in his personal Valour, and more so in his Principle,
viz.
the Love of Liberty, and of his Country; and as nothing but the Zeal for the Liberty of his Country could have embark'd him against the Life of
Caesar,
who was otherwise his Benefactor, so he was above the Fear of Death, and could not be in the least daunted at the Fore-knowledge of his Fate at
Philippi;
seeing he had the Notion of Life which was general at that time, namely, that a true Heroe could never be miserable, since it was always in his Power to die a Freeman, and not to out-live any threatned Calamity, whether Personal or National.
UPON this foot he enter'd that unequal Battel against the
Octavian
Troops with an undaunted Chearfulness; for he was sure one way or other to come off victorious; that is to say, that if
Augustus
conquer'd his Army, he knew how to conquer
Augustus;
if by the Slaughter of his Troops
Caesar
had the better of him, and defeated his Designs for the Liberty of his Country, He, by the Slaughter of himself, knew how to defeat
Augustus
in his Designs of conquering
Brutus,
since he resolv'd to die free, and not survive the
Roman
Liberty; and so he did.
AND upon this Foundation it was, that he was so unconcerned at his approaching Fate, and so undaunted in his looking at and speaking to the Spectre that appear'd to him.
BUT we have yet abundance more Proofs by Example of the Reality of Apparitions.
ALARICH
the famous
Gothick
King, who over-run so much of the
Roman
Empire, had an Apparition which came to him, and told him he should undertake his Expedition against the
Romans,
and that promis'd him Victory and Success; some said it was an Angel, others that it was the Ghost of his deceased Predecessor
Rhadagaiseus.
When he first undertook to raise his Army he was intending to go upon a glorious Expedition to the East,
to wit,
against the
Hunns
and the
Heruli;
that is to say, into
Poland, Sclavonia
and
Hungaria,
and perhaps
Mus
ovy
or
Russia.
But upon the Apparition speaking to him, he was encourag'd to undertake a War against the
mans
in
Italy;
where notwithstanding he was routed and utterly overthrown by
Stilico
he afterwards return'd into
Italy,
kill'd
Stilico
the
Roman
General, over-run the Country, and took and plunder'd the City of
Rome
it self; this was
Ann.
409: so that the Apparition, of whatever kind it was, must be so far
Angelic
as to foreknow Events and Issues of things on Earth, which must be suitable to the Angelic Heavenly Spirits, and superior to the Diabolic Spirits who know nothing Prophetic.
NOR is it any thing inconsistent with the Angelic exalted and good Spirits; for this was not encouraging Evil, but stirring up a powerful Prince, who was to be
Flagellum Dei,
to execute the Divine Vengeance upon that wicked People the
Romans,
whom God had resolved to destroy, or at least to reduce very low
like as God is said to stir up
Nebuchadnezzar
King of
Babylon
to come up against
Jerusalem.
I SAY this could not be the
Devil,
because (as I have always insisted upon it, so I do still) that he knows nothing of what is to come; the
Devil
is no Prophet, he cannot foretell or predict, oth
than by probable Guesses, rational Consequences, and such Circumstances in which he can go farther than other People.
YOU have an Example of this in the famous Sorceress
Jaquelina;
she pretended to speak in the Name of the
Devil,
and sometimes to have the
Devil
speak in her, and so to give Answers as by an Oracle, and resolve Doubts and difficult Questions, which she did to Admiration; and thereby got both Fame and Money. Now it was observ'd that when People came to her with Doubts and difficult Cases, even such as none could resolve, relating to things past or present, her Answers were surprizing; but if they came to her to ask any Opinion of things future, and what should be to come, the
Devil
was always Nonplust, and generally lyed in his Answers; so that none
ould depend upon any thing he said. In a word the
Devil
was not able to foretell any thing; and hence I infer, as I havealways said, the
Devil
is no Prophet, he can predict nothing, for he knows nothing; and that if any Apparition comes to be seen or heard, who takes upon it to tell what should come to pass, you may depend upon it that Apparition is not from the
Devil.
HENCE I think we may readily account for that Story so well publish'd, whether so well known or no, of which Mr.
Aubrey
has given us the last Relation, as follows:
TWO Persons (Ladies) of Quality, both not being long since deceased, were intimate Acquaintance, and lov'd each other intirely: It so fell out, that one of them fell sick of the Small-Pox, and desired mightily to see the other, who would not come, fearing the catching of them; the Afflicted at last dies of them: she had not been buried very long, but she appears at the other's House in the dress of a Widow, and asks for her Friend who was then at Cards, but sends down her Woman to know her Business; who in short told her, she must impart it to none but her Lady, who after she had received this Answer, bid her Woman have her into a Room, and desire her to stay till the Game was done, and she would wait on her. The Game being done, down Stairs she came to the Apparition, to know her Business.
Madam,
says the Ghost turning up her Veil, and her Face appearing full of the Small-Pox,
You know very well that you and I lov'd intirely, and your not coming to see me I took so ill at your Hands, that I could not rest 'till I had seen you,
and now I am come
to tell you, that you have not long to live, therefore prepare to die; and when you are at a Feast, and make the thirteenth in Number, then remember my Words;
and so the Apparition vanish'd. To conclude, she was at a Feast where she made the thirteenth Person in Number; and was afterwards asked by the deceased's Brother, whether his Sister did appear to her, as was reported; she made him no Answer, but fell a weeping, and died in a little time after. The Gentleman that told this Story, says, that there is hardly any Person of Quality but what knows it to be true.
I DO not enter into an Enquiry here whether the Story is true or no, I believe it in Common, for it was generally believ'd to be true: But 'tis strange to have this brought for an Evidence of the Prescience of the
Devil;
whereas on the contrary it confirms what I have said,
viz.
That this cou'd not be the
Devil,
or what we call the Appearance of the
Devil,
no, nor could it be the Soul of the departed Person; and for the Apparition saying it could not be at Rest, either it may be put in by some of the very many Authors relating the Story; or it might be said by the good Angel or Spirit appearing, to introduce her Message, and to rouze the Mind of the Person spoken to by something that should touch her more to the quick, be the more feeling, and sensible to her, and so make a due Impression upon her of the Truth of that which was to follow.
BUT first, for its not being the
Devil;
for I have granted that the
Devil
may make an Apparition, tho' far from inferring from thence that all Apparitions are the
Devil:
But I say as to its not being the
Devil
that appear'd here, in the Shape of the deceas'd Lady, 'tis Evident,
FIRST,
Because, as I said above, and have repeated often, the
Devil
cannot predict, he has no Prescience of things before they are in View; he can juggle and play scurvy Tricks of many kinds, as when he prophesied to the Farmer the Fall of his Stack of Corn, and then rais'd a sudden Storm and blew it down. It may be he can see at some farther Distance than we can, and judge of the Consequences of such and such Causes better than we can, and with a more perfect and exact Judgment. But to predict things which are only conceal'd in the Womb of Time, and behind the Curtain of Providence, as this of Life and Death was, it is not in
Satan
to do it; and therefore this could not be from the
Devil:
the Lady was in Health, was Chearful, nay Merry, was at a Feast and at Cards. Here was no Signal of Death, or so much as of Sickness: I see no token of the
Devil
in this Apparition; except it be his extraordinary Civility that he would not interrupt her Game.
SECONDLY,
It could not be the
Devil,
because of his bidding the Lady prepare for Death; which, as I have often observ'd, does not seem to be much of Satan's Business, not being very suitable to his Disposition, and less to his Design.
THERE is some little Incongruity in this Story too, which renders it inconsistent, not with the
Devil
only, but even with the Nature of a Spirit or Apparition: As (1) Why should the Apparition come when the Lady was engag'd and could not speak to her? as if she, being a Ghost or Spirit as we vulgarly express it, did not know what she was doing, as well as where she was? (2) How does her taking ill the living Lady's not visiting her, oblige her to come and give her this kind Notice of her Death?
I took it so ill at your Hands, that I could not rest 'till I had seen you.
THO' this does not shock my Belief of the Apparition it self; yet it seems to hint that the several Hands thro' which the Relation has pass'd, have made up the Speech for the Ghost, and committed some Blunders in it, that are inde
d shocking to the Reader.
IT seems more rational to be as I have read the Story, that the Ghost should say thus:
Tho' I took it very ill at your Hands that you wou'd not come to see me;
yet I could not rest 'till
I had seen you, to tell you that you have not long to live, and that you should prepare,
&c. This is much better Sense, and more agreeable to the Nature of the thing; for certainly coming in that manner to give the Lady No
ice of the Approach of her End, and to counsel her to
prepare accordingly,
must be allow'd to be an act of Kindness, not of Resentment, and a T
stimony of the Affection that was between them; and therefore her taking it ill that she had not been to Visit her in her Illness, could not rationally be given as a Reason for it.
BUT as to the Apparition it self, since it could not be the Soul of the deceas'd Lady, and for the Reasons above was not likely to be the
Devil,
or I may venture to say positively was not the
Devil;
What then was it? I answer with a Question: What could it be but a good Angel, or Angelic Spirit from the Invisible World, sent with a Message of Goodness, and a merciful Notice of her Approaching Death; that she might receive a due caution, preparing her Mind and turning her Thoughts to a proper Meditation upon so serious a Subject; in a word, warning her of Death that she might prepare for it?
THE Story of Sir
John Burroughs
's Son, who forsaking a Mistress in
Italy
she murther'd her self, and then haunted him as long as he liv'd, this is of like kind with the rest; and tho' the
Devil
to worry and perplex him might take up the Appearance of his Whore, as well reproaching him with the Crime, as with her Tragical End; yet it goes no farther than this, that the
Devil
may appear, and may harrass and terrify those he appear'd to, and this I make no doubt of; and it rather adds to what is insisted on, I mean the Reality of Apparitions; but the
Devil
gave this Gentleman no good advice to repent, or prepare, and the like; but only appear'd, frighted, and terrify'd him to the very Day of his Death.
IT is also remarkable, that tho' this
Devil
in Apparition shewed it self to him the very Day of his Death, (for he was kil
'd that Day in a Duel) yet it said not a word to him of what was to befall him, or of what he was going to do, and 'tis very probable did not know it.
THERE is another Story something but darkly recorded of
Charles
VII. of
France,
which seems likely enough to be an Apparition of the
Devil.
That King had been distemper'd and very ill two or three times, but was recover'd again tolerably well, and was riding for the Benefit of the Air in the Forest of
Mans:
On a sudden a Spectre starts up or out of the Woods, being a tall meagre ill-look'd old Man, of ghastly Countenance and half naked, and coming directly to the King takes hold of his Horse's Bridle, and says,
Stop, King: Whether go you? you are betray'd:
and then immediateiy vanished. Now first of all, this was a falshood in Fact, for the King was not betray'd by any body; neither was there any Plot against him, or against any that belong'd to him, ever heard of before, or afterwards; on the contrary,
Secondly,
his Reign was at that time peaceable and quiet, his Subjects all easy; and for his Person, he had so few Enemies that he was call'd
Charles the Beloved,
and was exceedingly tendred by the generality of his People.
A GOOD Spirit, an Angelic Spirit, one of the Sacred Guard I have suppos'd to be placed about this Earth, or in the Regions adjacent, and employed by their Bountiful Maker for the good of Mankind, would never have come in such a manner, surprising, and at unawares. It would never have put on a fierce and frightful Countenance, thus to have terrified a poor distemper'd Prince, whose Brain was already disorder'd; taking the advantage of his Weakness, and so to encrease the Frenzy and Distraction of his Mind even to his Destruction, for he never more perfectly recover'd his Senses.
THIS mightily differ'd from the Conduct of the several Spirits appearing in the Examples mention'd before, and who kindly warn'd the Persons of Danger, foretold Events that they might avoid them, or prepare for the Consequences; in a word, this was an Apparition purely
Devilish,
for it was meerly to do Evil, and to the ruin of the Person to whom it appear'd.
I THINK nothing can be a juster Rule for us to distinguish Apparitions by: the Evil Spirit,
Devil
like, comes to deceive, he is the Father of Lyes; and comes to do hurt, he is a Lover and the Author of Mischief. The good Spirit is from God, the Fountain of all Good, and appears always for good and merciful Purposes; and this I think is a just Observation, and a Rule for us to judge of the Nature of whatever Apparitions we hear of.
CHAP. X. Of the different Nature of Apparitions; how we should behave to them; when to be afraid of or concern'd about them, and when not.
DANGER may be the Reason of Caution; but Guilt only is the reason of Fear. Caution is the Mind's just Regard to the Evil in view; but Fear is a Horror of the Soul, in apprehension of some farther Evil yet out of view; unseen, and therefore terrible; merited, and therefore dreadful.
IF there were no Guilt in the Mind, Death it self would be no Evil, and therefore not the Subject of our Fear; nor is Death it self our Fear now as it is in it self a meer passing out of life, otherwise than as it is an inlet of some terrible State beyond it
It is not what we pass out of, that is the bitterness, but what we pass into; not what we part with, but what the Exchange will be; not the leap out of Light, but the leap into the Dark: and to come nearer to it, the Thought of what is beyond Death is only made better or worse by what we know on this side of it; the Dread of what is to come, is founded on our conscious sense of what is past.
THIS State beyond Death is made our Terror, as we expect in it the Punishment of Offences, a Retrbitution for an ill-spent Life, and as we have upon our Minds a Sense of Guilt; that is to say, a Conscience of having ill-spent our past time, and dreading the Justice of the Superior Hand, in whom is the Power of Rewards and Punishments. Now to bring it to the case in Hand.
ALL Apparition is look'd upon as
a something
coming, or sent to us, from that State of
Being
which is beyond Death, and therefore is look'd upon with the same Terror and Fright, which we are seiz'd with at the Thoughts of Death it self.
HENCE, if we could consider calmly the Nature of the Apparition which we s
e, we might presently know whether we ha
reason to be terrified at the Apparition,
yea
or
no:
If the Apparition comes with a Message of Peace, if it reprehends with Kindness and Tenderness, if it admonishes with Gentleness, and gives Advice to amend and reform, it certainly comes from a good Hand, and we need be under no concern at all about it, because it has no Evil in it self.
IF it come in all its threatning Postures, ghastly as the
Devil
can make it, horrible as himself in Person; yet were there no Guilt there would be no fear from the Apparition, or even from the
Devil
appearing in Person; because we should know ourselves to be out of his Power.
AS then the Good or Evil of the Message, which the Apparition brings, distinguishes the Apparition it self, and tells us of what kind it is; so as our Minds are, or are not intimidated by our own Guilt, so we have or have not reason to be surpriz'd at the Appearance of a Messenger, or Messengers, from the invisible World, or at whatever he
hall say.
Hic murus aheneus esto,
Nil conscire sibi nulla palescere culpa.
MR.
Aubery
gives us the Story in his
Miscellanea
of the Apparition to
Cashio Burroughs,
Esq; in the time of King
Charles
I, and which I hinted at just now on another occasion; the Story is as follows:
SIR
John Burroughs
being sent Envoy to the Emperor by King
Charle
I. did take his Eldest Son
Cashio Burroughs
along with him; and taking his Journey through
Italy
le
t his said Son at
Florence,
to learn the Language; where he having an Intrigue with a beautiful Courtisan, Mistress to the Grand Duke, their Familiarity became so publick, that it came to the Duke's Ear, who took a Resolution to have him murder'd; but
Cashio
having had timely notice of the Duke's Design, by some of the
English
ther
, immediately left the City without acquainting his Mistress of it, and came to
England.
Whereupon the Duke being disappointed of his Revenge fell upon his Mistress in most reproachful Language: She, on the other, side resenting the sudden departure of her Gallant, of whom she was most passionately enamour'd, killed her self. At the same Moment that she expired she did appear to
Cashio
at his Lodgings in
London.
Colonel
Remes
was then in Bed with him, who saw her as well as he, giving him an account of her Resentments of his Ingratitude to her, in leaving her so suddenly, and exposing her to the Fury of the Duke; not omitting her own Tragical
Exit;
adding withall, that he should be slain in a Duel; which accordingly happen'd: And thus she appear'd to him frequently, even when his younger Brother (who afterwards was Sir
John)
was in Bed with him. As often as she did appear he would cry out with great Shricking and Trembling of his Body, as well as Anguish of Mind, saying,
O GOD! h
re she comes, she comes!
and at this rate she appear'd 'till he was kill'd. She appeared to him the Morning before he was killed. Some of my Acquaintance (says
Aubery)
have told me, that he was one of the handsomest Men in
England,
and very Valiant.
THE Appearance of this
Devil,
for I can call it no other, had nothing in View but to harrass, plague and affright the Gentleman: Perhaps expecting it should bring him into some fit of Desperation; so to destroy himself, as the Woman who appear'd had done before.
THE Gentleman whom it appear'd to, was conscious of Crime; the Woman in whose shape the
Devil
thus harrass'd him was a
Courtesan,
that is in
English
a Common Woman, with whom he had had an Intrigue in
Italy:
He had not only been dishonest with her, but it seems had been dishonest to her; and the last, with the assistance of the
Devil,
had it seems work'd so upon her Rage as to cause her to be her own Executioner; and I take the Apparition to be the
Devil
pursuing the same Management, and endeavouring to produce the same Effect upon him.
NOW see the Consequence of Crime: the sense of Guilt makes this Apparition dreadful to him; when it appear'd, he trembles, falls into Convulsions, cries out,
O GOD! here she comes!
and in a word, is in an Agony of horror and affright.
HAD he only convers'd with the Lady as a common Acquaintance, had he neither been concern'd with her, or had done any dishonourable thing by her, he had natural Courage to have look'd the
Devil
in the Face, and boldly have ask'd
what business she could have with him.
I HAVE read of a Story of a very religious Lady, who the
Devil,
it seems, had some particular Picque at, and set all his Stratagems at work to ruin her, both Soul and Body. He attack'd her in a hundred several ways in Covert, as I may call it, that is to say by Attempts to draw her into Crime, alluring her, and laying Snares for her of several kinds. But when he found himself steadily resisted by the Lady's resolv'd Virtue, Modesty and Temperance, he attack'd her in Person with frightful Apparitions, assuming ugly and terrible Shapes; and once appearing all in Fire, with a frightful threatning Voice, he told her he was come to fetch her away: The Lady had a secret Spirit of Courage and Resolution came upon her at the very Moment, and, as we say in other cases, brisking up to him as if she would fight him: Resist the
Devil, says she,
and he shall flee from us! come for me!
added she,
I'll venture that! for I am sure thou liest,
Satan,
thou hast nothing to do with me.
THE
Devil
call'd her Whore, and told her she lov'd such a Man, who was a marry'd Man, and therefore she had intentionally committed Whoredom with him, and should be damn'd.
N. B.
It seems the Lady had lov'd that Gentleman before he was otherwise engag'd, by marrying; but had never had any Thought towards him, or the least Acquaintance with him, afterwards.
THOU showest thyself,
says she,
to be full of Subtilty, a real
Devil,
and even Malice itself: it is true, I did love that Gentleman,
says she,
and thou settedst him to work to persuade me that he lov'd me, and to court me with honourable Pretensions, and so far gain'd upon me, that I really loved him; but—
HERE he interrupted her, and told her, Such a time, says the
Devil,
you wish'd you were a-bed with him, and you are as guilty by wishing to Sin, as if you had done it.
THOU art the Father of Lies,
Satan, says she,
and the Father of Lyars, and thou liest in this; nay, thou liest like a
Devil,
that is maliciously, for thou knowest that it is not true.
YOU will be damn'd, says he, and I will take you away this minute.
THOU canst not take me away without God's Permission,
says she,
and he will not give me into thy Hands; therefore touch me at this Peril: and with that she fell down on her Knees, and cry'd, LORD,
preserve me from the evil Spirit:
with which the
Devil
left her, and walk'd off.
THESE are Apparitions that may be call'd Apparitions of
Devils
indeed, and by his Works you may know him, for this is acting like himself; but where there is no Guilt we need not be afraid of the
Devil,
in whatever Shape or frightful Figure he thinks to attack us in.
THIS Lady had never been able to reproach
Satan
with Lying, if what he said had been true; but she knew herself innocent, and that put Courage into her Soul, that she indeed Bully'd the
Devil,
defy'd him, and bad him do his worst.
IT seems the
Devil
rumag'd hard to find a Crime out to charge this Lady with, and came up to her very close; but he was put to his shifts for Evidence; for even in collecting all the Actions of her Life, he could not find any thing of real Guilt to load her with.
HE attack'd her after this in several Shapes, and one time he told her she wou'd be damn'd for a Hypocrite; for, says he, for all your pretended Sanctity you was in a violent Passion at such a time, and you curst your Cousin—naming her Name to her.
SHE answer'd, as before, boldly; And Satan.
says she,
tho' you are a Devil, and cannot be asham'd, yet you are too cunning and too knowing to act like a Fool; I was angry, but in no Passion; and for my Anger I had just cause; but thou wast the cause of the Crime, and so of the Anger too: For she own'd the
Devil
tempted my Kinswoman to rob me, so thou hast been the Occasion both of her Sin, and of my Anger.
BUT you curs'd her, and wish'd the
Devil
(meaning me, says he) might take her.
THAT'S like thee again,
Devil, says the Lady;
I was far from wishing thou shouldst take her, I am not so much thy Friend to wish thou shouldst be gratified in any one's Ruin. But I told her, indeed, if she did such things, thou wouldst take her away.
BUT you ly'd in that,
says he,
for I won't hurt her.
I AM sorry,
says she,
thou art so much her Friend.
SHE is mine already,
adds the Devil,
I shall not do her any harm.
VERY well,
Devil, says she;
then I hope I am out of your List, or why else are you raging at me?
YES, yes,
says he,
you shall be mine quickly, as well as she.
I DEFY thee,
says she again,
and I'll tell the poor Girl what you say of her. I hope she will get out of your Hands again.
THEN I'll break her Neck that Minute,
says he.
THAT'S not in your Power,
says the Lady.
WELL, but,
says he,
you play'd at Cards on
Sunday
Morning last.
SHE was a little surpriz'd at the Charge, and stop'd a-while; but recovering her Courage, 'Tis strange,
Devil,
says she, thou canst bring nothing but Lyes against me; why I have Faults enough, that are real Faults, and true, and that I could not deny. Why I think
Satan
's turn'd Fool, adds she, as if she jeer'd him. Why don't you fall upon me in those Things I am guilty of? and not make Lyes for the sake of lying? I did play at Cards a
Saturday
Night, but not a
Sunday
Morning.
BUT, said he, you play'd at Cards against your Conscience too, when you believ'd it was a Sin to play, and you will be damn'd for that.
WHY truly,
Devil, says she,
you go nearest the Truth in this of any thing you have said; for after our Minister's talking against Play, one Evening, he so far persuaded me that it was not lawful, that I did resolve to leave it off.
BUT you broke your Word, and play'd again; and did it, I tell you, against your Conscience.
I DID not tie myself by any Promise, but I did question a little, indeed, whether I should play any more or no.
YES, and did it against your Conscience, I tell you, and you shall be damn'd for that.
HERE the Lady could not refrain Tears; but still she answer'd the
Devil
boldly: As thou art a Lyar, Satan, I hope I shall not, because thou sayest I shall. However, thou shalt never have it to upbraid me with again; for tho' I did not promise to Man, I now promise it to the
Devil,
I will never play more.
IT'S too late now,
says he,
and threatned her again.
NO,
Satan, says she,
never too late for any one to Repent,
but Thee;
and thou shalt never Repent, or be Forgiven.
WITH this, says my Story, the
Devil
left her. I have taken this, by Abridgement, from a very large Account of the several Disputes this courageous Lady had with the
Devil
for some Years; which if I could assert the Particulars so as to be sure of the Truth of every Part, and of my own Knowledge too, I should make farther use of here; but thus far they are to the present Occasion, namely,
1. THAT where the
Devil
appears, he always does it like a
Devil,
for some wicked Purpose or other.
2. WHERE he cannot prevail and excite to do Mischief, he assaults with Rage, and threatens with suffering Mischief.
THE good Spirits or good Angels are quite of another Kind; and as they come, or are sent from other Hands, so they come of other Errands and in another manner, as I shall give a more particular Account of presently.
BUT let us from hence enquire into an Opinion which I have met with, and that of some Men of Learning and Judgment,
viz.
That take the Apparitions in general, whether of good or bad Spirits, they never, or very rarely, do any harm. As for the good Spirits, we know, as above, they will do none; and if the bad do not, 'tis because they can't.
THE good Spirits, 'tis certain, will do no harm; it is by their general appearing for good, that we determine them to be good Spirits; and that kind of Judgment is certainly very just: but if the evil Spirits, which do appear, do no harm neither, it is because they are under some extraordinary restraint of Divine Power; so that tho' they may come about in the Air, they are not suffer'd to do any considerable Mischief in the World. In both which cases all the Occasion of our Terror about them is taken away; for whether they are good Spirits, or evil Spirits restrain'd, 'tis much the same; one will do you no hurt, and the other cannot; and there remains no room then for the Pannick, which is so much upon us, when we hear of them.
IT is true that Angels have sometimes been sent in Judgment from Heaven, and have executed God's terrible Threatnings upon Men in an apparent Shape; as the Angel call'd the Destroying Angel, which
David
saw in the Air, with his Sword drawn and stretch'd over
Jerusalem
to destroy it, 1
Chron.
xxi. 15. So the Angel of the Lord that slew 180000 of the
Assyrians
in one Night; and it is not improbable that an Host of Angels or Apparitions appear'd in the
Assyrian
Camp, and cut in Pieces the
Assyrian
Army, with a Terror that they were not able to resist.
THESE are extraordinary and miraculous Cases; so likewise is that when the Angel appeared to
Balaam
with a flaming Sword, and told him that if the Ass had not turn'd away from him, he (the
Angel)
had slain him,
Numb.
xxii. 33. But we are not now speaking of Angels sent out with especial Commissions to execute God's Vengeance, but of the Apparition of good Spirits or Angels from the invisible World of Spirits, who frequently appear, and sometimes upon small and very trifling Occasions, and who visit People as well by Night as by Day; this we call Walking, and Apparition, and this is such as is the Subject of our present Enquiry.
OF these it is that I say, however they may disturb us, and however terrified we are about them, they very rarely do any harm.
I HAVE heard of an Apparition which came to a Farmer in
Surry,
and threatned him that he would burn his House and his Barn, and all his Corn and Hay; what his Pretences were the Story does not relate, or what the poor Farmer had done to disoblige him; but the Man was, it seems, in the utmost Consternation, and expostulated with the Apparition a great while; but at last he pluck'd up his Spirits, and spoke with a little more Courage to it.
WHAT art thou, says he, that threatnest me thus without a cause, and sayest thou wilt ruin me, notwithstanding I never did thee any wrong? thou shouldst be the
Devil,
by thy usage of me, for good Spirits never do any Injustice.
TO this the
Devil
answer'd in a long, and to appearance, a threatning Speech, but in a Language the poor Man did not understand one Word of.
I KNOW not what thou sayest,
says the Farmer,
but I tell thee again thou seem'st to me to be the
Devil,
or one of his Angels, and I suppose those are Words understood in the bottomless Pit; but
hreaten me no more with thy Rage, and with burning my House and Corn; thou art a great Dragon indeed, but thou art chain'd, and canst do nothing but what thou art permitted to do by thy Maker, and I fear thee not. Upon which the poor Man pray'd Mentally that he might be deliver'd from the Power of the
Devil,
and away run the Spectre, and did him no harm.
THIS was certainly a commendable Courage, and had something of the Christian in it too; and such a Courage, and upon the like Foundation, would, for ought I know, lay all the
Devils
that ever walk'd, and drive away all the Apparitions and Spirits that People are so terribly haunted with, and so terrify'd about.
CHAP. XI. Of Apparitions in Dream, and how far they are or are not real Apparitions.
THERE may be Dreams without Apparition, as there may be Apparitions without Dreams; but Apparition in Dream may be as really an Apparition as if the Person who saw it was awake: The difference may be here, that the Apparition in a Dream is visible to the Soul only, for the Soul never sleeps; and an Apparition to the Eyesight is visible in common Perspective.
HOW is it then that we see in our Dreams the very Faces and Dress of the Person we dream of; nay, hear their Voices, and receive due Impressions from what they say, and oftentimes speak to them with our own Voices articulately and audibly, tho' we are fast asleep? What secret Power of the Imagination is able to represent the Image of any Person to itself, if there was not some Appearance, something plac'd in the Soul's view, by a secret, but invisible Hand, and in an imperceptible manner? which Something is in all Respects, and to all Purposes, as compleatly an Apparition, as if it was plac'd in open sight when the Person was awake.
THE Scripture confirms this Opinion by many Expressions directly to the purpose, and particularly this of Appearing, or Apparition in Dream.
Gen.
xx. 3.
God came to
Abimelech
in a Dream;
had it been said that
Abimelech dream'd
that God came to him, there might have been some exception to the Parallel; but God actually
came to him:
and what tho'
Abimelech
was asleep, and in a Dream, it was not the less an Apparition, for
God came to him,
and spoke,
and said to him:
and in the 4th Verse
Abimelech
spoke to the Apparition. Whatever the Shape was, that the Text does not mention; but
Abimelech
knew who he talk'd with too, that's evident, for the Text mentions it fully,
And he said,
LORD,
wilt thou slay also a righteous Nation?
and so he goes on, Verse the fifth, to expostulate and plead for himself and his People,
said he not unto me, she is my Sister?
so that he knew he was speaking to
the Lord.
The Text is very remarkable, it is plain that there was an Apparition, but the Man was asleep and in a Dream.
AGAIN in the case of
Laban
pursuing
Jacob, Gen.
xxxi. 24.
God came to
Laban
the
Syrian
in a Dream by Night, and said unto him.
Here again is an Apparition, and a speaking Apparition too; GOD came to him, and GOD spoke to him; and
Laban
owns, not that he dream'd of God's appearing, but that God really spoke to him,
v.
29.
The God of your Father spake to me Yester-night, saying.
CERTAINLY Dreams in those Days were another kind of thing than they are now. God spoke to them, and they answer'd; and when they were awake they knew that it was God that spoke, and gave heed to the Vision or Apparition of God to them.
THERE are many more Instances of the like in the sacred History; as first in the remarkable case of King
Solomon,
1
Kings
iii. 5.
The Lord appeared to
Solomon
in a Dream by Night, and
GOD
said, ask what I shall give th
e.
THIS is call'd in the Scripture a Dream,
v.
15.
and
Solomon
awoke, and behold it was a Dream;
and yet it is all confirmed; and the Petition that
Solomon
made, tho' in his Sleep, or Dream, is accepted and answer'd as his real Act and Deed, as if he had been awake. A good hint,
by the way,
that we may both please and offend in our Dreams, as really as if we were awake; but that is a hint, I say, by itself.
THAT Passage of
Solomon
is very remarkable to the case in hand. If my Readers please to believe that there was such a Man as
Solomon,
and that he had such a Dream; they must allow also that it was a real Apparition, God appeared to him in a Dream.
TO bring it down a step lower: as God has thus Personally appeared to Men in Dreams, so have inferior Spirits, and we have Examples of this too in the Scripture.
Matt.
i. 20.
While he thought on
these Things, behold the Angel of the Lord appeared unto him in a
DREAM: and again,
Matt.
ii. 13.
Behold the Angel of the Lord appeared unto
Joseph
in a Dream, saying:
and a third time 'tis repeated, the Angel came again to him in
Aegypt, v.
19. of the same Chapter; when
Herod
was dead,
Behold an Angel of the Lord appeareth in a Dream to
Joseph
in
Aegypt.
I WILL for once suppose, that no Man need desire any farther Evidence than these for the Reality of the thing it self; we may bring it down from hence by just Parallels to Matters within our own Reach, Experience will furnish us with particular Passages sufficient; and some Account I shall give you within the Compass of our own Times; in which if I do as much as possible, as I have done all along, omit all those Accounts which others have publish'd, refering you to those Publications for the particulars, and only give you new and more modern Accounts, such as come within the Verge of my own Knowledge, or of the Knowledge of such as I have good Reason to give Credit to; I believe the Variety will be as acceptable, and much more useful than a bare Repeating of what others have said. If I find it needful to quote what others have publish'd, you shall have it justly mark'd as a Quotation, that you may search for the Truth in its Original.
BUT before I come to Quotation, or to Collection of Story, 'tis needful to observe here also, that as it has pleas'd God to appear in this Manner, and to cause Angels to appear also in the same Manner, and upon special Occasions, so I make no Question but the
Devil
often appears in Dreams too; and I might give but too many Examples of it, as particularly one in the Scripture.
IT is apparent that God gave
Satan
a kind of general License to a
flict
Job,
only not to kill him; with such a terrible Commission it might be expected the
Devil
would fall upon him with the utmost Fury he was capable of, or at least that he was allow'd to take; he ruin'd his Fortunes, reduc'd him to Misery, murther'd his Children, tormented him with Boils and Sores; in short, left him nothing but Potsherds, and an ill Wife to relieve him; and as he had worry'd him, to use a modern Phrase,
within an Inch of his Life,
he follow'd him in the Night with Apparition, lest he should recruit Nature with Rest, and be a little refresh'd with Sleep.
Job
himself complains of it,
Job
vii. 14.
Thou scarest me with
DREAMS,
and terrifiest me
with VISIONS. Not that GOD appear'd to
Job
in any frightful or terrible Form; but the
Devil,
to whom God was pleas'd to give a Liberty of afflicting
Job,
took that Liberty, and exerted his Malice to the utmost in such
Manner. We are not indeed told what M
hods the
Devil
took to scare and terrifie that poor distress'd Sufferer; but as he can show us nothing uglier, and more frightful than himself, so it is very likely he appear'd to him in Person, and that in the most surprizing Manner possible, with all the Circumstances of Horror that he was able.
'TIS thought by some, who critically note tha
Part of the Text where
Pilate
's Wife warn'd her Husband to have nothing to do in condemning Christ to be crucified, that it was the
Devil
that stirr'd her up to oppose it.
Satan,
as soon as he perceiv'd that the Death of Christ, however intended for Mischief by the
Jews,
and pursued violently by them in their Rage and Malice at our Lord personally, was yet a thing appointed by the determinate Council of God, for the Salvation of Mankind: I say, as soon as he perceiv'd that Part, which 'tis probable he did not know before, he strove all he could to prevent it; and as fierce as he had been to irritate the
Jews
before, and raise their Fury and Malice up to a Pitch, even to almost rabballing the Governor into it; now he under-hand strove to prevent it, and us'd this Stratagem among others by attacking
Pilate
's Wife in the Night, and setting her to persuade her Husband, that he was going to deliver up an innocent Person to gratifie the
Jews;
and that he should have a care what he did. Matt. xxvii. 19.
When he was set down on the Judgment-seat, his Wife sent unto him, saying, Have thou nothing to do with that just Man: For I have suffer'd many things this Day in a Dream, because of him.
WHETHER it was so or not, 'tis very probable the many things she suffer'd must be from the
Devil;
because Heaven, by whose determinate Council and Fore-knowledge the Death of Christ was appointed, would have done nothing to have prevented or interrupted his own Appointment.
NOW as the Dreams in those Days, and our Dreams at this Time, are exceeding different; and that as our Heads are so full of impertinent Thoughts in the Day, which in proportion crowd the Imagination at Night, so our Dreams are trifling and foolish: How shall we do to know when they are to be taken Notice of, and when not? When there is a real Apparition haunting us, or showing it self, to us and when not? in a word, when an Angel, or when a
Devil,
appears to us in a Dream?
IT is a nice Question, and as it does not particularly relate to the present Enquiry, so it would require too long a Digression to discourse Critically upon it; but I shall dismiss it with this short Answer, We must judge, as I said before in the Case of open Apparitions, by the Weight, and by the Nature of the Message or Errand which the Apparion comes about; evil Messengers seldom come of good Errands, and Angels good or bad seldom come on trifling Messages.
TRIFLING Dreams are the Product of the Mind being engag'd in trifling Matters; a Child dreams of its Play, a House-wife dreams of her Kitchen, a Nurse of the Children, a Tradesman of his Shop; these have nothing of Apparition in them; nothing of Angels or Spirts, God or
Devil;
but when Dream comes up to Vision, and the Soul is embark'd in a superior Degree, to a Commerce above the ordinary Rate, then you may conclude you have had some extraordinary Visitors, that you have been in some good or bad Company in the Night, and you are left to judge of what kind, by the Substance or Tenour of the Vision. If it be to open the Understanding, to encrease Knowledge, to seal Instruction; in a word, if it is for direction to good Actions, or stirring up the Soul of Man to perform his Duty to God or Man, 'tis certainly from above; 'tis an Apparition from God, 'tis a Vision of Angels and good Spirits. Job xxxiii. 15.
In a Dream, in a Vision of the Night, when deep Sleep falleth upon Men, in slumbrings upon the Bed.
IF it be an Allurement to Vice, laying before you an Opportunity to steal, presenting an Object of Beauty, an Intic
ment to commit an unlawful Action; depend upon it 'tis from the dark Regions, 'tis an Apparition of the
Devil,
and he employs his Agents, and perhaps attends in Person to draw you into Mischief.
N. B.
HERE 'tis worth a wise Man's considering, whether the
Devil
representing a Temptation to any Person in a Dream, and the Person complying, he is not guilty of the Fact as really as if he had been awake. I leave it only as a Head of Reflection: For Example,
THE
Devil,
subtle in his Contrivance, as well as vigilant in Application of Circumstances, knows a Man to be in perplex'd Circumstances, distress'd for want of Money, a perishing Family, a craving Necessity; he comes in his Sleep and presents him with a little Child dress'd up with Jewels of a great Value, and a Purse of Gold in its Hand, and all this as happening in a Place perfectly opportune for the Purpose, the Nurse having negligently left the Child out of her Sight.
AS he presents the Temptation, he stands at the Person's Elbow; prompts him; says, Take away that Chain or String of Pearl, and the Purse, the Child is alone, it can tell no Tales, take it quickly; are not you in Distress, and do you not want it at this time to an Extremity, and can any one ever discover it? the Child's Friends are rich, it will do them no hurt; if they valu'd such things, they would never have put them about a little Child, it is no great Matter to them; besides 'tis due to their Vanity and Ostentation, which was the only reason of dressing up a little Child in such a Manner. Come, come, take it up quickly, it may save you from Ruin, and as soon as you are able, you may make them Satisfaction again, and so discharge your Conscience. The Man, unable to resist the Snare, consents, strips the innocent Child of its Ornaments, and goes away unseen; but in a Moment or two wakes with the Surprise, sees it is a Cheat, and looks back on it with a double Regret. 1. That he is disappointed of the Prize which he wanted, and fancy'd himself reliev'd by. 2. That the
Devil
Triumphs over him, and he is both deluded into the Crime, and deceived in the Expectation of its Reward.
