The history of the life and adventures of Mr. Duncan Campbell
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Title: The history of the life and adventures of Mr. Duncan Campbell
a gentleman, who, tho' deaf and dumb, writes down any stranger's name at first sight, with their future contingencies of fortune
Dubious author: Daniel Defoe
William Bond
Release date: August 12, 2011 [eBook #37047]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37047
Credits: Produced by Steven Gibbs, Pat McCoy and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HISTORY OF THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF MR. DUNCAN CAMPBELL ***
Produced by Steven Gibbs, Pat McCoy and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
THE
HISTORY
OF THE
LIFE
AND
ADVENTURES
OF
MR. DUNCAN CAMPBELL,
A Gentleman, who, tho' Deaf and Dumb, writes down any Stranger's
name at first Sight; with their future Contingencies of Fortune.
Now Living
In _Exeter_ Court over-against the _Savoy_ in the
_Strand_.
_Gentem quidem nullam video neque tam humanam atque doctam;
nequtam immanem tamque barbaram, quae non significari futura et a
quie busdam intelligi praedicique posse censeat._
Cicero de Divinatione, lib. x.
_LONDON_:
Printed for E. CURLL: And sold by W. MEARS and T. JAUNCY, without
_Temple Bar_, W. MEADOWS in _Cornhill_, A. BETTESWORTH in
_Pater-Noster-Row_. W. LEWIS in _Covent Garden and_ W. GRAVES in
St. _James's_ Street. M.DCC.XX. (Price 5_s._)
TO THE
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN
OF
GREAT BRITAIN.
I am not unacquainted, that, ever since this book was first promised by
way of advertisement to the world, it was greedily coveted by a great
many persons of airy tempers, for the same reason that it has been
condemned by those of a more formal class, who thought it was calculated
partly to introduce a great many new and diverting curiosities in the
way of superstition, and partly to divulge the secret intrigues and
amours of one part of the sex, to give the other part room to make
favourite scandal the subject of their discourse; and so to make one
half of the fair species very merry, over the blushes and the
mortifications of the other half. But when they come to read the
following sheets, they will find their expectations disappointed, but I
hope I may say too, very agreeably disappointed. They will find a much
more elegant entertainment than they expected. Instead of making them a
bill of fare out of patchwork romances of polluting scandal, the good
old gentleman who wrote the Adventures of my Life, has made it his
business to treat them with a great variety of entertaining passages,
which always terminate in morals that tend to the edification of all
readers, of whatsoever sex, age, or profession. Instead of seducing
young, innocent, unwary minds into the vicious delight which is too
often taken in reading the gay and bewitching chimeras of the cabalists,
and in perusing the enticing fables of new-invented tricks of
superstition, my ancient friend, the writer, strikes at the very root of
these superstitions, and shows them how they may be satisfied in their
several curiosities, by having recourse to me, who by the talent of the
second-sight, which he so beautifully represents, how nature is so kind
frequently to implant in the minds of men born in the same climate with
myself, can tell you those things naturally, which when you try to learn
yourselves, you either run the hazard of being imposed upon in your
pockets by cheats, gipsies, and common fortune-tellers, or else of being
imposed upon in a still worse way, in your most lasting welfare, by
having recourse to conjurors or enchanters that deal in black arts, and
involve all their consulters in one general partnership of their
execrable guilt; or, lastly, of imposing worst of all upon your own
selves, by getting into an itch of practising and trying the little
tricks of female superstition, which are often more officiously handed
down by the tradition of credulous nurses and old women, from one
generation to another, than the first principles of Christian doctrine,
which it is their duty to instil early into little children. But I hope
when this book comes to be pretty generally read among you ladies, as by
your generous and numerous subscriptions I have good reason to expect,
that it will afford a perfect remedy and a thorough cure to that
distemper, which first took its rise from too great a growth of
curiosity, and too large a stock of credulity nursed prejudicially up
with you in your more tender and infant years.
Whatever young maid hereafter has an innocent but longing desire to know
who shall be her husband, and what time she shall be married, will, I
hope, when she has read the following sheets of a man that can set her
right in the knowledge of those points, purely by possessing the gift of
the second sight, sooner have recourse innocently to such a man than use
unlawful means to acquire it, such as running to conjurors to have his
figure shown in their enchanted glasses, or using any of those
traditional superstitions, by which they may dream of their husbands, or
cause visionary shapes of them to appear on such and such festival
nights of the year; all which practices are not ordinarily wicked and
impious, but downright diabolical. I hope that the next 29th of June,
which is St. John Baptist's day, I shall not see the several pasture
fields adjacent to this metropolis, especially that behind Montague
House, thronged, as they were the last year, with well dressed young
ladies crawling busily up and down upon their knees, as if they were a
parcel of weeders, when all the business is to hunt superstitiously
after a coal under the root of a plantain, to put under their heads that
night, that they may dream who should be their husbands. In order to
shame them out of this silly but guilty practice, I do intend to have
some spies out on that day, that shall discover who they are, and what
they have been about; and I here give notice to the public, that this
ill-acted comedy, if it be acted at all this year, must begin according
to the rule of their superstition, on that day precisely at the hour of
twelve. And so much for the pretty weeders. But as you, ladies, have had
several magical traditions delivered to you, which, if you put in
exercise and practice, will be greatly prejudicial to your honour and
your virtue, let me interpose my counsels, which will conduct you
innocuously to the same end, which some ladies have laboured to arrive
at by these impieties. Give me leave first to tell you, that though what
you aim at may be arrived to by these means, yet these means make that a
miserable fortune which would have been a good one; because, in order
to know human things beforehand, you use preternatural mediums, which
destroy the goodness of the courses, which nature herself was taking for
you, and annexes to them diabolical influences, which commonly carry
along with them fatalities in this world as well as the next. You will,
therefore, give me your pardon likewise, ladies, if I relate some other
of these practices, which bare relation of itself, after what I have
said before, seems to me sufficient to explode them.