I COULD give this in the Form of a Relation of Fact, and give Evidence of the Truth of it; for I had the Account of it from the Person's own Lips, who was attack'd in Sleep, and (as he said with a sincere Affliction) yielded to the Temptation; and I committed the barbarous Robbery,
said he,
with the utmost Resentment; I plunder'd and strip'd the poor smiling Infant, who innocently play'd with me when I took off its Ornaments, gave me the Purse of Gold out of its little Pocket, and bid me keep it for her to play with. I robb'd it,
says he,
in my Imagination, and deserve as much to be hang'd for it, as if I had actually committed the horrid Fact at Noon-day; Ay,
says he,
with a kind of Tremor in his Conscience from the Horror of the Fact, I ought to be hang'd for it, and to be damn'd for it too, for I as really and effectually did it as if I had been apprehended and carry'd to
Newgate
for it.
IT is true, it gave him a particular Satisfaction, with respect to his Personal Safety, that he had not committed the Fact; but it gave him no less Trouble in his Conscience, than if he had been actually guilty.
WHAT was this but an Apparition of the
Devil,
a real visible Apparition! visible to the Mind, tho' not to the Body? and that in a double Capacity too; the
Devil without
in the Temptation, and the
Devil within
yielding to it.
I KNOW another living Example of this kind, and I had that Part too from the Person himself: He was a sober religious Gentleman; he was in the letter of it a single Man; for tho' he had been unhappily married, he liv'd in a separate State from his Wife; and, to say no more of it, upon a justifiable Occasion, namely, that his Wife was wickedly gone away, as he suppos'd, with another Man.
BEFORE he was marry'd to the unhappy Woman, he had lov'd a very handsom beautiful Lady, and had gone so far as to court her a long time for Marriage; but some Difficulty in their Circumstances prevented their coming together, and he took another; which the first Lady resented so, as that it cost her too dear, for she died soon after.
THE Affliction of this was very heavy to him, after he found himself abus'd in his real Marriage, as above. I say after, for at first it seems it was not. Under the melancholy Reflections of these contrary Circumstances, which frequently loaded his Mind, He dreams one Night, that his former Mistress came to him with a smiling Countenance; I might have express'd it rather, that his former Mistress
appear'd to him in a Dream,
and with a smiling chearful Countenance, told him, that his Run-away Wife was Dead, and now you are mine, says the Apparition. He receiv'd the News with a particular Satisfaction, and embrac'd the Lady, as his former Inclinations dictated to him; he had not the least Notion, as he protested solemnly, or the least Remembrance that she was dead.
WHEN he awak'd, and found it all a Dream, he was exceedingly afflicted with the Surprise; looking upon himself to be as really Guilty, as if he had been awake, and the Lady alive; and I cannot but say he had some Reason.
WHETHER this, if really True, could be any thing but an Apparition of an evil Spirit; the
Devil
laying a Snare for him, and prevailing with him in Dream in a manner, and to commit a Crime, which he could not prevail with him to be guilty of when she was alive.
I COULD give an Account of another Person, whom the
Devil
haunted frequently, and that for many Years together, with lewd Apparitions; tempting him in his Sleep with the Company of beautiful Women, sometimes naked, sometimes even in Bed with him; and at other times in Conversation prompting him to Wickedness, and that sometimes he was prevail'd upon to consent; but always happily prevented by waking in time: But the Case has on two or three Occasions been mention'd by other Hands, and the Person is too much known to allow the farther Description of it, without his Consent.
I CANNOT doubt but these things are stated formal Apparitions of the
Devil;
and tho' the Perso nmay be asleep, and not thoroughly sensible either of what he is doing, or of what is doing with him, yet that the evil Spirit is actually present with him in Apparition, I think will not admit of any Question.
THE World is too full of Examples of this kind, to enter into a long Account of the Particulars. There is hardly a Book upon the Subject but is filled up with historical Relations; hardly a Person to be convers'd with upon the Subject, but is full of them, either for themselves or some of their Acquaintance; and every one is rendering their Dreams to be considerable, and all to come to pass: But out of five hundred Dreams so told, and which so much Stress is seemingly laid on, 'tis hard to find one that we can call a real Apparition in Dream.
THE great, and perhaps one of the greatest Difficulties of Life, I mean that relates to Dreams, is to distinguish between such as are real Apparitions, and such as are only the Product of an incumber'd Brain, a distemper'd Head, or which is worse, a distemper'd Mind: But some Dreams are so significant, and there follows such an immediate visible Effect answering the design'd Illumination, that it cannot but be significant.
A CERTAIN Gentleman who had lately buried his Wife, a Lady of great Piety and Virtue, was so exceedingly afflicted at his Loss, that among other melancholy things which were the Effect of it, this was one; that he was so far from desiring to marry again, that he entertained a settled riveted Aversion to the whole Sex, and was never thoroughly easie in their Company; and thus he liv'd near two Years.
AFTER a certain time his Wife appear'd to him in his Dream, or he dream'd that he saw his Wife; but I rather put it in the first Sense: She came to him, as he thought, to the Bedside, with a smiling and pleasant Countenance, and calling him by the Term which she always gave him,
My Dearest.
HE was in a great Consternation, but could not speak to her; but she said, Do not be afraid of me, I will do you no Hurt; and then said, What is the Reason that you mourn thus for me?
He still said nothing; that is to say, he dream'd that he said nothing, but that he fetch'd a deep Sigh.
COME, come,
says she,
Friends lost are Friends lost, and cannot be recalled.
THEN he spoke,
that is dream'd that he spoke,
and ask'd her, why she appear'd to him.
SHE said,
to put an End to his unreasonable Grief.
HOW can that be?
says he.
You now encrease my Grief, by bringing your self thus to my Remembrance.
NO, no,
says she,
you must forget me, and pray take another Wife, which will be the way to cause you to forget me effectually.
NO, no,
said he,
that I can never do; and how can you desire it of me?
YES,
says she,
I do desire it of you, and I come to direct you whom you shall have.
HE desir'd she would talk no more to him; for,
says he,
you cannot be my Wife; it must be some evil Spirit come to tempt me in such a Shape, and to destroy me.
WITH that she seem'd to weep, and to pity him.
HE sigh'd again, and desir'd that if she was able to retain any Affection to him in the Condition she was then in, that she would show it by coming no more to disorder him in that manner.
SHE said,
Well, I will trouble you no more, if you listen to the Directions I shall now give you, and will perform them.
WHAT are they?
says he.
On the first
Wednesday
in
October, says she,
you
ill be invited to Dinner to such a House, there
ill see a Gentlewoman dress'd in white sit
gainst you at the Table; she shall be your
, and she will be a kind Mother to my Children.
seems she gave other Particulars of the Gen
oman's Dress, and in particular that she would
to him; all which came to pass accordingly.
TER she had said this, she disppeared; the Story does not say she went away with a melodious Sound, or with rich Perfumes, or the like, as is pretended often in such like Cases; nor do I remember to have heard that he married the Person, tho' he really saw her at the Feast.
BUT the Question from all this Story is only this,
viz.
Whether, supposing the Case to be litterally true, was this an Apparition, or was it only a simple Dream? I affirm it must be an Apparition, that is to say, a Spirit came to him in the Person of, or personating his Wife.
THE following Story I had from the Mouth of the very Person who was chiefly concerned in it, I mean the Captain of the Ship itself.
ONE Captain
Thomas Rogers,
Commander of a Ship called the
Society,
was bound on a Voyage from
London
to
Virginia
about the Year 1694.
THE Ship was hired in
London,
and being sent light, as they call it, to
Virginia
for a Loading of Tobacco, had not many Goods in her outward bound, suppose about two or three a hundred Ton, which was not counted a Loading, or indeed half her Loading; the Ship being very large, above five hundred Ton Burthen.
THEY had had a pretty good Passage, and the Day before had had an Obser
ation, whereupon the Mates and proper Officers had brought their Books and cast up their Reckonings with the Captain, to see how near they were to the Coasts of
America;
they all agreed that they were at least about an hundred Leagues Distance from the Capes of
Virginia.
Upon these customary Reckonings, and withall heaving the Lead, and finding no Ground at an hundred Fathom, they set the Watch, and the Captain turn'd in (as they call it at Sea) that is, went to Bed.
THE Weather was good, a moderate Gale of Wind, and blowing fair for the Coast, so that the Ship might have run about twelve or fifteen Leagues in the Night aft
r the Captain was in his Cabbin.
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; and then he call'd his chief Mate as he was going off from the Watch, and ask'd him how all things far'd; who answer'd, that all was well, and the Gale freshen'd, and they run at a great Rate; but 'twas a fair Wind and a fine clear Night; so the Captain went to sleep again.
ABOUT an Hour after he had been asleep again, he dream'd that a Man pull'd him or wak'd him, and he did wake. I am not sure, but I think he said the Thing that wak'd him bad him get up, that is, turn out and look abroad. But whether it was so or no, he lay still and compos'd himself to sl
ep, and drop'
again, and suddenly awak'd again, and thus several times; and tho' he knew nothing what was the Reason, yet he found it was impossible for him to go to sleep, and still he heard the Vision say, or thought he heard it say,
turn out and look abroad.
HE lay in this Uneasiness near two Hours, but at last it encreas'd so upon him, that he could lie no longer, but gets up, puts on his Watch Gown, and comes out upon the Quarter-deck; there he found his second Mate walking about, and the Boatswain upon the Forecastle, the Night 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's there? the Captain answer'd, and the Mate returns, Who, the Captain! what's the matter, Sir?
SAYS the Captain,
I don't know, but I have been very uneasie these two Hours, and some body or my own Fancy bid me turn out and look abroad, tho' I know not what can be the meaning of it.
THERE can be nothing in it, but some Dream,
says the Mate.
SAYS the Captain,
How does the Ship Cape?
SOUTH-WEST by South,
says the Mate;
fair for the Coast, and the Wind East by North.
THAT'S all very good,
says the Captain;
and so, after some other usual Questions, he turn'd about to go back to his Cabin; when, as if it had been some body that stood by him had spoke, it came into his Mind like a Voice,
Heave the Lead, heave the Lead.
UPON this he turns again to his second Mate, Mate,
says the Captain,
when did you heave the Lead? what Water had you?
ABOUT an Hour ago,
says the Mate,
sixty Fathom.
Heave again,
says the Captain.
THERE'S no manner of Occasion, Sir,
says the Mate,
but if you please it shall be done.
I DON'T know,
says the Captain,
'tis needless indeed, I think; and so was going away again, but was, as it were, forc'd to turn back as before, and says to the Mate, I know not what ails me, but I can't be easie; come call a Hand aft, and heave the Lead.
ACCORDINGLY a Hand was called, and the Lead being cast or heaved, as they call it, they had Ground at eleven Fathom
THIS surpriz'd them all, but much more when at the next Cast it came up seven Fathom.
UPON this the Captain in a Fright bad them put the Helm a Lee, and about Ship, all Hands being order'd to back the Sails, as is usual in such Cases.
THE proper Orders being obeyed, the Ship stay'd presently and came about; and when she was about, before the Sails fill'd, she had but four Fathoms and a half Water under her Stern; as soon as she filled and stood off, they had seven Fathom again, and at the next Cast eleven Fathom, and so on to twenty Fathom; so he stood off to Seaward all the rest of the Watch, to get into deep Water, 'till Daybreak; when being a clear Morning, there were the Capes of
Virginia
and all the Coast of
America
in fair View under their Stern, and but a very few Leagues Distance: Had they stood on but one Cable's length farther, as they were going, they had been
Bump a-shore
(so the Sailors call it) and had certainly lost their Ship, if not their Lives.
NOW, what could this be? Not the
Devil,
that we may vouch for him, he would hardly be guilty of doing so much good; hardly an Angel sent from Heaven Express, that we dare not presume; but that it was the Work of a waking Providence, by some invisible Agent employ'd for that Occasion, who took Sleep from the Captain's Eyes; as once in a Case of infinitely more Importance was done to King
Ahasuerus;
This we may conclude. Had the Captain slept as usual, and as Nature requir'd, they had been all lost; the Shore being flat at a great Distance, and, as I suppose, the Tide low, the Ship had been a-ground in an Instant, and the Sea, which run high, would have broke over her, and soon have dash'd her in Pieces.
HOW it happen'd that the Mates and other Navigators on Board (for it being a very great Ship, they had several experienc'd Men among them) should all of them have kept, and yet all be out in their Reckoning, and that so much as to think themselves an hundred Leagues from the Coast, when they were not above twenty or twenty five, that was to be accounted for among themselves; but certain it was, if it had not been for thus being wak'd and jogg'd in the Night, and kept awake too in spite of his own Drowsiness, the Captain had lain still, and the whole Ship's Company been in the utmost Hazard.
IF this was not an Apparition, it must be what the Scripture calls it in another Case, being
warned of God in a Dream;
which by the way is the same thing; but here was something more than being warned, for the Captain own'd he was in no Dream. He dream'd nothing at all, much less any thing of Danger; he went to his Bed or Cabbin with all the prudent Caution that any Man in that important Trust of a Ship in the Ocean could do; and then after having made their Calculations, cast up their Reckonings, set their Watch, and made every thing sure, he laid down with all the Satisfaction that it was possible for any Man in a like Case to have.
TO any Men that understand the Sea Affairs, this Case will be more feelingly and sensibly read; they will be more touch'd with the Surprize the Ship's Company must be all in, to see themselves just running a-ground, when they believed themselves an hundred Leagues from the Shore, to find themselves within two Inches of Death, when they believ'd themselves as safe as a Ship at Sea with a moderate Gale and a fair Wind could be supposed to be.
AND how will those modern Wits, of which our Age is so full, account for this, who allow no God or Providence, no invisible World, no Angelick, kind and waking Spirits, who, by a secret Correspondence with our embodied Spirits, give merciful Hints to us of approaching Mischiefs and impending Dangers, and that timely, so as to put the Means into our Hands to avoid and escape them?
WHICH way will such Men solve the main Difficulty in such a Case as this,
viz.
What this should be? Will they resolve it all into fortuitous Chance, meer Accident, a meer Circulation of things in the ordinary Course? As they say Shoals are raised to bar up a Haven, which they tell us, is nothing but the Sand and Stones driven down the Stream of a River, which lodge here or there, as their own Weight, or the abating Force of the Water, or this or that Eddy and Counter-stream checks them, so deep'ning one Channel where it was Shoal, and choaking up another where it was deep, and all by meer Accident: But this is very gross arguing.
IT were easie to confute these weak pretences to Chance and Incident, and to show the necessity of an intelligent Being; but that is not my work: I am not upon the Reality of such an intelligent Being, but the Reality of its ordinary and extraordinary actings, the Agents it employs, and the manner of their executing the Commissions they receive; which 'tis evident they faithfully perform, and effectually too; sometimes by one method, sometimes by another, and particularly by this of Apparition, as well to the Eyes of the Soul, as to the Eye of the Body, sleeping or waking 'tis the same.
OUR Friends the Criticks may stumble here, perhaps, at the seeming contradiction in the Terms, as particularly this of invisible Apparition. But 'tis easily solv'd, by answering that it is but a seeming Contradiction, for both the Apparitions are visible, only not to the same Optick Powers; the Apparition in Dream is visible to the intellectual sight, to the Eye of the Soul; and the Day-light Apparition is visible to the common ordinary sight: and you have an Expression in the Scripture often made use of, which gives an unquestion'd Authority for this way of speaking.
THE expressing things dream'd of, as things seen, is very frequent in the Sacred Text.
Jacob
dream'd a Dream about
Laban
's Cattle,
Gen.
xxxi. 10. where 'tis thus expressed,
and I saw in a Dream.
Again
Daniel,
vii. 1, 2.
Daniel
had a Dream and Visions of his Head upon his Bed, v. 2.
and I saw in my Vision by Night:
v. 7. after this I saw in
the Night Visions, and behold a fourth Beas
:
and v. 13.
I saw in the Night Visions, and behold;
and besides this, we have the same way of speaking ten or eleven times in the same Chapter, and as many or more times in the next.
'TIS the like in relating the Dreams of
Pharaoh
and of
Nebuchadnezzar,
or the Apparitions rather which appear'd to those Kings in Dream.
Pharaoh
says to
Joseph, Gen.
xli. 17, 18, 19. In my Dream
I stood upon the Bank of the River, and
BEHOLD
there came up;
that is the same thing as, I saw them come up: v. 19. and BEHOLD
seven other Kine came up,
or I saw seven other Kine come up. So that an Apparition in Dream is visible to the Soul, the Imagination sees, tho' the Eyes of the Body are clos'd.
THIS Digression is owing to the nice Judgment of our Criticks, whose exactness you see I mightily reverence, and am wonderful careful not to fall under their dreadful Hands, in a thing so essential to my Subject; as for Trifles, I leave them to trifle with them to the utmost of their more malicious Impotence.
BUT I come now to another Relation of Fact, which also I take upon me to vouch the Reality of, having been present at the very instant of every part of it.
A PERSON, whose Name it is not so proper to mention here, but who may be produc'd if there should be occasion, being still living, was under the disaster, about the Year 1701, to fall under a Party Censure, (the occasion is needless to the present Case.) In hopes, upon the Recess of the House, which was not far off, he should (as is usual) be at Liberty, he withdrew himself, and avoided being taken up as much as he could; but the House resenting it, a Vote was past, ordering the Secretary of State to prosecute him at Law; which oblig'd him to resolve to leave the Kingdom, and in the mean time to conceal himself with more exactness; the Government having issued out a Proclamation for apprehending him, with a Reward to the Person who should discover where he was, so as he might be taken.
IN order to conceal himself more effectually, he left his Lodging where he had been hid for some time, and remov'd to
Barnet
on the Edge of
Hertfordshire;
intending, as soon as he had settled some Family Affairs, to go away North into
Scotland:
But before he went away he was oblig'd to come once more to
London,
to sign some Writings for the securing some Estate, which it was fear'd might be seiz'd by Out-law, if the Prosecution had gone on so far.
THE Night before he had appointed to come to
London,
as above, being in Bed with one Mr.
R—D—
he dream'd that he was in his Lodgings at
London,
where he had been conceal'd as above, and in his Dream he saw two Men come to the Door, who said they were
Messengers,
and produc'd a Warrant from the Secretary of State to apprehend him, and that accordingly they seiz'd upon and took him.
THE Vision surpriz'd and wak'd him, and he waked Mr.
D
—his Brother-in-law, who was in Bed with him, and told him the Dream, and what a Surprize he was in about it. Mr.
D
—seeing it was but a Dream, advis'd him to give no heed to it, but compose himself and go to sleep again, and he did so.
AS soon as he was fast asleep again, he was wak'd again with the same Dream exactly as before; and he awak'd his Brother again, as before
It disturb'd them both very much; but being heavy to sleep, they both went to sleep again, and dream'd no more. It is to be observ'd, that he saw the very Men that apprehended him, their Countenances, Cloaths, Weapons, &c. and describ'd them in the Morning to his said Brother
D
—in all the Particulars.
HOWEVER the Call to go to
London
being as he thought urgent, he got ready in the Morning to go, resolving to stay but one Day, and then set forward for
Scotland.
Accordingly he went for
London
in the Morning, and that he might not be known, walk'd it on Foot; that so he might go by more private ways over
Enfield Chase,
and so to
Southgate, Hornsey,
&c.
ALL the way as he walk'd his Mind was heavy, and oppress'd; and he frequently said to his Brother who walk'd with him, that he was certain he was going to
London
to be surpriz'd: and so strong was the foreboding Impression upon his Mind, that he once stop'd at
Hornsey,
and endeavoured to get a Lodging, intending to send his Brother to
London
to see if nothing had happen'd there to give him any Alarm.
AS he had just secured a convenient Lodging, he accidentally saw a Gentleman standing at the next Door, who he knew very well, but durst not venture to trust on that Occasion; and finding on Enquiry that he dwelt there, he concluded that was no Place for him, and so resolv'd to go forwards.
THE Impression upon his Mind continuing, he stop'd again at
Islington,
and endeavour'd to get a Lodging there; but could not: so at last, when his Brother brought him word he could not get a Lodging, except where it was too publick, Well, say
he, than I must go to
London,
and take what follows; or to that purpose; and accordingly did go, and the next Morning was taken by the Messengers, just in the very manner as he had been told in his Dream; and the very same two Men, whose Faces he had seen, and with the same Cloaths on and Weapons, exactly as he had describ'd.
THIS Story I had from his own Mouth, and confirmed by Mr.
R—D—
his Brother-in-law, to whom he related his Vision at the very Moment of it, as above.
I REFER it to any impartial Judgment to weigh every Circumstance of this Account (the Truth of which I have not the least Reason to question) and to tell me, by what Powers, and from what Influence could these things be perform'd, if there were no invisible World, and no Inhabitants there, who concern'd themselves with our Affairs? no good Spirits which convers'd with our embodied Spirits, and gave us due intelligence, notice, and warning of approaching Danger.
IF there is any Difficulty in this Case, it seems to me to be in the Event of the thing, as in the Case mention'd: Why was not the Intelligence made so compleat, so forcible, and the Impression so plain, that the Person in whose Favour it was all done might have been effectually alarm'd, his going forward stopt, and consequently the Mischief which was at hand, and which he had the notice of, effectually prevented?
IT is not indeed so easy to answer that part; but it may be resolv'd into this, that the Fault seems to be our own, that we do not give due attention to such notice, as might be sufficient to our Deliverance. If an Enemy be at hand, and the Out-Centinel fires his Piece, he does his Duty; if the whole Camp does not take the Alarm, but are surpriz'd, the fault is their own, the Man did all that was to be expected from him; nor do the Officers or Generals slight the notice, and say 'tis nothing but a sorry Fellow shot off his Musquet, and so take no more heed to it.
ON the contrary, they conclude the C
ntinel is posted upon Duty; he would not fire his Piece without a sufficient Cause, and give a false alarm to the Camp for nothing; ther
must be something extraordinary, and accordingly they order the Drums to beat, and immediately call to Arms.
THUS if the invisible Spirits give a due alarm, they do their part; if they jog us and awaken us in a deep sleep, and pull us again and again, and give us notice that something is coming, that some Danger is at the Door; if we will sleep on 'till it comes, if we will go on, happen what happen may, the kind Spirit has done its Duty, discharg'd its Office, and if we fall into the Mischief, the fault is our own, we can by no means blame the insufficiency of the Notice, and say, to what purpose is it? seeing we had due and timely warning, but would not take the hint; we had due notice of the danger, and would not step out of the way to avoid it; the fault is wholly our own.
ANOTHER Account I had a sufficient Voucher for, tho' the Gentleman is now dead; but I had great reason to believe the truth of it.
A YOUNG Gentleman of good Birth and Fortune, in the beginning of the late War with
France,
had a violent inclination to see the World, as he call'd it, and resolv'd to go into the Army; his Father was dead, and had left him a good Estate; that is to say, between four and five hundred Pounds a Year; besides his Mother's Joynture, which after her Life would fall to him of course.
HIS Mother earnestly entreated him not to go into the Army; but prest him rather to travel, and so might see the World, as she said, without feeling the Calamities of the War, and without hazarding his Life.
HE told her Travelling indeed in time of Peace was all a Gentleman could do, and was at best very expensive; but that now was the time a Man might see the World at the expence of the Publick, and perhaps might make his Fortune too.
HIS Mother represented the danger of his Life, and bad him consider how many Gentlemen went into the Army, and of them, have few liv'd to come home again, much less to rise to any degree of Preferment.
HE made light of all that, and told his Mother (as is the general Saying of warm Heads when they push their Fortunes, as they call it,) that if he happen'd to be knock'd on the Head there was an End of him, and he was provided for.
WELL, Son, says the old Lady, I am oblig'd to submit to it, you are your own Master; but remember your Mother's Tears, (and with those Words she wept;) I can but entreat you not to go, you have Estate enough to make you easy; let those go whose narrow Circumstances make the hazard rational, and let them go abroad to die, that can't tell how to live; you can pay those that do go; you have no need to run the Risque, who do not want the Pay.
HE slighted all her entreaties, and told her, if his Father was alive he did not doubt but he would give his Consent, for he had done the same thing in his young Days.
NO, no, Son, said his Mother, your Father knew better; he took a Commission when he was the youngest of three Sons, and had nothing to expect at home but the fate of a younger Brother; but as soon as he heard that his Elder Brothers were both dead, and the Estate all come to him, he laid down his Arms, sold his Commission, and said he had no more Business in the Army; and he would tell you the same thing if he was alive: he used always to say, that the Sword and the Book are the Portions of younger Brothers, the Coach and the Equipage is for the Heir.
WELL, 'twas all one; whatever his Mother's Arguments could do, or even speaking Tears cou'd say, nothing could prevail; but he mortgag'd part of his Estate to purchase a Company in the first Regiment of Guards, and into the Army he would go.
THE Night before he sign'd the Agreement for the Company, being in his Bed and fast asleep, he saw in a Dream his Father come to him in his Gown, and with a great Fur Cap on, such as he us'd to wear: And calling him by his Name, What is the Reason, says he, that you will not listen to the entreaties of your Mother not to go to the Wars; but answer her that I would not dissuade you? I do assure you, that if you resolve to take this Commission you will not enjoy it three Years.
WHY,
says he
(in his Dream) what wi
hinder me? being it seems desirous to know something of his Fortune.
ASK me not the Particulars,
says the Apparition,
but either decline the Employ, or when you have enjoy'd it two Years and a half, sell out again, as I did before you.
I CAN'T promise that,
says he.
THEN you may promise your self,
says the Apparition,
that it shall be worse.
HE seem'd to slight the Admonition, and said, it was too late to look back.
TOO late! too late!
says the Apparition,
repeating the Words; then go on, and repent too late.
HE was not much affected with this Apparition, when he wak'd and found it was but a Dream; for Dreams, said he, are not to be heeded; so he went on and bought the Commission.
A FEW Days after the Commission was bought, the Father appear'd again, not to him but to his Mother, in a Dream too as before; and taking notice to her, how his Son had rejected her Admonition, it added,
YOUNG Heads are wilful:
Robert
will go into the Army; but tell him from me, he shall never come back.
ALL these Notices were of no force with this young Gentleman; but as he had resolv'd, so he pursued his Resolution, and went into the Army; and two Battallions of that Regiment going into the Field that Summer, his Company was one, and so he went abroad into
Flanders.
HE wanted no occasion to show his Bravery, and in several warm Actions come off with applause; so that he was far from being suspected of Cowardise: But one Day, and in the third Year of his Service, the Army was drawn out in order of Battel, the General having receiv'd certain Advice, that the Enemy would come and attack them. As he stood at the Head of his Company, he was suddenly seiz'd with a cold shivering Fit, and it was so violent that some Officers who were near him, every one at their Post, perceiv'd it.
AS it was to no purpose for him to conceal it, he turn'd to his Lieutenant who stood next to him, and from whose Mouth I receiv'd the particular Account of it: I cannot imagine,
says he,
what is the occasion of this shaking Fit.
IT is your eagerness to fall on,
says the Lieutenant,
I have often been so, and begin to be so now; I wish the
French
would come on, that we might have something to do.
IT continu'd about a quarter of an Hour, and the Enemy did come on as was expected; but the fight began upon the left, a good distance from them, so that the whole left Wing was engag'd before they began.
WHILE this lasted, the Lieutenant call'd to the Gentleman, Colonel,
say
he,
how do you do? I hope your shivering Fit is over.
NO,
says the Colonel,
'tis not over; but 'tis a little better.
IT will be all over presently,
says the Lieutenant.
AY, so 'twill,
says the Colonel,
I am very easy, I know what 'twas now; and with that he call'd the Lieutenant to come to him for one Moment.
WHEN he came,
says he,
I know now what ail'd me,
I am very easy,
I have seen my Father; I shall be kill'd the first Volley; let my Mother know I told you this.
IN a few Minutes afte
this, a Body of the Enemy advanc'd, and the very first Volley the Regiment receiv'd was the fire of five Plottoons of Grenadiers, by which the Captain and several other Officers, besides private Men were kill'd, and the whole Brigade was soon af
er put into Confusion; tho' being supported by some Regiments of the second Line, they rallied again soon after; the Captain's Body was presently recover'd; but he was irrecoverably Dead, for he receiv'd a Shot in his Face which kill'd him immediately.
IF all the Notices from the invisible World could have been of any Use to him, or he had been to be wrought upon by Cautions and Advices, which nothing but a most obstinate Temper would have so totally disregarded, the Man had been safe; But what can be expected when Men are as plainly inform'd of things, as by such Methods can be suppos'd rational, and will not take the Hint?
LUCIUS FLORUS
records of
Julius Caesar,
that a Woman of a Masculine Countenance, and of a mighty Stature, appeared to him in a Dream, and beckon'd to him to follow her; that upon his following her, she went over the River
Rubicon,
and stood on the farther Bank, beckoning to him to come over; upon which the next Day he boldly enter'd
Italy,
passing the
Rubicon,
which was the Boundary of
Italy
on that Side.
I KNOW some relate this as an Apparition to
Caesar
in the open Day, but I understand it otherwise, and that it was understood of the Genius of
Italy,
as they then call'd it, and that he had such a Vision in his Sleep, which encourag'd him in his Attempt upon the Liberty of his Country; intimating, that the whole Country invited him, and that he might be sure of Success.
I SHALL not run out here into the Account of Dreams; the Variety of them is Infinite, and, as I hinted before, few of them of Importance enough to deserve any Regard; but such Dreams as necessarily intimate an Apparition of Spirits, those I think must be Significant.
THE following is part Vision, part Apparition, and seems to make One be an Evidence of the Other, and therefore is very particularly to my Purpose.
T
—
H
—a Gentleman of Fortune, eldest Son of the Family, his Father a Baronet, and of an honourable Line, and then living, being a young Man, and a Man of Pleasure, had an Intreague with a certain Lady, in which his younger Brother (of the two rather more Gay, and given that way than himself) was his Rival: The Lady was handsome, and of no despicable Fortune, but much inferiour to the eldest Son of the Family, whose Fortune was near two thousand Pound
per Annum,
after his Father Sir
G
—
H
—.
THE younger Gentleman was really in Love with the Lady, and inclin'd to marry her, if he could bring his Father to consent to it, and had two or three times spoken to the old Knight about it; nor was his Father much averse to it, only he thought her Fortune too small.
SIR
G
—told his Son, if he had been his Eldest, he should have been easier in the Proposal, because his Paternal Estate being Free, and perfectly unincumber'd, he thought the Heir was not under that Necessity of making his Fortune by a Wife; but that a younger Brother ought always to seek a Fortune to mend his Circumstances. He us'd to jest with his Son, and tell him, it was this made him connive at his way of Life; that a younger Brother should be Handsom, be a Scholar, Dress, and be Gay; the first to recommend him to the Court, the second to recommend him to the Ladies; that the Heir having no need, was often left to be a Booby Knight, just able to write his own Name, Halloo to his own Dogs, and ride the light Saddle; but as he had seldom any Share of Brains, Nature wisely gave the Wit
o one, and the Estate to the other; so, says the Knight, your Brother has his Affairs in a quite different Si
uation.
THESE good-natur'd kind of Arguments the old Knight us'd with his younger Son, to persuade him against marrying the Lady; but he did not absolutely forbid him on pain of his Displeasure, and of withdrawing his Hand from him, with respect to Money, so that the young Gentleman kept the Lady Company openly; and though he had not yet made the Proposal to her, yet did really design it; I mean the honourable Proposal,
(viz.)
of Marriage.
ON the other hand, the Esquire, as they call'd him, kept her Company, on another and far worse Account, designing to make a Mistress of her, and not a Wife.
UPON these differing Views, the Brothers often met at the Lady's House, that is to say, at her Aunt's where she liv'd; for she had no Father, and her Mother had chang'd Circumstances, so that her Daughter was as it were in her own Hands.
THE elder Brother had this Advantage in his Interest,
(viz)
that the Lady lov'd him, and would have been very well pleas'd if he had courted her for Marriage, but that was not his Design; so that in a word, the Case stood thus, the younger Brother lov'd the Lady, but the Lady lov'd the Esq;.
THE elder Brother laid Siege to her Virtue, and the younger laid Siege to her Affection; but, as I said, the Stream running in Favour of the eldest, the Lady was in some Danger of sacri
izing her Honour to her Passion, and the honest Pretensions of the young Gentleman were in some Hazard of a Miscarriage.
THE Gentlemen carry'd on their Affairs separately, and their own way; but were neither of them so close as to conceal it from one another that they had some Designs, tho' they did not fully discover what their Pretensions were; however as I have said that they often met at the Lady's Apartment, it could not be long before they came to a Conversation upon the Subject, and this unhappily embroil'd them together at last, as you shall see presently.
THE eldest Brother began one Evening to be a little rough with his Brother upon the Subject;
Jack, says the Eldest,
you and I often meet here, I don't understand it, pray what do you pr
t
nd to? 'tis a little odd that two Brothers should have but one Mistress; pr'ythee,
Jack,
don't let us turn
Italians.
NAY,
says Jack,
what do you pretend to? If either of us is in the Wrong, I believe 'tis always on your Side.
NO,
says T
—I don't allow that neither, I am right I am sure of it; I am always right, and I will be right, pray take Notice of that.
I TAKE Notice of nothing about it, not I,
says Jack;
all the World knows that I am right, and they shall know it, and you shall know it too,
Tom
—
WELL, Pr'ythee
Jack, says Tom.
alter one Piece of your Conduct, I desire that of you.
WHAT Conduct? I don't understand you; but if I did, I know no Conduct of mine that is amiss, and I shall alter none of it, I assure you.
WHY, this it is, that when I meet you here, which I think is a little too often,
says the Esquire,
I observe you always strive to stay after me, and to have me go away first; I tell you, I don't like it.
I SHALL alter nothing about that, I assure you,
says Jack.
I think I have some Business here more than you have; and as for your meeting me here too often
I think so too, I think you do come a little too often, unless you came with an honester Design.
YOU are very Pert, Mr.
Jack,
to your
lder Brother; I think I must handle you a little,
says Tom.
WHY, good Mr. elder Brother Esquire
Thomas,
ys Jack,
when you are Baronet, you may take upon you a little; but 'till then, the Cap and the Knee is not so much your due, as you may think it is.
LOOK you
Jack, says the Esquire,
I am not jesting with you, nor I won't be jested with by you; the be
t Answer a Gentleman gives to a Jest, is a Box on the Ear; or
la coup de Batton.
WHY, Sir,
says Jack,
I must call my self a Gentleman as well as you, or else I could not have the Honour to call you Brother: And since you are dispos'd to be in Earnest, I take leave to tell you Sir, I will be us'd like a Gentl
man, and if you don't know how to do it, I am able to teach you.
THEY were now both very hot; for upon the last Words of his Brother, the Esquire laid hold of his Cane, at which the younger laid hold of his Sword. Look you Sir, says he, if you are dispos'd to treat your Brother thus, take Notice Sir, my Father's Son may be kill'd, but he can't be can'd, and I won't take the least Offer towards it at your Hand; I am ready for you when you please.
SOME Company that were not far off, and Friends to both, ran in upon this, and kept them asunder for that time; but they soon met again at the same Place; and tho' it was two or three Days or more, yet they soon began the same kind of Discourse; and which was still worse, the elder Brother, who was certainly in the Wrong, yet always began the Discourse.
IT happen'd they met the last time at the Lady's Lodgings, and were let into her Parlour, but the Lady was very unhappily abroad; she had charg'd her Maid, if ever the Gentlemen cam
when she was abroad, she should never let them both in, or at least not both into the same Room; for she had perceiv'd they began to be very uneas
e one with another; she knew they were both hot and angry, and she was afraid of some Mischief between them, notwithstanding they were Brothers.
BUT some of her Aunt's Servants happening t
come to the Door, when the eldest of the Gentlemen knock'd, they carry'd him into the sam
Parlour where the younger Brother was waiting before for the Lady's Return.
THIS was as unluckily pointed for what follow'd, as if the
Devil,
who is always ready for Mischief, had contriv'd it on Purpose; for the Brothers were no sooner met, but they fell to quarrelling.
WELL,
Jack, says the
ld
r Brother,
you will it seems keep your Haunt her
, notwithstanding what I said to you.
I DO not really understand what you mean by your way of talking,
says Jack;
you seem to take a Liberty with me, you have n
right to.
WHAT Liberty do I take.
says the Esquire.
I ask'd you what Business you had here with Mrs.—was that taking too much Liberty? and I ask you again, is that an Offence?
AND I told you,
says Jack,
I should give you no Account of my self, did not I? was that an Offence to you? If it was, I see no help for it, I shall give you the same Answer now: I cannot imagine what you mean by asking me such a Question.
I KNOW what I mean by it, and I shall expect a better Answer, I tell it you in a few Words,
says the Esquire.
NAY, if you have a Mind to make a Quarrel of it you a
e welcome,
says Jack,
I'll make as few Words as you please; Only let me know your Pleasure, tell me what you would have, and you shall have a direct Answer, or a direct Refusal at once.
WHY, my Question is short,
says the Esquire,
What do you visit Mrs.—for? you may
asily understand me.
I SHALL answer it with the same Qu
s
ion,
says Jack;
Pray what do you visit her for?
WHY, that's as rude as you can answer an eld
r Brother,
says the Esquire,
and as spi
ful; but few Words are best,
Jack,
I visit her for that which bears no Rivals; I hope you understand me now.
WELL, and I do the same,
says Jack;
but there is one Question between us then, that carries matter of Right with it, and that is, who visited her first?
WHY that's true,
Jack, says the Esquire,
in some Cases, but not
in Love;
Priority is no Claim there, I shall not trouble my self about it.
THEN I'm sure,
says Jack,
being an elder Brother is no Claim; so I shall take no Notice of that.
NO, no,
says the Esquire,
I don't expect it; there are no Relatives in whoring,
Jack.
I know no Brother, or Father, Uncle or Cousin, when I talk of my Mistress.
VERY well,
says Jack,
now you have answer'd me more particularly than it may be you intended; and perhaps we may come to an Understanding sooner than I expected.
WHAT do you mean,
says the Esquire,
by an Understanding?
NAY, what can I mean? I mean, that you give me to understand, that you court Mrs.—to make a Whore of her.
BETTER Language,
Jack,
however,
says the Esquire:
a Mistress, you would say?
NOT I,
says Jack,
'twill bear no better Language; a Whore's a Whore, you know, call it what you will, 'tis the same thing to me.
WELL, and suppose it then, what Business have you with it?
WHY, suppose then that I Court the same Lady for a Wife, I hope I have the better of you there?
NOT at all
Jack, says the Esquire,
I shan't allow you should make a Wife of my Mistress.
NOR I can't allow,
says Jack,
that you shall make a Whore of my Wife.
BUT I shall make no Scruple of it I assure you,
says the Esquire,
if she is willing, for all you are my Brother, I shall do it if I can.
AND I won't flatter you, that let her be willing or not willing, if you really do it,
says Jack,
I shall make no Scruple to cut your Throat for it if I can, for all you are my Brother.
VERY well,
Jack, says the Esquire,
then I know what I have to trust to.
IT'S very true,
says Jack,
'tis the old Road of Knight Errantry Sir, win her and wear her, is the Word.
AND what must be done then?
says the Esquire.
NAY,
says Jack,
I need not tell you what to do; I tell you she's my Wife, I think that's enough to tell you what you ought to do.
AND I tell you,
says the Esquire,
she's my Mistress, that's enough to tell you, you are a Cuck
ld, or shall be so, I think that's fair, to tell you before-hand.
AND I think,
says Jack,
that's telling me I must cut your Throat before-hand too; for I will neither be a Cuckold, or be call'd so by you, or any Man alive.
N. B.
AT this the younger Brother rose up in a violent Rage, and went away; and the elder Brother, as hot as he, told him as he went out,
he did well
to leave him
in Possession.
THIS urg'd him yet more, and he turn'd back, and said, I hope you will have the Manners to follow me?
NO,
Jack, says the Esquire,
and swore to him, you shan't fight for my Mistress, and my Estate too; I'll take care first you shall get nothing by me.
WITH all my Heart,
says Jack,
we give a Rogue time at the Gallows to say his Prayers, you know.
I SHALL correct you for your Impudence, Sir, to-morrow Morning, without fail,
says the Esquire.
MUST I wait upon your Worship so long?
says Jack,
and added something very bitter, as if his Brother w
s too much a Coward to go on with it. But it appeared otherwise, for that very Evening he receiv'd a Challenge from the Esquire, appointing Time and Place to meet the next Day by Five in the Morning.
THESE two rash hot-headed young Fellows were carried into this Fit of Rage by the Violence rather of their fiery Spirits and Passions, than of their real J
alousy, for they had scarce either of them begun to engage with the Lady one way or another; but being hot and heady, they raised the Storm between themselves, and the Match and the Tinder meeting, the Flame broke out by the meer Nature of the thing.
BUT my Business is not to moralize upon the Story, but to relate the Fact. The Challenge being given, they had no more to do but to meet, fight, play the Butcher upon one another, and leave the Consequences to Time.
THE Father, the good old Knight, who was then living, could know nothing of what had pass'd between his Sons, for he was at that very time down at his Country Seat in
W—shire,
at least sixty Miles from
London.
ON the Morrow early, according to Agreement, the Brothers prepar'd themselves for the Business, and out they went, but by several Ways, to the Place appointed, their Lodgings being in different Parts of the Town.
THE younger Brother, whose Blood it seems was warmest, was first out, and it was scarce Daylight when he came within Sight of the Place appointed; there he saw his Brother, as he supposed him to be, walking hastily to and fro, as if he waited with Impatience for his coming.
NAY,
says he to himself,
I am sure I am within the Time; however, don't be impatient, Brother
Tom,
I'll be with you presently; and with that he mended his Pace. He had not gone many Steps more, but he saw his Brother (as he still thought him to be) coming forward, as if it was to meet him, and with his Sword drawn in his Hand.
YOU are mighty nimble with your Sword (said he again to himself) what, did you think I would not give you time to draw? But how was he surprized when he came up to him, and found it was not his Brother but his Father, and that instead of a Sword in his Hand he had nothing but a small little Cane, such as the old Knight generally walk'd with!
HE was the more at a stand, because he suppos'd his Father was, as is said above, at his Seat in the Country, above sixty Miles off: However he was out of doubt when he not only saw him nearer hand, but that his Father spoke to him?
WHY how now
Jack, says the old Gentleman,
What, * challenge and draw upon your Father.
* When he thought he saw his Brother with his Sword in his Hand, he had laid his Hand on his Sword.
YOU may be sure, Sir,
says he,
I did not suppose it was you. I don't doubt you know whom I expected here; 'tis a poor cowardly Shift for him first to challenge his Brother, and then send you in his stead; you would not have done so your self, when you was a young Man.
'TIS no time to talk now,
Jack, says his Father,
I have your Challenge here, and I am come to fight you, not to talk to you; therefore draw,
says he,
you know there's no Relation in Love; and wi
h that his Father draws his Sword, and advances upon him.
DRAW!
says Jack:
what, and upon my Father! Heaven's forbid! no, I'll be murther'd first.
BUT his Father advancing again, and with a furious Countenance, as if he would indeed kill him,
Jack
pulls out his Sword and Scabbard, and throwing it on the Ground, cry'd out, There Sir, take it, kill me with it; for God's sake, what do you mean?
BUT his Father as it were running upon him,
Jacks
turns from him, and giving a spring out of his Power, seems resolv'd to run from him; at which his Father stoops, takes up his Sword, and stood still.
THE young Gentleman, surpris'd and amaz'd at the Rencounter, was all in Terror and Confusion, and knew not what to do; but going back a considerable Way, and observing that his Father was gone, as he thought, he resolved, tho' he had no Sword, he would go the Place appointed, and see if his Brother was come; for he should not be able to say he did not meet him, however he was thus strangely disarm'd.
ACCORDINGLY he went back to the Place, and sat him down upon the Ground, waiting near two Hours there, but heard nothing of his Brother; but as he came away again at the End of the two Hours, he found his Sword lying just in the Place where it was thrown down, or as near the Place as he could imagine, tho' he was sure it was not there when he went the second time by the Place.
THIS amus'd him more, and he knew not what to make of it; but he took up the Sword and went home, wondring at what the meaning of all this should be.
HE had not been long at home, but his Brother's Servant comes to his Lodging with a very civil Message from the Esquire, to know how he did; and the Servant was bid to ask him from his Brother, if he had not met with something extraordinary that Morning, and to tell him that he, (his Brother) was very ill, or he would ha' come to see him.
THE Oddness of the Message added to the Surprise he was in before; upon which, he call'd the Messenger up Stairs, and parlied with him a little thus:
WHAT'S the matter,
Will?
how does my Brother do?
MY Master gives his Service to your Worship, and sent me to know how you do.
INDEED I'm out of order a little; but how is your Master? what's the matter?
WHY truly, and't please your Worship, I don't know what's the matter; I think my Master has been frighted this Morning.
FRIGHTED,
Will!
with what, pry'thee? your Master is not easily frighted.
WHY no, an't please you, I know he is not; but this has been something extraordinary; I don't know how 'tis, for I was not with my Master, but they talk in the House, that he has seen his Father, or seen an Apparition in the Shape of his Father.
WHY so have I too,
Will;
now you fright me indeed, for I made light of it before; why, it was my Father to be sure.
No Sir, alas your Father! why, my old Master was at—in
W
—
shire,
and very ill in his Bed but a
Friday
last; I came from him, my Master sent me to him on an Errand.
AND did you see him your self,
Will?
IF your Worship please to give me my Oath, I'll take my Oath I saw him and spoke with him in his Bed, and very ill he was; I hope your Worship will believe I know my old Master?
YES, yes, you know him, no doubt,
Will.
I think you liv'd four Years with him, didn't you?
I dress'd him, and undress'd him five Years and a half,
an't please you.
I think I may say I know him in his Cloaths, or out of 'em.
WELL,
William,
and I hope you will allow that I may know my own Father too, or him I ha' call'd Father these thirty Years?
YES to be sure, an't please you.
WELL then, tell my Brother, it was either my Father or the
Devil;
I both saw him, and spoke with him, and I'm frighted out of my Wits.
AWAY went
Will
with this Message back to his Master, and his Master immediately goes again with
Will
to see his Brother.
AS soon as he came into the Room to his Brother, he runs to him and kisses him; Dear
Jack, says he,
What has been the matter with us to-day? we have both play'd the Fool, but forgive me my Part, and tell me what has happen'd.
JACK
receiv'd him with all the Passions and Tenderness imaginable, and they fell immediately to comparing things with one another.
Will
had told his Brother in general how it was, as the younger Brother had order'd him; that he had seen his Father and spoke to him; and now he told him all the Particulars himself, as I have related them above
and how he came at him with such Fury, that he really thought he would have run him thro' the Body, and that he run away.
THE Squire related his Story much to the same purpose, How that as he was coming to the Place appointed, his Father met him, and ask'd him whither he was going; that he put him off with a slight Answer, and told him, he was going to
Kensington
to meet some Gentlemen there, who were to go with him to
Hampton-Court.
THAT upon this, his Father turn'd very angry; and I observ'd,
said he,
his Face look'd as red as Fire; he stamp'd with his Foot, as he us'd to do when he was provok'd, and told me I put him off with a Sham; that he knew my Errand as well as I did my self; that I was going to murther my younger Brother, and that he was come to satisfy my Fury with his Blood, and I should murther him, not my Brother.
I was so confounded,
said the Esquire,
I could not speak to him a good while; but recovering my self a little, and going to excuse my self, he gr
w more angry; when I said my Pretensions were as honest to Mrs.—as yours were, he gave me the Lye, and indeed,
Jack,
I deserv'd it; tho' I could not imagine he knew: but he told me in short, that I lyed, for that I courted her to debauch her, but that you courted her honourably, to marry her, and he had given his Consent to it.
I WAS confounded, then begg'd his Pardon; so he bad me go Home and be reconciled to my Brother, or that he would talk other Language to me the next time he saw me; and now, dear
Jack, says the Esquire,
I am come to ask your Pardon, not only in Obedience to my Father, but really on my own Account, for I am convinc'd I was in the wrong to you very much.
YOU may be sure the Brothers were immediately as good Friends as ever they were in their Lives. But still
Jack
was uneasy about this being the real Appearance of his Father; and his Brother's M
n
William
's Words run in his Mind all that Night; for as to this first Meeting, it was so taken up with the Ecstasies of their Reconciliation, that they had no time for any thing else.
BUT the next Morning the young Gentleman went to see his Brother, to return his Visit, and talk things over again.
DEAR Brother,
says Jack,
I am very uneasy about one Part of our Story still; I am glad from my Soul that you and I are brought to understand one another, and I hope it shall never be otherwise; but I cannot be thoroughly satisfy'd about who it was that was the Peace-maker; if wha
your Man
Will
says be true, it cou'd never be my Father.
NAY,
says his Brother, Will
told me that you said it was my Father, or the
Devil.
WHY yes I did say so,
says Jack,
but that was to intimate my Certainty of its not being my Father; not that I suppos'd it was the
Devil.
But, pray, how long has my Father been in Town?
NAY,
says the Esquire,
I did not know that he is in Town, but that I saw him I know well enough.
BUT did not you send
Will
down to him, says
Jack,
into the Country? and is it possible he could come up since that, in so little time?
YES, yes, he might come up,
says the Esquire;
he often drives it in a Day and a piece, sometimes in a Day; six Horses go at a great rate, you know.
BUT pray what think you of it yourself? you saw him as well as I. Was it really my Father? Your Man
Will
talks that 'twas impossible; besides he says my Father was very ill, and kept his Bed.
WILL
does say he was much out of Order, but he did not say he kept his Bed; but I confess I never enter'd into that Dispute in my Thoughts: 'Twas my Father sure! What else could it be? As you said, Brother, it must be my Father or the
Devil.
NAY, I don't know what to say neither, Brother,
says Jack,
as to its being the
Devil.
I believe the
Devil
and my Father have no manner of Correspondence.
BESIDES, Brother,
says the Esquire,
how should the
Devil
owe you and I so much Good-will, as to concern himself to reconcile us? I believe he had much rather have seen us murther one another, as we were in a fair way to have done.
I RATHER believe,
says Jack,
he had a Hand in making us Quarrel.
AY indeed, so do I,
says the Esquire;
I think, for my Part, I was mad; and, as folks commonly say, the
Devil
was in me, or I should never have been such a Fool.
WELL, but Brother,
says the young Gentleman,
how shall we come at the bottom of this Matter? we both think it was my Father, and we both think it can hardly be him neither, and we both think it was not the
Devil.
AY, and,
says the Esquire,
if it should not be my Father nor the
Devil
neither, what shall we say then?
WHY that, indeed, makes me so impatient to have it out: now I'll tell you one thing which allarms me a little too; I have sent to Mr.—'s where you know my Father always lodges, and to the
Black-Swan-Yard,
where you know his Coach stands, and they all say he is not in Town, and that he is to be in Town about six Weeks hence.
WHY that's extraordinary too, I confess,
says the Esquire;
I never thought of it, because I never entertain'd any Jealousy of this kind, it was quite out of my Head; but, upon my Word, you make me very uneasy about it now.
FOR my part,
says his younger Brother,
I would give any thing to come to a Certainty about it, I cou'd almost take my Horse, and go down on purpose.
I'LL go with you, with all my Heart,
says the Esquire.
TO bring the Matter to a conclusion, the two Brothers agreed, and they went both away to see their Father. The very Day they took Horse to go down, but some Hours after they were gone, a Letter came in to the elder Brother's House from their Father; the Contents of which I shall take Notice of presently.
AND first I am to observe that when they came to their Father they found him at home, and very ill, nor had he been from home; and was greatly concern'd for the Safety of his Sons, upon the following Occasion.
THE Night before he wrote the Letter, spoken of above, he was surpriz'd in his Sleep with a Dream, or rather a Vision, that his two Sons had fallen out about a Mistress; that they had Quarrell'd to that degree, that they had challeng'd one another, and were gone out into the Fields to fight; but that some body had given him Notice of it, and that he had got up in the Morning by four a Clock to meet and prevent them.
UPON this Dream he awak'd in great Disorder and Terror; however finding it but a Dream he had compos'd his Mind, and gotten to sleep again: but that he dream'd it again in so lively a manner, that he was forc'd to call up his Man that waited on him to sit up the rest of the Night with him; and he was frighted, and much out of order with the Fright.
That, in Consequence of this Dream, he had sent a Servant up Express, with Orders to ride Night and Da
, to enquire how his Sons did, and to bring him word if there had been any such breach among them; and earnestly to press them, if such a breach had been, that they would consent to let him mediate between them, that it might go no farther 'till he could come up, that so he might put an end to their Resentments, and make Peac
among them, according to his Dreams: and this was the Letter, mention'd above, that came to Hand in a few Hours after they were set out.
IT cannot be doubted but it was very confounding to his Sons to hear the Account their Father gave them of his Dream, or Vision rather, about their Quarrel; and it was equally amazing to see it confirm'd by all the true Particulars; also that the old Gentleman, to be sure, had been so far from being at
London,
that he had scarce been a whole Day off from his Bed.
THEY conferr'd together seriously upon the private Question,
(viz.)
whether they should tell their Father the Story of their Quarrel, but especially of their seeing him severally, and his really parting them, or preventing their fighting.
UPON the whole, they concluded not to let their Father know of his Likeness (as they call'd it) appearing to them, lest it might disquiet him too much; and for the rest, as they were perfectly reconcil'd again, they said there was no manner of Occasion to mention it at all; so they only paid their Compliment as a Visit of Duty, to see how he did, and to ask his Blessing;
Will
having told them that he was out of Order: and as for his Letter, they could happily tell him they had not seen it.
ACCORDING to this Resolution they perform'd the Ceremony of Visiting their Father, and made haste away again, that they might converse the more freely about this strange Conjunction of Circumstances, which had in it so many things surprizing to their Thoughts, and even to their Understandings; for they knew not what to make of it, nor, indeed, could they resolve it into any thing but this, which is to my purpose exactly, and which is the reason of my mentioning the whole Story, namely, that here was a double Apparition within the compass of our propos'd System.
1. HERE was the Apparition of the living Person of their Father, without his participation in the Action; his Face, Voice, and, perhaps, Habit was assum'd, and yet he himself knew nothing of the Matter, was not in the least concerned in it, or acquainted with it.
2. HERE was an Apparition to the Father in Dream; 'twas a plain Vision, the thing that was true in Fact was reveal'd to him in his Sleep, which is the very Subject I am now speaking of. The Sons were represented, or appear'd to him, Quarrelling, and in a state of Feud, as they really were, and yet neither of them knew any thing of the Matter.
FROM hence (supposing the Reality of the Story) it necessarily follows that a Spirit or invisible Being, let it be call'd what we please, may take upon it the Shape, Face, Voice of any living Person, whom it pleases to represent, without the Knowledge, Consent, or Concurrence of the Person so represented, in any manner whatsoever.
AND from hence also it is evident that Dreams are sometimes to be call'd, and really are, Apparitions, as much as those other visible Apparitions which are seen when we are (as we call it) broad awake; that Apparition is to the Eyes of the Soul, and as it is so, it may be seen as well sleeping as waking, for the Imagination sleeps not: the Soul ceases indeed to act organically, but it ceases not to act as a Soul, and in a spirituous Manner, and consequently can act upon spirituous Objects; and that as well in Sleep as at any other time.
I COULD load this Account with Story, for Example is frequent in these Cases, and I am forc'd to leave out some which are very good, and would be entertaining, because they are too
edious for the Work; besides, I am not pretending to write a Collection of old Stories, if I did I should call it a History of all the Chimney-Corners in the three Kingdoms. However, I must not leave you barren of Examples neither in Cas
so pregnant; take one more which my Author assures me was never in Print.
A CERTAIN Lady of good Figure and some Quality, had a terrible Quarrel with her Husband upon the great and critical Points of Virtue and Honour; he was a Gentleman of publick Business, and pass'd for a Man of Sense; but had that particular Infirmity, which with me will always pass for a deficiency in the Understanding; I mean to be jealous of his Wife, and yet to be able to fix nothing upon her, no not so much as a just blot upon her Conversation.
'TIS very hard for a Man to be Fool enough to disquiet himself on such an Account, and not be Knave enough to make it uneasy to his Wife too; I say Knave, because where there is no just cause of Reproach, he cannot be an honest Man that loads his Wife with the Scandal of it.
HE had thought fit to use her very ill upon this Subject many times, with no manner of Foundation, nay, indeed, not so much as a pretence for it, except what was to be fetch'd from his own bewildred Imagination; and he gave himself up so much to his Jealousy, without grounds, that his Wife was oblig'd to lay her Condition before some of her Relations, who took upon them to talk with him about it.
THIS talking with him had a worse Effect than was expected, for the Man was so far from being influenced by the friendly Expostulations of his Wife's Kindred, that he grew rude and abusive to them; and if any one of them spoke a little warmer than ordinary in her favour, he turn'd it presently upon that Person, as if he had been the Man, and had been naught with her; and yet when one of them challeng'd him to give any one Instance of his Wife's Conduct, or of any Person's associating with her in a manner as shou'd give an honest Man the least grounds of suspicion, he could not assign the least Reason; but as is most true in ordinary, that those who are the most Jealous have oftentimes the least Cause for it, so it was here; yet notwithstanding all the Expostulations that were, or could be used with him, the coolest Reasonings and most friendly Persuasions, he continued to use his Wife so ill, that her Friends began to think it necessary to part them.
THE Lady, a Woman of Piety as well as Virtue, tho' griev'd heartily with the ill Usage, and particularly as it reproach'd her Virtue, yet was loath to unhinge her Family and separate from her Husband, having also two Children which she could not part with, her Affection not suffering her to leave them to want the Care and Conduct of a Mother; so she chose rather to bear his daily ill Usage of her, than to leave her Family.
BUT he carried the Bruitish Part so far at length, that not content to use her in the most scandalous manner with his Tongue, he fell upon her with his Hands, and two or three times, in his Rage, abus'd her very much: she conceal'd this part (for his sake) as much as she could, and endeavour'd to prevent its being known.
BUT he took care to expose himself in it upon many Occasions, and particularly by affronting a Gentleman of his own Acquaintance, and some Relation to him too: the Case was thus; He fell to charging his Wife with dishonesty in his ordinary Discourse, and before Strangers; upon which the Gentleman said, Fye, Cousin, really I believe you wrong her, at least you should be very sure you were in the right before you talk'd so; your Lady has a general Character of an honest, modest and virtuous Woman; and I am told she is a very pious and religious Person also.
AT this he flew out in a Passion, and said, D—her, he was satisfy'd she was a Whore.
BUT, Cousin, says the Gentleman, then I suppose you know the Person too, and could prove the Fact!
HE believ'd he did,
he said.
NAY, you ought to be very sure of it, Cousin, says he, before you charge your Wife so positively.
HE answer'd, without any manner of Respect to his Cousin, I believe you are the Man; and adds, I take it for granted.
WHAT Suspicion,
says the Gentleman,
did I ever give you of it? I was never in your Wife's Company in my Life, but when you were present.
'TIS no matter for that,
says he,
if you were not guilty, why should you concern yourself to vindicate her?
THE Gentleman, tho' greatly provok'd, kept his Temper still, and smil'd at him; Cousin,
says he,
I doubt you have no better Argument to prove your Wife's Guilt than you have mine, and if you han't, she's as inno
nt as a sucking Child.
HIS Smiling provok'd him, and he gave the Gentleman the Lie, and added some very scurrilous Language to it, such as might be expected from a Mad-man, a Man out of himself; not by Lunacy, as a Dist
mper, but by that worse Frenzy, call'd groundless Jealousy.
AS giving the Lie is the last Injury one Man can do to another with his Tongue, it so provok'd his Cousin, that scorning to draw his Sword upon him, he corrected him heartily for it with his Cane, as he deserv'd; and he again, like a true Coward, (when they were go
) reveng'd himself upon hi
Wife; for he abus'd her again in a bruitish and barbarous Manner: nor did it pacify him at all that he vented his Rage thus upon his Wife at that time; but he continued it upon every Occasion of his being harrass'd with his own Jealousy: and when-ever he abus'd his Wife after that time, he upbraided her with this Gentleman, and with her still keeping him Company; tho', as it appear'd afterwards, the Gentleman was not in
England,
nor had been for several Months.
IT happened one time in particular, that coming home, not at all in Drink, but very much out of Humour, and, as it seem'd, provok'd, tho' it could not be so much as guess'd at, what the Reason was, he pick'd a Quarrel with his Wife, and without any other Provocation than what was to be found in his own want of Temper, fell foul of her in a most unmerciful manner; and had not Help been fetch'd in 'twas fear'd he would have murther'd her. In a Word, Neighbours coming in to her rescue, saved her from farther Mischief; yet before them all he bad her go out of the House, and forbid her coming any more within his Doors.
THE Lady could not now avoid what she had so long been persuaded to before; so taking some Cloaths, and her own Jewels, which she brought to him, she withdrew the same Evening to her own Brother's House, taking sufficient Witness of the occasion of it.
BUT to bring this Story nearer to the Case in Hand: The Gentleman whom he had thus ill us'd, had (on some occasions of his own) been oblig'd about five Months before this last Broil to go over to
Germany;
and as he went from
England
by Sea and landed at
H
mburgh,
he travell'd from
Hamburgh
up to
Magdeburgh,
and from thence to
Leipsick
in
Saxony.
AS he was sitting alone in a Summer-House as we call it, or
Garden-House,
as they more properly call it there, belonging to a Burgher of
Leipsick,
and reading a Book to divert himself, being in the heat of the Day, and a little after Dinner; he dropt asleep, and dream'd that a Lady was come from
England
to speak with him, and was in the House waiting for him.
UPON this Dream, and being not very sound asleep, only leaning his Head on his Hand as he was reading, he wak'd; and as soon as he wak'd he started up, and intended to go into the House to see who it should be, when immediately he sees a Lady in an
English
dress coming up the Garden towards the Summer-House.
HE did not know her at first; but when she came nearer she spoke to him; he calling her by her Name, would have saluted her; but she seem'd to decline it, and stepping back, said, You and I, Sir, have been sufficiently abus'd upon that Head already; and I come to you for Justice. I am ill us'd, and in danger of being murther'd every Day by my cruel Husband on your Account, and am at last turn'd out of Doors.
ALAS!
says he,
Madam, he is a Brutish Man, and I am very sorry; but what can I do for you?
YOU know my Innocence,
says she,
as far as relates to yourself; do me justice, I ask no more: and that moment she disappear'd.
HE was extremely surpriz'd, as he might well be indeed; and the more, because he had not the least notion of its being an Apparition, no more had the Burgher's Servant who let her in at the Door, and waited on her up the Garden to the Summer-House.
HE went immediately back into the House, and enquir'd who let the Lady into the House; and the Servant that had usher'd her up the Walk in the Garden told him he did; and also that he had that Minute let her out again; but looking out into the Street, nothing of her could be seen again, or did he ever see or hear any more of her in that manner.
WHILE this pass'd, the Lady liv'd a very melancholly retir'd Life in her Brother's Family, seeing no Company, and spending her time in a most uncomfortable Solitude; especially grieved for the Reproach so causelesly rais'd upon her Character, and having nothing to comfort her but the knowledge of her own Innocence; that which we call the Comfort of a good Conscience: which, as the World goes now, I must be cautious how I lay too much stress upon, or moralize too much upon, lest I should be call'd Religious and Grave, which is as much as to say Mad.
THIS Separation continu'd some time; all endeavours to bring it to a Reconciliation had been try'd, but prov'd ineffectual; the Husband continuing insolently abusive to his Wife; and his Wife (Things being carry'd to such a height) insisting upon a Reparation of the Injury offer'd to her Reputation, by having either the Facts prov'd, or a due Cause of Suspicion assigned. Between both, a Reconciliation seem'd impracticable, and Friends on both sides having done their utmost, began to give it over.
BUT, to the agreeable surprize of all that wish'd well to the Family, the Husband comes one Morning to his Wife's Brother all alone, and ask'd to speak with his Wife.
HER Brother was a litttle doubtful at first what Answer to give him; and particularly was afraid to bring his Sister forth to him, not knowing what the
Devil
and an exasperated Temper might prompt him to; and he perceiving it, said, with a quite differing Tone from what he us'd to talk with, You need not be afraid, Brother, to let me see my Wife, tho' indeed I have given you all Cause enough to be uneasy; but I assure you I will soon satisfy you that I do not come to do her any harm, but just the contrary: I come to put an end to all this wicked Breach, and that in a manner as shall be to your Satisfaction, and hers too; and I am very willing you shall be present when I speak to her, for I desire you should hear what I have to say.
HE spoke it with such an apparent Alteration in his Temper, that it was easy to see that he was quite another Man, and that there was no hazard in letting him see her: so he went and acquainted his Wife with what had pass'd; who tho' she was a little afraid at first, yet upon her Brother's persuasions came down, and her Brother led her into the Room to him, in his Hand.
AS soon as he saw his Wife, he run to her, and took her in his Arms and kiss'd her, holding her fast; but was not able to speak a word for some time. At last getting a little vent of his Passion, My Dear,
says he,
I have wrong'd and abus'd you; and I come to acknowledge it in as publick a manner as possible I can. I come to ask you Pardon for it, and am ready to declare my full satisfaction of your Innocence, in as open a manner as ever the
Devil
and my own ungovern'd Passion inflam'd me against you. Make your own Demands what Satisfaction I shall make you, and what Security I shall give you, that you shall have no more such Treatment, I am ready to comply with them; and go home with me, if you dare trust me. The Moment I break my Promise to you in the least Circumstance, you shall freely remove again without the least hindrance, or the least Contradiction from me: in the mean time depend upon it, you shall never have any occasion of uneasiness given you, and as long as I live I will acknowledge, when ever you desire it, that I did you wrong, and that you gave me no just occasion for what has pass'd.
HE spoke this with so much Affection, and even with Tears in hi
Eyes, that he forc'd Tears not from his Wi
e only, but from her Brother too, and another Relation of hers that was in the Room with them. In a word, the Reconciliation was made in a few Minutes; for he not only comply'd with any thing his Wife or her Brother desir'd, but even more than they ask'd; and when they propos'd that, to prevent Mistakes afterwards, he would consent they should put into Writing what they desir'd, and what he had said to her, He call'd for a Pen and Ink, and drew it out himself in the fullest Terms imaginable, to the same purpose as has been related, and fuller indeed than they could desire, and set his Hand to it, desiring the Brother and the other Relation to be Witnesses of it, and then gave it to his Wife.
UPON this his Wife with a glad Heart went home that very Night along with him, her Brother and the other Relation being invited to go also, which they did; where he entertain'd them very kindly at Supper, which finish'd the Reconciliation, and they liv'd very comfortably together ever after.
BUT now for the Reason and Occasion of all this; and whence this strange Alteration proceeded: To this purpose, you are to understand that one Evening this Gentleman being either in his Chamber, or some other Room in his House, (the Story is not particular in that part) he sees his Cousin, who had differ'd with him about his Wife, come into the Room, and says to him, Cousin, I am very sorry to hear you have continu'd to use your Wife ill, and at last have turn'd her away upon my Account. I come on purpose to admonish you to repent of the Injury you have done her, for she is Innocent, and you know you have injur'd her; as for the Wrong you do me, I am out of your reach: But fetch your Wife home, and reconcile your self to her, or I shall visit you again much less to your Satisfaction than I do now.
HE gave him no time for a Reply, but immediately disappear'd. It may be easily guess'd what a Consternation he was left in, when he found it was
n Apparition. He concluded his Cousin was dead, because he said he was out of his reach; and he concluded that this was his Ghost, or his disquieted Soul, and he dreaded the threatning of his Return. He endeavoured to wear it off of his Mind, but it
onld not do; the Impression to be sure would be
trengthned by his own Guilt, and both together
rought him to himself.
FOR this is to be observ'd in all such things,
viz.
That it is not the Fright or the Surprize that works
n the Mind, but the Conviction; and therefore
ho' this is one of those Relations which I do not
ake upon me to assert the fact of from my own
nowledge, yet supposing it to be true, the Moral
s the same, and on that Account I relate it,
viz.
That there may be an Apparition of a Person
iving; and yet the Person living, and so seeming
o appear, not know any thing of it, or be any
ay concern'd in it; and so in this Story now told,
t is imply'd, that the Lady here was living when
he appear'd to the Gentleman in
Germany,
and that
he Gentleman in
Germany
was living when he ap
ear'd to his Cousin in
London,
whatever manner they
ppear'd in; and yet it seems that neither of them
new any thing of the matter, and doubtless had
o concern at all in it.
I HAVE not been able to dive so far into this
tory, as to say, that they were ever enquired of
fterward, whether they were acquainted with the Circumstances or no; but I am indifferent as to that Point, it is out of Question with me, that they might not be any way concern'd in the thing it self, and yet that it might be really an Apparition of the Persons, their Faces, Voices, Cloaths, and all the needful Apparatus fit for the Delusion.
THERE are many Instances of like kind with this, and I have a very particular Relation by me of a Person who in Apparition told a Friend of his, of the Fire of
London,
two Months before
t happen'd, mention'd the manner of the Confl
gration, how it would begin in the Heart of the Ci
, and would burn East and West, and lay the City level with the Ground; to use the very words.
HE happen'd not to tell the Place exactly where it was to have been done; if he had, he might have been afterwards brought into Trouble, by the unadvised relating the Particulars; for his Friend believed he really saw him; and not that it was an Apparition: But it seems he made a long Religious Excursion upon the dismal Condition of the Citizens, and how their Pride would be brought low; how their Glory would be laid in the Dust; and how it was all to be look'd upon as a Blow upon them for their Luxury, and for their publick Sins; and so seem'd to preach pretty
much: And you know if Spirits from the other World were to preach, some People have such an Aversion to that dull heavy Business, as they call it, that they would give very little heed to it. I say, the Apparition seem'd to preach pretty much upon the Subject, and so the Friend began to be weary of the Discour
, and put him off to something else.
THAT which seems Particular in this Story, and which (had I room here) would take up some time to Discourse upon at large, is, that the Apparition went off in Form, not discovering it self so much as to be an Apparition; but came in at the Do
r, was let in by a Servant in the usual manner, aft
r knocking at the Door, and was carry'd into the Parlor among the Family; that it discours'd of other Matters also; as of the
Dutch
War, and the bloody Engagement at Sea: I do not remember exactly, whether it said a bloody Engagement had been, or would be; but I think it was Engagement that had lately been.
THAT there were several other Transitions in their Discourse, from one Article of publick Business to another; and at last to that of the Fire of
London:
The Gentleman who it was discours'd to seem'd not to be much concern'd at the Prediction about the Fire, looking upon it as a piece of guesswork, and that his Friend spoke it as of a thing which he fear'd, rather than as a thing he foretold, and pretended to know of: But after the Terrible Conflagration had happen'd, and that the City was indeed laid low from the East to the West, as had been mention'd, then all the Particulars came into his Mind with some weight, and some unusual reflection; for the Circumstances were too evident to be slightly thought of.
HOWEVER it pass'd over in the ordinary way, with a little kind of wonder; and it was strange that Mr.
M
—should be able to talk so; and sure Mr.
M
—deals with the
Devil,
and the like; whereas all this while Mr.
M
—knew nothing of the Story; and whatever Hand it was, and for whatever kind purposes, no notice was taken of it, and Mr.
M
—had so little knowledge of it himself that his own House was burnt down in the general disaster, and he had hardly time to save one quarter part of his Goods.
IT might indeed be form'd here as an Objection against this Notion, of good
pi
ts from the Insivible World, and their concerni
g them
e
ves in giving Notices of appro
ching Misc
i
s,
viz.
That they do not concern themselves to give such Notices in Cases of publick Calamities, when many thousands not of Persons only, but even of Families, are concerned, and in danger; and even where many particular Persons, who at other times have had such warnings from them, and have been as it were their Particular care, have been left to fall in the common disaster.
THIS is what I may take notice of again, in its proper place; but at present I am rather observing to you what is, than the Reason of its being so: The ways and works of Providence are Sovereign and Superiour; the Manner conceal'd, and beyond our Understandings and Reason; not always visible to us; and yet its Proceedings not the le
just, or the less to be accounted for in themselves; nor is it necessary that we should be always able to account for them to our selves. Heaven has its own Reasons for all its Actings, and it is not for us to dispute its Sovereignty, any more than to examin
into the Reason of its working. The Bishop of
Dow
,
the Pious and Devout Doctor
Jeremy Taylor,
in the Case of an Apparition yet to be spoken of, would needs have the Person it appear'd to ask this Question when it came again, Why he appear'd, or how he come to appear in so small a matter, as that of doing Justice to one single Child, when so many oppress'd Widows and Orphans groan'd under the weight of greater Injuri
s, without any of their Relations concerning themselves in the least for their Deliverance? and the Man did accordingly ask the Question, as we shall see in its place; but had no answer given him, as indeed I think he
ought not to have expected: but of this hereafter.
IT is certain the approach of that Terrible Fire, the like of which was never known in this part of th
World, was not discover'd from the In
isible World; at least but to very few: an evident token that departed Souls knew nothing of it, or, if they did
had no Power to come hither, and give notice of it; if they had, what Numbers of Predictions, Forebodings and Apparitions would there have been in the City for some Months before!
BUT are we not answer'd by the Scripture, and might we not reply in the Language of our Saviour speaking of the general Deluge,
Matt.
xxiv. 38, 39.
For as in the days that were before the flood, they wer
ating and drinking, marrying, and giving in marriage, until the day that
Noe
entred into the Ark, and knew not until the flood came, and took them all away; so shall also the coming of the Son of Man be?
JUST so likewise was it at the time of the Fire of
London:
'tis said indeed, with some Remark, that it was not a Wedding Night to many, if to any one Couple in the City; because the Fire beginning on the
Sunday
Morning, very few, if any, are said to be marry'd of a
Saturday;
but as it was a mighty Custom in those Days to marry on a
Sunday,
so there were a great many Weddings appointed for the next Morning, which were hinder'd without any forebodings or foreknowledge; and that which was infinitely worse, many Women in Travel that very Night, were, as it was reported, forc'd to be carry'd out of their Chambers in the very Article of Child-Birth, and some as I have heard were deliver'd in the very Passage from one House to another: Others, not thinking the Fire would follow so fast, having remov'd but a little way, their extremity being great, were oblig'd to be remov'd again; yet we find no notice of any of these things given in the lea
t.
THIS indeed is what I s
y we cannot account for, neither is there any need for us t
account for them in the Discourse we are upon; for our Question is not, Why there are no more Notices given than there are, and why they are not universal to on
as well as another; as if it were a Grace M
n ought to have an equal Claim to: But 'tis a Proposition that such Apparitions there are, and that therefore there are certain Agents so appointed to appear.
WE have like Accounts to these at the time of the great Massacre at
Paris;
a critical Juncture, in which the Rage of Hell seem'd to be carry'd to a terrible Height, and when innocent Blood lay ready to be spilt in a terrible manner; the Unguarded Protestants having no Means to avoid the Mischiefs that a
tended them, and no Strength to resist the Power of the Cut-throat Armies which surrounded them; so they had no Intimations from the invisible World to assist their Escape.
BUT what does this amount to, any more than the like Cases may argue in a thousand Calamities and Disasters which have befallen Mankind before? Nay, it confirms the grand Truth which I have insisted on; namely, that Souls departed know not any thing, and can communicate nothing, tho' unembody'd Spirit may.
FOR could the departed Souls of deceas'd Relations have known that their Fathers, or Children, or Brothers, or Relicts, &c. were the next Day to have been murther'd, can we doubt but they would have given them all the N
tice that it was in their Power to do, and at least have alarm'd them so, as to put them upon their Gua
d, and give them an Oppo
unity to die like Hero's, as many of them were? and as they did not do thus, I think, without Injustice, or Presumption, we may conclude they cannot; they could not then, neither can others do the like now.
AND yet as to such Notices as the Inhabitants of the invi
le World were allow'd to make, I believe they w
not without them at that time, tho' it was not thought fit by the Appointment of Heaven to have the wicked Resolution of Murther and Massacre defeated: as to the Reasons why, which is what we have nothing to d
to dispute, that we leave in Silence, as we may well do.
THE Histories of those Times are full of the secret Warnings and Notices then given by the kind Apparitions of those invisible Agents (whoever they are) in Dream. The Admiral
Coligni
had no l
ss than three particular Notices given him by Dreams, that his Life was in danger, and that he would be murther'd if he stay'd in
Paris;
an Express was sent him from the Count
S
—, at
S
umur,
to make his Escape and flee for his Life before it was too late; nay, it was even said that the King of
Navarr,
who was afterwards
Hen.
IV. sent a private Message to him to be gone, and if he staid one Night longer he would find it impossible: But, as they said afterwards, his Hour was come, and his Fate was det
rmin'd; and he was de
f to his Friends, for several others who h
d a J
alousy of his Danger, gave him like War
i
gs, but it was all in vain, he was deaf and indolent to his own Safety.
SOME others who were more obedient to the heavenly Vision, more toucht then with the Sense of their Danger, as the Count
de Montgomery,
the
Vidame
of
Chartres, de Caversac,
and others, too many to name; and who had severally, and some of them jointly, timely Warning of their Danger, mounted their Horses, and fled the very Night b
fore, and preventing the vigilance of their Pursu
rs, m
de their Escap
.
I MIGHT here enlarge upon the Probability of this as a Maxim, that tho' these Spirits may have leave to give such Notice and such Warnings to s
me particular Persons for the saving their Lives, yet we are not to suppose 'tis plac'd in their Power to contravene the Determination of H
aven, and to act contrary to Appointments of his Providence, especially in things of general Import, such as publick Judgments, which are immediately in the disposing of his Power, and not to be disappointed or delay'd.
BESIDES, as w
may have Reason to believe that they all act by Commission, 'tis also most certain that they cannot go an lnch, no not a Hair's br
adth beyond that Commission, or step one Foot out of the Way of it, to the right Hand, or to the left: and thence we are to infer that they do not give farther or more frequent Notices to us, because they are not p
rmitted; and this is, besides the rest, adding a greater Reverence to the thing itself; for take off their superior Commission, and I know not what we should say to them, or of what real Notice or Value they would be.