Another of the nurse's prescriptions is this: upon a St. Agnes's night,
the 21st day of January, take a row of pins and pull out every one, one
after another, saying a _Pater Noster_, or Our Father, sticking a pin in
your sleeve, and you will dream of her you shall marry. Ben Johnson, in
one of his masks, makes some mention of this:
And on Sweet Agnes' night
Please you with the promis'd sight,
Some of husbands, some of lovers,
Which an empty dream discovers.
Now what can be more infinitely profane than to use the prayer our Lord
instituted in such a way?
There is another prescription, which is as follows: You must lie in
another county, and knit the left garter about the right-legged
stocking, let the other garter and stocking alone, and as you rehearse
these following verses, at every comma, knit a knot:--
This knot I knit,
To know the thing I know not yet,
That I may see
The man that shall my husband be;
How he goes, and what he wears,
And what he does all days and years.
Accordingly in your dream you will see him: if a musician, with a lute
or other instrument; if a scholar, with a book, &c. Now I appeal to you,
ladies, what a ridiculous prescription is this? But yet as slight a
thing as it is, it may be of great importance if it be brought about,
because then it must be construed to be done by preternatural means, and
then those words are nothing less than an application to the devil.
Mr. Aubrey, of the Royal Society, says, a gentlewoman, that he knew,
confessed in his hearing that she used this method, and dreamt of her
husband whom she had never seen. About two or three years after, as she
was one Sunday at church, up pops a young Oxonian in the pulpit; she
cries out presently to her sister, this is the very face of the man I
saw in my dream. Sir William Somes's lady did the like.
Another way is to charm the moon thus, as the old nurses give out, at
the first appearance of the moon, after New-year's-day, some say any
other new moon is as good, go out in the evening, and stand over the
spars of a gate or stile, looking on the moon (here remark that in
Yorkshire they kneel on a ground-fast stone) and say,
All hail to the moon, all hail to thee,
I prithee, good moon, reveal to me
This night who my husband shall be.
You must presently after go to bed. The aforesaid Mr. Aubrey knew two
gentlewomen that did thus when they were young maids, and they had
dreams of those that married them.
But a great many of the wittiest part of your sex laugh at these common
superstitions; but then they are apt to run into worse: they give
themselves up to the reading of the cabalistical systems of sylphs, and
gnomes, and mandrakes, which are very wicked and delusive imaginations.
I would not have you imagine, ladies, that I impute these things as
infirmities and frailties peculiar to your sex. No; men, and great men
too, and scholars, and even statesmen, and princes themselves, have been
tainted with superstitions, and where they infect the minds of such
great personages, they make the deeper impression, according to the
stronger and more manly ideas they have of them. Their greater degree of
strength in the intellect only subjects them to greater weaknesses; such
was even the great Paracelsus, the wonder and miracle of learning in the
age wherein he lived, and such were all his followers, scholars,
statesmen, divines, and princes, that are talismanists.
These talismans that Paracelsus pretends to owe to the excogitation and
invention of honest art, seem to me to be of a very diabolical nature,
and to owe their rise to being dedicated by the author to the heathen
gods. Thus the cabalists pretending to a vast penetration into arts and
sciences, though all their thoughts are chimeras and extravagancies,
unless they be helped by preternatural means, say they have found out
the several methods appropriated to the several planets. They have
appropriated gold to the sun on the Sunday, silver to the moon on the
Monday, iron to Mars on the Tuesday, quicksilver to Mercury on the
Wednesday, tin to Jupiter on the Thursday, copper or brass to Venus on
the Friday, and lead to Saturn on the Saturday. The methods they take in
forming these talismans are too long to dwell upon here. But the
properties which they pretend belong to them are, that the first
talisman or seal of the sun will make a man beloved by all princes and
potentates, and cause him to abound with all the riches his heart can
wish. The second preserves travellers from danger, and is favourable to
merchants, tradesmen, and workmen. The third carries destruction to any
place where it is put: and it is said that a certain great minister of
state ordered one of these to be carried into England in the times of
the revolution of government caused by Oliver Cromwell. The fourth they
pretend cures fevers and other diseases; and if it be put under the
bolster, it makes the proprietor have true dreams, in which he sees all
he desires to know. The fifth, according to them, renders a man lucky
and fortunate in all his businesses and undertakings. It dissipates
melancholy, drives away all importunate cares, and banishes panic fears
from the mind. The sixth, by being put into the liquor which any one
drinks, reconciles mortal enemies, makes them intimate friends: it gains
the love of all women, and renders the proprietor very dexterous in the
art of music. The seventh makes women be easily brought to bed without
pain; and if a horseman carries it in his left boot, himself and his
horse become invulnerable.