I CANNOT but say that there were many Notices given of the Calamity of the
Parisian
Massacre, which were enough to have allarm'd the Protestants; and the Chiefs of them were, in some Measure, allarm'd; tho' not sufficient, as it prov'd, to drive them out of the Danger; yet so as that they did p
rceive some Mischief was hatching, but they could not possibly guess at the manner; and besides if they had, the other Par
y had gotten them so far in their Power that they could not avoid the Danger, but were taken (as it were) in a Toil; and yet they did s
d s
ch Notices of their Danger to their Friends in s
v
ral Places, as to warn them in time to be up
n their Guard; and which Warning did (speaking
f second Causes) preserve them from the like Mischief; for the Massacre was intended to be Universal, at least in
ll the Citi
s in
France.
CHAP. XII. Of Apparitions being said to happen just at the time when the Person so happening to appear is said to be departing; the Fiction of it confuted.
THERE is a great Clamour, as I might justly call it, rais'd about Peoples appearing just at the time of their expiring; and so exactly t
ey will tell us it, as to time, as if, tho' a thousand Mile off, the Soul was in Apparition the same Moment. I see no foundation for any of these Relations, much less for the Circumstances; and yet the Apparition it self may be really true in Fact: such a Man appear'd to his Wife, such another to his Son, and the like; and they set down the time, adding, and that very Moment, as near as could be calculated, he died, perhaps in the
East-Indies,
or at Sea at some vast distance.
A CERTAIN Lady of my Acquaintance going out of her Chamber into a Closet in the adjoining Room, saw her Husband walking along in the Room before her: She immediately comes down in a great surprize, tells the Family she had seen her Husband, and she was sure it was he; tho' at the same time she knew her Husband (who was the Commander of a Ship) was at Sea, on a Voyage to or from the Capes of
Virginia.
THE Family takes the Alarm, and tells her, that to be sure her Husband was dead, and that she should be sure to set down the Day of the Month, and the Hour of the Da
; and it was ten thousand to one but she should find that he died that very Moment, or as near as could be found out.
ABOUT two Months after her Husband comes home very well; but had an Accident befell him in his Voyage,
viz.
that stepping into the Boat, or out of the Boat, he fell into the Sea, and was in danger of being lost; and this they Calculated upon to be as near the time as they could judge, that he appear'd to his Wife. Now if this was his Ghost, or Apparition of his Soul, in the Article of Death, it seems his Soul was mistaken, and did not know whether it was dismiss'd or no; which is a little strange, I must confess: but of that hereafter.
Sir
Jo
—
O
—was a P
rs
n of Note, and of well known Credit; his Lady and one of her Sons liv'd here in
London;
and being of a gay Disposition, and given to live h
gh and exp
nsive, it was thought she spent beyond what the Knight could afford, and that he was sensible of it, and uneasie at it: She had a very good House in
London,
and a Country House or Lodgings for the Summer at—and kept a great Equipage; the Consequence of things did at last prove, that Sir
J
—'s dislike of it was justly founded: but that's by the by.
IT happen'd one Day, the L
y being at her Country Lodgings, a Pe
son well dress
d, appearing very much like a Gentleman, came to her City House, and knocking at the D
r, ask'd the Maid if there were any Lodgings to be let there, and if her Lady was at home; the Maid answer'd No, there were no Lodgings to Le
t there; and speaking as if it was with some
sen
ment,
Lodgings!
says she, no,
I think not!
my Lady
does not use to Lett Lodgings.
Well but
Sweet
eart, says he,
don't be displeas'd, your Lady h
s ha
some thoughts of
aying at her Summer Lodgings all the Winter, and so would dispose of some Apartments here for the Parliament Season; and I am directed by her self to look upon the Rooms, and give my Answer; let me but just see them, Child, I shall do you no harm: so he step'd in, and as it were push'd by her, going into the first Parlour, and sat down in an easy Chair, his Servant staying at the Door; and as the Maid did not apprehend any Mischief, she went in after him; for he did not look like one that came with an ill Design, or to rob the House; but look'd like a Gentleman that could have nothing of such a kind in his View; so I say she went in after him.
WHEN she came in he rose up, and looking about the Room, he found fault with every thing, the Furniture, and the manner of it, nothing pleas'd him; not as if not good enough for him, but that all was too good, and too rich, far above her Quality that own'd it; That the Lady did not know what she did, that it was an Expence she could not carry on, and her Estate would not support it; but that such a way of living would bring all the Family to Rui
and Beggary,
and the like.
BY and by she carried him into another Parlour, and there he did just the same; he told her he admir'd what her Lady meant; that she liv'd in a Figure which Sir
John
's Estate could never maintain, and she would but ruin him, and bring him into Debt, and so he would be undone by her Extravagance.
UPON this the Maid begun to take him short a little, and told him, this was all out of the way of what he came about; if the Lodgings were too good for him, that was his Business indeed, but else he had nothing to do with her Lady, and how she pleas'd to furnish her House: That her Master was a Gentleman of a great Estate, and had large Plantations in
Jamaica;
that he constantly supply'd her Lady with Money, sufficient
or her Support, and for all her Expences; and she wonder'd he should trouble h
mself with that, which she was sure was none of his Business: in short, the Girl huffed him, and ask'd him what it was to him, who was a Stranger, how her Lady liv'd.
HOWEVER he turns to the Maid, and sitting down again, calmly enter'd into some Discourse with her about her Lady, and her way of Living, and told so many of the Secrets of the Family to her, that she began to use him better, and to perceive that he knew more of the
amily than she thought he had, or indeed than she did her self; at last the Wench began to be un
si
, and to question in her Thought, whether it was not her Master himself, come over
Incognito,
and only that he had not yet discover'd himself.
SHE tried several times to learn who he was, his Quality, his Country, his Name, and how she might send to him; but he put it off, only told her he would go to—where her Lady lodg'd, and wait upon her Lady himself; and so treating the Servant very civily, and thanking her for showing him the House, he went away in Form with his Servant following him, so that he did not vanish as an Apparition at all.
YET the poor Wench was very uneasie, she began to think it could not be an ordinary Creature, because he gave such strange and particular Accounts of things done in the Family; as where several things were deposited that belong'd to the Family, with several Circumstances belonging to her Mistress, to her little Son, and to his Father in the
West-Indies;
and, in short, said some things, which, as she said, none but the
Devil
could tell of: which, by the way, was talking as ignorant People talk of such things; namely, that if any thing be said, or done, out o
the ordinary Way, and more than is common for Men to talk, or do, they immediately say it must be the
Devil.
IT must be confess'd, it shews a Difference between the Present and the Past Ages: In former Times, if a Man did extraordinary Things, he was look'd upon as inspir'd from Heaven; or if great miraculous Things were wrought, it was said immediately to be from Heaven.
Come see a Man that h
s told me all that ever I did,
says the Woman of
Samaria,
John iv. 29. and it follows,
is not this the Christ?
she did not say presently this must be the
Devil. Never Man spake like this Man!
say the Messengers sent to apprehend Jesus Christ, and away they came without him, strook with awful Apprehensions,
John
vii. 49. not concluding presently that it was the
Devil. No Man could do these Miracles that thou doest, except God be with him,
John iii. 2. he does not say, no Man could do such Miracles as these, but it must be the
Devil.
On the contrary, his Conclusion is,
We know
by these Mirac
es,
that thou art a Teacher sent from God.
But now, if any thing be done extraordinary, or said surprizingly, it must be the
Devil;
as if God had ceas'd to work, and all Extraordinaries were committed to the
Devil.
THUS the
Pertuis Rostan,
which is a wonderful Passage cut through a Mountain near
Briançon,
on the Frontiers of
Dauphine,
call'd one of the five Wonders of
Dauphine,
is said to be the Work of the
Devil;
only because the People have no History recording the Time or Manner of its making, or by who; and because they think it past the Power of Men's Hands: and the like of many Places, and Things in
England.
But this is a Digression.
THE Poor Wench I am speaking of was surpriz'd ve
y much at this Gentleman, and more after he was gone, than before; for he did not give her time before, to reflect upon the Particulars he mention'd to her, but following one thing with another, he found her enough to do to take in the heads of Things in the gross.
BUT when he was gone, and she came to reflect, and lay things together, she began to consider, Who must this be? How could he know such and such things? How could he tell whose Picture that was? Where my Mistress had such a Suit of Curtains, and such a Cabin
t? Who must he be, to tell me how long my Master has been at
Jamaica,
how much his Estate is there, and how much Money he has sent my Lady o
r, i
so and so long time? This must be the
Devil
in my Master's Cloaths, something must be in it, I'll go to my Lady, and let her know it all; and wi
h this the Maid gets a Woman, that used to be trusted in such Cases, to look after the House, and away she goes to—to her Mistress, without so much as staying to dress her.
INDEED I think 'tis a part of the Story, that the Gentleman desir'd she would acquaint her Mistress with it; that such a Person had been there; and gave her some particular Tokens, by which he said her Mistress would understand who he was; and that she should tell her what he said, that her Income would not support the Expences she liv'd at, but that it would bring her to Ruin, and she would be undone; but this Part I do not positively remember; but that he told the Maid it would be so, that I am particular in.
HOWEVER, the poor Girl, the more she ruminated upon the thing, the more she was frighted, and di
order'd about it; and away she went, as I have said,
o give her Lady an Account of it: and she was the more eager to go also, because she under
tood him, that he int
nded to wait upon her himself, to talk about the Lodgings; and so she would prepare her Lady to receive him, and to consider what kind of a Man it must be, that she might not be frighted at him: But he had been too quick for the Maid.
WHEN she came to—she found her Mistress thrown down upon the Bed very ill, and so ill, that at first they told her she could not speak with her. Don't tell me,
says Mary,
(that is the
L
ndon
Maid) I must speak with her, and will speak with her, for I have extraordinary Business with her. What extraordinary Business can you have? says the Lady's Woman, taunting at her; if your Business was from the
Devil,
you can't speak with my Lady just now, for she is very ill, and laid down upon the Bed.
FROM the
Devil! says Mary.
I don't know but it may, and I believe it is indeed, and I must speak with my Lady immediately.
NAY,
says the Woman,
here has been one Messenger too many from the
Devil
already, I think; sure you don't come of his Errand too, do ye?
I DON'T know whose Errand I come of, but I am frighted out of my Wits; let me speak with my Lady presently, or I shall die before I deliver my Message.
DIE!
says the Woman:
I wish my Lady don't die before she can
ear it; pr'ythee
Mary,
if it be any thing to fright her, don't t
ll it her just now, for she is almost frighted to Death already.
WHY,
says Mary,
has my Lady seen any thing
AY, ay: Seen!
says th
Woman,
she has seen and heard too; here has b
n a Man here, has brought her some dreadful Tidings, I don't know what it is.
THEY talk'd this so loud, or were so near, that the Lady heard something of it, and immediately she rung a Bell for h
r Woman.
WHEN the Woman went in, Who is that below,
says she,
talking so earnestly? is any body come in from
London?
YES, Madam,
says her Woman,
here is
Mary
come to speak with your Ladyship.
MARY
come,
says she,
with a Surprize, what's the Matter! what, has she seen any thing too? mercy on me, what's the Matter! what does she say?
SHE does not say much, Madam,
says the Woman,
but she wants mightily to speak with your Ladyship, and is in a great Hurry.
WHAT,
says the Lady,
is she frighted?
I BELIEVE she is,
says the Woman,
but she won't tell any thing but to your self.
O, I shall die!
says the Lady;
call her up.
PRAY Madam,
says her Woman,
don't call her up 'till you
Ladyship has recover'd your self a little from your other Disorders; she'll tell you some wild Tale or other of her own Imagination, that will raise the Vapours, and do you a Mischief.
O,
says the Lady,
let me hear it, let it be what it will; if it be from the
Devil,
it can't be worse than it is; call her up, I must speak with her.
ACCORDINGLY
Mary
came up, and the Woman was order'd to withdraw.
AS soon as the Door was shut, her Lady burst out into Tears again, for she had been crying vehemently before. O
Mary, says she,
I have had a dreadful Visit this Afternoon, here has been your Master.
MY Master! Why, Madam, that's impossible.
NAY, it has been your Master to be sure, or the
Devil
in his Likeness.
IN a word, 'tis certain it was her Hu
band in Apparition, or an Apparition of her Husband, and he talk'd very warmly and closely to her, and told her his Estate would not support her expensive way of Living, and that she would bring her self to Misery and Poverty; and a great deal more to the same Purpose, as he had said to
Mary.
MARY
immediately ask'd her Ladyship, what manner he appear'd in; and by the Description that her Mistress gave, it was exactly the same Figure that came to her, and desired to see the Lodgings; so
Mary
gave her Lady a particular Relation of what happen'd to her also, and of the Message she was charg'd to deliver.
WHAT follow'd upon this Alarm, and how the Lady was reduced, and obliged to sell her fine Furniture and Equipage, and came to very low Circumstances, tho' it was a part of the Story, is not so much to my Purpose in the Relation. But what is remarkable to the Case in hand is, that they alledge, that just at this Juncture Sir
J
—
O
—
ne,
the Lady's Husband, died in the
West-Indies:
I suppose by his Death her Supplies were immediately stopped, and that was the Occasion of her being reduced so suddenly.
NOW the Apparition, and its appearing in the Shape or Figure of the Husband, his warning her of her approaching Circumstances, and moving her to abate her expensive way of Living, and the like, all this is agreeable to the Opinion I have already given, that good Spirits may be allowed to assume humane Shape, and the Shape of any particular Person, whether the Person be dead or living; and may appear to us, to caution us in our wrong Measures, to warn us against impending Mischiefs, and to direct us in Difficulties. And how merciful is it to Mankind, that there are such kind Monitors at hand, at any time, for our good!
BUT that this must be just in the Article of Death, just when the Person was dying, and the Soul departing; as if the Soul could stay in its Passage, between Life, and the eternal State, to call at this, or that Place, and deliver a Message: For Example; if it was to be carry'd by the Angels into
Abrabam
's Bosom, you must suppose those Angels would go about with it from
Jamaica
to
London,
to give it leave to speak with his Wife, before its Translation, before those swift Messengers perform'd their Task; nay that he must stop at the
London
House, assume a Shape for that Purpose, talk about the most frivolous things with
Mary
the Servant Maid, and then go with another formal Errand to—to his Wife, all this in his Journey; and having dispatch'd these more weighty Affairs, then go on for Heaven afterwards.
THIS, I say, has to me no Consistency in it, no Coherence, it does not hang together in my Opinion at all, nor can I make any common Sense of it; no, not if I was to come to the old poetick Fictions of
Charon
and his Ferry-Boat; even the old Ferry-Man would not have stept out of his Way, upon any such Business.
WHAT might be done by the Agency of those Spirits, appointed by the Great Lord of all Spirit, to attend for the good of his Creatures, I have not the least Objection against; but that the Soul of the Deceased, or Departed, can come of this Errand it self, that I deny, and must insist upon it, that there is neither Reason or Religion in it, 'tis founded wholly in the Imagination; and tho' the Imagination may not in this Case form the Apparition, yet 'tis evident the Imagina
ion only appropriates it to the Person, that is, to the Soul of the Person, who has really
o Share in the Operation.
UPON this Foundation likewise stands the old Heathen Notion, taken from the C
e of
Achilles
and his Friend
Patr
lus,
that the Soul of the Deceased cannot be at Rest, 'till he h
s come and given Notice of such and such things; that Justice be done to such and such injur'd Persons; and Money, so and so appropriated, be regularly disposed, and the Will of the Deceased punctually performed: These I take not to be imaginary but fictitious, and made or supplyed out of the Invention of the Relator, in order to dish up the Story.
AND this makes the Story of the Duke of
Buckingham
's Father, of which mention has been made already, be liable to so many Exceptions: That his Father could not rest, or his Soul could not be at rest, because of the wicked Life his Son
George
liv'd at Court; That part must certainly be added by some of the very very many Relators, or who have call'd themselves Relators of that Story; and my Lord
Clarendon,
who seems to have been the most exact and judicious in the putting the whole Story together, has none of that Passage in his Account of it, as we shall see presently.
UPON what Religious Foundation can we suggest, that the Sins of the Children should disquiet the Fathers in their Graves, or that the Souls departed can receive any Impression from the Behaviour of those in Life, subsequent to any Action those Souls departed have been concern'd in?
THAT they may be affected in a Future State with the Wickedness and Offences committed in their past Life, that I will not doubt; tho' even not that in such a manner, as to send them back hither upon any Errand about it; for all is irretrievable; as there is no Repentance, so no Reparation, there is neither
Work nor Invention in the Grave,
whither we are all going. The Soul may be in a State of Self-Reflection and Reproach; but not in a State of Reaction, no recovering for our selves, nor concern for others; 'tis all out of the Question, and all the Notices from the other side of the Curtain come from other Hands, whose Name soever they may speak in, or whose Shape soever they may assume.
I AM forc'd, how reluctant soever, to talk Scripture to my Readers, upon this nice part of the Subject; whether they will lay any weight upon it or no, be that to themselves.
IN INSIST upon it, that the Souls of the dead can make no Visits hither when once they are removed; that when they are unembodied, disrob'd of Flesh and Blood, they have no more concern with or about us; so as either to disturb their Rest or ours; and this is plain to me, not only from the Nature of the thing, from Reason and Observation; but from the Scripture.
Eccl.
ix. 5.
For the living know that they shall die: but the dead know not any thing, neither have they any more a Reward, for the memory of them is fotgotten.
This latter part relates to their having any Reward or Concern in things here of this Life, no more Reward or Benefit or Share of things here: But look into the next words, ver. 6.
Also their love, and their hatred, and their envy is now perished; neither have they any more a portion for ever in any thing that is done under the Sun.
WHAT can be plainer than this, if Scripture be of any moment among us? if not, I can say nothing to that. But I say, what can be plainer, and what do those People mean who tell us a Ghost or Spirit appear'd, and said it could not be at Rest 'till it had come to do so and so, 'till it had discover'd such and such things, and 'till it had seen it well perform'd?
IF my Vote in this Case may be of any Value, or I may offer any thing by way of Direction to weaker Heads; let them make this one thing a Character or Mark to know such things by, or to judge of them,
viz.
That when they meet with any Story told in such a manner, they should conclude it a fiction, a cheat; that it is only a Story made by the Invention of Story-Makers, a Delusion, and that no Spirit or Apparition really coming upon any Message from the Invisible World, ever talks after that manner; or that if they do 'tis a Cheat of the
Devil
to carry on some Delusion, and to make some Lye appear plausible; for that there can be no reality in it, that's asserted as above,
The dead know not any thing,
not any thing
HERE;
but their
Love,
and their
Hatred,
and their
Envy is perished.
WE have another Story to offer in this case, which has been mention'd, as if it were the Act and Deed of the Person departed; and in whose Name it was said to be done, and who, as we may say, was personated in it. I shall relate the Story impartially as I receiv'd it, and let all the Advantage that can be taken of it be made, I believe it will not amount to any rational Conclusion, in Favour of this Notion, that the Soul of the Person deceased is any way concern'd in it, or in any part of it.
THIS is the famous Story of the Apparition of one
James Haddock
in
Ireland,
which is pu
lish'd many several ways, and that by several Authors; and some of them intimating that it was really the departed Soul of
James Haddock,
who could not be at Res
, as some of the Writers of the Story would insinuate, because his little Son by his Wife
Eleanor Welch
was wrong'd in a Lease le
t by him to the Child; but kept from him by her second Husband.
THE abridg'd Story is this. In the Year 1662, an Apparition meets one
Francis Taverner
on the Highway; the Man having Courage to speak to it, asks it what he is? and the Apparition tells him he is
James Haddock,
and gives him several Tokens to remember him by, which
Taverner
also calling to mind owns them; and then boldly demands of the Apparition what business he had with him; the Apparition did not tell his Business that Night; but would have had
Taverner
rode back his way with him, and he would tell him his Business, which
Taverner
refus'd, as well he might; and that part indeed seems the only improbable part of the Story.
HOWEVER the next Night the Apparition comes to him again, and then tells him the Business, which was to desire him to go to his Wife, whose Maiden Name was
Eleanor Welsh;
but was then marry'd again to one
Davis,
which
Davis
with-held the Lease from the Orphan,
Haddock
's Son, and tell her she should cause Justice to be done to the Child.
TAVERNER
neglected to perform this Errand, and was so continually follow'd by the Apparition, that it was exceeding terrible to him; and at last it threaten'd to tear him in Peices, if he did not go of his Errand.
UPON this he goes and delivers the Message to the Woman, who it seems took but small Notice of it; and then the Apparition came again, and told him he must go to his Executor, and do the same Errand; which he was it seems afraid to do, for fear of
Davis;
but the Apparition threaten'd
Davis
if he should attempt to do him
(Taverner)
any Injury.
N. B.
Here I am to Note, that this Story made so much Noise in the Country, and the Particulars appear'd to be so faithfully related by
Taverner,
that abundance of Persons of Note came to him to have the Relation from his own Mouth; and among the rest the Lord Bishop of
Down
and
Connor,
who I name in Reverence, not to his Dignity only, or so much, as in Reverence of his known Piety and Seriousness in Religion: Being the fam'd Doctor
Jeremy Taylor,
Author of a known Book call'd
Rules of Holy Living and Dying.
THIS Reverend Father sent for the said
Francis Taverner,
to examine him about
this strange scene of Providence,
so the Bishop call'd it; and he did examine him strictly about it, and the Account says, his Lordship was fully satisfied, that the Apparition was true and real; that is to say, that it was true that there was really such an Apparition.
NOW all this is within the Bounds of what I have laid down,
viz.
That there are really Apparitions, and these Apparitions do personate such and such Bodies or Shapes, whose Names they take upon them, and whose Persons they represent.
BUT for the rest, I think all the Notions that the People then entertain'd of it, and even the Bishop among the rest, must be very erroneous and mistaken. For,
1. THE Bishop entertain'd the Story, as if this Apparition was really the Soul of the departed
James Haddock,
as appear'd by a second Examination of
Taverner
by his Lordship; for the Lady
Conway,
and other Persons of Quality, hearing the Bishop had sent for
Taverner
to examine him, went all away to be present at the Examination: And the Bishop being gone to a Town call'd
Hillsbro'
three Miles off, the Company went all thither, and
Taverner
was sent for to them, and there examin'd of all the Particulars again, and answer'd again to the Satisfaction of all the Company.
BUT here (and for this reason I relate this part) his Lordship, after asking many more Questions, concluded by advising
Taverner
to ask the Apparition when it came again, Whence are you, are you a good or an evil Spirit? by which is suppos'd his Lordship understood, Are you in a good or bad State; for his next Question was, Where is your Abode? what Station do you hold? how are you regimented in the other World? and what is the Reason that you appear for the Relief of your Son in so small a Matter, when so many Widows and Orphans are oppress'd in the World, being defrauded of greater Matters, and none from thence of their Relations appear to right them?
AND the very same Night
Taverner
meeting the Apparition again, who, it seems, was fully satisfy'd with what he had done in delivering the Message to the Executor; at this Appearing
Taverner
ask'd him the Questions above, but it gave him no Answer; and indeed it could not be expected that Curiosity should be answered.
FOR, as I said above, it is evident by the Questions, the Bishop, in all these Examinations, fell in with the vulgar Error of the Time about such Apparitions, namely, that it was the Soul of
James Haddock;
and well indeed might he ask how he came to Appear, when others in Cases of greater Moment did not.
BUT he should have ask'd, How is it possible you that are dead should be acquainted with these Circumstances, when the Word of God says expresly the Dead know not any thing, and that all their Love and Hatred is perished? Had he ask'd him, that, perhaps he might have told him that he was not the Soul of
James Haddock,
but a good Spirit sent from the invisible World by the especial direction of Heaven, to right a poor, ruin'd, oppress'd Orphan, abandon'd to Injury by its own unnatural Mother. But to talk of the Soul of
James Haddock,
and what Station it held in the other World, the Apparition might well go away, and give no Answer to it.
NOR in any of this Discourse did the Apparition pretend it was not at Rest, or could not be at Rest 'till Justice was done to the Child, or 'till the Message was deliver'd: the Apparition was too just to itself to say so: and on the other Hand, 'tis to me one of the most convincing Proofs, that it was really an Apparition or Appearance of a Spirit.
NOW, as in other Cases, what Spirit it was may be worth taking Notice of; here is not the least room to suggest that it was the
Devil,
or an evil Spirit; and therefore the Bishop was wrong in that too, to ask if it was a good or evil Spirit; for how should his Wisdom judge, who was himself a good Man, that an evil Spirit should come of a good Errand, to right an injur'd Orphan, an oppress'd Fatherless Child? the
Devil,
or any evil Spirit, could hardly be suppos'd to move about such Business.
IT is to be observ'd here, and should have been added to the Story, that the said
Davis
and his Wife, tho' it seems much against his Will, did give up the Lease to the Child, the Son of that
James Haddock;
with this dismal Circumstance, attending it,
viz.
That about five Years after, and when the Bishop was dead, one
Costlet,
who was the Child's Trustee, threatned to take away the Lease again, rail'd at
Taverner,
and made terrible Imprecations upon himself if he knew of the Lease, and threatned to go to Law with the Orphan. But one Night being drunk at the Town of
HillHall,
near
Lisburne
in
Ireland,
where all this Scene was laid, going home he fell from his Horse and never spoke more, and so the Child enjoy'd the Estate peaceably ever after.
IN a Word, the little injur'd Orphan seem'd to be the Care of Heaven in a particular manner; and the good Angel which appear'd in its behalf without doubt executed God's Justice upon the wicked drunken Oppressor, the Trustee; and as he imprecated Vengeance on himself,
o th
t same Spirit might be Commission'd to see it fall upon him.
AND here it most naturally occurs to observe that the departed Souls of Men and Women dead and buried, cannot be suppos'd to have any Commission to execute particular Vengeance on any in this World; the Supposition of this would bring a confus'd medly of Notions upon us, such as would be inconsistent not with Religion only, but even with common Sense; and which need not take up any of our Pains to confute them.
NOTHING has more fill'd the idle Heads of the old Women of these latter Ages than the Stories of Ghosts and Apparitions coming to People, to tell them where Money was hidden, and how to find it; and 'tis wonderful to me that such Tales should make such Impressions, and that sometimes among wise and judicious People too, as we find they have done. How many old Houses have been almost pull'd down, and Pitts fruitlesly dug in the Earth, at the ridiculous Motion of pretended Apparitions? of which I shall speak more in its Place.
I HAVE hitherto studiously avoided giving you any Accounts, however extraordinary, that have been already made publick; but this one, which relates to the Assassination of the great Duke of
Buckingham,
(whether famous or infamous I know not which to determine him) in the time of the late King
Charles
I, I cannot omit, because the various manner of its being related so eminently touches the Case in Hand.
THAT the Duke of
Buckingham
was slabb'd by one Lieutenant
Felton
at
Portsmouth,
as he was going upon an Expedition for the Relief of
Rochelle,
History is so full of it, and all that know any thing of our
English
Annals are so well acquainted with the Story of it, that I need say nothing to introduce that Part: Mr.
Aubrey
takes upon him to relate the Story of an Apparition upon this Occasion in the following manner:
To one Mr.
Towes
who had been School-fellow with Sir
George Villers,
the Father of the first Duke of
Buckingham,
and was his Friend and Neighbour, as he lay in his Bed awake (and it was Day-light) came into his Chamber the Phantome of his dear Friend Sir
George Villers.
Said Mr.
Towes
to him, Why, you are dead! what makes you here? Said the Knight, I am dead, but cannot rest in Peace for the Wickedness and Abomination of my Son
George
at Court. I do appear to you to tell him of it, and to advise and dehort him from his evil ways. Said Mr.
Towes,
The Duke will not believe me, but will say that I am mad, or doat. Said Sir
George
Go to him from me, and tell him by such a Token (a Mole) that he had in some secret Place, which none but himself knew of. Accordingly Mr.
Towes
went to the Duke, who
laugh'd at his Message.
At his return home, the Phantome appeared again, and told that the Duke would be stabb'd (he drew out a Dagger) a quarter of a Year after; which accordingly happened.
THIS Part of the Story indeed is calculated like a true Chimney-corner Piece of News; that Sir
George,
who was dead, should say he could not rest in Peace for the Wickedness and Abomination of his Son
George
at Court.
PREPOSTEROUS! What State must old Sir
George
be in? If in a State of Misery, what does he mean by
resting in Peace?
if in a State of Blessedness, what could his Son do to impeach his Rest? and if we shall give any weight to what the Scripture says in that Case, he knew nothing of him, let his own State or his Son's
Abominations
(as he calls them) be what they would. See
Job
xiv. 19, 20, 21.
The waters wear the Stones: thou washest away the things which grow out of the dust of the earth, and thou destroyest the hope of man. Thou pr
vailest for ever against
him, and he passeth: thou changest his countenance, and sondest him away. His sons come to honour, and he knoweth it not; and they are brought low, but he perceiveth it not of them.
'TIS plain here that the Hope (that is the Knowledge and Wisdom) of Man as to this World, is destroyed and wash'd away in Death; his Sons may rise or fall, be great or little, high or low, good or evil, 'tis all one to him, he knows nothing of it. How then could Sir
George Villers
say, several Years after he was dead too, that he could not rest in Peace? What! had he been at Rest and in Peace, and was he disquieted again by his Son
George
's Wickedness? that does not hang together at all. The old Knight had been dead several Years before his Son
George
came to rise at Court; when he did rise, he was not immediately so abominably wicked as he was afterward: Where then was the Soul of Sir
George
the Father, all the while? his Rest could not be disturb'd 'till the Circumstances that disturb'd it happen'd.
BUT my Lord
Clarendon
tells this same Story, with much more Probability of Truth; for first he leaves out the Absurdity, which indeed his Lordship was too wise a Man to impose upon the World with the Sanction of his Authority, nor was there Sense enough in it to give it Credit.
IN the next Place he does not make the Person to whom Sir
George Villers
appear'd, be an Equal, and an Int
mate Friend, but one that had liv'd in the same Town where Sir
George
had liv'd, and had not seen him for many Years, but recollected him from the Cloaths he had seen him wear; whereas the Story above makes them dear Friends, which if it had been so, it was not likely he should refuse to hear the Message, and yet he scruples it very much.
BUT there are more discording Circumstances in the Story. Let us take the Lord
Clarendon
's Relation, which is done with an appparent Regard to Truth, and is as follows:
The Account of the Apparition of Sir
George Villers,
relating to the Murther of the Duke of
Buckingham
his Son, as taken from the Lord
Clarendon
's History,
Vol. I. Fo. 34, 35.
as follows:
THRRE were many Stori
s scatter'd abroad at that time of several Prophecies and Predictions of the Duke's untimely and violent Death; amongst the rest, there was one which was upon a better Foundation of Credit than usually such Discourses are founded upon.
THERE was an Officer in the King's Wardrobe in
Windsor-Castle,
of a good Reputation for Honesty and Discretion, and then about the Age of fifty Years or more.
THIS Man had in his Youth been bred in a School in the Parish where Sir
George Villers,
the Father of the Duke, liv'd, and had been much cherish'd and obliged in that Season of his Age by the said Sir
George,
whom afterwards he never saw.
ABOUT six Months before the miserable End of the Duke of
Buckingham,
about Midnight, this Man being in his Bed at
Windsor,
where his Office was, and in very good Health, there appeared to him on the side of his Bed, a Man of a very venerable Aspect, who drew the Curtains of his Bed, and fixing his Eyes upon him, ask'd him if he knew him.
THE poor Man, half dead with Fear and Apprehension, being ask'd the second
ime, whether he remembred him, and having in that time called to his Memory the Presence of Sir
George Villers,
and the very Cloaths he used to wear, in which at that time he seem'd to be habited, he answer'd him, That he thought him to be that Person; he reply'd, He was in the right, that he was the same, and that he expected a Service from him, which was, That he should go from him to his Son the Duke of
Buckingham,
and tell him, if he did not somewhat to ingratiate himself to the People, or at least to abate the extreme Malice which they had against him, he would be suffer'd to live but a short time.
AFTER this Discourse he disappear'd, and the poor Man (if he had been at all waking) slept very well 'till Morning, when he believed all this to be a Dream, and consider'd it no otherwise.
THE next Night, or shortly after, the same Person appear'd to him again,
in the same Place, and about the same time of the Night, with an Aspect a little more severe than before, and asked him, Whether he had done as he had required of him; and perceiving he had not, gave him very severe Reprehensions, told him he expected more Compliance from him, and that if he did not perform his Commands, he should enjoy no Peace of Mind; but should always be pursu'd by him: Upon which, he promised him to obey. But the next Morning, waking out of a good Sleep, tho' he was exceedingly perplex'd with the lively Representation of all Particulars to his Memory, he was willing still to persuade himself that he had only dream'd, and consider'd that he was a Person at such a distance from the Duke, that he knew not how to find out any Admission to his Presence, much less had any Hope to be believed in what he should say; so with great Trouble and Unquietness he spent some time in thinking what he should do; and in the end resolved to do nothing in the matter.
THE same Person appeared to him the third Time with a terrible Countenance, and bitterly reproaching him for not performing what he had promised to do. The poor Man had, by this time, recover'd the Courage to tell him, that in Truth he had deserred the Execution of his Commands, upon considering how difficult a thing it would be for him to get any Access to the Duke, having Acquaintance with no Person about him; and if he should obtain Admission to him, he should never be able to persuade him that he was sent in such a manner; that he should at least be thought to be mad, or to be set on and employ'd by his own, or the Malice of other Men to abuse the Duke; and so he should be
sure to be undone.
THE Person reply'd, as
he had done before, that he should never find Rest 'till he should per
orm what he required, and therefore he were better to dispatch it; that the Access to his Son was known to be very easie, and that few Men waited long for him; and for the gaining him Credit, he would tell him two or three Particulars, which he charged him never to mention to any Person living but to the Duke himself; and he should no sooner hear them but he should believe all the rest he should say; and so repeating his Threats, he left him.
IN the Morning the poor Man, more confirm'd by the last Appearance, made his Journey to
London,
where the Court then was; he was very well known to Sir
Ralph Freeman,
one of the Masters of Requests, who had married a Lady that was nearly ally'd to the Duke, and was himself well received by him: To him this Man went, and tho' he did not acquaint him with all the Particulars, he said enough to let him know there was something extraordinary in it; and the Knowledge he had of the Sobriety and Discretion of the Man, made the more Impression on him: He desired that by his means he might be brought to the Duke in such a Place and in such a Manner as should be thought fit, affirming that he had much to say to him, and of such a Nature as would require much Privacy, and some Time and Patience in the hearing.
SIR
Ralph
promis'd he would speak first with the Duke of him, and then he should understand his Pleasure; and accordingly, the first Opportunity he did inform him of the Reputation and Honesty of the Man, and then what he desired, and of all he knew of the matter.
THE Duke, according to his usual Opennes
and Condescension, told him, that he was the next Day early to hunt with the King; that his Horses should attend him at
Lambeth
Bridge, where he should land by five of the Clock in the Morning; and if the Man attended him there at that Hour, he would walk and speak with him as long as should be necessary.
SIR
Ralph
carried the Man with him the next Morning, and presented him to the Duke at his Landing, who receiv'd him courteously,
d walk'd aside in Conference near an Hour;
one but his own Servants being at that Hour in that Place; and they and Sir
Ralph
at such a Distance, that they could not hear a Word, tho' the Duke sometimes spoke loud, and with great Commotion, which Sir
Ralph
the more easily observ'd and perceived, because he kept his Eyes always fix'd upon the Duke, having procur'd the Conference upon somewhat he knew there was of extraordinary.
The Man told him, in his Return over the Water, that when he mention'd those Particulars which were to gain him Credit, (the Substance whereof he said he durst not impart unto him) the Duke's Colour chang'd, and he
swore
he could come at that Knowledge only by the
Devil,
for that those Particulars were only known to himself and to one Person more, who he was sure would never speak of it.
THE Duke pursu'd his Purpose of Hunting, but was observed to ride all the Morning with great Pensiveness and in deep Thoughts, without any Delight in the Exercise he was upon; and before the Morning was spent, left the Field, and alighted at his Mother's Lodgings in
Whit
hall,
with whom he was shut up for the Space of two or three Hours; the Noise of their Discourse freq
ently reaching the Ears of those who attended in the next Rooms. And when the Duke left her, his Countenance appear'd full of Trouble, with a Mixture of Anger; a Countenance that was never before observed in him in any Conversation with her, towards whom he had a profound Reverence; and the
Countess
her self (for though she was marri
d to a private Gentleman, Sir
Thomas Compton,
she had been created
Countess
of
Buckingham
shortly after her Son had first assumed that Title) was at the Duke's leaving her found over-whelm'd in Tears, and in the highest Agony imaginable.
WHATEVER there was of all this, it is notorious Truth, that when the News of the Duke's Murther (which happen'd within a few Months after) was brought to his Mother, she seem'd not in the least degree surprized, but received it as if she had foreseen it; nor did afterwards express such a degree of Sorrow as was expected from such a Mother for the Loss of such a Son.
BESIDES the above-named clashing Circumstances in the differing Relation of this Story, there are one or two that are very material, as will appear by the following Remarks.
1.
AUBREY
says Mr.
Towes,
as he calls him, went to the Duke, and told him the Token; notwithstanding which, the Duke laugh'd at his Message: whereas my Lord
Clarendon
tells just the contrary, that the Duke gave him an open, tho' a very particular Audience; all his Attendance keeping at a distance, and that he held him in that earnest Discourse for an Hour.
2.
AUBREY
says, the Token Sir
George
gave to enforce or engage his Son's Attention, was, that he (the Duke) had a Mole in such a private Part of his Body; but my Lord says, the Token given was of such a Nature as the Duke swore none but the
Devil
and one Person in the World could know, and that he was sure that one Person would not speak of it; and that the Duke was extremely disturbed when he heard of it.
N. B.
FAME, tho' with some Privacy, says, that the secret Token was an incestuous Breach of Modesty between the Duke and a certain Lady too nearly related to him, which it surprized the Duke to hear of; and that as he thought he had good Reason to be sure the Lady would not tell it of her self, so he thought none but the Devil could tell it besides her; and this astonished him, so that he was very far from receiving the Man slightly, or laughing at his Message.
WHAT this Apparition then was, and from whom, or from whence, remains to be decided. That the thing was real, is too well attested; it comes loaded with so many concurring Circumstances, and told in the hearing of so many Witnesses of good Fame and Credit, that there is no Room to question the Fact; and as to the various Ways of relating it, the Truth of the whole is not abated by it at all: only as is natural to things of this Nature which pass thro' so many Hands, every one expressing themselves their own way, tho' meaning the same thing; they often vary at last in the very Substance, by only varying at first in the Ci
cumstances.
THE Truth of the Matter is at last, that the Apparition foretold his Ruin, and it soon follow'd. Now that this Apparition could not be the
Devil,
is evident from the Reasons laid down before in the like Cases. How can we suppose the
Devil
would be offended with the wicked Life and abominable Practices of the Duke of
Buckingham
at Court? His incestuous Lewdness, and whatever other scandalous Practices he allowed himself in, the
Devil
might, perhaps, encourage and prompt him to, but he would never s
nd a Messenger to him to warn him against them, and to alarm him with Apprehensions of Danger attending him if he did not reform. This is none of the
Devil
's Business, 'tis quite foreign to him, 'twould be the weakest thing in the World to suggest it of him.
AGAIN, if it were any thing immediately from Heaven, it would have been effectual to have awaken'd and reform'd him: But as it might be a kind Messenger from another part of the invisible World, where his approaching Fate was known, and who having given him this Notice, left his Reformation in his own Power, and laid the Necessity of it before the Eyes of his Reason, as well as of his Conscience, and that after this his Fall was of himself; this makes it all rational, and easie to be understood, and is agreeable to the ordinary Custom of Providence in like Cases, of which many Examples might be given in the World.
NOR is it strange, that the Apparition should personate the old deceased Father of the Duke, and assume his Shape, to add as it were a Solemnity to the Message, and give it a greater Influence upon the Mind of the Duke; and the same Messenger might have assumed any other Shape or Person if it had thought fit, whether living or dead.
BUT if the Shape assumed was the most likely to give Weight to the Errand it was to be sent about, we are not to wonder at all that a Spirit employ'd, or employing it self on an Errand of such Importance, should be able to single out such Appearances, or such Shapes and Persons to appear in the Figure of, as were aptest to enforce the Message. The well-chusing the Person is to me a Testimony for, not against the Goodness, the Judgment and Capacity of the personating Spirit, and would with just reasoning confirm to us the validity of the Message, and of the Messenger also.
AND yet 'tis very reasonable to believe, that Sir
George Villers,
thus seeming to appear, and whose Surface or Out-side is put on like a Masquerade Habit upon this Occasion, knew nothing of it, and had no manner of concern in it. Nothing is more wonderful in any part of the Story to me, than that Men of Sense and Learning, as some such have been, could be prevailed upon, or rather could prevail upon themselves, to publish to the World such incongruous, such irrational things as these; that a Man dead, perhaps twenty Years before, I think it's so much at least; should appear, and say, he could not rest in Peace for such and such things. And in another of the same Author's Stories, an Apparition is brought in appearing to Dr.
Turberville
's Sister, being a Lady who was dead, and had left some Children to her Husband, which Children were injur'd by a second Wife, contrary to the Settlement of the first Wife's Marriage; and this Settlement of the first Marriage was it seems hid behind the Wainscot, in such and such a Place, which no body knew of but the Children's Mother, that is to say the first Wife. This Lady appeared to discover where this Writing lay, and tells the Person to whom she discover'd it, that 'till she had made this Discovery, she had wander'd in the Air, but that now she was going to God.
STRANGE! that Mr.
Glanvil, A
brey,
and others, could publish such a Story as this, without some just Enquiries to reconcile it to common Sense, as well as to Religion; as particularly how long this Lady had been Dead; for it seems to have been some Years, the Husband being married again, and the Children being in danger of being wrong'd by the Children of the second Venter? Now, did the Soul of the first Lady wander all that while in the Air, to see whether there should be any occasion for her, to vindicate her Children's Right, or no? did she stay from going to God all that while, only for discovering a conceal'd Deed, that her Children might not be wrong'd? how shall we make such a thing out to be rational? what Notions of Religion or of a future State will support it?
WHY did she not immediately discover where the Deed, or Marriage Settlement lay, and put it into the Hands of some honest People, in Trust for her Children? and then she had not need to have wander'd in the Air 'till it had been done.
THEY must have very low-priz'd Thoughts of Heaven, and of going to God, after the departing or separating of the Soul from the Body in Life, who think the Passage can be interrupted by any of the Affairs of this Life left unfinish'd. If even our Repentance unfinish'd, our Peace with God unfinish'd, can never be retreiv'd, if Time is not to be recalled; but that
as the Tree falls, so it shall lie:
Shall we pretend the Soul shall be stopped and interrupted in its Passage, to retrieve the Injustice and Violence done to the Orphans, or Relicts of the Family? shall the Soul be brought back to find out old hidden Parchments, or as it is pretended in other like Stories, to dig up old long-buried Money, and the like?
NO, no; those things should be done in time: like Rep
ntance, they should not be left to that Hazard; for we may depend, there is no Work, or Device, or Invention in the Grave, whither we are all going.
THAT there are invisibe Agents, which in Pursuance of the Government of Providence in the World, may be made Instruments, to act in such Cases as these; to discover Writings which being conceal'd may ruin Families, rob and plunder Orphans, and distress the right Heirs of Estates, and i
many like Cases, this need not be deny'd, and is inde
d not to b
disputed; and 'tis a glorious Testimony to the Justice of Providence, that in such Cases he does not abandon the Widows and the Orphans, who for want of lost or conceal'd Deeds, are sometimes in Danger of being undone, by Violence and R
pine. But all this is easier to be understood to be done without Interruption of the ordinary Course of Things, without obstructing the Soul's Passage into its determined state of Happiness or Misery; which it must be the weakest, and indeed the wickedest thing in the World, to think can be diverted by these Trifles; and whose direct Progression is plainly stated in the Scripture in these Words:
It is appointed unto all Men once to die, and after Death to Judgment;
or immediately after Death to Judgment, at least so as nothing to prevent or intervene;
Heb.
ix. 27.
It is appointed,
and sur
ly these things can never break in upon that solemn Appointment:
BESIDES, 'tis an evident Impeachment of the Power and Justice, as well as the Wisdom of Providence, in his Disposition of things, as if he could not find out Ways to do right to injur'd Orphans, or to detect the Injustice and Oppression of violent and unreasonable Men, but the Soul of the departed Mother must be kept out of Heaven to do it her self. Horrid Absurdity! and inconsistent with all the Notions that true Religion has inspir'd us with, relating to a Future State, and to the Gulph that is fix'd betwen this and that.
THE Soul can no more be kept out from, or delay'd its Entrance into Heaven, if its Portion be appointed for Happiness, by any Concern for the Affairs of this World, than it can b
disq
iet
d after it is entered those Realms of Peace, and disturbed or brought back from thence upon any Account whatsoever.
THE very thoughts of it are so mean, so lowrated and base, that 'tis unworthy of our Reason, but especially of our Christian reasoning Powers, to ent
rtain them. I take this Absurdity indeed to be much of the Cause of that just Ridicule, which the wiser Part of Mankind have put upon most of the Stories which are told among us about Witchcraft and Apparitions; for that they are told with such evident Inconsistences, that they cannot go down with rational People: Who can believe what cannot be true? who can make a serious thing of a piece of ridiculous Nonsense? That a Soul dismiss'd from Life, and going directly into Heaven, shall be call'd back by the Cry of the Children after her, with a
hold! stay
Mother!
come back,
and come and
tell us where the Writings are for your Joyntur
,
or
we shall be undone?
and the poor Mother, Uncas'd, Unembodied, must come back,
dismiss the Angels that were carrying her into
Abraham
's Bosom, and bid them come for her another time; and here she must hover about we know not how many Years, to do Right to these Children. Sure the same Power that could thus interrupt her Passage into Heaven, might have prevented her separating from the Body, and she might with as much ease, and less injustice to her self, have been kept out of the Grave, as kept out of Heaven.
BUT I am sick of the very Repetition; the Delusion is so gross, I say it is not to be wondered that we are shock'd by it in our belief of the thing call'd Apparition in general. The ridiculous Part discredits the real Part, and it being so sufeiting to our Reason to hear the first Part, we throw off our Patience, and will hear nothing at all of it.
IT is true we should not do thus; the Reality of the Thing, abstracted from these distracted and enthusiastick Notions, is not lessen'd: 'tis our Business then to reject the foolish Part, which indeed has almost smother'd and buried the rest in its Dust and Rubbish, and let us judge rightly of things as they are. There is no want of Examples, where (Providence permitting) Apparition has made Discoveries of villainous and dishonest Ac
ions and Designs; detected Violence and Murther, done Right to injur'd and oppress'd Widows, and Fatherless Children; and this without such a monstrous and inconsistent Addition, as that of bringing back the Soul from its Entrance into Heaven, or disturbing its Rest and Peace in a future State: things too gross to be so much as nam'd among Christians, whose Faith in things Future is too well establish'd to be capable of receiving any Impressions from such Delusions.
I HAVE an Example in Story very particular to this Case; and which my Author assures me of the Truth of, tho' never yet publish'd in Print: The Story is told of the late Reverend Dr.
Scot,
a
Man whose Learning and Piety was eminent, and whose Judgment was known to be so good, as not to be easily imposed upon.
THE Doctor, as I have the Story related, was sitting alone by the Fire, either in his Study or his Parlour, in
Broadstreet
where he liv'd, and reading a Book, his Door being shut fast and lock'd; he was well assur'd there was no body in the Room but himself, when accidentally raising his Head a little, he was exceedingly surpriz'd to see sitting in an Elbow Chair, at the other side of the Fire-place or Chimney, an Antient grave Gentleman in a black Velvet Gown, a long Whig, and looking with a pleasing Countenance towards him
(the Doctor)
as if just going to speak.
N. B.
Another Person relating this Story, says the Antient Gentleman appear'd standing, and having just opened the Door of the Doctor's Study, he was come in; and saluting the Doctor spoke first to him: but the Difference is but small.
THE Relations agree in this part, that the Doctor was greatly surpriz'd at the sight of him; and indeed the seeing him as sitting in a Chair was the most likely to be surprizing; because the Doctor knowing the Door to be lock'd, and then seeing a Man sitting in the Chair, he must immediately and at first sight conclude him to be a Spirit, or Apparition, or
Devil,
call it as you will; whereas seeing him come in at the Door, he might at first sight suppose him to be really a Gentleman come to speak with him, and might think he had omitted fastning the Door, as he intended to have done.
BUT be it which of the two it will, the Doctor appear'd in great disorder at the sight, as he ac
nowledg'd to those to whom he told the Story, and from whom I receiv'd this Account, with very little remove of Hands between.
THE Spectre it seems began, for the Doctor had not Courage at first, as he said, to speak to it; I say the Spectre or Apparition spoke first, and desir'd the Doctor not to be frighted, not to be surpriz'd, for that he would not do him any hurt; but that he came to him upon a Matter of great Importance to an injur'd Family, which was in great danger of being Ruin'd; and that tho' he (the Doctor) was a Stranger to the Family, yet knowing him to be a Man of Integrity, he had pitch'd upon him to do an act of very great Charity, as well as Justice; and that he could depend upon him for a punctual Performance.
THE Doctor was not at first compos'd enough to receive the Introduction of the Business with a due attention; but seem'd rather inclin'd to get out of the Room if he could, and once or twice made some Attempt to knock for some of the Family to come up, at which the Apparition appear'd a little displeas'd.
BUT it seems he need not; for, as the Doctor said, he had no power to go out of the Room if he had been next the Door, or to knock for Help if any had been at hand.
BUT here the Apparition seeing the Doctor still in Confusion, desir'd him again to compose himself, for he would not do him the least Injury, or offer any thing to make him uneasie; but desir'd that he would give him leave to deliver the Business he came about, which when he had heard, perhaps he would see less cause to be surpriz'd or apprehensive than he did now.
BY this time, and by the calm way of Discourse above mention'd, the Doctor recover'd himself so much, tho' not with any kind of Composure, as to speak.
IN the Name of God,
says the Doctor,
what art thou?
I DESIRE you would not be frighted,
says the Apparition
to him again; I am a Stranger to you, and if I tell you my Name, you do not know it; but you may do the Business without enquiring.
THE Doctor continu'd still discompos'd and uneasie, and said nothing for some time.
THE Apparition spoke again to him not to be surpriz'd, and receiv'd only for Answer the old ignorant Question,
IN the Name of God, what art thou?
UPON this the Spectre seem'd displeas'd, as if the Doctor had not treated him with Respect; and expostulated a little with him, telling him he could have terrify'd him into a Compliance, but that he chose to come calmly and quietly to him; and used some other Discourses, so civil and obliging, that by this time he began to be a little more Familiar, and at length the Doctor ask'd,
WHAT is it you would have with me?
AT this the Apparition, as if gratify'd with the Question, began his Story thus.
I LIV'D in the County of—
I do not exactly remember the County he named; but it was in some of the Western Counties of
England.
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.
N. B.
Here he gave him his own Name, the Name of his younger Brother, and the Names of his two Nephews; but I am not allow'd to publish the Names in this Relation, nor might it be proper for many Reasons.
HERE the Doctor interrupted, and ask'd him how long the Grandson had been in Possession of the Estate; which he told him was—Years, intimating that he had been so long dead.
THEN he went on, and told him, that his Nephews would be too hard for his Grandson in the Suit, and would OUT him of the Mansion-House and Estate; so that he would be in danger of being entirely ruin'd, and his Family be reduc'd.
STILL the Doctor could not see into the Matter, or what he could do to help or remedy the Evil that threaten'd the Family; and therefore ask'd him some Questions: for now they began to be a little better acquainted than at first.
SAYS the Doctor,
And what am I able to do in it, if the Law be against him?
WHY,
says 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,
says the Doctor,
and still what can I do in the Case?
WHY,
says the Spectre,
if you will go down to my Grandson's House, and take such Persons with you as you can trust, I will give you such Instructions as that you shall find out the Deed or Settlement, which lies concealed in a Place where I put it with my own Hands, 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?
says the Doctor.
ASK me not about that,
says the Apparition;
there are divers Reasons which you may know hereafter. I can depend upon your Honesty in it, in the mean time; and I will so dispose Matters that you shall have your Expences paid you, and be handsomely allow'd for your Trouble.
AFTER this Discourse, and several other Expostulations, (for the Doctor was not easily prevail'd upon to go 'till the Spect
e seem'd to look angrily, and even to threaten him for refusing,) he did at last Promise him to go.
HAVING obtain'd a Promise of him, he told him he might let his Grandson know that he had formerly convers'd with his Grandfather, (but not how lately, or in what Manner,) and ask to see the House; and that in such an upper Room or Loft, he should find a great deal of old Lumber, old Coffers, old Chests, and such Things as were out of Fashion now, thrown by, and pil'd up upon one another, to make room for more modish Furniture, Cabinets, Chests of Drawers, and the like.
THAT in such a particular Corner was such a certain old Chest, with an old broken Lock upon it, and a Key in it, which could neither be turn'd in the Lock, or pull'd out of it.
N. B.
Here he gave him a particular Description of the Chest, and of the Outside, the Lock and the Cover, and also of the Inside, and of a private place in it, which no Man could come to, or find out, unless the whole Chest was pull'd in Pieces.
IN that Chest,
says he,
and in that place, lyes the grand Deed, or Charter of the Estate, which conveys the Inheritance, and without which the Family will be ruin'd, and turn'd out of Doors.
AFTER this Discourse, and the Doctor promising to go down into the Country and dispatch this important Commission; the Apparition putting on a very pleasant and smiling Aspect, thank'd him, and disappear'd.
AFTER some Days, and within the time limited by the Proposal of the Spectre, the Doctor went down accordingly into—
shire;
and finding the Gentleman's House very readily, by the Direction, knock'd at the Door, and ask'd if he was at home; and after being told he was, and the Servants telling their Master it was a Clergyman, the Gentleman came to the Door, and very court
ously invited him in.
AFTER the Doctor had been there some time, he observ'd the Gentleman receiv'd him with an unexpected Civility, tho' a Stranger, and without Business: They enter'd into many friendly Discourses, and the Doctor pretended to have heard much of the Family, (as, indeed, he had) and of hi Grandfather; from whom, Sir,
says he,
I perceive the Estate more immediately descends to yourself.
AY,
says the Gentleman,
and shook his Head, my Father died young, and my Grandfather has left Things so confus'd, that for want of one principal Writing, which is not yet come to Hand, I have met with a great deal of trouble from a couple of Cousins, my Grandfather's Brother's Children, who have put me to a great deal of Charge about it. And with that the Doctor seeming a little inquisitive.
BUT I hope you have got over it, Sir?
says he.
NO truly,
says the Gentleman,
to be so open 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 for it.
I WISH with all my Heart you may find it, Sir,
says the Doctor.
I DON'T doubt but I shall; I had a strange Dream about it but last Night,
says the Gentleman.
A DREAM about the Writing!
says the Doctor,
I hope it was that you should find it then?
I DREAM'D,
says the Gentleman,
that a strange Gentleman came to me, that I had never seen in my Life, and help'd me to look it. I don't know but you may be the Man.
I SHOULD be very glad to be the Man, I am sure,
says the Doctor.
NAY,
says the Gentleman,
you may be the Man to help me look it.
AY, Sir,
says the Doctor,
I may help you look it indeed, and I'll do that too with all my Heart; but I wou'd much rather be the Man that should help you find it: Pray when do you intend to make a search?
TO-MORROW,
says the Gentleman,
I had appointed to do it.
BUT,
says the Doctor,
in what manner do you intend to search?
WHY,
says the Gentleman,
'tis all our Opinion
that my Grandfather was so very much concern'd to preserve this Writing, and had so much Jealousy that some that were about him would take it from him if they could, that he has hid it in some secret Place; and I'm resolv'd I'll pull half the House down but I'll find it, if it be above Ground.
TRULY,
says the Doctor,
he may have hid it so, that you must pull the House down before you find it, and perhaps not then either. I have known such things utterly lost, by the very Care taken to preserve them.
IF it was made of something the Fire wou'd not destroy,
says the Gentleman,
I'd burn the House down but I'd find it.
I SUPPOSE you have search'd all the old Gentleman's Ches
s, and Trunks, and Coffers over and over?
says the Doctor.
AY,
says the Gentleman,
and turn'd them all inside outward, and there they lie of a heap up in a great Loft, or Garret, with nothing in them; nay, we knock'd three or four of them in Pieces to search for private Drawers, and then I burnt them for Anger, tho' they were fine old Cypress Chests, that cost Money enough when they were in Fashion.
I'M sorry you burnt them,
says the Doctor.
NAY,
says the Gentleman,
I did not burn a scrap of them 'till they were all split to Pieces; and it was not possible there cou'd be any thing there.
N. B.
This made the Doctor a little easy; for he began to be surpriz'd when he told him he had split some of them out, and burnt them.
WELL, Sir,
says the Doctor,
if I can do you any Service in your Search, I'll come and see you again to-morrow, and wait upon your Search with my good Wishes.
NAY,
says the Gentleman,
I don't design to part with you; since you are so kind to offer me your Help, you shall stay all Night then, and be at the first of it.
THE Doctor had now gain'd his Point so far as to make himself acquainted and desirable in the House, and to have a kind of Intimacy; so that tho' he made as if he would go, he did not want much En
reaties to make him stay; so he consented
o lie in the House all Night.
A LITTLE before Evening the Gentleman ask'd him to take a Walk in his Park, but he put it off with a Jest; I had rather, Sir,
said he smiling,
you'd let me see this fine old Mansion House that is to be demolish'd to-morrow; methinks I'd fain see the House once, before you pull it down.
WITH all my Heart,
says the Gentleman.
So he carry'd him immediately up Stairs, shew'd him all the best Apartments, and all his fine Furniture and Pictures; and coming to the Head of the great Stair-Case where they came up, offer'd to go down again.
BUT, Sir,
says the Doctor,
shall we not go up higher?
THERE'S nothing there,
says he,
but Garrets and old Lo
ts full of Rubbish, and a Place to go out into the Turret, and the Clock-house.
O, LET me see it all, now we are a going,
says the Doctor.
I love to see the old lofty Towers and Turrets, the Magnificence of our Ancestors, tho' they are out of Fashion now; Pray let us see all, now we are going.
WHY, it will tire you,
says the Gentleman.
NO, no,
says the Doctor,
if it don't tire you that have seen it so often, it won't tire me, I assure you: Pray let us go up. So away the Gentleman goes, and the Doctor after him.
AFTER they had rambled over the wild Part of an old-built great House, which I need not describe, he passes by a great Room, the Door of which was open, and in it a great deal of old Lumber: And what Place is this, pray?
says the Doctor,
looking in at the Door, but not offering to go in.
O! THAT'S the Room,
says the Gentleman softly, because there was a Servant attending them,
that's the Room I told you of, where all the old Rubbish lay, the Chests, the Coffe
s, and the Trunks; look there, see how they are pil'd up upon one another almost to the Ceiling.
WITH this the Doctor goes in and looks about him; for this was the Place he was directed to, and which he wanted to see: He was not in the Room two Minutes but he found every thing just as the Spectre at
London
had describ'd, went directly to the Pile he had been told of, and fixes his Eye upon the very Chest with the old rusty Lock upon it, with the Key in it, which would neither turn round, nor come out.
ON my Word, Sir,
says the Doctor,
you have taken Pains enough, if you have rumag'd all these Drawers, and Chests, and Coffers, and every thing that may have been in them.
INDEED, Sir,
says the Gentleman,
I have emptied every one of them myself, and look'd over all the old musty Writings one by one; with some help, indeed; but they, every one, past thro' my own Hand, and under my Eye.
WELL, Sir,
says the Doctor,
I see you have been in earnest, and I find the thing is of great Consequence to you: I have a strange Fancy come into my Head this very Moment; will you gratify my Curiosity with but opening and emptying one small Chest or Coffer that I have cast my Eye upon? there may be nothing in it, for you are satisfy'd, I believe, that I was never here before; but I have a strange Notion that there are some private Places in it which you have not found; perhaps there may be nothing in them, when they are found.
THE Gentleman looks at the Chest smiling, I remember opening it very well; and turning to his Servant,
Will, says he,
don't you remember that Chest? Yes, Sir,
says Will,
very well, I remember you were so weary you sat down upon the Chest when every thing was out of it, you clap'd down the Lid and sat down, and sent me to my Lady to bring you a Dram of Citron; you said you were so tir'd you was ready to faint.
WELL, Sir, 'twas only a Fancy of mine, and very likely to have nothing in it.
'TIS no matter for that,
says the Gentleman,
you shall see it turn'd bottom up again before your Face, and so you shall all the rest, if you do but speak the Word.
WELL, Sir,
says the Doctor,
if you will oblige me but with that one, I'll trouble you no farther.
IMMEDIATELY the Gentleman causes the Coffer to be drag'd out, and open'd; for it would not be lock'd, the Key would neither lock it nor unlock it: when the Papers were all out, the Doctor turning his Face another way, as if he would look among the Papers, but taking little or no Notice of the Chest, stoop'd down, and as if supporting himself with his Cane, chops his Cane into the Chest, but snatcht it out again hastily, as if it had been a Mistake, and turning to the Chest he claps the Lid of it down, and sits down upon it, as if he was a weary too.
HOWEVER he takes an Opportunity to speak to the Gentleman softly, to send away his Man a Moment; for I wou'd speak a Word or two with you, Sir,
says he,
out of his hearing; and then recollecting himself, Sir,
says he aloud,
can you not send for a Hammer and a Chisel?
YES, Sir,
says the Gentleman.
Go,
Will, says he to his Man,
fetch a Hammer and Chisel.
AS soon as
Will
was gone, Now, Sir,
says he,
let me say a bold Word to you; I have found your Writing; I have found your Grand Deed of Settlement; I'll lay you a hundred Guineas I have it in this Coffer?
THE Gentleman takes up the Lid again, handles the Chest, looks over every Part of it, but could see nothing; he is confounded and amaz'd! What d'ye mean?
says he to the Doctor,
you have no unusual Art I hope, no Conjuring in hand; here's nothing but an empty Coffer?
NOT I upon my Word,
says the Doctor,
I am no
Magician,
no
Cunning-Man,
I abhor it; but I tell you again the Writing is in this Coffer.
THE Gentleman knocks, and calls as if he was frighted, for his Man with the Hammer, but the Doctor sat compos'd again upon the Lid of the Coffer.
AT last up comes the Man with the Hammer and Chisel, and the Doctor goes to work with the Chest, knocks upon the flat of the Bottom;
Hark!
says he,
don't you hear it, Sir,
says he,
don't you hear it plainly?
HEAR what?
says the Gentleman.
I don't understand you, indeed.
WHY the Chest has a double Bottom, Sir, a false Bottom,
says the Doctor;
don't you hear it sound hollow?
IN a Word, they immediately split the inner Bottom open, and there lay the Parchment spread abroad flat on the whole breadth of the Bottom of the Trunk, as a Quire of Paper is laid on the flat of a Drawer.
IT is impossible for me to describe the Joy and Surprize of the Gentleman, and soon after of the whole Family; for the Gentleman sent for his Lady, and two of his Daughters, up into the Garret among all the Rubbish, to see not the Writing only, but the Place where it was found, and the Manner how.
YOU may easily suppose the Doctor was caress'd with uncommon Civilities in the Family, and sent up (after about a Week's stay) in the Gentleman's own Coach to
London.
I do not remember whether he disclos'd the Secret to the Gentleman, or no; I mean the Secret of the Apparition, by which the Place where the Writing was to be found, was discover'd to him, and who oblig'd him to come down on purpose to find it: I say, I do not remember that Part, neither is it material. As far as I had the Story related, so far I have handed it forward; and I have the truth of it affirmed in such a manner, as I cannot doubt it.
NOW to observe a little upon this Passage, which I am oblig'd to say is reported to me for Truth, and I firmly believe it to be so: Certain it is, that finding this Writing was of the utmost Importance to the Family; and tho' I am not indeed inclin'd to publish Names to the Story, or to examine into the Particulars, by discoursing with the Persons, for some may be yet Living, yet I say the Establishment of not a Family only, but a Generation of Families, might depend upon this Writing, and that no doubt made the antient Gentleman lay it up so safe. But why then might not Providence permit, nay even direct one of those Intelligent Spirits or Angels, mention'd above, to give this Notice, and in this manner, where the main and only Deed or Charter for the Inheritance was to be found? as well as it has upon many like Occasions, or in Cases alike in their Importance, made strange and unaccountable Discoveries of Things hid for many Ages; and this without Apparition, but by a manifest concurrence of Causes and Accidents next to Miracles.
I CANNOT think but that Providence, whose Concern for the good and safety of his Creatures is so Universal, and who it must be acknowledg'd is not unconcern'd even in the minutest Circumstances, may think meet to bring such a thing as this to Light, upon which the good and welfare of a whole Family did so much depend; and even to appear in an extraordinary Manner in it, without any Impeachment of its Wisdom or its Power; and if the same Providence that thought fit to save this Family from so much Injustice as at that time threaten'd it, thought fit to do it, by the Agency of a Spirit coming in Apparition to a third Person, so to bring it about as in the ordinary Method, what have we to do to dispute the manner? or what just Objection lies against it?
UPON the whole, here's no
Devil
here, no imaginary Phantoms in the Air, no Voices and Noises delusive and imposing upon the Fancy one way o
other; no Soul appearing, and pretending it cannot be at rest; and yet here is an Apparition directing to find out what was in Being, and was to be found, and what Justice required should be produc'd.
NOR could this be the
Devil:
that wicked Agent goes up and down upon a much worse Employment. He is busy enough, that's true; but 'tis wid'ning breaches in Families, not healing them; in prompting Mischief, not preventing it; tempting Man to Robbery, to Whoredom, to Murther; not moving them to repent. As is the Errand, such is the Messenger; as is the Work, such is the Labourer; and the way of judging is as just as it is certain, 'tis easy and plain, we cannot fail to know who and who's together.
'TIS the same in our most retir'd Thoughts; we may very well know who talks to us, by the Discourse, who tempts us, by the Mischief he tempts to. My good, wicked, pious, hellish Friend and old Acquaintance
Z—G—
must never tell me, that he does not know by whose Direction he transacts, and who he converses with, when he is bid to break Oaths and Promises under the cover of Conscience; when he assaults Innocence by Clamour, and levies War by Slander, against Reputation and Virtue on pretence of Zeal to Truth; blackning Characters in pretence of giving the Innocent Person opportunity to clear himself; I say he must not do this without knowing from whence he derives the extraordinary Motion to it, what Spirit prompts, and from whose dictates he takes the Direction.
WHEN he daubs on purpose to wash, and sullies with intention to clean the Faces of his Innocent Neighbours, he knows as well as I, he is actuated from Hell, and agitated
ab Inferis;
because he knows that all Hypocri
y is from the
Devil;
and as he knows himself to be a most accomplish'd Che
t, even from the outside of his Face to the inside of his Soul, he may sing after my Lord of
Rochester
in his Sarcasm upon a much honester Man,
He said, O Lord, O Lord of Hosts,
I am a Ra—l, that thou know'st.
'TIS a strange Hypothe
is, that a late Visionist in those pieces of secret History attack'd me with t'other Day,
viz.
That he would undertake to prove from the late Reverend and Learned (but to himself unintelligible)
Jacob Behemen,
that a Man's Soul was capable of comprehending GOD,
Futurity, Eternity,
and all occult and retir'd things of the utmost importance, but it self; but that, for divers wise Reasons, the light of self-knowledge was hid from his Eyes; except by immediate Revelation; which immediate Revelation Friend
Jacob
pretended to have attained, only with this unhappy disaster attending it,
viz.
That he could never express himself, no not to his own Understanding; so that indeed he understood this only, namely, that he could not understand what he did understand.
NOW to leave Friend
Jacob
to his own Quibbles, and to his three and twenty Parenthesis, like a nest of Boxes one within another, and never to be prolated; 'tis my Opinion, that if Mankind will be faithful to themselves, they may always know themselves; that Friend—
G
—not only always has the
Devil
in him, but always knows it; as it is certain, that he that wilfully
Lyes
and
Cheats
always knows that he
Lyes
and
Cheats;
so it is impossible
T—E—
should be a compleat Rogue, and not know it; he may be indeed not able to know how much a Rogue he is, 'till the
Devil
and he have drawn out the Thread to its full length, and tried him effectually, search'd him to the bottom, and seen whether he will stop at any thing or no; and what the wicked thing can be that is too gross for him. But he cannot be ignorant of himself in the main; he cannot be so blind to his own Inside, as not to know that he is an Original Knave; that he has broken in upon Principles, betray'd Trust, cheated Orphans, abus'd Widows, sold Friendship; and a thousand such things as these already; and that he has nothing for it, but to put as good an Outside upon it as he can, to have the Face of an honest Man upon the Heart of a Hypocrite, and to be sure to be a Cheat to the World, to the end of the Chapter.
INDEED it might not have been improper to have represented those two worthy Gentlemen as Apparitions, for that they are such is a most improving Truth, and what it may be much for the Service of the World to have publickly known: But as we are now speaking of Apparitions which represent Men and things as they really are, it seems first needful to bring their insides to be their outsides, and then the World may know them by their shadows as well as by their substance; and for this I doubt we must wait a while, the Issue of an Assizes or two; for certainly, if Justice takes place, they may both be heard of at the Gallows.
BUT to bring it home to the present purpose, I insist that no Man can be deceiv'd in himself; he may know whether he is a Knave or an honest Man, whether he is a Substance, or an Apparition, whether he be a Re
lity or a Shadow; and that
Jacob Behemen
advanc'd only a Delusion proper for a Knave, pretending that a Man might be honest when he believ'd himself to be a Knave, and be a Knave when he thought himself honest.
BUT to return to the Affair of the Writing found in the Chest, and which, according to the Notion which some have of these things, the Soul of the antient Gentlemen above came in Apparition to discover; our Question is first How did he come to know in his determin'd State, his State of SoulExistence, be that where it would, I say, How did he come to know, that the Writing was not discover'd, and that his Grandson was in danger of coming to any injury about it? How did he know that the Law-Suit was commenc'd, the thing prosecuted so far, and the damage like to be suffer'd so very much?
HE might know where it was, if not found; because he hid it there, because he laid it up with so much care; but he could not know what Circumstance had been attending the case since that time, what proceedings had been at Law, and how things stood with the Family; if he could, then the Text quoted before out of
Job
cannot be true, that
the Son riseth and falleth, and the Father knoweth it not.
'TIS observable that this Apparition, which came to Doctor
Scot,
did not alledge that he could not rest 'till this matter was discover'd; he seem'd concern'd that the Family would be uneasy, and that they were so; and that there was great danger, they might lose the Estate; but did not pretend he could not rest in Peace, or as the other, that he could not go to Heaven 'till it was discover'd.
I CANNOT but wonder a little at the Ignorance of the Ancients, in that Notion of the Soul's wandring in the Air all the while the Body was without a Funeral Obsequy; for according to their Doctrine, those Souls who had no such Funeral Pyre prepared for them, must have been wandring in the Air to this Day, and will be so for ever; not being able to get admittance either in one place or other.
NO wonder the Air is said to be so fill'd with wandring Spirits, with Daemons and Ghosts, as some are of the Opinion it is; for where must all the Millions of Spirits be gone, who have lain without Burial, or been cast into the Sea, or been overwhelm'd with Earthquakes and Storms, or died by Plagues, where the living have nor been sufficient to bury the dead? and the like in many publick Calamities.
I KNOW the
Roman
Catholicks have a way of performing a Service for the dead by Thousands; and in particular for the Souls of the dead, slain in such and such a Battel: whether that has any relation to this old Pagan Notion, or not, I will not say. I know Popery has pretty much of the Pagan in their Original, I mean of their Worship; but will saying one Service for the dead answer the End, whether they have any Burial or no, and tho' their Bodies are left, as
Achilles
says of
Hector,
for greedy or hungry Dogs to rend? This they do not answer, and I doubt cannot; so that perhaps all those Souls kill'd in fight are wandring still in the Air, and cannot have admittance, no not to the Shades below.
ON the other hand, if the poor Soldiers believ'd, that if they were kill'd in fight, they were to wander for ever, and not be pray'd out of Purg
ory; nay, not be admitted into it; few of them but would chuse to be hang'd, provided they might be admitted to be bury'd under the Gallows, rather than go to the War and die in the Bed of Honour.
THEY tell us (who pretend to know) that the Corps of the deceas'd Princes of
France,
as well Kings as Princes of the Blood, are not buried, but deposited in the Abbey of St.
Dennis
near
Paris,
'till the immediate Successor is Dead; and that then the Pr
d
cessor is buried, and the next is deposited; so that there is always one kept above Ground.
I DO not take upon me to determine the Matter, or to say whether it is really so or not: But if so, and i
should be as in the case of
Patroclus,
that those H
roes are then to be out of the happy Regions, I must say their Kings are but little beholden to that Custom, and
Lewis
XIII had a hard time of it, to have his Son hold it 70 Years, and keep him all that while even out of Purgatory; and how long he has to stay there, who knows? but 'tis c
tain, he might have been 40 or 50 Years onward of his way by this time, if he had not been so many Years unburied.
BUT enough of this Pagan and Popish Frippery: our business is to talk to the more rational World; their Fate is before them; all Men die, and after Death to Judgment, nothing can interrupt it, and what their Sons do or suffer behind them they know not.
CHAP. XIII. Of the Consequence of this Doctrine; and seeing that Apparitions are real, and may be expected upon many Occasions, and that we are sure they are not the Souls of our departed Friends; how are we to act, and how to behave to them, when they come among us, and when they pretend to be such and such, and speak in the first Person of those departed Friends, as if they were really themselves?
HAVING thus settled the main point, and determin'd what Apparition is not; namely, not an Angel immediately from Heaven; not a return'd unembodied Soul; and having advanc'd, in Essay at least, what we are to suppose them to be; namely, a good or evil Spirit from the Invisible World; and having settled the Rule of judging whether of the two, whether a good or an evil, according to the apparent good or evil of their Design; it is time now to bring the matter into Practice; to settle the grand Preliminary, and determine, since this is their Behaviour to us, how we are to behave to them.
NOR is this a needless Enquiry, for we find the World at a great loss on such Occasions. Men are exceedingly terrified and discorded upon the very Apprehensions of seeing any thing
as they call it
from the Invisible World; even the great King
Belshazzar,
tho' in the midst of his whole Court, the Lords of 127 Provinces, a full Assembly of Ladies and Courtiers; yet when he saw but a piece of an Apparition, (for it was but one Hand) yet
his Countenance chang'd, and the joynts of his Knees were loosed, and his Knees smote one against another,
Dan. v. 6.
Charles
VIII of
France
was not frighted only, but frighted out of his Wits, with an Apparition in the Forest of
Mans,
and never recover'd his Senses any more; and we have several instances in Story, of Men, even of the greatest Resolution, who have lost all their Courage, and all their Resolution, when they have had but a short Visit of this kind, tho' without receiving any injury from them.
BUT whence is it, that the Mind is thus surpriz'd? why is our Aversion so great to any appearance from the other World, without so much as enquiring into the Particulars?
THERE are many Reasons indeed to be assign'd to prove why
it is so;
but not one good Reason that I know of to prove
it should be so,
or that we have any Occasion to be so alarm'd and disturb'd at these Appearances; I mean, when the Mind has any degree of Composure: It is true, they come from an Invisible Place, and that is one of the Reasons of our fright; because, as we say, we know not whence they are, of what Errand they come, with what Commission, and with what Power to execute that Commission; all these uncertainties bring a Terror upon the Spirits; the Soul receives a shock; the Man is like one of those poor People where they are in an Earthquake, they see the Buildings totter and fall before them, and tho' they are not bury'd in the Ruins, but are perhaps escap'd out into the Fields; yet they feel the Earth roll and move under them, and they are doubtful and apprehensive le
t they may be swallowed up every Moment; and, according to the old Poet, it is Matter of real Terror;
"Fear chills the Heart, what Heart can Fear dissemble,
"When Steeples stagger, and when Mountains tremble?
THIS uncertainty of the Mind in the case of Apparitions, is the real ground of Fear;
(viz.)
that we know not
WHENCE their Errand comes, WHAT Commission they have, WHAT Power to execute the Commission.
FIRST,
WE don't know whence they are, and from whom their Errand, nor indeed can we be easie in the uncertainty: The reason is, there is a secret doubt of the Mind, founded upon Guilt: Here the Atheist bauks his assurance, and tho' he pretends to believe neither God or
Devil,
staggers at a Messenger that comes for ought he knows from one or both of them, to convince him by immediate demonstration. Here his Heart fails him, he turns pale, starts at the sight, and would be glad to be assur'd there were really both, that one might protect him from the other.
WHILE he knows not whether the Message comes from Heaven or Hell, whether the Messenger may be Angel or
Devil,
the uncertainty attended with the real Danger of the worst, leaves him in Horror, and he fears Hell because he knows he has provok'd Heaven, he fears the
Devil
because he knows he that can command the
Devil
is his Enemy.
IN a Word, a sense of God makes men afraid of the
Devil,
as they say fear of the
Devil
gives a sense of Homage to God.
SECONDLY,
WE tremble at the Messenger, because we don't know what his Message may be; we dread the Officer, because we dread his Commission; we are afraid of what he has to say; we know we have no reason to expect good News from the place, which we suppose he comes from, and therefore we turn pale at his coming, nor is it possible to be otherwise.
THERE are but two Principles that fortifie the Mind against the Fears of a future State, no not that seeming
y fortifie it; and these are,
1. INNOCENCE, or a good Heart founded in Religion, Virtue, and an exact rectitude of behaviour. OR,
2. IMPUDENCE, a harden'd shutting the Eyes against Conv
ction, and the Ears against Conscience.
IT is with some Perplexity that I found my self oblig'd to give a Character in another place of a fam'd Man of pretended Brightness and Wit: He was always merry, a constant Smile sat upon his Countenance, a perfect easiness possess'd his Mind, he knew not a Moment of Melancholly or Chagrin. He never sigh'd, because he seldom pray'd or griev'd; I wish I could have said, because he never sinn'd. His Heart was light as his Head; and as for his Heels, he always walk'd in Minuit and Rigadoons. His Mirth was as uninterrupted as his Breath, and he laugh'd by the Consequence of Respiration; his Voice was a natural Music, and his Rhetoric was all Sonnet and Solfa's.