This, Paracelsus and his learned followers say, is owing to the
influence of the stars; but I cannot help arguing these acts of
diabolical impiety. But as these arts are rarely known among the
middling part of mankind, I shall neither open their mysteries, nor
inveigh against them any farther.
The persons who are most to be avoided are your ordinary fortune-telling
women and men about this town, whose houses ought to be avoided as a
plague or a pestilence, either because they are cheats and impostors, or
because they deal with black arts, none of them that I know having any
pretensions to the gift of a second-sight. Among many, a few of the most
notorious that I can call to mind now, are as follow. The first and
chiefest of these mischievous fortune-tellers is a woman that does not
live far from the Old Bailey. And truly the justice hall in that place
is the properest place for her to appear at, where, if she was tried for
pretending to give charms written upon paper with odd scrawls, which she
calls figures, she would be probably convicted, and very justly
condemned, and doomed to have her last journey from the Old Bailey to
Newgate, and from Newgate to Tyburn. The other is a fellow that lives in
Moorfields, in which place those who go to consult him ought to live all
their lifetimes, at the famous palaces of the senseless men: he is the
successor of the famous Dr. Trotter, whose widow he married; and from
being a tailor and patching men's garments, he now cuts flourishes with
his shears upon parchment, considers the heavens as a garment, and from
the spangles thereupon he calculates nativities, and sets up for a very
profound astrologer. The third is an ignorant fellow that caws out
strange predictions in Crow-alley, of whose croaking noise I shall here
take no notice, he having been sufficiently mauled in the most ingenious
Spectators. These and such counterfeits as these, I would desire all
gentlemen and ladies to avoid. The only two really learned men that I
ever knew in the art of astrology, were my good friends Dr. Williams and
Mr. Gadbury; and I thought it necessary to pay this esteem to their
names, let the world judge of them what it will. I will here say no
more, nor hinder you any longer, gentlemen and ladies, from the
diversion which my good old friend, who is now departed this life, has
prepared for you in his book, which a young gentleman of my acquaintance
revised, and only subscribe myself,
Yours, &c.,
DUNCAN CAMPBELL.
THE
HISTORY OF THE LIFE
AND SURPRISING ADVENTURES
OF
MR. DUNCAN CAMPBELL.
THE INTRODUCTION.
Of all the writings delivered in an historical manner to the world, none
certainly were ever held in greater esteem than those which give us the
lives of distinguished private men at full length; and, as I may say, to
the life. Such curious fragments of biography are the rarities which
great men seek after with eager industry, and when found, prize them as
the chief jewels and ornaments that enrich their libraries, and
deservedly; for they are the beauties of the greatest men's lives handed
down by way of example or instruction to posterity, and commonly handed
down likewise by the greatest men. Since, therefore, persons
distinguished for merit in one kind or other are the constant subjects
of such discourses, and the most elegant writers of each age have been
usually the only authors who choose upon such subjects to employ their
pens, and since persons of the highest rank and dignity, and genii of
the most refined and delicate relish, are frequently curious enough to
be the readers of them, and to esteem them the most valuable pieces in a
whole collection of learned works; it is a wonder to me that when any
man's life has something in it peculiarly great and remarkable in its
kind, it should not move some more skilful writer than myself to give
the public a taste of it, because it must be at least vastly
entertaining, if it be not, which is next to impossible, immensely
instructive and profitable withal.
If ever the life of any man under the sun was remarkable, this Mr.
Duncan Campbell's, which I am going to treat upon, is so to a very
eminent degree.
It affords such variety of incidents, and is accompanied with such
diversity of circumstances, that it includes within it what must yield
entire satisfaction to the most learned, and admiration to persons of a
moderate understanding. The prince and the peasant will have their
several ends of worthy delight in reading it; and Mr. Campbell's life is
of that extent, that it concerns and collects, as I may say, within
itself, every station of life in the universe. Besides, there is a
demand in almost every page that relates any new act of his, for the
finest and closest disquisitions that learning can make upon human
nature, to account how those acts could be done by him. For he daily
practised, and still practises, those things naturally, which puts art
to the rack to find out how nature can so operate in him; and his
fleshly body, by these operations, is a living practical system, or body
of new philosophy, which exceeds even all those that have hitherto been
compounded by the labour and art of many ages.