SURE, said I, my Cousin
M
—
D
—must have the clearest Conscience in the Universe, he has not the least
Scar
upon his Inside; and if he was to see the
Devil,
he could not change Colour, or have the least Hesitation at the most frightful Appearance: He must be all Innocence and Virtue.
Did the least Spot upon his Soul appear,
It could not be: his Conscience must be clear:
For where there's Guilt, there always would be Fear.
BUT I mistook my Kinsman most extremely, for on the contrary, his Soul is blacker than
Negro Sancho,
the Beauty of
Africa;
he boasts himself of the most harden'd Crime, defies Heaven, despises Terror, and is got above Fear by the meer force of a flagrant Assurance.
HE would no more value seeing the
Devil
in his most fiery formidable Appearance, than he would to see a storm of Fire in
the Tempest,
or a Harlequin
Diable
in
Fresco;
if you will take his Character from himself, he has no more fear about him, than he has Conscience, and that's so little, 'tis not worth naming. He knows no Sorrow, no Chagrin; he was born Laughing, and intends to die Jesting: and what is all this founded upon? not glorious Innocence mention'd above, but notorious Impudence.
IT'S true indeed, I had not car'd to speak so grosly of one of my near Relations, but he will have it be so; he speaks it of himself, bids me take notice of it, that 'tis the Character he gives me of himself, and d—s me with a full Stream of
Billinsgate,
if I dare to give any other Character of him than what he gives of himself.
I MUST acknowledge I did believe the
Devil
and my Cousin were not much at Strife, that he did not fear the old Dragon, b
cause he had never done any thing to disoblige him; but it seems the Case differs, and he defies the
Devil
purely upon the same foot that he defies him that made the
Devil;
and acts the Fury meerly as a Fury, not as a Man of Sense or as a Man of Courage.
ALL that I have to say to this, is, that this will last just 'till the Rage is abated, and no longer; 'till the Blood cools, and the Spirits return to their natural Course, and then the Wretch will be as cold as now he is hot, as calm as now he is outragious, and as base and low-spirited as now he is fiery and furious.
ALL the hot-headed Courage of these Men, is only a Flash, a Meteor in the Air; when they are cool'd, when the Exhalation is spent, they are as phlegmatic as other People; and then they look pale, the Countenance changes, and the Knees knock one against another, as well as other People's.
THERE'S no scorning the Terrors of a Messenger from the other World, but by a settled established Composure of the Soul; founded on the Basis of Peace within, Peace of Conscience, Peace and Innocence, or Peace and Penitence, which is in effect all one: This is the only Face that a Man can hold up to the
Devil;
with a clean Heart, he may boldly see the
Devil,
talk to him, despise him, and tell him he scorns him, for that he has nothing at all to do with him.
BUT this is not our present Condition; few People wear this Armour in our days; they neither value it or know the use of it, and therefore 'tis that we are so full of Terror and Disturbance when we see the
Devil;
at least if we think he has any thing to say to us.
BUT now for the great Question, Why it should be so? as I said, 'tis Truth too evident that it is so, but to say that it
should be so,
that requires another kind of Sophistry to make out.
IT is true, it requires a great deal of Courage, and of cool Courage too, in bearing up the Soul against the Surprize of such things as these; a Man must be able to talk to the
Devil
in a Dialect which he
(Satan)
himself does not very well understand, to bid him be gone, to bid him
Get thee behind me,
and the like; 'tis an authoritative way of talking that every one cannot support; and if the
Devil
is sensible of it, he will not fail to exert himself to the utmost, to maintain the Right which he seems to enjoy, and keep the Hold he has gotten; for he knows how ill his Cause is to be defended by Justice and Reason, and if he should answer as he did to the Sons of
Scev
the
Jew,
what then if you should say to him, in the vulgar and ignorant Dialect of speaking to Spirits, In the Name of the
Father,
and of the
Son,
and of the
Holy Ghost,
Who art thou? or, I charge thee in the Name of the
Father,
&c. to be gone, and disturb me no more.
I SAY, if the
Devil
should answer, The
Father
I know, and the
Son
I know, and the
Holy Ghost
I know, but who are you, you that pretend to use their Names thus? What would you say for your self?
NOW that we may know how to answer the
Devil,
as well as how to speak to him, (for both are very necessary) let me enter into the State of the Case a little, between the
Devil
and us; nay, between all the Inhabitants of the invisible World, and their Friends in this, let them be who, or of what kind they will.
FIRST, In order to be free from the Surprize of these things, you must endeavour to establish your Mind in the right understanding of the thing call'd Apparition; that you may reason your self into a sufficient Firmness, and Steadiness of Soul against all the whimsical and imaginary Part of it.
LET us think of things as they are, not as they are only imagined, and supposed to be; for 'tis the Reality of the thing, not the Shadow, that can fright and disorder us, that is to say, that can have any just Reason to do so.
FOR want of this we are often scared and terrify'd with Dreams and Visions, even when we are awake, and when really there is no such thing in Substance or Reality as any Vision or Apparition, other than Apprehension throws in upon us, and other than our bewitched Imagination represents to us.
IT is absolutely necessary, if you would not be always looking over your Shoulders, and always forming Spectres to your Fancy: I say, 'tis necessary to have a right Notion of Apparition in general; to know what it is, and what it must be, whence it comes, and what the utmost of its Commission can be; that you may think your self into a true and clea
Understanding of it, and then your Fears about it will be regulated after another manner. For Example:
1. ESTABLISH your Mind in this particular and fundamental Article, that whatever appears it must be either
a good Spirit
from the invisible World, an Agent of Mercy, a Messenger of Peace, and consequently
will do
you no Hurt: OR,
2. AN
evil Spirit,
an Agent of Hell from Satan's Region and Empire, the Air; and that so whatever evil Design or evil Message he pretends to come about, and however mischievous his Intention is, he
cannot
do the Hurt he desires, because that as the good Spirits are under Direction, so the bad are under Limitation; the one
will not,
and the other
cannot
hurt you, without an immediate Command from above. The Fear therefore which we have upon us concerning Apparition, is not or ought not to be guided by their Appearance, but by the rectitude of our own Thoughts; and as we are or are not quiet and calm within, so we shall or shall not be under Apprehensions from without.
FORTIFY your Minds then with a steady Confidence in the Supreme Maker and Governour of all things, who has the great red Dragon in a Chain; and when you think you see the
Devil,
fear nothing, for He will never let loose the Destroyer upon any one whose Mind is steadily fix'd upon himself.
THIS is a critical, and perhaps a too curious Piece of Practice for me to meddle with, especially here, and must be but gently touch'd at; you will, it may be, object too against the Doctrine of it, and say, Who can so effectually trust in God, as not to be at all afraid of the
Devil?
Now, tho' this may seem true upon many Accounts, and, as Times go with us, may be really a just Objection, yet, if we will believe History or Experience, it is not so much a Difficulty as to say Who can do it? for it has been done.
I REMEMBER the known and famous Story of a Maid under a real and personal Possession of the
Devil,
at
Little Gadsden
in
Hertfordshire,
tho' by an unhappy Disappointment I was not present, not knowing of the thing time enough; yet I saw and convers'd with several that were present and heard the
Devil
speak in the Maid and by the Organ of her Voice, tho' without any apparent Motion of her Tongue or Lips, or any Part of her Mouth.
OF this Person it was positively true, that there was a certain good Man, tho' a Lay Christian, who so frequently pray'd with the poor Demoniack, being a Neighbour of her Father's, and so constantly talk'd to the
Devil,
and batter'd him with Scripture, that he was, as I might say, the
Devil
's Terror, and he would not let the Girl go to any House or into any Room where this Man (whose Name was
Monks)
was; and if she was directed to any Place he would stop her, as if he was to go and see first if Mr.
Monks
was there or not, and then he would bid her go, for
Monks
was not there.
NOW, as I am well assured of the Truth both of the Girl's being possessed, really actuated by a
Devil
in her, and of this
Devil
being afraid of Mr.
Monks;
then the Q
stion above is so far directly answer'd, that it is possible to arrive to such a State, as not only not to be afraid of the
Devil,
but even to make the
Devil
afraid of us. I confess it would be a State of Felicity that would make Life very easie to us upon many Accounts; and I could enlarge very pleasantly (to my self) upon that Subject. But as things go with the World, I question much whether it would be so pleasant to those I am writing to, and therefore I leave it: and so if I have been preaching a little, it is so little in length, and I hope so much to the purpose, that you may forgive me for once, e
pecially upon Promise of saying as little for your Good for the time to come, as I can.
THERE is indeed a right worthy and commendable State of Indifference, not only as to Who shall or shall not visit us from the invisible World, and from what Part of it they come; but also as to what Station we are to have among them hereafter; and this happy Temper is much recommended to me by some of my fashionable Friends, as a most desirable Condition of Life: to be perfectly easy, void of Anxiety and Perplexities of any kind, and forming the most perfect Composure of Soul that can be imagined.
THEY describe this the most accurately indeed by the Practice, for they say most feelingly, that no Tongue can express the Felicity of it; which indeed I believe is very true; they are perfectly easy about, because thoughtless of, that dull remote thing called Futurity. As for there being a State of Life, or a Something like Life after Death, they can't say but it may be so, for they never enquired much into the Principles of the
Saduces,
or into any other Pricinciples about it. But what that State is to be, or what we are to be, or not to be, in it, they never trouble themselves about it; they look upon it as a thing remote, which People are not agreed about, and they believe never will, 'till they come there; and to be beating their Heads and perplexing their Thoughts, about what, when they have done all, they are sure they shall never arrive to a Certainty about, they do not see 'tis to the Purposeat all.
THIS is certainly a mighty brief Way with their Doubts, and a short answer to all Enquiries; and I must own 'tis putting a short end to all Disputes with themselves, about the thing called a
future State.
BUT there remains a Question still unanswer'd, and which is a Question of moment with me, whatever it may be with them,
viz.
Where is the Felicity of this kind of Calm?
O,
says a Deist of my Acquaintance,
Peace of Mind is a Felicity, I hope.
Yes,
said I,
if it be built upon a right Foundation.
Nay,
says he,
Peace is Peace; don't tell me of Foundations.
Hold Friend,
said I,
even
Molinos
himself the Author of the
Quietisme,
which one Author well calls
Sotisme,
and of the Sect of the
Quietists,
and who resolved all Felicity and all Religion into the Calm of a retired Soul, yet fixed that Calm upon the Meditations of an upright Mind, and the Calm of a clear Heart.
I VALUE none of your Sects,
says my Friend. Gallio
was a true Politician and a happy Man,
Acts
xviii. 17.
He cared for none of these things;
and there was his Happin
ss.
SO a Madman,
says I,
is happy in his Lunacy, and enjoys a thoughtless Calm, all the while he is in the greatest Hurry and Disorder of his Soul. I
ay, there's no Calm in Distraction.
WELL, but I am calm,
says he,
and yet I am not distracted.
I DON'T know that,
said I,
I doubt the Fact.
WELL, if I am mad, I don't know it,
says he,
and, as I said before, that's a Happiness to me.
A HAPPINESS in Misery,
said I;
and such is all the Peace that such a Temper can give.
BUT why is it not a sufficient Felicity,
says he,
to be calm and quiet?
BECAUSE,
said I,
a Mind insensible and unmoved in Dangers of the greatest Importance, is not consistent with the Condition it self, or with Prudence and Reason, under that Condition.
HOW is it not consistent?
says my Friend.
WHY, for Example; suppose,
says I,
a Man in the upper Rooms of a House, when all the lower Part was on Fire; the Stair-case and all Retreats cut off, except throwing himself out of the Window, if this Man sat smoking his Pipe, or singing a Song, or reading a Play, would not you say he was demented and mad?
BUT how are the Cases parallel?
says he.
EXACTLY,
said I,
they agree in every Part but this; that he is certain the Fire is under him, and you don't know but it may be so, and don't think it worth while to enquire: and to make it chime in that Part too, you may suppose the Man ignorant too, only that People call to him, and tell him the House is on Fire, and he does not so much as rise off his Seat to go to the Stair-head and see whether it be so or no; tho' he hears them, and tells them he hears them, he bids them not trouble their Heads about him, 'tis time enough when he feels it; and the next Moment the Floor falls under him, and soon after the Roof falls in over him, and so he is burnt to death.
WHAT do you infer from this?
says he.
I ENQUIRE,
said I,
whether that Indolence and Unconcernedness be consistent with common Sense, and if a wise Man would do so?
SUPPOSE I grant it?
said he.
SO,
says I,
you must grant that an Indifference about what shall be our Share of that State which is beyond us, Whether the bright or the dark, is inconsistent with common Sense, and that no wise Man can act so.
HERE my Friend and I ended, for instead of being touch'd with it, he talk'd prophanely, and then I always think 'tis time to leave off talking at all; for when Men give up their Reason to Atheism, and their Sense of GOD to Blasphemy, who shall labour to wash that
Ethiop?
IT is the same in the Case before me; here is an Apparition, or suppose it; the Man that sees it is utterly unconcerned about it; he cares not one Farthing whether it comes from above or from below, whether it be an Angel or a
Devil,
a Messenger from Hell or from Heaven; and so this Man is not afraid of it, but boldly goes up to it, and like a Soldier cries, Who are you for? Whence come you? What have you to say to me? And it may be gives it for Answer, Very well, go about your Business then, I have nothing to say to you. And this sort of Courage, as he calls it, this unconcerned Bravery, he recommends as the best way to deal with these Spirits.
BUT suppose the
Devil
won't be put off so, but says, I'll come and Visit you to-morrow in another Dress; I'll try your Courage; and at last masters this sort of indolent, unconcern'd Easiness, and the Man falls into Terror and Amazement; what has he at the bottom to preserve him from the
Devil
then? truly nothing; but he is, like
Cashio Burroughs,
all trembling, and cries out,
O God! here she comes,
and is frighted even to Death. Certainly a cold Indifference about it whether it be an Angel or the
Devil,
and above all, whether its Message be from Heaven or Hell, will not hold it out against the Terror that may come along with it from without, or the reflections of Guilt that may be raised by it from within; so that some better-grounded Courage, a Calm begun from a better Principle, must be enquir'd after; or else, as I said to my Deistical Friend, when you do really see the
Devil
you will not be so easy as you promise your self to be. But this is too serious for you, I must go on.
I COME next to the Enquiry, What is our business, and how should we behave if it is our misfortune to have any such Appearance come to us? and suppose our Minds to be as much compos'd as ordinarily may be expected, not more than our Neighbours; but what,
I say,
shall we do, and what is the best course for us to take?
IN my Opinion, and it is the next Advice I would give, I say next to that of fortifying the Mind with religious Considerations, of which I have spoken, and which should always go first,
speak to it.
BY speaking to it, my meaning is, Speak tho' it does not speak to you. I have heard of some Apparitions, who 'tis said, had no power to speak 'till they were first spoken to, and some cases of that kind are publish'd by those who I suppose believ'd them; tho' I see no reason to do so; and particularly of an Apparition that caused a poor Man to follow it over Hedge and Ditch all Night for many a Night together, 'till the poor Man was almost hurry'd to Death; but could not speak to him, and the frighted Wretch was afraid to speak to it; but at last the Man spoke, and then the Apparition's Mouth was loosed too: all which I must con
ess I see no manner of reason to believe, and therefore cannot recommend it to any body else to believe.
THERE seems no Consistency in the Nature of the thing, no foundation for it in Religion, or any thing in it that we can Reason upon for our own Understanding; and where neither Nature, Religion or Reason allow us any Light in it, upon what Principle can we go to make our Judgment?
BUT leaving it therefore where we find it, I say if you see an Apparition, that is such an Apparition as we have been speaking of, not a Phantosm of your own Brain, not an imaginary Apparition the effect of Fright or Dream, or meer Whimsie, not a Hypocondriack Apparition, the effect of Vapours and Hysterick Shadows, when the Eye sees double, and Imagination makes it self a Telescope to the Soul, not to show Realities, but to magnify Objects at the remotest distance, and show things as in being which are not, if you see such an Apparition as this and speak to it, 'tis no wonder you receive no answer, and so you go away more frighted with a silent dumb
Devil
than you would be with a speaking one; but I say, if the Vision be real, if it be a Shape and Appearance in form as has been describ'd, never shun it and fly from it; but
speak to it.
IF you would ask me what you should say to it, 'tis an unfair Question in some Respects; 'tis not possible for any one to dictate, without the proper Circumstances be describ'd. The old way you all know:
In the name of,
&c. as above, is the common road. I will not cry down the Custom, because 'tis the usual way, and the words are good; but I believe a sincere mental Ejaculatory Prayer to the Blessed Being of Beings for his superior Presence, would be as effectual as presenting the Words to the
Devil
as a kind of Exorcism; such a Petition sent up, and then a plain
what are you?
I think is Compliment enough for the
Devil.
AN honest, plain, religious
Scotsman
who I knew, and who thought he saw the
Devil,
tho' he was mistaken too, yet had this (to me) perfectly new Expression upon the surprise,
the Lord be between me and thee, Satan awa,
that is go away, or get thee away: 'twas certainly a good thought, and the poor Man was right, for if the Lord was between him and the
Devil
there was no great need to fear him or any of his.
BUT to wave particular Instructions in the case, the Occasion will certainly administer the Substance of what you should say; the present Direction is only in general,
speak to it,
never sink under the Terror or Surprize of the sight. The
Devil
is rarely seen in his own Shape, and ordinarily for ends of his own, he chuses to appear in familiar Shapes, personating some or other that we know, or have known, and representing to our Fancy something that will not terrify us; nay, 'tis the Opinion of the learned Divines, that the
Devil
would do much less harm, and be far less dangerous, if he appear'd as a meer
Devil,
with his Horns, his cloven Hoof, and his Serpent's Tayl and Dragon's Wings, as Fancy figures him out, and as our Painters dress him up, than he does in his disguises, and the many Shapes and Figures he assumes to himself.
So fatal are Masques and Disguises, Habits and Dresses to the World, and such advantage does a false Countenance give to Criminal Perf
rmances of many kinds, that even the
Devil
is more dangerous dress'd up in Masquerade, than in his own Cloaths, and in his own Colours; if he would come in all his Formalities and Frightfuls, he would not be capable of half so many Cousinings and Cheatings as he now puts upon us: now you have him here and have him there, you have him every where and no where, he is here a Tempter to Wickedness, there a Preacher of Righteousness; to-day in one disguise, to-morrow in another; you know him and you don't know him, see him and don't see him, and how then can any one tell you what to say to him, or how to talk with him?
HOWEVER, to come as near to it as we can, the first and ordinary Question, natural to the Occasion, is to know who he is, and whence he comes, what Message he has to deliver, what Business he comes about, and what you have to do with it, why he disturbs you in particular, and the like; and if you may obtain so much Civility from him, to desire him to trouble you no more; especially if you find the Apparition to be of the worst kind.
IF it is apparently a good Spirit, I think the Conduct should differ, as the Message he comes about will certainly differ; if it warns you to repent of such and such a scandalous Life; or if it bids you reform such and such a criminal Practice, which you know your self guilty of; accept the kind Admonition, submit to the Reproof, and promise Obedience; you may depend, as I have often said, the
Devil
com
s of no such Errand.
IF it tells you such and such Dangers attend you, take the kind hint, and use the proper means to avoid th
m, thankfully acknowledging the Goodness of the Hand that sent the Notice, as well as the Messenger that brought it; for depend upon it the
Devil,
who is a Lover and Author, as well as the Promoter of Mischief, takes no Pains to prevent it, but would rather have a Hand in bringing it upon you.
AND if such things as these are the Subject of the Message, what can you say why you should be afraid of the Messenger? 'Tis hard to rejoice in the Message, and be scar'd at the Messenger: the truth is, we are not much accustom'd to such solemn Admonitions, such good and beneficent Cautions and Assistances; and this makes the thing strange and aweful, and be receiv'd with Terror and Fright, and perhaps if it was not so we should receive them oftner.
WE do not find the old Patriarchs, or after them, the Children of
Israel,
were so frighted at the Apparition of Angels and Spirits; it's true indeed when the Angel appear'd to
Gideon
at the Threshing-Floor, it is said he was troubled at his Presence; nevertheless the Message was kind and encouraging; yet we find he recover'd himself, and took Courage to talk very particularly with it, and to expostulate with him about the Circumstances of his Country, and of the People, and even to ask a double Sign from the Angel to confirm his Faith: and how went he on? he obey'd the Voice of the Vision, notwithstanding all his Fears and Doubts, and he bow'd his Soul, and follow'd the Directions given him.
THERE are abundance of Reasons why we should listen to such Apparitions as these; their distinguishing Character is, that they always come of some Errand or other for the good of Mankind; take it either in general, or in particular: Sometimes 'tis alledg'd they come upon trifling and mean Occasions, as is the Case in many Instances given in Story, and in Print. But it may be answered with an Enquiry, Are we sure these are not trifling Stories, and brought in by Persons, perhaps, but half informed? But what are we to think of the Apparition to King
James
V. in
Scotland,
who warn'd him against his
Flodden-Field
Expedition? which if he had listen'd to he had sav'd his Life, and the Lives of ten thousand of his People: for less, 'tis said, did not fall in the whole Undertaking.
AND what shall we say of the Warning given to the Duke of
Buckingham,
by the Apparition of his own Father, which if he had listen'd to, 'tis very likely he had escap'd the fatal Knife? for
Felton,
who Assassinated him, did it, as it seems he declar'd at the Gibbet, upon the Account of the Popular Hatred, and that he thought him a publick Enemy to his Country.
THESE, and many more which I have mention'd, or which I have not mention'd, have been the Subject of such Messengers, and were far from trifling. If an Appari
ion gives any of us Notice of our approaching End, and bids us prepare for it, is not the Message solemn, and the Occasion of it weighty; and is not the Notice worth our Regard? Is the Preparation for Death a trifling thing? and the assurance how near the time is cannot but be a valuable Notice; I am sure it ought to be esteem'd so.
A FLOUTING atheistick Man of Wit, who must be nameless, because he will not bear to be nam'd to the Crimes which he is not asham'd to commit, told me, when discoursing this Part of the Subject, that it was no Kindness at all, for that Men ought always to be prepar'd for Death; and yet cou'd not deny but that it was a remote Affair which he had not yet given himself the trouble to think about.
I CANNOT believe but that if some People, who now value themselves upon their bright Thoughts, and their being above the Power of Chagrine, or of any melancholly Reflections to disturb their Joy, were told (nay, tho' it was by a kind Apparition) that they were to die, one in a Fortnight, one in three Days; one at one time, and one at another, and all within a short time, they would have a little alteration upon their Out-sides.
G—M—
who laughs evermore, is continually titt
r
ng and prompting others to the lowestpriz'd Part of Mirth, who is all Levity and Froth, and owns that one Sigh never yet reach'd his Heart; should a solemn Apparition come to him and his merry Friend, the very Duplicate of himself, and say, Repent
G—,
and prepare for Death, for you have but three Months to live, and you—, pointing to his Fellow-mimick, but five Days; I say, should such a Message be seriously delivered him in such an aweful Manner, as many Relations tell us have been done to others, I cannot have so little Charity for the Beau, but to think he would change Colour a little, and begin to consider, and especially if at the five Days end he had News that his other Self, the Image of his extraordinary Soul, the very
Sosio
to himself, in Life, tho' not in Figure, was found dead in his Bed to a tittle of the time.
I SAY I cannot doubt but that he would learn to Sigh a little; and my Charity is the more extensive in Mr.
M—
's Case, because, take him a little off of his ordinary Titillations, and unhinge him from the light Article which has gain'd so entirely upon him as to Eclipse him, the Man has ye
some Brains, and they might perhaps assist a little upon such an Occasion, to condense the Vapour, and bring the solid Part uppermost, which at present has not happen'd to him.
AND not to single out a gay Humour or two from the rest, how many among our
Box
and
Pit
Heroes, were they told they were under the Sentence of Death, and only Repriev'd for so many, and so many Days: I say, how many of them would shine at the next Opera? how would their Countenance
change, and their Knees knock one against another? How would they sit down in Tears and Repentance, or sink into the Death foretold, even by the meer Horror of its approach? for there is the most Dread where there is the least Repentance: Nor let any one cavil at the Expression, a Sentence and a Reprieve, let them take it as they will; the thing is no less, and can be understood no otherwise of us all: We are all under the Sentence, as directly as a Criminal that hears it read at the Bar, with only this significant Difference, namely, That we are Repriev'd
sine die,
the Criminal is not, and the Consequence of this may be the worse; for we promise ourselves it shall be longer than we have reason to believe it is, and so are often Executed in Surprize, our Preparations being delay'd by Presumption; whereas the Offender knows he must die at the Expiration of his Reprieve, and perhaps is assur'd that 'tis in vain to expect any farther delay.
NOW a kind Messenger comes, as the Prophet did to
Hezekiah,
and says, Prepare yourself, for you shall die, and not live; is this Message to be slighted and disregarded? If it is so treated 'tis at your Peril, you take that Part upon yourself; and if you find this the Case, you will hardly call the Message trifling, much less say such Apparitions generally come upon trifling Occasions.
HISTORY records a great many foreboding Signs, and some by Apparition, foretelling the Destruction of
Jerusalem,
and of the Temple; not that any of those Signs could be suppos'd to give Warning of it, so as that it might be prevented; for our Saviour had expresly said it should be destroy'd,
Their House should be left unto them desolate,
Matt. xxiii. 38.
Not one Stone left upon another which shall not be thrown down,
Matt. xxiv. 2. But those Signs and Apparitions were apparent Warnings to the People, at least to such of them as had the Wisdom to take Notice of them, to make their Escape out of the City before the
Romans
invested it, and before it was too late; particularly the opening the great brazen Doors of the Temple, which
Josephus
says twenty Man could scarce turn to open or shut, and which opening of themselves, an Apparition was seen in the House of GOD, and a Voice heard, saying,
Let us Depart hence.
NO question, but as the Warning or Alarm was given to direct many to their Escape, so many had that Wisdom given them as to make their Escape; and tho' the Desolation was horrible, and such as perhaps was never equall'd, except in the same Place, and the same Country, by the
Assyrians,
when the first Temple was burnt; yet, as they say 'tis a hard Battle where none escape, so
Josephus
himself owns, that many Thousands, and others say many hundreds of thousands fled in time, and made their Escape, flying, as the Text says,
from the Wrath to come.
Nor can I doubt but that many had warnings in Dreams, that is, as I say, by Apparitions in Dream, by Visions, and some by open Apparitions, that the City would be destroyed.
RABBI JUDAH
says, the Patriarchs appeared to many, and gave them Notice, that the
Romans
would come and besiege their City, and that the Temple should be destroyed; but I doubt much of the Story, and that On a double Account. 1. Whether ever any of the Patriarchs did so appear and forewarn them; for had they done so, they would certainly have told them that the
Messiah
was come, and that therefore the second Temple was to be destroy'd, for that all the Prophesies were fulfill'd. But, 2. I doubt also that
Rabbi Judah,
if such an Author there was, never said so, and that 'tis only a Tradition.
IT is certain there were the like Omens, and I doubt not Apparitions too, just before the taking and sacking of
Rome
by the
Barbarians,
the
Vandals
and
Goths;
and we might descend to modern History for many of the like: so that these Apparitions do not always come upon trifling Occasions, at least they are not trifling to those whom they regard in particular, and therefore 'tis not an Objection for a particular Person to make.
I HAVE troubled you with none of those Apparitions, which have come to help you to find out Money, to reveal little love Secrets and Intrigues, and upon other such Cases; nor do I recommend it to you to believe those Trifles; they are most certainly the Apparitions of Fancy, as I shall observe at large in its Place; such People make a meer Harlequin of the
Devil,
a common Jack-Pudding, to make Game with; 'tis most certain, the Spirits I speak of, know how to make themselves be better regarded, know how to make themselves considerable, can come clothed in Terror if they please, and have done so where occasion has call'd for it; either to enforce their Message, or alarm such Persons who set up for a hardened Face beyond the Power of invisible Terrors.
BUT as their Message is generally peaceable, and the Intent of it kind and good, so they chuse to come in a manner, as little attended with the frightful Part as they can.
BUT not to dwell on this Part, or enquire at all what the Message is they come about, whether trifling or otherwise, the present Enquiry is, what is our Part, what is to be done when they do appear: For 'till we see them, we know nothing of their Business; nor perhaps when we see them, unless we speak to them; and we have many Stories of Apparitions, that only show themselves, and perhaps it may be never speak at all.
THIS our People call
Walking,
and indeed it is not improperly call'd so, because, as to us, we know no more of their Business; but it no more follows that they have no other Business here because we don't know it, than that it is likely they should come hither, and walk to and fro, and have nothing to do.
AS for those non-appearing Apparitions, if I may call them so, (for not to appear, and not to let us know what they appear for, seems to be much the same;) I mean those not-speaking Apparitions, we can indeed give no Account of them, because we cannot converse with them: It seems to me they are not of the Heavenly or Angelick Kind, because they would certainly have some more apparent Business, and perhaps not be backward to speak of it, at least they would not seem to be ashamed of their Errand.
NOR is it my Opinion, that those Apparitions who come of good Errands can be supposed to be unable to speak, if it was necessary to their Business to use Speech; much less that they should receive their Commission or their Ability to speak from our first speaking to them: There is no Coherence in it: But certainly if the Spirits that appear upon good Designs, and come upon good Errands, do not speak to us; they are not sent to us; their Business is with somebody else, which we know nothing of, tho' we may see the Spectre; for it may be that a Man may see an Apparition that has nothing to do with him, or to say to him.
OR perhaps the Spectre may execute its Commission effectually, without speaking. A Ghost was said to haunt a certain House in the Country not far from
Rygate
in
Surrey;
it was met in the Garden by one of the Family, who had long valued himself upon believing, and saying also, that there were no such things as Apparitions, and that he would be sure of it when-ever he met such a thing, he would know what it was made of before he parted with it.
GOING out of the House in the Evening when it was almost dark, but not quite, he meets the Apparition in the Garden; the Apparition shun'd him, and would not have been seen, or made as if it would not have been seen.
H A!
says he boldly,
are you there! What are you?
The Apparition still makes from him, and he speaks again,
Who are you? What is your Name?
says he, in a kind of jesting manner.
My Business is not with you,
says the Apparition. But I have some Business with you,
says he,
I must know what you are, and I will know what you are; and with that,
says my Story,
(tho' by the way I must tell you, I don't know how true 'tis)
I say,
with that the bold Fellow offers to go up to it and lay Hands upon it; at which it advanced to him and over-run him, bore him down, and threw him against the Garden Wall, which was at least five or six Yards from him, with such Violence, that he was taken up for dead; and I suppose he never ventur'd to lay Hands upon a Spirit or Apparition again.
NOW be this Story true or not, I mention it to warn rash Heads, who pretending not to fear the
Devil,
are for using the ordinary Violences with him, which affect one Man from another, or with an Apparition, in which they may be sure to
eceive some Mischief. I knew One fired a Gun at an Apparition, and the Gun burst in a hundred Pieces in his Hand, (that is in a great many Pieces.) Another struck at an Apparition with a Sword, and broke his Sword in Pieces, and wounded his Hand gri
vously. It is most certain that an Apparition or a Spirit is not to be cut with a Sword, or shot with a Gun; as there is no Substance, there can be no Wound made; and 'tis next to Madness for any one to go that way to work, be it Angel or be it
Devil.
BUT to carry this farther: In particular, an Apparition may shew itself, and peform its Mission in a full and compleat manner, and yet not speak. I have a Story by me of a Gentleman who carried on a Secret and Criminal Conversation with a certain Lady, and having made an Assignation to meet the Lady, was met at the Place by an Apparition of his own Mother; she said nothing, she did not offer to speak, nor did he at first know it to be an Apparition. The Gentleman walks about in the Field near a House where he had appointed the Lady to meet; the Apparition walk'd about likewise, and he takes it to be a Woman in ordinary, as any Woman might be seen to walk up and down in the same Field or Walk.
BY and by the Woman or Lady appointed comes, he meets her, and goes forward to salute her; the Apparition shows itself just behind the Lady, and looks him full in the Face; he starts back from the Lady, and instead of kissing her,
cries out,
and asks her, Who's that behind her; she turns about, but sees nobody, nor he neither, which frights them both.
HE fancies it to be an imaginary Vapour, having no Faith at all in Apparitions, and offers to go up to the Lady again; and behold, he sees the Apparition just behind her again, the Face standing just so as to look over the Lady's Shoulder, and stare just upon him; he cries out again, and knows it to be his Mother, who it seems was dead, and in crying out again, he adds,
My Mother!
at which it vanishes.
HAD this Apparition any occasion to speak? Was it not Rebuke enough to look him in the Face? Even in common Affairs, a Look from the Eye of one who has Authority to reprove, is sometimes more effectual than the Reproof, if it was given in Words at length.
SUPPOSE this Spectre to regard him not with a threatning Aspect, but with a Countenance of Pity, of a Maternal Reprehension, a Reproof urging Shame and Reproach, like that of
Solomon, What, my Son! what, the Son of my Vows! my Son be seen embracing a Strumpet!
the Man went away, says my Story, fill'd with Confusion; as no question indeed but he would.
HERE was no need of Speech; the Look was a Lash, and a Reproof sufficient; the Man would hardly meet there any more, if he would meet the same Lady any more, and 'tis very likely he never did.
'TIS very unhappy in the Case before me, that it is impossible to attest the Truth of all the Stories which are handed about upon such a Subject as this is; and therefore tho' I might make Flourishes of the Truth of the Particulars in all Cases, as others do; I chuse rather to insist upon the Moral of every Story, whatever the Fact may be, and to inforce the Influence, supposing the History to be real, or whether it be really so or not, which is not much material.
ALL these Cases, however, return me back to the Advice above, namely, always if you see an Apparition,
speak to it,
speak to it early, and answer any Questions it asks, but be sure to ask it no Questions except such as are reasonable, and may be supposed to be within the Reach of its imm
diate Capacity to answer; no Questions tending to reveal the Mysteries of a future State. To ask such Questions as are a plain diving into the Secrets of Heaven, which it is already declared shall not be laid open, is asking the good Spirit, if it be such, to offend on his Part, and is really criminal on your Part; as, to ask what Condition the Person is in, meaning the Person whose Shape the Apparition takes up; How he gets Leave to appear here; why he comes in this or that Manner; what kind of Place Heaven is, and such like; as the Bishop of
Down
and
Connor
ordered
James Haddock
to ask.
BUT suit your Questions to what the Spectre shall say, or as the manner of its Appearance shall direct you; as particularly, if it requires you to do any thing, to speak to any Person, or to deliver any Admonition to a third Person, as in the case of the Apparition about the Duke of
Buckingham,
and as in the Case of Dr.
Scot
and others; you may justly ask Tokens by which you may make your self be believed; also such Questions as relate to yourself, and to the Nature of the thing which the Apparition comes about.
BUT Questions relating to things beyond Time, curious Enquiries into Futurity and Eternity, are upon many Accounts to be avoided; and for some Reasons which I care not to mention in particular; because I would not form frightful Ideas in the Minds of those that read. I have some Stories by me which give an Account that upon such needless Inquiries the Apparition has turn'd itself into terrifying Appearances, intimating Resentment; not only a Resentment on its own Account, but as if it was an Offence and a high Provocation to the supreme Power to offer to search into what Heaven has conceal'd: To me, indeed, it seems it would be so, and therefore 'tis certainly best to refrain those Inquiries.
In a word, the Apparition is, as I may say, Aggressor; it appears; you are passive; be so still, otherwise you make your self the Apparition, and put the Apparition in your Place: ask it wherefore it appears to you, whether for Good or Evil; if for Evil, call upon God for Protection; if it comes for Good, declare your self ready to receive its Message, and to observe every just Direction, to obey every righteous Command, and attend to what it shall say.
THIS is to act fearless, and yet cautious; bold, and yet wisely; resolv'd, and yet humble; and in this Temper of Mind, I think no Man need to be afraid of an Apparition.
YOU may resolve all such things into this; Whether they are good Spirits or bad, Ang
lick Appearances or Diabolick, they are under superior Limitations
the
Devil
we know is chain'd, he can go no farther than the length of his Tether; he has not a Hand to act, or a Foot to walk, or a Mouth to speak, but as he is permitted. The Case of his Commission to
Job
is explicit; such and such things he might do, such he might not; even the Lives of
Job
's Children, and Cattle, and Servants were given him; and, like a
Devil
as he was, he went to the full Extent of his Commission; he spar'd not one of them that he could destroy, but he was forbid to touch the Life of
Job,
and he did not, he durst not, he could not kill him.
IF then we are sure the
Devil
is restrained from hurting us, any otherwise than he is directed and limited, we may be sure that good Spirits are; for their Nature, their Business, their Desires are all fix'd in a general Beneficence to Mankind; their Powers and Employments, as far as they are concerned among us, and in things upon this Surface, are included in the heavenly Acclamation when the Angels sung to the Shepherds,
On Earth Peace, Good-will towards Men,
Luk
. ii. 14.
IF at any time they are Messengers of Judgment, Executors of the divine Vengeance, it is likewise by special, nay, by extraordinary Commission; and then they are indeed Flames of Fire, and punctually do what they are commanded, and no more.
BUT even then, that we may be easie in the matter of Apparition, they do not disguise themselves or conceal their Commission: As
Manoah
's Wife said to him when the Angel appeared to her,
if the LORD were pleased to kill us, he would not have received a Burnt-offering, and a Meat-offering at our Hands, neither would HE have shewed us all these things,
Judges xiii. 23. So here, the Apparition of a good Spirit would not betray us, would not act by Stratagem with us, would not appear in Peace when he means War; come like a Friend, when he was sent for an Enemy; give good Council, when he meant Death and Destruction: But if it appears in Peace, its Design and its Message is certainly
Peace.
UPON the whole, you have no way any Occasion to be disturbed at an Appearance, but to regard the Power sending, not the Agent sent; looking beyond the Apparition itself, and with a resolved Mind, and a steddy, calm Courage, speak to it, and demand its Business; I do not mean by Demand, a Demand of Insult and Arrogance, but an humble, yet resolved Enquiry, Why, and on what Occasion it comes to you.
I HAVE done counselling. If this Part is too grave for you, as I said before, it is not very tedious, you may make it a Parenthesis, and the Work will read without it; for why should I desire you to do any good thing against your Will?
IF you don't think there is any thing in it all, if it is not worth your Notice, go on without it; and when you see any thing, be not surpriz'd and confus'd, cover'd with Horrour and Fright; as is usually the Case of those who laugh loudest at such things before they come.
W—G—,
Esq; famous for that particular Virtue called Impudence, and for that more than ordinary Perfection of it, which some People call Blasphemy; how m
rry did he use to make himself about the ordinary Notions of seeing Apparitions, and hearing People talk of Spirits and the
Devil!
HOW witty would he be upon the poor Ladies, when they seemed a little disordered at frightful Stories of People's walking, and of the
Devil
's appearing in horrible Shapes, and such like things, as the old Women perhaps had weakly enough fill'd their Heads with! Nothing pleased the young Hero like making a Jest of those things; and the Truth was, that many of them deserved it: but the Jest of all Jests was, to see the Esquire come home frighted out of more Wits than any one ever thought him Master of, when riding home in the dark one Night, he met, that is, his Fancy met, the
Devil
in some monstrous Shape or other; but such as his Terrors could not leave him room to describe, only by two great Saucer Eyes glaring in the Dark, and by puffing and blowing most frightfully. (It seems the
Devil
had been upon some hasty Business, and was out of Breath.)
IN this Terror he is become such a Convert to the Doctrine of the Reality of Apparitions, that he dares not be a Moment in the dark, dares not lye alone, or go up Stairs by himself: When upon full Examination, the
Devil
he met was only a hunted Bullock that some Butchers had made half mad, and had pursued 'till they lost him in the Night, and he passed the Esquire in the dark, and was found the next Morning half dead, near the Place where his Worship was scared with him. Yet the Fright has got such Possession of his Soul, that all the laughing at him, and all the Fools and Childrens mocking him in the very Streets cannot bea
that Fit of trembling out of his Joints, nor fortify his Soul against the Vision but of a Cat, if it be in the dark.
SO eminently silly does that needless Passion
Fear
bring us to be, when it has once gotten Possession of the Mind; How foolish, how inconsistent, are the Operations of it! Hence really the Saying,
to be
frighted out of our Wits,
or Such a one is frighted out of his Wits, is not so out of the way as some may imagine; and the Esquire mention'd just now is as effectually so frighted out of his Wits, even in the letter of it, as is possible; for nothing ever acted more like a Fool than he does now; except it was himself when he made a Jest of the Reality of that very thing, of which now he is so disorder'd with the Shadow.
CHAP. XIV. Of Sham Apparitions, and Apparitions which have been the Effect either of Fraud or Fear.
BY sham Apparitions I am to be understood such as have been put upon People by the Fraud and Craft of subtle Knaves, in order to bring about their wicked Designs, or such as Fear and weak Apprehension have presented to, and imposed upon the Imagination. In short,
FIRST,
Apparitions with which People are cheated by others.
SECONDLY,
Apparitions with which they cheat themselves.
FIRST,
Apparitions form'd by the Knavery of others, to cheat, abuse and impose upon the Credulity of the People. Such was the Fable of
Jupiter
descending in a Golden Shower, and falling into the Lap of
Danaae,
whom he had a mind to Debauch. And indeed, whose Virtue could we think would in those Days, (not to say a Word of our more modest and sanctified Ladies) resist a shower of Gold, falling into their Lap? with a God in the middle of it too; But that by the way.
THE like Apparition that Immortal Ravisher of Virgins, call'd
Jupiter,
made, when he stole the Lady
Europa
in the shape of a Milk-white Bull, inviting the Lady to get up upon his Back, and immediately jumps into the Sea with her, and swims over the
Hellespont;
from whence the other side where she landed is call'd
Europe
to this Day. Indeed when Ladies come to ride upon Bulls, what can they expect? Such was the horrid Cheat put upon that poor virtuous, but bigotted
Roman
Lady, persuading her that the God—desir'd to enjoy her, which she in blind Devotion submitted to with Raptures of divine Joy and Elevation; caused her Bed to be laid in the Sacristie of the Temple, deck'd it with Flowers and Perfumes, and caused the debauch'd Priest to be dress'd up with Robes of State, and offering rich Odours all the Night; when at length, instead of the God, instead of the Apparition which she expected, she was betray'd, and was violated by the Traytor that lay in wait for her in the Temple. Such again was the Apparition of
Apollo
which
Lucian
speaks of, which was seen su
pended in the Air, and carry'd or mov'd about from place to place in the Temple of
Apollo
at
Hierapolis. Lucian de Dea Syra.
SUCH was the sordid Imposture of
Mahomet,
who having brought up a tame Pidgeon to come to his Ear, where he fed her always with Pease or Tares, so that she constantly came thither at his Call; persuaded his Followers that it was an Apparition of the Angel
Gabriel
sent from GOD to whisper divine Oracles into his Soul; and that he received the heavenly Inspirations by that means. Such was the Voice which pronounc'd him to be the Prophet of the most high GOD, which Voice sounding in the Air, no Person appearing to speak, was concluded to be the Voice of an Angel, appearing to him, whereas it was spoken by his own Direction by a poor Fellow who he had placed on purpose at the bottom of a Well; and when he found the Imposture take with the People, he sent a Detachment of his Followers to fill up the Well with Stones, pretending it was that it should no more be prophan'd by any Man or Cattle drinking of its holy Waters, from whence the Voice of an Angel had been heard; but really to bury the poor Wretch at the bottom of it, that he might not betray the Secret, and discover the contriv'd Delusion.
SUCH likewise was the Story of the Ass that carry'd him up into Paradise, and that not only to one, but through seven or eight Paradises or Heavens, where he saw two and thirty thousand Visions: And such were all the Apparitions which that ridiculous Impostor feigned to see upon every Occasion, 'till his blinded Followers believed him to be an Apparition himself.
SUCH was the Image of St.
George,
rightly call'd Miraculous, which the
Greeks
to this Day play horrible Pranks with at the Isle of
Skyros
in the
Archipelague,
and which they put upon the People as an Apparition indeed; exercising particular Severities upon People in several Cases: But as it is manag'd by the Priests, so 'tis especially very furious upon all those that neglect to fulfil the Vows made to the said Saint
George,
or in general to all those that do not pay their Debts to the Clergy.
MONSIEUR
Tournefort
in his Voyage into the
Levant
gives a diverting Account of the Conduct of this Devil of
Skyros;
how they worry the Ignorant People to Death with it, and impose upon them by it in the grossest and absurdest manner possible. As there are not greater Impostors in the World than the
Greeks,
and especially the
Greek
Clergy; so there are not a more ignorant, easilyimpos'd-upon People in the World than the
Greek
Layety; and especially those whom the
Greek
Clergy have to do with: Hence it is, that the most absurd Reasonings go down with them; and indeed they may be truly said to be
Believers
in the literal sense, for they take all things by the lump, and without reasoning at all upon them: if not, it would be impossible to possess them, as the Priests do, with a Belie
that the Image of St.
George
moves the Priest, not the Priest the Image, tho' he carries it about upon his Shoulders.
YET this is the fact: The Image of St.
George
is no more than a Picture, and that of very course Painting representing St.
George
upon a log of Wood; 'tis plac'd over the great Altar of the Cathedral at
Skyros,
which is dedicated to that Saint: when the Church is full of People, the Image is seen to move of it self. This they call, and were the fact true, it might well be call'd, the Apparition of St.
George;
but be the Fact true or not, 'tis believ'd to be so, and that's as well to all the intents and purposes of an Apparition, as if the Image were invigorated.
BUT to speak it in their own words, the Image is seen to move of it self, and to show it self in Apparition to all the People; for notwithstanding its Bulk and Weight, it will transport it self through the Air into the midst of the Assembly; there it hovers about, as it were viewing every Face and examining every Heart; if it finds any one that has fail'd to perform any Vow to him (the Saint,) the Image immediately fixes it self on the Shoulders of the Delinquent, singles him out, and not only he is expos'd to the whole Assembly, but the Image plies him with furious and continued Buffettings, 'till he becomes penitent, and promises again in the Face of the Assembly to pay what he owes to the Church.
BUT this is not all: but when the Assembly is thus purg'd by the Justice of this Ghost in an Image, it is then taken up and plac'd upon the Shoulders of a blind Monk, who carries it out of the Church into the Town; the Monk being blind and not knowing whither he goes, is guided by the occult impression of the Image, who guides him as a Rider guides a blind Horse; and thus he carries him directly to the House of such as are Delinquent in the case of Debt to the Altar of St.
George.
NOR is it enough that the Debtor seeing the Apparition or Image coming to him, flies from it, and escapes from House to House; for the Image causes the Monk to follow him by the Foot, as a Hound does a Hare; so that, in a word, there's no escaping St.
George,
no flying from him, the Monk is steddy in his pursuit, ascends, descends, passes, repasses, enters all places, 'till the poor Wretch, who may be truly said to be hunted down, or Hounded down as they express it in the North, is oblig'd to pay the utmost Farthing.
THIS Story fully confirm'd my thoughts in a Remark which I made from the beginning of this Work, that really Church Apparitions are the most frightful, most teizing, and terrible in their way, of all the real
Devils
that walk about in the World.
BUT what need we wander thus among the Ancients, and hunt among the
Greek
Schismaticks for artificial Apparitions, and for Ecclesiastic Delusions of this kind? The
Roman
Church, that true Catholick Establishment, built upon the solid Rock of St.
Peter
himself, how full is it of glorious Frauds of this kind? and how has the whole Scheme of Papal Tyranny been supported among the People in this very manner, ever since the great defection of the
Roman
Hierarchy, from its true Primitive Purity, and original holy Institution?
NOT that I purpose to make this Work a Collection of Church Apparitions, whether Popish or Protestant; any more than I shall enter upon a reciting the
Universalia
of State Apparitions; 'tis well for this Age, both in Church and State, that my Doctrine of the Rest of Souls is establish'd; for certainly, if the Souls of the Departed could be disturb'd either in Heaven or Hell, by the mad things, or the simple things, the good things, or the wicked things transacted by their Posterity in these Days, there must be as great an Uneasiness in those eternal Mansions on account of the present Age, as ever there was since History gives us any Account of things: Never did any Generation make such Fools of their Fathers, and such wise Men of themselves, and both so unaccountable; sure it must be, that the Dead cannot come to the Quick, and that they know nothing of us, or the whole World would be one Apparition, and we should, as Sir
W—B—
said above, have all come up again that was under Ground, the dead World would be too many for the living World, and we should meet ten Apparitions in every Street for one living Creature.
BUT to come to the Case in hand, the first Christian Apparition I meet with deserves our particular Remark; first indeed, because of the Importance of the Occasion, namely, for the Confirmation of the Faith of all true Catholicks in that great disputed, yet unsettled Point,
viz.
Whether
ever St.
PETER
was at
ROME
or no?
a Point so essential, and which the Hereticks take so much Pains to make doubtful, that if we Catholicks do not establish it past all the Cavils of our Enemies, we do nothing; and for this we bring the miraculous Apparition of Jesus Christ to St.
Peter
just without the City, and which carried
Peter
back again into the City; so that as he came out of
Rom
,
and return'd to
Rome,
Christ himself being Witness to it, sure it can never be disputed any more.
THIS being of so great Importance to the Catholick Church, it is meet I should bring you good Authority for the Relation; and therefore thinking my self not competent, not a sufficient Evidence, being perhaps suspected of Heresy, I shall give it you out of the Labours of an ancient Father of the
Roman
Church, and you shall have the Story from his own Mouth, and in his own Words, as follows: It is the famous Doctor
Smith,
a Popish Preacher in Queen
Mary
's Days, who boasted that he had overcome both Bishop
Ridley,
and Bishop
Latimer,
in a Dispute against them about St.
Peter
's having been at
Rome.
Take a piece of the Reverend Doctor's Sermon.
THE Doctor's Business was to take upon him to run down the poor oppress'd Confessors,
Cranmer, Ridley
and
Latimer,
and make them odious to the People; and being to preach a Sermon upon this Subject at
Whitti
gton
College in
London,
(the same, or near it, that is now call'd St.
Martin Vintry)
He begins thus,
MY Masters, you are in great E rror concerning the blessed Sacrament, and all your Trust was in
Cranmer, Ridley,
and
Latimer;
as for
Latimer,
he said in
open Disputation
at
Oxford,
that he had no Learning in that Matter, but out of
Cranmer
's Book. Before this I disputed with
Latimer
twenty Years ago, and then he had no Learning: As for
Cranmer,
he said that his Learning came from
Ridley;
and as for
Ridley,
I disputed with him my self now at
Oxford
the other Day, and I proved my Argument thus,
Ille cui Christus obviavit Romae fuit Romae; ac Christus obviavit Petro Romae: Ergo Petrus fuit Romae.
That is, He whom
Christ
met at
Rome
was at
Rome;
but
Christ
met
Peter
at
Rome,
ERGO
Peter
was at
Rome.
BY this Argument I prove two things, and singular Mysteries of our Faith.
FIRST, That Peter was at Rome,
against those who clatter that
Peter
never was at
Rome
SECONDLY,
That if
Peter
met Christ bodily, as
Abdias
reporteth, and which I am sure is true, or else such an ancient and holy Father would never have written it; then consequently he may as well be in the Blessed Sacrament, as he was met bodily. To this
Ridley
stood like a Block, and feeling himself convinc'
, answer'd nothing. Then said I,
cur non respondes Haeretice, Haereticorum, Haereticissime?
did I not handle him well?
THEN he deny'd the Minor, which I proved thus. Christ met
Peter
going out of
Rome,
and said
Good-morrow Peter!
whether goest thou?
Peter
answer'd, Good-morrow
good Man,
whither goest thou? Then said
Christ,
I go to
Rome
to suffer. What! saith
Peter:
I trow, unless I take my Marks amiss, ye be JESUS CHRIST:
Good Lord,
how do you? I am glad I have met you here. Then said Jesus Christ to
Peter,
Go back and suffer, or else I must;
& pro te & me.
WHEN
Ridley
had heard this my Proof, and
Abdias
's Authority, a Doctor ancient and
rrefragable, he answer'd never a word; and thus I confuted
Ridley
in the Audience of a thousand; and yet ye say, that Jesus Christ was never bodily on Earth since his Ascension.
HERE'S an Apparition of good Fame, and of extraordinary Authority; and if any Objection can lye against it, 'tis only whether it be true or not; but I am not to answer for that, 'tis certainly true, that the Learned Doctor preach'd this excellent Sermon, and that's enough for me.
BUT having thus given you an Apparition of such great Authority, namely of Jesus Christ himself, I shall quote you a few others of a more modern kind to confirm you in this Principle, namely, that Apparitions did not cease in the Church: Tho' Miracles are said to cease, and Prophesies cease, tho' Oracles are dumb, and the Dead do not return; yet that Apparition is not wanting, and the Artifices of the Fathers remain; namely, that they can show you wonders in Vision every Day for the Confirmation of that great Catholick Verity.
I MIGHT descend here to the famous Apparition of
Loudon,
commonly call'd the
Devil
of
Loudon;
and the yet more famous Apparition of
Jetzer
at
Bern
in
Switzerland.
These are indeed Orthodox Delusions, and both carried on with the utmost Assurance, I had almost said Villany, by the Priests: But I am not come so far down yet on our way to Modern Roguery.
ONE of our Popes I think insisted, that he had had an Apparition of the
Devil
to him; whereas St.
Francis,
and St.
Ignatius
each in their turn put the Bite of Apparition upon the World, in so many particular cases, that if they had not, as we may say, left it off in time, as the World took them for mad Men and Fools, they would have taken them for what they really were,
viz.
Knaves and Cheats, and have used them accordingly; and indeed it was once within an Ace with St.
Francis
of his being whipt through the Streets at
Naples
for an Impostor; and he had but one way to get off, which was to add some things to his Conduct so extremely silly and ridiculous, that he was taken for an Idiot, and let run loose in the Streets with a crowd of Boys at his Heels following and shouting at him, and throwing Dirt and rotten Eggs upon him. This he turn'd into a species of Martyrdom, valued himself upon it, and would not suffer the Filth to be s
raped off from him; because it was the Ornament and Crown of his Sufferings for preaching the Gospel.
IT was doubtful, for some time, whether this holy Enthusiast had more Apparitions of the
Blessed Virgin,
or of the
Devil,
following him: It is true, some of our Hereticks affirm'd he had no Apparitions at all, either of the
Virgin
or of the
Devil;
but that it was all a
devilish
Cheat, which he had the Face to put upon the World. But this, they tell us, is too uncharitable; because 'tis supposing the Wretch himself, (who, it is allow'd, was a very weak and silly, tho' an impudent Fellow) was able to Impose upon all the World at that time, who Universally believ'd that he had seen some Apparitions which elevated his Mind to that degree of Euthusiasm which he appear'd acted by.
BUT then, if we must allow he was visited with Apparitions, it must be of the
Devil,
not the
Blessed Virgin;
because we have no Scripture Authority to support the Notion that she ever did, or can appear at all, either to him or any body else
and that all the pretended Apparitions of the Virgin
Mary,
of what kind soever, which the Legends are full of, are the meer Impostures of the Priests, as really and openly as if they had been seen to be perform'd: Such was her speaking to St.
Bernard,
when he came up the Nave of the great Church at
Millan,
at four steps, twen
y Yards at a step; at the first step he said
O Faelix!
at the second step,
O Pia!
at the third step,
O Santa!
and at the fourth step,
Maria!
to which the Image answer'd,
Salve Bernardi.
The Marks of the four steps, Dr.
Burnet,
in his Letters, tells us are to be seen in the Church still, cover'd with little Plates of Brass, having the Words severally cut upon them: and yet in spite of the Relique we cannot for our Lives believe that the silent Image spoke to him, any more than that he stept twenty Yards at a stride.
UPON the whole, we are at a Point with St.
Francis,
that if any Apparition did haunt him, it was that of the
Devil;
and they tell us this was so frequent, that at last he pray'd to the
Virgin,
that the
Devil
might not be allow'd to appear to him but upon extraordinary Occasions; and that whenever he did, he should have the better of the
Devil,
if he contended with him: after which the
Devil
never appear'd to him at all in his own Shape, as it seems he used to do, but always under some Disguise, or in other Persons Shapes, tempting him in those Apparitions, as he found Occasion; but that he was always too hard for him, and drove him away. Who had the Victory at last, History is silent: but some are apt to doubt that the
Devil
had the better of him then, for that we do not read much of his Triumph over the
Devil,
in
Articulo Mortis.
ST.
IGNATIUS,
the Patron of the
Jesuits,
pretended to make St.
Francis,
who was before him, his Patron, and to Mimick him in all his most ridiculous Extravagancies; and these of Apparitions amongst the rest: and his Life indeed is full of Histories of Apparitions, either of one Saint or other, or of the
Devil,
or of the
Virgin,
upon all Occasions, and some of them the most trifling and frivolous in the World.
ST.
FRANCIS
being very melancholly, earnestly desir'd to hear some Musick, being told that Musick would exhilerate the Soul; and immediately an Apparition of Angels surrounded him, and making a Concert of most harmonious Musick play'd admirably for his Consolation, for a very considerable while.
ST.
IGNATIUS
had like Apparitions of Angels playing sweet Lessons of heavenly Musick to him when he was writing his Book of Constitutions; likewise af
er his Death a Concert of Angels made most excellent Musick at his Grave, and several Stars were seen plac'd upon his Sepulchre.
N. B.
The first Stars that were ever seen in Apparition upon Earth; nor indeed did I ever hear that the Stars walk'd before.
SOME Apparitions have been form'd by the Policy, or rather the meer Face of the Priests, to prove their absurd Doctrines.
Surius,
a zealous Writer for Invocation of Saints, says, that
whatever
Hereticks
may prate,
(he should have said, whatever the Scripture may prate)
it is abundantly prov'
that the departed Saints know our Concerns on Earth, and hear our Petitions,
and so he determines the Question in Controversy,
viz.
Invocation of Saints.
Surius Not. ad Bonavent. in Vit. St. Francisci.
HE does not indeed offer any thing to prove the Fact, but several miraculous Apparitions of the
Blessed Virgin
to the devout Priests praying to her, one of which may be as true as the other.
TO prove the Possibility of a Person being in two Places at once, we are assur'd of the following Apparition of St.
Ignatius.
LEONARD KESEL,
a Jesuit of
Cologne,
passionately desir'd to see this extraordinary Person; of whom he had heard such wonderful Things related, and whose Fame spread far and wide for a most wonderful Man:
Kesel,
an honest well-meaning Man, knowing very well the best way to see a Man was to be brought to the Place where he was, and having no Notion of his being a Worker of Impossibilities, tho' he thought him a strange Person too; yet, I say, not dreaming of Miracles, he writes to
Ignatius
what a desire he had to see him, and begs his Leave, (for
Kesel
being a Priest of his Order, he could not stir without License) I say, begs his Leave to come to
Rome
to receive his Blessing.
IGNATIUS
forbids him; positively assuring him that if such an Enterview was necessary, GOD would provide a way for it, without giving him the trouble of so long a Journey.
KESEL
did not understand the meaning of the Answer, and was extreamly dissatisfy'd to be so far under the Displeasure of his Superior, as to be deny'd coming to see him, which he so passionately desir'd; however he was oblig'd to submit, and waited the Event.
UPON a Day, says the Story, when he least thought of it, behold
Ignatius
comes up into his Cell, or Chamber, and having talk'd with him a very considerable while, suddenly disappear'd; leaving the Jesuit exceedingly comforted with such a prodigious wonderful Visit.
ST.
FRANCIS
did these things frequently, it seems, and rid thro' the Air in a fiery Chariot; which I dare say is as true as that St.
Dunstan,
while he was a Boy, flew down from the top of
Glastenbury Tor,
or
Tower,
a Place well known in
Somersetshire.
THE Conversion of St.
Ignatius,
they tell us, was brought to pass by an Apparition of St.
Peter
to him, who came and touch'd his Wounds receiv'd in Battle, and healed them immediately; and yet it seems as if St.
Peter
was but a lame Doctor, for that St.
Ignatius
halted, and that his Leg was crooked as long as he liv'd, cannot be deny'd; whereas when St.
Peter
healed the impotent Man at
Jerusalem,
the Text says he made him
every whit whole, Acts
iii. 7, 8.
ST.
FRANCIS
is said to have done innumerable Cures for sick and diseased Persons, by appearing to them after his Death, and I could fill a Volume with the History of them; but it seems to be needless, all true Catholicks acknowledge it.
PASCALL, Ignatius
's Chamber-Fellow and Companion, being reduced to great Necessities after his Death, implores the Assistance of his Collegue in the Church of St.
Laurence,
or some other Church at
Rome;
immediately he heard a melodious Sound, and saw
Ignatius
appearing to him, attended with a numerous and beautiful Train of the Servants of God; but what Relief the Apparition gave him in his extream Necessity,
this Deponent saith not.
BUT I may close the Discourse of impos'd Apparitions with that memorable Story of
Jetzer,
a
Dominican
in the Monastry or House of
Dominicans
at
Bern,
in
Swisserland:
The Forgery is manifest, and the Reason of it; 'twas an Imposition upon the
Franciscans,
and contriv'd to carry on the Contention which was between the two Societies to a compleat Victory.
THE
Franciscans
insist upon the
Blessed Virgin
's being Immaculate, and born without original Sin, sanctify'd from the Womb; and therefore they cannonize Blessed St.
Ann,
who was the
Virgin
's Mother, and make her a triumphant Saint; almost as glorious as her Daughter, and have a Service for her, call'd,
the Prerogatives of St.
Ann,
Mother of the Mother of God:
wherein they declare she conceiv'd the
Blessed Virgin
without the Knowledge of a Man, and that it was upon an Apparition of two Angels to her, which she relates to her Husband
Joachim.
There's an Apparition too for the Confirmation of the
Franciscans.
(That's by the way.)
THE
Dominicans,
on the other hand, deny that the
Virgin
is Immaculate; they allow that she is conceiv'd in Sin, but that she continu'd under the
Culpa
or
Defilement
but three Days; and they bring in an Apparition of the
Blessed Virgin
to this Friar
Jetzer,
lamenting to him that they should go about to make her equal to her Son in Holiness, and confessing, in the Words of the Text, that she was
shapen in Iniquity, Psal.
li. 5.
SO here is one Miracle to confute another, and perhaps both alike authentick.
BUT the Story of
Jetzer
is full of Miracles, all contriv'd by the Prior, and three of the Fathers: first, the Apparition of a Soul in Purgatory comes to
Jetzer
with a Box near his Mouth, so contriv'd, that when he breath'd upon it, it appear'd to be all Fire coming out of his Mouth; he had also three Dogs hanging upon him, and gnawing him as his Tormentors.
IN this Posture he comes to the poor Friar
Jetzer
in the dark, and when he was in his Bed, tells him his deplorable Condition, but that he might be taken out of Purgatory by his Means, and by his Mortifications; and this Story he backs with most horrible Groans, as in the utmost Misery by his Sufferings.
N. B.
You are to understand that this Friar
Jetzer
was a Fellow pick'd out to make a proper Tool for these Impostures, being very silly, and very devout; and had they not over-acted the thing, the Design might have gone a great way.
IN Consequence of the first Apparition, they made the poor Friar undergo severe Discipline, Whipping and Mortifications, and then the Apparition came and thank'd him, and told him he was deliver'd out of Purgatory by his Means; so that Part ended, to the infinite Satisfaction of the poor macerated Friar.
THE next was the Apparition of the same Person, but in the Habit of a
Nun,
representing St.
Barbara,
and all in Glory; telling him,
at the blessed Virgin was so delighted with his Zeal and Devotion, that she would visit him the next Day in Person, and give him her Benediction for Consolation in his Sufferings and Mortifications; at which the Fool (the Friar I mean) was ravished with Joy, and prepar'd himself and the whole Conv
nt to receive her.
AT the appointed time, the expected Delusion appeared: The blessed Virgin, clothed with the utmost Magnificence, dress'd up with Jewels, as she used to be on Occasion of the most sol
mn Festivals; attended by Angels which were seen to be flying about her, as her Pages.
N. B.
They were the little carv'd Angels which were placed in the Church upon extraordinary Days, and now placed as Machines about the Apparition, and lifted up in the Air, with Pullies fasten'd in the Room above.
IN this Equipage, the Lady Queen of Heaven, Mother of God, was brought in Apparition to her poor mortify'd and humble Servant; she carest him with high Expressions of Affection to him, extolling the Merit of his Charity, in suffering such S
verities for the meer Love of delivering a poor tormented Soul out of Purgatory; own'd to him, that she was conceived in original Sin; and told him Pope
Julius,
who then held the Chair, should put a final End to all those Disputes, and should abolish the Feast of her Conception. After much more to the same purpose, she promised him a Mission to go to the holy Father in her Name, to assure him of the Truth of the Vision, and that it was her Pleasure it should be so; and in Confirmation of it all, she gave him three Drops of Blood, which she told him were the Tears Christ shed, when he wept over
Jerusalem;
with abundance of such like.
HERE was a true sham Apparition now, form'd to establish a particular Sect or Society; and a particular Profession, concerning the immaculate Conception; here could the impatient Friars have set Bounds to their Revenge, they had had a compleat Victory over the
Franciscans.
Nay, had St.
Francis
himself come up in Apparition on the other side, it would not have balanc'd the Cheat; for all the World began to give Credit to the Apparition.
BUT the Priests knew no Bounds; nothing would serve them but new Apparitions to the Friar, and new Mortifications to the
Franciscans;
'till in short
J
tzer
himself, as foolish and simple as he was, saw through it, detected the Cheat, and escaping out of the Monastery, discover'd it all to the Magistrates, having twice escaped being poison'd by them; so the whole Fraud ended at the Gallows, or rather at the Stake, for the four Friars were condemned to be burnt, and were executed accordingly.
THE History of the Discovery is not to my Purpose, it may be seen in many Authors, as also the Tryal, Sentence, and Execution of the Criminals at
Bern, May
31, 1509, where they were all burnt together. But this Part is effectually to my Purpose,
viz.
that there has been, and I doubt not still is, a great deal of sham Apparition impos'd upon the World by the Delusions of others; and as it lies chiefly among the Clergy, where must we look for it, but where it is to be found?
NOR are the Pagan Clergy free from the same vile Practices, namely, to forge Apparitions to confirm their Delusions; and the History of all Countries are full of Accounts of it, too many to repeat here.
THE Possessions and Exorcisms in the dismal Story of the
Devils
of
Loudon,
are full of Apparitions and Visions, by which the wretched Fraud was carried on, and by which so much Villany was practis'd, as is almost without Example; a Story which has already fill'd a Book, and is extant in many Languages; a Fraud not out-done by the Brachmans and Priests of the
Pagans
in
China,
or in
Japan.
I MIGHT next entertain you with sham Apparitions put in Practice by the
Devil
himself, in those Countries where he has made himself be worshipped as a God, and where he supports all the Devilworship by Apparition; showing himself now one way, now another, as he finds it for his Purpose; appearing one Day in Fire and Flame, at another time in Storm and Tempest, at a third time in Humane and Familiar Shape; and in all the End is to keep up the Dread of his Person in the Minds of his Worshippers, and to preserve a Reverence to his Institutions, whatever they are.
IF we may believe our Writers of Travels, and Observers of Things, the
Devil
not only assumes Humane Shape, but insinuates himself in the real Person of a
Devil
to the Women, and so possesses them, (to say no more of it) as to commit horrid nameless Wickednesses with them, such as are not to be suggested without Horror. In other Places, the Apparition of the
Devil
is the Fund of all their religious Worship, and he has Altars erected, and Sacrifices, nay, which is worse, Human Sacrifices offered to him.
IN these horrid Performances, he appears in terrible Shapes, and the poor Natives are so frighted at him, that the Fear only excites the Homage which they pay to him, and secures to him an entire Sovereignty: for Fear, may, for ought I know, be the Characteristick of a Pagan Worship, as Love is that of a Christian.
THE Great Temple of
Montezuma
at
Mexico
was little else but a horrible Butchery of Humane Carcasses, the Blood of which lay sprinkled or dash'd against the Walls, 'till it lay there hardened and congeal'd, if Report may be believ'd, above a Foot thick, and that they sacrifiz'd at least twentythousand People a Year, in that one Pagode or Temple.
THE
Indians
confess'd, that they had frequent Apparitions among them of the Spiritis, which they called by several Names; and that the Great Spirit, that is the
Devil,
also appeared to them upon their Great Festivals, in bright and extraordinary Apparition; to approve and accept of their Worship and Homage, and no doubt of their Sacrifices too.
IN
Cochin China
we are told the
Devil
goes farther; for he not only shows himself in Apparition, but he utters lying Oracles, even himself in his proper Person, and also whispers such Answers to the Priests, as serve to keep up a Decorum in their Worship, and a secret Reverence to his Person. And Father
Borri
says, the
Devil
walks about there so frequently, and so familiarly in Humane Shapes, that they are not at all disturb'd at him.
AT other times, as the same Author affirms, they associate themselves with particular Persons, upon various Occasions, and especially with the Women, as abov
; so that, in short, in some Cities, which are very populous, it would be something hard to distinguish between the real People and the Apparitions. How far, if it were examin'd into, it would not be the like among us, I won't pretend to say.
WHO knows, in our Throngs of divided Christians, whether he meets with a Saint or an Apparition; whether he talks with a Counsellor or a
Devil?
and the art of discerning would indeed be well worth having; indeed, it would be worth buying, if Money would purchase it. The
Devil
's Disguises are very many, and Apparition is one of the best of them, because he can soon change Shapes, and change Postures, which in other Cases he may find less advantageous to his Interest. Nor is it easy for Mankind to come to the Certainty, even when he sees an Apparition, whether it be a Good or an Evil Appearance; and the best way of finding it out, except that of judging by the Errand he comes on, and which I have mention'd already, is to ask it the Question directly; if it equivocates and shuffles, conclude 'tis the
Devil;
for he is a Sharper, and a Dissembler from the Beginning: if 'tis a good Spirit, it will answer you directly and honestly, and tell you its Business at once; and this is what I mean, where I say, SPEAK TO IT.
IF you find it is a good Spirit hearken to it; if the
Devil,
defie it; and whether it be a good or evil Spirit,
fear it not;
for both are under the special Direction and Authority of him that made the World, and will govern it, in whose Hands you are; and 'tis well it is so; For as Good is above Evil, so God is above the Devil. Tell him so, and bid him Defiance, and if you can but do it with a good Heart he's gone; depend upon it, he'll never stand you,
Probatum est.
But I must leave off the religious Cheats, for they are endless; 'tis time to talk of Apparitions of another nature, less serious, and less tiresome to hear of.
CHAP. XV. Of Imaginary Apparitions, the Apparitions of Fancy, Vapours, waking Dreams, delirious Heads, and the Hyppo.
AS the
Devil
is not so Black as he is Painted, so neither does he appear in so many Shapes as we make for him; we Dress him up in more Suits of Cloaths, and more Masquerade Habits, than ever he wore; and I question much, if he was to see the Pictures and Figures which we call
Devil,
whether he would know himself by some of them or no.
IT would require more Skill than, I doubt, I am Master of, to bring you all to a right Method of thinking upon this Subject; however I shall venture upon it by way of Essay, that you may form such Images of the
old Gentleman
in your Mind, that you may not be cheated about him, may know him when you see him, may not call him out of his Name, or bestow his Right Worshipful Titles upon another.
IT is observable, that tho' most People in all Parts of the World allow there is such a thing as a
Devil,
an evil Spirit, an Arch-Enemy of Mankind; and they are pretty near one another in their several Notions of him; for even those Savages that worship him, acknowledge they do so only that he may not hurt them; yet they differ exceedingly in their Ideas of his Person, and that almost every where; and accordingly it follows that they must differ in their Representations and Pictures of him.
SOME Paint him one way, some another; and yet I observe that so little good Will they have for him any where, that they all Picture him as ugly, as monstrous, and as deform'd as they can.
I HAVE heard of some Pagans who worship a black Cloud for the
Devil,
because it often speaks in Noises, and breathes out Fire. I cannot say but worshipping the Sun for a
God,
and the Thunder and Lightening for a
Devil,
seems to me to have more Sense in it than many of the other Branches of Idolatry in the World; the one being the most natural resemblance of the greatest Good, and the other of the greatest Evil in the World.
SOME, I am told, resemble or represent the
Devil
by a vast great Globe of Wood carv'd or cut all over into Mouths, describ'd in a thousand different Distortions, gaping, grining, and voracious Figures; all intimating a greedy unquenchable Thirst or Appetite to devour and destroy; rolling itself continually about, so that some of its thousand of Mouths being undermost, are always gaping and biting, and taking in something, but ever unsatisfy'd, the rest of 'em gaping still for more. If this hideous Representation is not just to his Form, I think verily it is just to his Nature, and is very Emblematick: the Thoughts it gives Birth to in our Fancy, may not be so remote as are form'd by those simple, Comick, and yet wou'd-befrightful Draughts we draw of him; with a Cock's Bill, Ass's Ears, Goat's Horns, glaring Eyes, Batts Wings, cloven Foot, and Dragon's Tail; not one of which, except the last, having either Antiquity or Authority for them, that I know of.
IT'S true, he is describ'd in the
Apoc a lypse
as a great red Dragon, and in another Place as a Beast, but neither of them give us any true Idea of his real Form.
NOW if we do not know his Figure, how shall we know him in Apparition? for if we know nothing of his real Shape, how shall we judge of him in his Disguise? How shall we single him out upon Occasion? Suppose we were to look for him at a Masquerade; For my Part I cannot deny but I might mistake him, and pitch upon a Priest, or a Turk, a Tinker or a Tarpaulin, and say this is the
Devil,
or that is the
Devil,
as soon as the real
Hydra-pater
himself, and let him pass perhaps for a
No-body
worth taking Notice of.
AS then,
I say,
we have such unguided Notions of him, and know him so little in any of his uncouth Figures and Disguises, 'tis not so much wonder that we mistake every ugly mis-shapen monstrous Thing, and call it by his venerable Name.
HOW often has poor unhappy shapeless
Z
—
M
—been started at, even in the open Day; nay, in the very Sun-shine? Bless me! says a fine Lady in the
Mall,
one Day as she pass'd him, sure that's the
Devil:
Why Sister, says she to the Lady that was next her, did not you see it? I'll be gone, I am frighted out of my Wits: Why if I should meet it again, I shall sink into the Ground: I'm sorry I did not see him, says the Sister, for I want mightily to see the
Devil;
but I was happily better employ'd, for just that Moment Sir
G
—
D
—, that Glory of Heroes, the brightest of Men, went by me; my Soul flew along with him, dear Sister, 'tis hardly come back yet.
O! YOU'RE happy, Sister, you saw a Heavenly, I an Infernal; you an
Arch-Angel,
I the
Devil:
let me go, Sister, for I am undone if I see him again; if I were with Child I should bring forth a Monster.
HE had not gone twenty Yards farther, but a Knot of Ladies met him; it seems they were
Roman
Catholicks,
and they all cross'd themselves and look'd up to Heaven, said every one of them an
Ave
and a
Pater,
and went on as fast as they could.
A LADY big with Child had the Misfortune to be next, who was so frighted, she fell into Fits, went home, and Miscarried; and lastly, which was more unhappy, just as he stept out of the
Mall,
at the turning to St.
James
's, he almost jostled another Lady that was nearer her Time, and she immediately call'd for a Chair, was carried away, fell into Travel, and died in Child-bed.
AND yet this Piece of Deformity, this Scare
Devil, Z
—
M
—, is an honest good-humour'd Fellow as lives, and I happen'd to see him soon after.
WHAT have you done,
Zach? said I,
was you in the Park to Day?
YES I was,
says he.
Why, what's the Matter, have any of the Ladies fallen in Love with me?
YES, yes,
says I,
you put the whole
Mall
in an Uproar.
I THOUGHT so,
says he;
I knew I should have Admirers as well as other Beaus: Why not, pray? but let 'em die, I am Inexorable.
BUT do you know what Mischief you have done?
said I in Earnest.
NOT I,
says he,
but I suppose I may have frighted somebody or other with my
Devil
's
Face;
and what then? how can I help it? If they don't like me, they may look off o' me.
WHY no,
says I,
it seems they can't.
NO, no, Beauty is attractive, you know, and so is Deformity,
says he;
if you meet a
Will with a Wisp
you can't look off of it: They will look at me, they can't help it, and they look so long you see, that I fright every now and then one or two of them into Love with me.
HARD Fate of the Sex,
said I, Zach.
that Men should be so scarce they must be in Love with the
Devil.
I am persuaded many of them take you for an Apparition.
THAT'S a Sign of horrid Ignorance,
says he merrily;
why, he is not half so ugly as I am. 'Tis a sign they don't know him; I tell you the
Devil
's a comely Fellow
to me, Jack.
THOU art an ugly Dog, that's true,
said I,
but thou art the best-humour'd, goodest-natur'd Creature alive,
said I:
upon my Word, I'd be
Z
—
M
—, though I frighted all the Ladies in the Park, to have half the Wit, and Sense, and good Humour that is cover'd with so much Deformity.
AND I'd be any thing but two,
says he,
to be but just tolerable to Mankind, and not fright the Horse I ride on.
BUT two! What two pray?
said I.
Are there two Things you wou'd not change for?
YES,
says Z
—, I wou'd not be a
Fool
or a
Beggar;
but especially not the first.