If one that had speculated deep into abstruse matters, and made it his
study not only to know how to assign natural reasons for some strange
new acts that looked like miracles by being peculiar to the individual
genius of some particular admired man, but carrying his inquiry to a
much greater height, had speculated likewise what might possibly be
achieved by human genius in the full perfection of nature, and had laid
it down as a thesis by strong arguments, that such things might be
compassed by a human genius, if in its true degree of perfection, as are
the hourly operations of the person's life I am writing, he would have
been counted a wild romantic enthusiast, instead of a natural
philosopher. Some of the wisest would be infidels to so new and so
refined a scheme of thinking, and demand experiment, or cry it was all
against reason, and would not allow the least tittle to be true without
it. Yet the man that had found out so great a mystery as to tell us what
might be done by human genius, as it is here actually done, would have
been a great man within himself; but wanting further experimental
proof, could lay no claim to the belief of others, or consequently to
their esteem. But how great, then, is the man who makes it constantly
his practice actually to do what would not otherwise have been thought
to be of such a nature as might ever be acquired by mortal capacity,
though in its full complement of all possible perfection? He is not only
great within himself, he is great to the world: his experiments force
our belief, and the amazing singularity of those experiments provokes
both our wonder and esteem.
If any learned man should have advanced this proposition, that mere
human art could give to the deaf man what should be equal to his
hearing, and to the dumb man an equivalent for his want of speech, so
that he could converse as freely almost as other hearing or talking
persons; that he might, though born deaf, be by art taught how to read,
write, and understand any language, as well as students that have their
hearing, would not the world, and many even of the learned part of it,
say that nothing could be more extravagantly wild, more mad and frantic?
The learned Dr. Wallis, geometry professor of Oxford, did first of all
lay down this proposition, and was counted by many to have overshot the
point of learning, and to have been the author of a whimsical thesis.
And I should not have wondered if, after a man's having asserted this
might be done, before it was actually done, some blind devout people in
those days, had accused him of heresy, and of attributing to men a power
of working miracles. The notion of the antipodes was by the most learned
men of the age in which St. Augustin lived, and by the great St. Austin
himself, treated in no milder a manner: yet if the ability of teaching
the deaf and the dumb a language proved a truth in experience
afterwards, ought not those to turn their contempt into admiration,
ought not those very people to vote him into the Royal Society for
laying down the proposition, who, before it proved true, in fact, would
have been very forward to have sent him to Bedlam? The first instance of
this accomplishment in a dumb person was proved before King Charles II.
by this same Dr. Wallis, who was a fellow of the Royal Society, and one
of the most ingenious of that society.
But, notwithstanding this, should I come afterwards and say, that there
is now living a deaf and dumb man, and born so, who could by dint of his
own genius teach all others deaf and dumb to read, write, and converse
with the talking and hearing part of mankind, some would, I warrant,
very religiously conclude, that I was about to introduce some strange
new miracle-monger and impostor into the world, with a design of setting
up some new sect of anti-christianism, as formidable as that of
Brachmans. Should I proceed still further, and say, that this same
person, so deaf and dumb, might be able also to show a presaging power,
or kind of prophetical genius, (if I may be allowed to use the
expression,) by telling any strange persons he never saw before in his
life, their names in writing, and by telling them the past actions of
their lives, and predicting to them determined truths of future
contingencies, notwithstanding what divines say, that "in futuris
contingeatibus non datur determinata veritas," would not they conclude
that I was going to usher in a new Mahomet? Since, therefore, there does
exist such a man in London, who actually is deaf and dumb, and was born
so, who does write and read, and converse as well as anybody, who
teaches others deaf and dumb to write, and read and converse with
anybody, who likewise can, by a presaging gift, set down in writing the
name of any stranger at first sight, tell him his past actions, and
predict his future occurrences in fortune, and since he has practised
this talent as a profession with great success for a long series of
years upon innumerable persons in every state and vocation in life, from
the peeress to the waiting-woman, and from the lady mayoress to the
milliner and sempstress, will it not be wonderfully entertaining to give
the world a perfect history of this so singular a man's life? And while
we are relating the pleasant adventures with such prodigious variety,
can anything be more agreeably instructive in a new way than to
intersperse the reasons, and account for the manner how nature, having a
mind to be remarkable, performs by him acts so mysterious.
I have premised this introduction, compounded of the merry and the
serious, with the hopes of engaging many curious people of all sorts to
be my readers, even from the airy nice peruser of novels and romances,
neatly bound and finely gilt, to the grave philosopher, that is daily
thumbing over the musty and tattered pieces of more solid antiquity. I
have all the wonders to tell that such a merry kind of a prophet has
told, to entertain the fancies of the first gay tribe, by which means I
may entice them into some solid knowledge and judgment of human nature;
and I have several solid disquisitions of learning to make, accounting
for the manner of these mysterious operations, never touched upon before
in due form and order by the hands of the ancient or modern sages, that
I may bribe the judgment of this last grave class, so far as to endure
the intermixing entertainment with their severer studies.
CHAPTER I.
MR. CAMPBELL'S DESCENT, FAMILY, BIRTH, ETC.
Of the goodness and antiquity of the name and family of this gentleman,
nobody can ever make any question. He is a Campbell, lineally descended
from the house of Argyll, and bears a distant relation to the present
duke of that name in Scotland, and who is now constituted a duke of
England, by the style and title of Duke of Greenwich.