NOW what is the Case of this unhappy Gentleman? 'tis quite the Reverse of what the Ladies take him for; one says he is the
Devil,
and another says 'tis the
Devil,
and another that 'tis an Apparition; and the last is true. But, of what? not of the
Devil,
I assure you. Apparitions, they say, generally assume a different Likeness; the
Devil
never Masques in Deformity, an Angel may; the
Devil
often puts on the
Beau,
and the
Beauty;
he is to-day a smart young rattling Fop, to-morrow a Smirk, a Spruce, a Harlequin; to-day he is a devout Lady at Prayers, to-morrow a Coquet, a Masquer at the Ball; but 'tis all fine and clever: he very rarely puts on Ugliness, for that wou'd be no Disguise to him.
ON the contrary, when a bright Seraph dresses in Form, it takes up the Extreme of its Contrary; and a Divine and exalted Soul may put on the Habit of an unsightly Carcass, to appear in the World in a more compleat Masquerade; and thus it was with my Friend
Zach. Ma
—, his Outside was indeed a Masquerade to him, he was perfectly the Reverse of what he appear'd, and he had the brightest and sublimest Soul that was ever wrapt up in Flesh and Blood, in the Posture or Habit of something uglyer to look on than the
Devil.
IN a word, he was a
Devil
to the Imagination, for every body thought of the
Devil
when they saw him; went home and told their Maids and their Children they had seen the
Devil,
and told it over so often, 'till they believ'd it themselves, and so made a real Apparition of him, as it were by the mere force of his extraordinary Countenance.
YET the honest Gentleman had no Horns on his Head, no Cock's Bill, or a cloven Foot, I assure you; but was meer
Zach. M
—, as merry and as good-humour'd a Creature as ever liv'd; full of Wit, Master of Learning, Temper, and a thousand good Qualities, without one bad one; nothing amiss in him, or about him, but his Outside, and as to that nothing so frightful in the three Kingdoms.
NOW if meeting poor mortify'd merry
Zach. M
—shou'd raise the Vapours among us, and from a little Jesting at first, fright the poor Ladies into Miscarriage, Travel, and the Grave; make them go home, and say in Jest, they had seen the
Devil,
'till they believ'd it in Earnest: what will not the like ungovernable Fancy, and Power of a frighted Imagination, prevail upon us to think or say?
A SOBER grave Gentleman, who mu
not wear a Name in our Story, because it was rather a Distemper in his Mind than a real Deficiency of Brains, had, by a long Disuse of the sprightly Part of his Sense, which he really had no want of at other times, suffer'd himself to sink a little too low in his Spirits, and let the
Hypochondria
emit too strongly in Vapour and Fumes up into his Head. This had its Fits and its Intervals; sometimes he was clearsighted, and clear-headed, but at other times he saw Stars at Noon-day, and
Devils
at Night: In a word, the World was an Apparition to his Imagination, when the
Flatus
prevail'd, and the Spleen boil'd up; of all which he could give no account, nor could he assist the Operation of Physick by any of his own Powers towards a Cure.
IT happen'd that he was abroad at a Friend's House later than ordinary one Night, but being Moon-light, and a Servant with him, he was easy, and was observed to be very chearful, and even
Merry,
with a great deal of good Humour, more than had been observed of him for a great while before.
HE knew his Way perfectly well, for it was within three Miles of the Town where he liv'd, and he was very well mounted; but tho' the Moon was up, an Accident which a little disorder'd him was, that it was not only cloudy, but a very thick, black Cloud came suddenly, (that is to say, without his Notice, so it was suddenly to him) and spread over his Head, which made it very dark; and to add to the Disorder, it began to rain violently.
UPON this, being very well mounted, as I have said, he resolved to ride for it, having not above two Miles to the Town; so clapping Spurs to his Horse, he gallop'd away. His Man, whose Name was
Gervais,
not being so well mounted, was a good way behind. The Darkness and the Rain together put him a little out of Humour; but as that
was a little unexpected perhaps it made him ride the harder, rather than abated his Pace.
IN the Way there was a small River, but there was a good Bridge over it, well walled on both sides; so that there was no Danger there, more than any where else: But the Gentleman kept on his speed to go over the Bridge, when being rather more than half over, his Horse stopt on a sudden, and refused, as we call it, bearing off to the right hand; he saw nothing at first, and was not much discompos'd at it, but spurr'd his Horse to go forward; the Horse went two or three Steps, then stopt again, snorted, and stared, and then offer'd to turn short back; then the Gentleman looking forward to see what was the matter, and if he could observe what the Horse was scared at, saw two broad st
ring Eyes, which, as he said, look'd him full in the Face.
THEN he was heartily frighted indeed; but by this time he heard his Man
G
rvais
coming up. When
Gervais
came near, the first thing he heard his Master say, was—
Bless me, it is the Devil!
at which
Gervais,
a low-spirited Fellow, was as much frighted as his Master. However, his Master, a little encou
aged to hear his Man so near him, press'd his Horse once more, and call'd aloud to
Gervais
to come; but he, as I said, being frighted too, made no haste: at length with much ado his Master, spurring his Horse again, got over the Bridge, and passed by the Creature with broad Eyes, which (the Light a little encreasing) he affirm'd positively, when he was pass'd, was a great black BEAR, and consequently must be the
Devil.
THO'
Gervais
was near enough, yet fearing his Master would set him to go before, he kept as far off as he could: When his Master call'd he answer'd indeed, but did not come on, at least did not make much haste; but seeing his Master was gone past, and that he himself was then obliged to follow, he went on softly, and when he came to the Bridge, he saw what it was his Master's Horse snorted at, and refused to go on; of which you shall hear more presently.
HIS Master's Horse being got past the Difficulty, needed no Spurs, but (as frighted Horses will) flew away like the Wind; and the Rain continuing, his Master, who on many Accounts was willing to be at home, let him go; so that he was at home and got into the House, long before his Man
Jervais
could get up with him.
THE Master, as soon as he came into the Light, swoon'd away, and the Fright had had such an effect upon him, that when with much Difficulty they had brought him to himself, he continued very ill; and when his Lady, and a Sister he had in the House with him, as much over-run with the
Hyppo
as himself, came to enquire what had happened to him, he told them a formal Story, that at such a Bridge he met the
Devil;
that he placed himself just at the coming off from the Bridge, on his left hand, at the Corner of the Wall; that he stood and stared in his Face, and that he could distinctly perceive it was the
Devil
in the Shape of a
Bear:
He gave other Descriptions, so punctual and particular, that there was no room to doubt but it was an Apparition, and that it was in the Shape of a great Bear.
GERVAIS
came home soon after, and going into the Stable directly, as was his Business, to take care of his Master's Horse as well as his own, there he told the Story his Way, among the other Servants, and especially two or three Grooms, and Servants belonging to Gentlemen that were Neighbours; and he tells them, that his Master was in great danger of being thrown over the Wall of the Bridge, for that his Horse was frighted at an Ass which stood just at the Corner of the Wall; and it was my Fault indeed, says
Gervais,
for it was a young Horse, and I had never told my Master; but it was a Trick he had got that he could not abide an Ass, and would by no means come near one if he could help it.
AND are you sure 'twas an Ass,
Gervais?
s
ys the other Servants, staring at one another as if they were frighted: Are you sure of it? Yes, says
Gervais,
for as soon as my Master got by it, I rid up to it and thresh'd it with my Stick, and it fell a braying, which you know, says
Gervais,
is a base ugly Noise, and so I came away and le
t it.
WHY
Gervais,
says they, your Master believes it was the
Devil,
as really as if he had spoken to it.
I'M sorry my Master should be so frighted, says
Jervais;
but I am very sure it was nothing but an
Ass.
But the Story had gotten Vent, and the first Part of it flew all over the Town that Mr.—had seen the
Devil,
and was almost frighted to Death.
THEN came his Man
Jarvis
's Tale, and made it appear that Mr.—'s strange and wonderful Apparition was dwindled into an Ass, and that the
Devil
he had seen in the Shape of a Bear was no more than a poor
Boricco,
as the
Italians
call him; this made his Master be laught at sufficiently.
HOWEVER, poor
Jarvis
or
Gervais
was
ain to turn out, and lost his Place for it; and the wise Mr.—to this Day insists upon it, that 'twas the
Devil,
and he knew him by his broad Eyes; tho' 'tis known that a Bear has very little Eyes: but 'tis impossible to perswade any Vapourish Body, that they have not seen the
Devil,
if they have but seen something, and that they are very sure, they are not sure what it is.
I REMEMBER a Delusion almost as gross, the Memory of which I believe remains for a Truth to this day. Not far off of the Town of
Darking
in
Surrey,
the People, or some People rather, entertained a Notion, from the following Passage, that a Ghost walk'd in such a Place; that she (for it was an antient Lady lately dead) was seen hovering about the Mansion-house which was left uninhabited for some time, that she would be up and down in the House very often, in the Day-time, making a rumbling, and a clattering Noise; and in the Night-time she walk'd in the neighbouring Fields with a C
ndle in her Hand, and that tho' the Wind blew ever so hard, it would not blow the Candle out; that sometimes she would appear in the open Field, sometimes up in the Trees, and particularly there was a little Heath near
Darking
called the
Cottman D
an,
where it was said she was frequently seen.
THERE was a Boarding-school of Boys in that Town, where there was in particular some roguish
London
Boys, who contrived all this Walking from the Beginning to the End; First, they got a small Rope, and tying one end of it to an old Chair which stood in an upper Room of the H
se, (for they had found means to get in and out of the House at pleasure) they brought the other end of the Rope down on the Out-side of the House in a private Place where it could not easily be seen, and by this they pulled the old Chair up, and then let it fall down again, and made a great Noise in the House, so as it might be easily heard by the Neighbours; then other Boys of the same Gang took care to call out to the old Women in the next Houses, that now they might hear the old Lady a playing her Pranks; and accordingly they would all a
semble in the Court-yard, where they could plainly hear it, but not one would venture to go up Stairs. If any offered to go up a little way, then all was quiet again; but as soon as ever they retired, the rumbling would begin again: This was for the Day.
IN the Night, one of these unlucky Boys had gotten a dark Lanthorn, which was a thing the Country People did not understand, and with this he walk'd all about the Orchard, and two or three Closes near the House, sometimes shewing the Light on this side, and then his Comrades calling all the old Women about 'em to see it, on a sudden the Light would go out, the Boy closing up the Lanthorn; and then he would run swiftly cross the whole Field, and shew his Light again on the other side. Now he would be up in a Tree, then in the Road, then upon the middle of the Heath; so that the Country People made no more Question, but that the old Lady walk'd with a Candle in her Hand, than that they saw the Light of it; and in a word, it pass'd for an Apparition as certainly as we on the other hand knew what Knavery agitated it all.
IT must be con
ess'd that a dark Lanthorn, join'd with an Enthusiastick Head, might prevail to make such a Sham take, with weak and bigotted People, and they were mighty willing to say beforehand that they were sure something walk'd.
WHEN they heard the Chair tumble about in the Chamber, tho' pulled by a String and no body near it, no nor in the whole House, the People who came together in the Court-yard, fancy'd often the saw Heads of People moving up and down the Room where the Noise was, and one said positively she saw a white Head-dress.
BUT to realize the Delusion, one cry'd out, There's the Spirit, there's the Ghost, just at such a Place of the Window; and affirm'd it stood close to the Glass, and describ'd it; another, as Moon-blind as her self,
says,
Ay, so it does, and points peremptorily to the Place, declaring that she sees it plainly; and thus they run away with it all together, that the Ghost walks and the House is haunted, and for a long time it is believ'd no other; when here was nothing but the mean Contrivance of a few Boys.
THE Notion of Spirits appearing to discover where Money has been buried, to direct People to dig for it, has so universally prevail'd with Womankind, I might say and even with Mankind too, that it is impossible to beat it out of their Heads; and if they should see any thing which they call an Apparition, they would to this Day follow it, in hope to hear it give a Stamp on the Ground, as with its Foot, and then vanish; and did it really do so, they would not fail to dig
to the Center
(if they were able) in hopes of finding a Pot of Money hid there, or some old U
n with Ashes and
Roman
Medals; in short, or some considerable Treasure.
A COUNTRY Gentleman had an old-built House, which was the Remains of an old Demolished Monastery or Religious House, and he resolved to have it pull'd down, but thought the Charge too much to bestow; so he bethought himself of a Stratagem, which was to give it out that the House was haunted, and this he did so artificially, that it began to be currently believed; for he made a Fellow dress himself up in White, and pass swiftly cross the inner Court of the House, just at a time when he had appointed others to be at the Window to see it.
THEY gave Notice to the House that there was an Apparition; then the Master and Mistress and all the Family were called up to the Window, where, tho' it was so dark that they could not distinguish what he was, yet they plainly saw the thing in white go cross the Yard, and in at a Door of the old Building; soon after it was in they perceiv'd a Flash of Fire in the House, which was contriv'd that the Fellow should make with some Brimstone and other Materials on purpose, so that it should leave a Stench of Sulphur behind it, but not be just the Smell of Gunpowder.
AS he expected, it began to work; some fanciful People having notice of it, and being desirous to see the same Apparition, had the occasion offer'd them, and saw it in its usual manner of showing it self; its frequent walking was ordinary, at one part of the House where the Spirit had an opportunity to slip out at a Door into another Yard, and so into the dwelling House; and when it went off that way it gave a great stamp with its Foot, and immediately it was gone.
UPON this it was presently said there was Money hid, and the Gentleman gave it out that he would dig there for it, and mighty eager People were to have it done; however the Gentleman seem'd to cool in the matter: still the Apparition was seen to come and go, walk to and again, almost every Night, and ordinarily it vanish'd in a flash of Fire as above, which in a word was very extraordinary.
AT length some of the Towns People in the Village adjoyning, finding the Gentleman began to slight or neglect it, gave out, that if Esquire—would give them leave, they would dig, for that certainly Money was hid there; nay if he would consent they should have it if they found it, they would dig for it and find it too, tho' they digg'd the whole House down.
THE Gentleman reply'd, that was not fair for them to pull his House down and have all they found too, that was too hard; but he would consent to this, That provided they would carry away all the Rubbish, and all the Materials which they dug down, and pile up the Bricks and Timber in the Yard near the House, and would be content with half they found, he would give them leave to dig.
WELL, they consented, and to work they went; the Spirit or Apparition which appear'd at first seem'd to point out the Place, and the first thing they took down was a great stack of Chimnies, and a heavy piece of work it was; but the Gentleman, willing to encourage them, secretly hid seven and twenty Pieces of old Gold in a hole in the Chimney, which had no entrance into it but by one passage, which he Brick'd up.
WHEN they came to this Money they were perfectly deluded, and out of their Wits; the Gentleman happen'd to be near, but not just upon the Spot when it was found, and he being call'd, very
rankly gave it them all; but upon Condition they should not expect the like, if they found any more.
IN a word, this Bite made the Country Fellows work like Horses, and more came into the knot; but that which encourag'd them farther was, they did really find several things of Value in the pulling down the House, which perhaps had lain hid from the time of Demolishing it as a religious House; and some Money was found too; but continual expectation and hope of finding more so animated the Fellows, that in short they pull'd the whole House down; nay, I might say they pull'd it up by the Roots, for they dug up the very Foundations, which was what the Gentleman desir'd, and would have given a great deal of Money to have had done.
NOR did they leave the House in a heap of Rubbish; but, according to his Agreement with them, they carried the Materials away, and set up the Timber and old Bricks in an adjacent Yard as he directed them, and in good order too.
SO violent was the Persuasion, that (upon this fancy'd Apparition walking in the House) Money was hid there, that nothing could stop the eagerness of the Country People in working; as if the Souls of the old Nuns or Friars, or whatever they were who had hid any Treasure there, supposing any was hid, could no
be at Rest, as was said in other Cases, or could be any way concern'd for the finding it so many Years afterward, being almost two hundred Years.
IF they could suppose any thing so weak, where must they suppose those Departed Souls or Ghosts could have been, during all that time? and why did they not appear before? what had all the Ages between done to be so much less in their Favour, that they did not come to discover this Money to them? but that the Deposit should remain un
r Ground so long, without any enquiry after t, 'till this Age, not at all more worthy than their Ancestors, should be inform'd of it.
THERE is not a thing in Nature so generally receiv'd, which has so little Foundation, either in Reason or Religion, either in Nature or common Sense; it seems not only absurd, but ridiculous; there is not only no religious Reason in it, but it is inconsistent with it self: what seems only wonderful and unaccountable in it is, that such gross things should make such Impressions, and that it should be so impossible to beat it out of the Heads of the possess'd People.
IF you should offer to tell them that no hidden Money was ever thus discover'd, they would laugh at it as the greatest Jest imaginable, and tell you there were five hundred Examples to the contrary; and yet in all my Search after those things, and after evidence of Fact, I cannot arrive to one Example, where ever an Apparition directed to the finding Money hid in the Ground or Earth, or any other place, and that any Authentick Voucher has been brought to prove it. I know there have been many, perhaps thousands, of such Stories told, and the Particulars are handed down with them; but I say I never met with any Authentick Proof of the Fact, such as that the Story might be told after them for Truth, and that a Man might say without Blushing that he believ'd it. And let us but enter a little into the usual manner in which those Tales are related, there seems to be something so weak and silly in the telling, as if it was only calculated for Children and Chimney corners: for Example; the Apparition is call'd a Ghost, 'tis dress'd up (to suit the weakness of the Imagination) in a Shrowd, as if it came just out of the Coffin and the Church-yard, and as if the Habit of the Dead was assum'd, to possess the People with the Fancy of its being really the dead Body of the Person, and yet allow it at the same time to be a Spirit.
WELL, when it comes, and (be it what you will) forms it self in Apparition, all in white, and in a Shroud; what is next? it says nothing to you, but goes away before you; and perhaps speaks and bids you go or come along with it, or perhaps without speaking at all, leading and beckoning the Parties they have appear'd to, to follow them, and then stamping with the Foot it disappears at once.
THIS Stamp with the Foot is reckon'd to be a Direction to you to dig just there, in order to find some extraordinary Treasure; and he would be reckon'd very stupid and sordidly dull that should neglect the Direction, and not dig there; and many a vain and fruitless Pit has been dug on such occasions, to no purpose at all.
BUT that I may not declare my Infidelity in these things in an unreasonable manner, and disbelieve without any just Reason; let me give you a long Story, which seems to be left upon Record, of a Pedlar in the Town of—in
Suffolk,
a Story believ'd as certainly as the Gospel; and which it would be thought very absurd for any one to question the Truth of.
THERE was a Pedlar,
says the Story,
who us'd to travel about the Country with his Pack, but kept a Chamber or Ware-house in the Market-Town for the depositing and laying up some Goods which he had there, and which were too many at a time to carry them all about with him.
IT happen'd that this Man having been abroad late, and coming home with his Pack, sat himself down upon a Stile, resting his Pack at the same time for his Ease: while he sat here, there came up to him a Ghost, in the Appearance of a Woman dress'd as above; she came up to him with a smiling Countenance, and when she discover'd her self she stept backward, and holding up a fine white Hand beckoned to him with a Finger to follow her.
THE Pedlar, frighted as he was, immediately follow'd the Apparition; (what he did in the mean time with his Pack that's a gap in the Story, which Tradition has not supply'd;) the Apparition leads him in this manner, going backward and beckoning with her Hand over two or three Fields, 'till it came to a particular place, where there lay a great Stone, and there giving a stamp with its Foot it vanished.
THE Man takes the hint, marks the Stone, goes home to carry his Pack, as we ought to suppose, and comes out the next Night with a Spade and a Pick Axe, and goes to work to dig a great Pitt in the Earth.
HE had not dug far it seems, (tho' the Story does not say expresly how far) but he found a large Chest; I say large, for it could not be a small one, by what you shall hear presently.
HE doubled his Diligence when he came to the Chest, and with great Labour at length got it out of the place; and we may suppose was not long before he found means to split it open, and get into the inside of it to see the Contents; for he found it very heavy when he labour'd to get it out.
IN a word, he found the Chest full of Silver, that is to say, full of Money; then keeping his own Council, he took care to deposite it so, that by some and some he got the Money all safe home, and after that carried the Chest home also.
WHAT the Sum was that he found here, the Story is not particular in; but it seems the bulk was such, that the Pedlar thought fit to leave off his travelling about the Country as a Pedlar, takes a House in the Town, furnishes himself a Shop, and becomes a settled Inhabitant and Shop-keeper. During his appearing in this Figure, it happen'd that the Parish Church being exceeding old and out of Repair, the Parishioners, (whether by order of the Diocesan upon a Visitation, or by the voluntary act and deed of themselves the Parishioners, I know not,) resolv'd to Repair the Church.
IN order to furnish the needful Sums for this good Work, they call a Vestry, and propose a Subscription of the Inhabitants, for supporting the Expence; so the Minister and Church Wardens go about from House to House to see what the Charitable Parishioners would contribute, and among the rest they at length came to the Pedlar's (now Shopkeeper's) House, and he being told their Business desires them to walk in.
AFTER some Discourse, and perhaps treating his Neighbours, he asks for their Roll or Subscription Paper, in order to subscribe; looking over the Roll he sees Sir
Thomas
—five Pounds, another Gentleman five Pounds, another ten Pounds, another forty Shillings, and so on: Come, says he, give a poor Pedlar the Pen and Ink; Will your Gentry subscribe no more than that? so he takes the Pen, and subscribes five and twenty Pounds.
SOME time after this, having Occasion to make a Hatch to his Shop-Door, as in the Country is very frequent, it happen'd, that sending for a Workman to make this Hatch, and looking about among his old Lumber, he found nothing so proper as the old Chest that the Money was found in, and accordingly a Hatch was made of it.
A-WHILE after this, as the Pedlar was sitting in his Shop, he observ'd an Ancient Gentleman who liv'd in the Town, and who had the Reputation of a Scholar, and particularly of a great Antiquary, stood poring very earnestly, with his Spectacles on, upon his new Hatch: This brought the Pedlar to the Door, who after waiting a good while to see what it was the old Gentleman had discover'd, at last he ask'd him what it was he found upon his new Hatch, that was worth so much of his notice.
TRULY Neighbour,
says the Gentleman,
what I observe is very remarkable, tho' I cannot tell the Meaning of it; and I suppose 'tis in a Character that you cannot easily read, as well as in a Language that you may not understand.
THE Pedlar desir'd he would read it to him.
WHY,
says the Gentleman,
you do not understand it, when I have read it.
BUT Sir,
says the Pedlar,
can you not tell the meaning of it in
English?
WHY,
says the old Gentleman,
it is the old
Saxon English
in the ancient
Gothic
Character, and it may be read thus,
Where This once stood
Stands another twice as good.
HUM!
says the Pedlar,
that's old stuff indeed: what can that signify?
NAY,
says the old Gentleman,
that I don't know, for who can tell where this stood?
AY, who indeed!?
says the Pedlar:
and if they did, what can there be in that?
THEY had a little more Chat of that kind; but in short
the Pedlar
got rid of his old Gentleman as soon as he could, and began to ruminate upon the thing;
where this stood!
Why I know well enough,
says he to himself,
where this stood; I must go and see, it may be there is some more of the same.
BUT then he argued, why this is so many Years ago (six or seven at least, it seems) and if it was a Ghost or Spirit that show'd me the way to it, I warrant she has show'd some body else the way to the rest: Indeed I did not deserve it, that I did not look farther when I was at it; to be sure it's gone by this time.
THUS he argued himself almost out of the thing again, 'till
t length he told his Wife of it, who it seems had been in the Secret before.
WHY, you are mad,
says she,
why don't you go immediately to the place?
NAY,
says he,
I don't know whether I can find it again or no, now.
WHAT,
says his Wife,
must the
Devil
come to show it you again? sure you an't so dull, but you may find it again.
WELL, the Man went however; indeed his Wife drove him out almost, Go, try,
says she,
you can but come without it.
HE goes, and found the place in general, but could not distinguish the particular Spo
, which was levell'd partly by himself when he fill'd up the Hole again, and partly grown up with Grass and Weeds; so he comes back again, and tells his Wife, he could not tell which was the Place, so as to be particular enough to go to Work
WELL,
says his Wife,
go in the Night; I warrant you the good
Devil
that show'd you the first will put you in some way to find the rest, if there is any more.
SO prevail'd with by his Wife's Importunity away he went, and I think they say his Wife went with him; being come to the Place, the Apparition appear'd to them again, and show'd them, in the same manner as before, the very Spot; and then vanish'd.
IN short, the Man went to work, and digging a little deeper than he did before, he found another Chest or Coffer, bounded about with Iron, not so big as the other, but richer; for as the first was full of Silver, so this was full of Gold.
THEY carry'd it home with Joy enough, as you may suppose, and opening it, found (as above) a very great Treasure. Fame has not handed down the Sum; but something may be guess'd at by the latter part of the Story,
which is told thus.
IT seems that all this while the Repair of the Church (mention'd above) went on but slowly; according to the old Saying,
it was Church-Work;
and a Vestry being call'd upon some other Churchwork, the Pedlar, who was present among the rest of his Neighbours, took occasion to complain, that he thought that Business was not honestly manag'd, that it was indeed like
Church-Work,
carried on heavily.
SOME of the Gentlemen took him up a little, and told him, he took too much upon him; that it was none of his Affair; that he was not in Trust for the Work; that they to whom it was committed knew their Business, and that he should let it alone, and mind his Shop.
HE answer'd, it was true, that he was not trusted with it, if he had, it should have been finished before now; and that he had a right to complain, because he paid to it as well as other People; adding, that if they did not dispatch, he would complain to the Bishop, and obtain another Visitation.
THIS alarm'd the People entrusted, so they gave him good Words, and told him, the truth was, the Parish Stock was almost gone, and that they had not Money to go on, 'till the Gentlemen would come into a second Collection.
SAY you so? says the Pedlar; there may be some Reason in that; you can't go on indeed without Money; but pray how much do you want?
THEY told him it would cost near two hundred Pounds more to fin
sh it, and do but indifferently neither; for the Roof wanted to be taken off, and they feared the Timber was rotten, and would require so much Addition, they were afraid to look into it.
IN a word, he bid the Church-wardens call a Vestry upon that particular Affair, and he would put them in a way to finish it.
A VESTRY was call'd; the Pedlar told them, that seeing they were poor, and could not raise Money to go on with it, they should leave it to him, and he would finish it for them.
ACCORDINGLY he took the Work upon himself, laid out near a Thousand Pounds, and almost new-built the Church; in Memory of which, on the Glass-windows, there stand the Figures of the Pedlar and his Pack, and (as the People fancy) there is also the Apparition beckoning to him, to come to the Place where he dug up the Money.
THUS far the Story. How Traditio
came to hand it down to us in this manner, and so turn it into a Fable, I have nothing to do with; but the real and more probable Part of the Tale is recorded thus.
THAT there was a
Pether,
so the old
English
calls him, that is a
Pedl
r,
who having long used to travel up and down the Country with his Horse, and his Wife, and himself, all three loaded with their Goods, and going from House to House for many Years, was grown rich, by his Industry; and that being too old to continue the laborious Part, he took a Lodging, first in the Town, and sold his Goods in a Chamber, and in the Markets only, but afterward took a House and a Shop in the Market-place, and drove a great Trade.
THAT growing thus to be very rich, he contributed, upon their first coming about for a Subscription, twenty five Pounds towards the Repair of the Church; and after that, finding they wanted Money to finish it, took the Work wholly into his own Hand, and finish'd the Church at his own Charge; and that the Parish, in Gratitude to his Memory, caused that Figure of the Pedlar to be painted upon the Glass, where the Pedlar and his Pack is represented in one Place travelling about the Country, by which he got his Living.
IN another Place, there are Workmen digging the Foundation of the Church, and the Pedlar giving them Directions what to do, and how to proceed; and in another, the Church is built up a great way, and almost to the Roof, and the Pedlar still directing.
IN another Place, an Angel is painted standing by the Pedlar, and pointing with a Rod or Staff in his Hand, to a Place where the Pedlar sets two Workmen to dig.
NOW from the Pedlar's being grown so unexpectdly rich, common Fame it seems raised a Report, that he had found a Chest of Money in the Ground, and after that another. It seems also, there is an Original for the two Verses too, which is thus: when the Pedlar had first contributed twenty five Pounds towards building the Church, and yet the Parishoners told him, they could not go on for want of Money; he told them they should not be discouraged, he had given them one Bag of Money, and, says he,
where that stood, stands another twice as good:
I'll do it my self.
HENCE they thought the Pedlar must certainly have found some Money that had been hid in the Ground, and that the
Devil
had discover'd it to him; and so came the whole Story to grow up by little and little into the Form as I have told it; and now to confirm it farther, they tell us the Angel, which perhaps might be but indifferently painted on the Glass, or on the Wall of the Church, is taken for the Ghost that discover'd the two Chests of Money to the Pedlar, and is showing where to dig for it.
THUS the Story of an Apparition is handed on to Posterity, and now 'tis as curr
ntly believ'd in the Country, almost as the Gospel; and any Man would be thought very bold, that should pretend to contradict it, or to say that it is not true in every Particular.
IF all the Stories of Apparitions leading People to dig for Money, were as well trac'd as this, I believe they might be found as plainly fictitious. Invention has been mighty fruitful upon this particular kind of Notion, that when Money is hidden some Spirit or Apparition will discover it; as if the Souls of those that hid the Money were disturb'd, 'till it was found out and made use of.
HOW absurd the very Suggestion it self is, I can hardly think worth while to speak of again; but there are other Difficulties in it also, if an Apparition knows of and discovers this Money.
1. WHY not discover it sooner? Why let it lie in the Ground, sometimes two or three hundred Years before it has been discover'd? and then an Apparition comes, from none knows where, to bring it to light.
2. WHY is the Discovery made to a Stranger, and not to some of the Line or Race of those to whom the Money did at first belong? One would suppose the Apparition came, or was sent, or directed to come, to do Justice, and to give the Money lost to the right Owner; whereas these Discoveries are often pretended to be made to Strangers, who have no Claim or any Right to it, or any Relation to those who laid it there; and this indeed is unaccountable, and makes the rest of the Story improbable to be true.
3. If Ghosts, or Apparitions, and Spirits, or call them what you will, are thus officious, and busy to discover Money hid in the Earth, so as to run up and down to Strangers, who are no way related to it, or to the Race or Families who were first concern'd in it; Why then do they not discover all the Money that is thus deposited in the Dark? and which no doubt is yet in great Quantities, lodged out of the Reach of Mortal Sight, and of which we find frequent Discoveries made; as particularly a great Parcel of old Gold, found lately in the digging up the old Foundation of a House in
Oxfordshire.
A great Parcel of
Roman
Gold Coin and Medals found this very Year, in digging up an old Vault in
France,
and which must have lain there a thousand Years at least, and no kind Apparition came to discover it in so long time.
MANY such Examples are daily shown us of Money found Under-ground, without the Help of the
Devil,
or of any Apparition, Spirit or Ghost, to discover it, and which had lain, ever since the Time of the
Romans,
conceal'd and unknown.
FROM all which Reasons I must conclude, that the departed Spirits know nothing of these things, that it is not in their Power to discover their old Hoards of Money, or to come hither to show us how we may come at it; but that in short, all the old Women's Stories, which we have told us upon that Subject, are indeed old Women's Stories, and no more.
I CANNOT quit this part of my Subject without observing that, indeed, if we give up all the Stories of Ghosts and Apparitions, and Spirits walking, to discover Money that is hid, we shall lose to the Age half the good old Tales, which serve to make up Winter Evening Conversation, and shall deprive the Doctrine of Souls departed coming back hither to talk with us about such things, of its principal Support; for this indeed is one of the principal Errands such Apparitions come about.
IT is without Doubt, that Fancy and Imagination form a world of Apparitions in the Minds of Men and Women; (for we must not exclude the Ladies in this Part, whatever we do) and People go away as thoroughly possess'd with the Reality of having seen the
Devil,
as if they convers'd Face to Face with him; when in short the Matter is no more than a Vapour of the Brain, a sick delirious fume of Smoke in the Hypochondria; forming it self in such and such Figure to the Eye-sight of the Mind, as well as of the Head, which all look'd upon with a calm Revision, would appear, as it really is, nothing but a Nothing, a Skeleton of the Brain, a Whymsy, and no more.
So Hypochondriack Vapours represent
Ships, Armies, Battels, in the Firmament:
'Till steddy Sight the Exhalation
solves,
And all to its first Matter
Cloud
dissolves.
IT is out of Question that the Imagination forms a great many of these Visions in the Heads of the People that relate them again to us; and they as firmly believe them to be real Apparitions, as I believe them to be nothing but Vapours and Cloud. But on the other hand it cannot be deny'd, but that there is a strange Forwardness among our People to propagate, nay, to raise and invent such Stories of Apparitions and Visions; to furnish them out with popular Circumstances, and to spread them as Realities, meerly and on purpose to form a plausible Relation; and perhaps some, according to Custom, fall into that old School-boy's Error, of telling the Tale over so often, 'till they believe it to be Truth.
BUT all this Fiction and Fable, of which the World is so full, does not at all lessen the solid Part which I first advanc'd, and still insist upon,
viz.
The Reality of Apparition in general; for the fruitfulness of other Mens Imagination in coining of Falshood, does not at all lessen the Validity of a Truth which the Lie is made to Mimick and Counterfeit.
WE have had a world of Tales impos'd upon the World about Apparitions shewing themselves to abundance of People,
before, at, and after
the late Massacre in
Ireland, Ann.
1641, and it would fill up a Volume of itself to give an Account of them; nor is it possible to distinguish between those of them that are Real, and those that were Imaginary, especially at this Distance of Time; but if I may believe the Report of those that were upon the Spot, and of others who receiv'd the Accounts from the most Judicious and most Considering of those who were upon the Spot, the Fears and Apprehensions of the People, especially in
Dublin,
where they expected the Murtherers would break in upon them every Day, fill'd them with Dream and Phantosm, Vision and Apparition, when indeed there was nothing in it but their own dreadful Apprehensions.
NOR could they be so much blam'd as in other Cases, for here were People escap'd from the Murtherers, even out of their very Hands; some that had seen their Wives, Children, Fathers, Mothers, Husbands, Neighbours butcher'd before their Faces; and no Wonder if these had the Images of Death before their Eyes, after they arriv'd; no Wonder if they had Apparitions and Visions of the like Mischiefs every Hour.
NO Wonder if they saw Clouds of
Irish
Armies in the Air, heard Shrieks of dying murther'd Women and Children, and that they vouch'd these things with the utmost Solemnity. Now 'tis true in the common Notions of Humanity, one cou'd not but pity those poor People, and give allowance to their Fears, and to the Fright and Horrors that were upon their Minds; yet it does not at all follow that we, who are not under the same Impressions, must come into the Delusion with them, give up our Understanding and our Reason to their imagin'd Visions.
WE are to judge of those things by the Rules by which we ought to judge in like Cases, and after you have made Allowances for the Terrors and Fright which the poor People might be in then, we should consider the rational Part, for where the Apparition is real, the Rational Part is always apparent as well as the Visionary Part: for Example,
WHAT Apparitions came from a good Hand, and for the good of the innocent People, whose Dangers were so imminent, would certainly come in some Space of Time before the Danger, either so as to give Opportunity of Escape, or at least Preparatory Warnings, that the People might have time to look up to Heaven, which the butchering Enemy would not spare them; and such Apparitions as these I should be inclin'd to give the most Heed to; but of these we read of very few.
ON the other hand, to what Purpose could Apparitions show themselves afterward? and from whom did they come? If the Souls of the murther'd Protestants cou'd appear and cry for Revenge, why did they not all appear, as well as one Woman at
Bandon-Bridge?
Why did they not Haunt the Murtherers in a most frightful manner, and terrify them Night and Day, 'till they brought their own Guilt to be the worst of Apparitions to them?
WHY did not the Terror of Blood lie upon them, like a constant
Devil
harrassing their Souls, and terrifying them 'till they were made their own Executioners? We saw none of these Things happen either to them, or to the Murtherers, Actors and Directors of the
Parisian
Massacre.
Charles
IX. King of
Fr
nce,
by whose Direction it was all manag'd, died as compos'd, without any Repentance for it, as if he had never been concern'd in it; calmly giving Directions for the Administration of the Affairs of the Government after him, and told his Mother how to act with the Hugonots, 'till his Brother the King of
Poland
should arrive.
IN
Ireland
the Priests and Zealots, nay the very Women, boasted of the Number they had kill'd; show'd the Skeins or Daggers with which they cut the Throats of the Protestants; one so many, and another so many; their Soldiers fought as fearless after it as before, nor did any Apparition haunt them, that ever I met with any Account of.
ON the other hand, for the
Devil
's disturbing them, I see no Reason in it; the
Devil
was not at all displeas'd with the Fact; what should he disturb them for? he wou'd rather appear to assist them, encourage them, harden them in it, take all Remorse from them, and reproach them with Cowardice if they shew'd the least Inclination to Pity; tho' I don't hear of the least Blame the
Devil
himself could lay upon them of that kind.
AS to Apparitions after it was over, I do not see Room to think them so much as Rational; there was not the least Occasion of them, or Use for them; the Mischief was done; what could the invisible World have to say to any body about it after it was done? We do not read of any Apparitions, Voices, Noises, Signs, or Wonders at
Jerusalem
after the Temple was destroy'd, tho' above a Million of People are said (by
Josephus)
to have perished there. There were Signs and horrible Noises, Apparitions and Voices before it, in several Places, but none after it; the miserable Dead lay quiet in their Heaps,
Graves they could not be call
d,
and gave neither their Friends or Enemies any Disturbance.
TO conclude: The sham Apparitions which People put upon themselves are indeed very many; and our Hypochondriack People see more
Devils
at noon-day than
Galilaeus
did Stars, and more by many than ever really appear'd. But this no ways Impeaches the main Proposition,
viz.
That there are really and truly Apparitions of various kinds; and that Spirits or Angels (call them what we will) Inhabitants of the invisible and empty Spaces, do visit us here upon many Occasions, either for Good or Evil, as He who made them is pleas'd to direct.
THE general End and Design of Providence in suffering such things, and the Use and Application to our selves, which we are directed to make of them in common Prudence; how far they are, or are not mercifully restrain'd from hurting us, and even from terrifying and affrighting us, if our Reason could be our Governour in such Cases, with a great Number of Examples in Story of the effect of such Apparitions as have been allow'd to visit Mankind, whether peaceably or otherwise; thes
would take up a great deal more room: But I am run my length in the present Relation, and the Reader must be content to draw Consequences for himself from what is said, to guide his Judgment in the variety of such Cases as may happen: his only way, in our Opinion, is to keep an even pace between Apprehension and Contempt; neither to fear or desire them; but resolve to act with the Calmness and Courage of a Christian, in whatever may be his Case.
BUT above all I would beg my reading merry Friends of the
thoughtless kind
not to be so much surpriz'd at the Apparitions of their own Brain; not to start and be frighted when they first make
Devils
by Day-light, and then see them in the dark; and as they may be assur'd they will hardly ever see any thing worse than themselves, so let them resolve not to be scar'd at Shadows, or amus'd with Vapours; mistaking the
Devil
for an Ass, and tell us of the Saucer Eyes of a Pink-eyed Bear; not fancy they see a Hearse with headless Horses, and take the Night Cart for a fiery Chariot, which one would think they might distinguish by their Noses, unless they will own that their Fear gave them a worse Smell than that of the
Devil.
FINIS.