It happens frequently that the birth of extraordinary persons is so long
disputed by different people, each claiming him for their own, that the
real place where he first took breath grows at last dubious. And thus it
fares with the person who is the subject of the following sheets; as,
therefore, it is my proposal to have a strict regard to historical
faith, so I am obliged to tell the reader that I can with no certainty
give an account of him till after he was three years old; from which age
I knew him, even to this day; I will answer for the truths which I
impart to the public during that time, and as for his birth and the
circumstances of it, and how the first three years of his life passed, I
can only deliver them the same account I have received from others, and
leave them to their own judgments whether it ought to be deemed real or
fabulous.
The father of our Mr. Duncan Campbell, as these relate the story, was
from his infancy of a very curious, inquisitive nature, and of an
enterprising genius, and if he heard of anything surprising to be seen,
the difficulty in practice was enough to recommend to him the attempting
to get a sight of it at any rate or any hazard. It is certain, that
during some civil broils and troubles in Scotland, the grandfather of
our Mr. Campbell was driven with his wife and family, by the fate of
war, into the isle of Shetland, where he lived many years; and during
his residence there, Mr. Archibald Campbell, the father of our Duncan
Campbell, was born.
Shetland lies north-east from Orkney, between sixty and sixty-one
degrees of latitude. The largest isle of Shetland, by the natives called
the Mainland, is sixty miles in length from south-west to the
north-east, and from sixteen, to one mile, in breadth.
The people who live in the smaller isles have abundance of eggs and
fowl, which contributes to maintain their families during the summer.
The ordinary folks are mostly very nimble and active in climbing the
rocks in quest of those eggs and fowl. This exercise is far more
diverting than hunting and hawking among us, and would certainly for the
pleasure of it, be followed by people of greater distinction, was it not
attended with very great dangers, sufficient to turn sport into sorrow,
and which have often proved fatal to those who too eagerly pursue their
game. Mr. Archibald Campbell, however, delighted extremely in this way
of fowling, and used to condescend to mix with the common people for
company, because none of the youths of his rank and condition were
venturesome enough to go along with him.
The most remarkable experiment of this sort, is at the isle called the
Noss of Brassah: the Noss standing at sixteen fathoms distance from the
side of the opposite main: the higher and lower rocks have two stakes
fastened in each of them, and to these there are ropes tied; upon the
ropes there is an engine hung which they call a cradle, and in this a
man makes his way over from the greater to the smaller rocks, where he
makes a considerable purchase of eggs and fowl; but his return being by
an ascent, makes it the more dangerous, though those on the great rock
have a rope tied to the cradle, by which they draw it and the man safe
over for the most part. Over this rock Mr. Archibald Campbell and five
others were in that manner let down by cradles and ropes; but before
they could be all drawn back again, it grew dark, and their associates
not daring to be benighted, were forced to withdraw, and Mr. Campbell
was the unfortunate person left behind, having wandered too far, and not
minded how the day declined, being intent on his game. He passed that
night, you may easily guess, without much sleep, and with great anxiety
of heart. The night, too, as he lay in the open air, was, to add to his
misfortunes, as boisterous and tempestuous as his own mind; but in the
end the tempest proved very happy for him. The reader is to understand
that the Hamburghers, Bremeners, and Hollanders, carry on a great fish
trade there. Accordingly, a Holland vessel, that was just coming in the
sound of Brassah, was by this tempest driven into a creek of the rock,
which nature had made into a harbour, and they were providentially
saved from the bottom of the sea by a rock, from which, humanly
speaking, they could expect nothing but destruction, and being sent to
the bottom of that sea. As never could a man be taken hold of with so
sudden and surprising a disaster, so nobody could meet with a more
sudden and surprising relief than Mr. Campbell found when he saw a ship
so near. He made to the vessel, and begged the Hollanders to take him
in; they asked him what he would give them, or, said the barbarous
sailors, we will even leave you where you are; he told them his
disaster, but they asked money, and nothing else would move them: as he
knew them a self-interested people, he bethought himself, that if he
should tell them of the plenty of fowls and eggs they would get there,
he might not only be taken in a passenger, but made a partner in the
money arising from the stock; it succeeded accordingly: when he proposed
it, the whole crew were all at work, and, in four hours, pretty well
stored the vessel, and then, returning on board, set sail for Holland.
They offered Mr. Campbell to put him in at his own island; but having a
mind to see Holland, and being a partner, to learn their way of
merchandize, which he thought he might turn to his countrymen's
advantage, he told them he would go the voyage out with them, and see
the country of those who were his deliverers; a necessary way of speech,
when one has a design to sooth barbarians, who, but for interest, would
have left him unredeemed, and, for aught they knew, a perpetual sole
inhabitant of a dreadful rock, encompassed round with precipices, some
three hundred fathoms high. Not so the islanders, who are wrongly called
a savage set of mortals; no, they came in quest of him after so bitter a
night, not doubting to find him, but fearing to find him in a lamentable
condition; they hunted and ransacked every little hole and corner in the
rock, but all in vain. In one place they saw a great slaughter of fowls,
enough to serve forty families for a week; and then they guessed, though
they had not the ill fortune to meet the eagles frequently noted to
hover about those isles, that they might have devoured part of him on
some precipice of the rock, and dropped the remnant into the sea. Night
came upon them, and they were afraid of falling into the same disaster
they went to relieve Mr. Campbell from. They returned each to their
proper basket, and were drawn up safe by their respective friends, who
were amazed that one basket was drawn up empty which was let down for
Mr. Campbell, and that there was not the least intelligence to be had
concerning him, but the suppositious story of his having been devoured
by eagles. The story was told at home; and with the lamentation of the
whole family, and all his friends, he was looked upon to be murdered or
dead.
Return we now to Mr. Archibald Campbell, still alive, and on board the
Holland vessel; secure, as he thought within himself that, from the
delivery he lately had by the gift of Providence, he was not intended to
be liable to any more misfortunes and dangers of life, in the compass of
so small a voyage. But his lot was placed otherwise in the book of fate,
than he too fondly imagined: his time of happiness was dated some pages
lower down, and more rubs and difficulties were to be encountered with,
before his stars intended to lead him to the port of felicity. Just as
he arrived within sight of Amsterdam, a terrible storm arose, and, in
danger of their lives, for many hours, they weathered out the tempest;
and a calm promising fair afresh, they made to the coast of Zealand; but
a new hurricane prevented the ship from coming there also; and after
having lost their masts and rigging, they were driven into Lapland.
There they went ashore in order to careen and repair their ship, and
take in provisions; while the ship was repairing by the Dutch, our
islander made merry with the inhabitants, being the most inclined to
their superstitious customs; he there became acquainted with a very
beautiful woman, who fell in love with him, and after a very short space
of time he married her. About the time when the ship departed, his wife,
who was very rich, was big with child of a son, namely, Mr. Duncan
Campbell. He wrote a letter by the master of the vessel to his parents
in Shetland, concerning the various adventures he had met with, which
was delivered the June following, about the time of fishing, to his
parents, and several persons had copies thereof, and, for aught I know,
some retain them to this very day; sure I am that many remember the
particulars of this, surprising affair, who are now living in that
island.
The letter being very remarkable and singular in all its circumstances,
I shall present it to the reader word for word, as it was given into my
hands, together with some others which he wrote afterwards, in all
which I am assured by very credible persons, and undoubted authorities,
there are not the least alterations, but what the version of it from the
then Scotch manner of expression into a more modern English dress, made
absolutely necessary.
MY DEAREST FATHER,
The same odd variety of accident, which put it out of my power to
be personally present with you for so long a time, put it
likewise out of my power to write to you. At last fortune has so
ordered it, that I can send a letter to you before I can come
myself, and it is written expressly to tell you the adventures I
have met with, which have detained me this tedious space of time
from my dear father, and because the same captain of a ship that
brings you this, might as easily have brought your son to speak
for himself. I shall in the next place lay before you the
necessity there is for my stay a little longer among the strange
natives of the country where I now inhabit, and where I am, in a
manner, become naturalized.
You have, no doubt of it, been informed by my companions, some of
whom I hope got safe back again, if not all, that I was lost,
where many a brave man has perished before me, by going over the
high precipices of the mountain Brassah, in a basket, sliding
down by a rope. I must suppose I have given you the anguish of a
father for a son, who you thought had lost his life by such a
foolhardy attempt, and I implore your pardon with all the power
of filial contrition, penitence, and duty. You have always showed
me such singular marks of paternal affection, that I know your
receipt of this letter will fill your heart with joy, and cause
you to sign me an absolution and free pardon for all the errors I
have committed, and think the sufferings I have undergone for my
rashness and indiscretion, a sufficient atonement for my crime of
making you by my undutifulness, a partner of my sorrows. To free
you the more from this uneasiness, I know I need only tell you,
that every grief of mine is gone excepting one, which is, that I
must still lose the pleasure of seeing you a little longer. There
was never surely a more bitter night than that which must by me
be for ever remembered, when I was lost in the mountain of
Brassah, where I must, for aught I know, have lived for ever a
wild single inhabitant, but that the storm which made the night
so uneasy to me, rendered the first approach of daylight, beyond
measure delightful. The first providential glimpse of the morning
gave me a view of a ship driven by the tempest into a creek of
the rock, that was by nature formed like a harbour; a miraculous
security of deliverance, as I thought, both for the ship's crew
and myself. I made all the haste I could, you may be sure, to
them, and I found them to be Dutchmen that were come for fish;
but in lieu of fish I instructed them to load it with eggs and
fowl, which we compassed very happily in a short space of time,
and I was to be a sharer with the captain in the lading, and
bargained to go for Holland, to see the sale, and nature of the
traffic; but when we were at sea, after much bad weather, we made
towards Zealand, but we were driven upon the coast of Finland by
a new storm, and thence into Lapland, where I now am, and from
whence I send you this letter.
I could not come into a place so properly named for my reception;
as I had been undutiful to you, and fortune seemed to make me an
exile, or a banished man, by way of punishment for the vices of
my youth; so Lapland (which is a word originally derived from the
Finland word _lappi_, that is, exiles, and from the Sweden word
_lap_, signifying banished, from which two kingdoms most of our
inhabitants were banished hither, for not embracing the Christian
religion), was certainly the properest country in the world to
receive me.
When first I entered this country, I thought I was got into quite
another world; the men are all of them pigmies to our tall,
brawny Highlanders; they are, generally speaking, not above three
cubits high, insomuch that though the whole country of Lapland is
immensely large, and I have heard it reckoned by the inhabitants
to be above a hundred German leagues in length, and fourscore and
ten in breadth, yet I was the tallest man there, and looked upon
as a giant. The district in which I live now, is called Uma
Lapmark. You must understand, sir, that when I landed at North
Cape, in Kimi Lapmark, another district of Lapland, there was at
that time a most beautiful lady come to see a sick relation of
her father's, who was prefect, or governor of Uma Lapmark, which
is a post of great distinction. This lady, by being frequently in
the company of French merchants, who traffic now and then in that
province of Uma Lapmark, understood French, and having heard of a
man six foot and a half high, desired to see me, and when I
came, she happened mightily to like my person; and she talked
French, which when I answered, she made great signs of joy, that
she could communicate her sentiments to me, and she told me who
she was, how rich, and that not one in the company besides could
understand a syllable we said, and so I might speak my mind
freely to her; she told me the customs of the country, that it
was divided into cantons, like our shires, and those cantons into
rekars, or certain grounds allotted to families, that are just
like our clans. As she was beyond measure beautiful, she was
extremely good humoured, a thing rarely to be met among Lapland
women, of a better stature than her country women, and very rich,
and of good birth: I thought it would be a prodigious turn of
fortune, for a man in my circumstances, if I could make any
progress in her heart, which she seemed a little to open to me,
in such a manner, for the beginning, as if such a successful
event, if managed with prudence, might not be despaired off.
Souls that are generous are apt to love, and compassion is the
best introducer of love into a generous bosom, and that was the
best stock I had to go upon in my courtship! I told her of all my
calamities, my dangers, and my escapes; the goodness of my birth,
as being allied to one of the greatest nobles in our island; and
still she would ask me to tell it her over again, though every
time I told it, just at such and such passages, she was forced to
drop the tears from her eyes. In fine, I grew more in love with
her, more out of a sense of gratitude now, than by the power of
her charms before; the matter in a few days went so far, that she
owned to me I had her heart. As to marriage, I did not then know
the custom of the nation; I thought that if it proved only
dangerous to me, I loved her so well that I intended to marry
her, though the law was to pronounce me dead for it; but I did
not know whether it might not be perilous for her too, to engage
in such a state with me, and I resolved in that case, rather to
be singly unhappy, than to involve her in distress, and make her
the fair companion of my woes. I would not tell her so, for fear
she should out of love hide from me those dangers, and therefore
using a kind sort of dissimulation, I conjured her to tell me the
laws and customs of marriages in that country to a tittle, and
that nothing should hinder us from happiness. She told me
exactly, as I find since. Our marriage, said she, will be very
hard to compass; provided we follow the strict rule of the
country. For our women here, are bound not to see the man who
makes their addresses to them, in some time. His way of courtship
is to come to the parents, and his nearest friends and relations
must make her father presents, and supplicate him like a king, to
grant him his daughter. The courtship often lasts two or three
years, and sometimes has not its effect at last; but if it has,
the woman is dragged by her father and brother to church, as
unwilling to go to be married, which is looked upon as a greater
part of modesty in her, according to the greater disinclination
she shows. My father and brother, said she, will both be against
it; you have no relations in this country to move your suit, I
cannot be so hypocritical as to be dragged unwillingly to him I
own I desire for my lawful husband, and therefore, as I have an
inclination to you, and I dare own I have, I will not follow
those methods which I disapprove. I have talked with several
Swedes, and several polite Frenchmen, about their manner of
espousals, and I am told, that when souls are naturally united by
affection, the couple so mutually and reciprocally loving, though
they had rather have their parents' leave if likely to be got,
yet, unwilling to be disappointed, only go to the next minister's
and marry for better for worse. This way I approve of, for where
two persons naturally love each other, the rest is nothing but a
modest restraint to their wishes, and since it is only custom, my
own reason teaches me there is no error committed, nor any harm
done in breaking through it upon so commendable an occasion. I
have, added she, a thousand rein-deer belonging to me, beyond my
father's power of taking away, and a third share in a rekar or
clan, that is ten leagues in compass, in the byar or canton of
Uma Lapmark. This is at my own disposal, and it is all your own,
if you please to accept of it with me. Our women are very coy,
when they are courted, though they have never so much an
inclination to their suitor; but good reason and the commerce I
have had with persons of politer nations than ours is, teach me
that this proceeds entirely from vanity and affectation, and the
greatest proof of a woman's modesty, chastity, and sincerity,
certainly consists, contrary to the general corrupted opinion, in
yielding up herself into the arms of the man she loves. For she
that can dally with a heart she prizes, can give away her heart,
when she is once balked, to any man, even though she dislikes
him. You must judge, my dear father, I must be touched with a
woman that was exceeding beautiful, beyond any of her nation, and
who had thoughts as beautiful as her person. I therefore was all
in rapture, and longed for the matrimony, but still loved her
enough to propose the question, I resolved, to her, viz., if it
would not be in her nation accounted a clandestine marriage, and
prove of great damage to her.
To this she answered with all the wisdom which could be expected
from a woman who had given such eminent tokens of her judgment on
other points, amidst a nation so barbarous in its manners, and so
corrupt in its principles, as Lapland is. I am, said she,
answerable to my father, for nothing by our laws, having no
portion of him, but only what was presented me by my relations at
my birth, according to custom, in lands and rein-deer. My father
is but deputy governor; it is a Swede who is the governor of Uma;
and if I pay to him at every mart and fair the due tribute, which
must either consist of fifty rein-deer or one hundred and fifty
rixdollars, he will have the priest that marries us present at
the court of justice, according to our custom, and keep us in
possession of our rights, that we may be enabled to pay tribute
to the crown of Sweden. Indeed, before the abolition of the
Birkarti, which were our native judges, we could not have married
thus without danger to us both; but now there is none at all.
My dear father, you must easily imagine that I could not help
embracing with all tenderness so dear and so lovely a woman. In
fine, I am married to her, I have lived very happy hitherto, and
am now grown more happy, for she is big with child; and likely,
before my letter comes to your hands, to make you a grandfather
of a pretty boy. You will perhaps wonder that I name the sex of
the child before it comes into the world, but we have a way in
Lapland of finding that out, which though some judicious people
call superstitious, I am really persuaded of by experience, and
therefore I indulged my dear wife's curiosity, when she signified
to me she had a mind to make the usual trial, whether the child
she was going to be delivered of would be a boy or a girl.
You must understand, my dear father, the people here judge of
the sex of the child by the moon, unto which they compare a
big-bellied woman. If they see a star appear just above the moon,
it is a sign it will be a boy, but, if the star be just below the
moon, they conjecture her to be big with a girl. This observation
and remark of Laplanders has, I know, been accounted by some, and
those wise and judicious men too, to be ridiculously
superstitious; but I have been led into an easy belief of this
mystery, by a mistress that is superior to wisdom itself,
constant, and therefore probably infallible, experience. I
therefore indulged my wife in this her request, and went with her
to the ceremony; the star appeared above the moon, which
prognosticates a boy, which I wish may, and I scarce doubt will,
prove true, and when she is brought to bed I will send you word
of it. It is remarkable, likewise, that a star was seen just
before the moon, which we also count a very good omen. For it is
a custom likewise here in Lapland, to consult the moon, as an
oracle about the health and vigour of the child. If a star be
seen just before the moon, we count it a sign of a lusty and well
grown child, without blemish; if a star comes just after, we
reckon it a token that the child will have some defect or
deformity, or die soon after it is born.
Having thus told you the manners of the country I live in at
present, as much at large as the nature of a letter will permit,
and related to you my own happy circumstances, and the kindly
promises of the heavens that are ushering in the birth of my
child, I would not have you think that I addict myself to the
superstitions of the country, which are very many and groundless,
and arising partly from the remainder of Pagan worship, which is
still cultivated among some of the more obstinate inhabitants. I
have, on the contrary, since I married her, endeavoured to repay
my wife's temporal blessings to me with those that are endless,
instructed her in all the points of religion, and made her
perfectly a Christian; and she, by her devotion and prayers for
me, makes me such amends for it that I hope in us two St. Paul's
saying will be verified, viz., "That the woman shall be
sanctified in her husband, and the husband shall be sanctified in
his wife."
However, I must take notice in this place, with all due deference
to Christianity, that though I am obliged to applaud the prudence
and piety of Charles the Ninth of Sweden, who, constituting
Swedish governors over this country, abrogated their practice of
superstitions and art magic upon pain of death, yet that king
carried the point too far, and intermingled with these arts the
pretensions to the gift of a second-sight, which you know how
frequent it is with us in Scotland, and which, I assure you, my
wife (though she durst not publicly own it for fear of incurring
the penalty of those Swedish laws) does, as it were, inherit (for
all her ancestors before her have had it from time immemorial) to
a greater degree than ever I knew any of our countrywomen or
countrymen.
One day last week she distracted me between the extremes of joy
and sorrow. She told me I should see you shortly, and that my
coming son would grow to be one of the most remarkable men in
England and Scotland, for his power of foresight; but that I
should speedily lose her, and meet with difficulties in my own
country, in the same manner as my father, meaning you, sir, had
done before me, and on the same account, viz., of civil broils,
and intestine wars in Scotland.
These unfortunate parts of her relation I would not conceal from
you, because the veracity of her notions should appear, if they
are true, though you may be sure I much wish they all may prove
false to the very last; excepting that wherein she tells me, my
son will be greatly remarkable, and that I shall shortly see my
dear father, which I daily long for, and will endeavour to do as
soon as possible. Pray remember me to all friends; being,
Honoured sir,
Your most dutiful and loving son,
ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL.
* * * * *
THE SECOND LETTER.
I am now the happiest man alive; the prosperous part of my wife's
predictions, which I mentioned to you in my last, is come in some
measure to pass. The child she has brought me proves a boy, and
as fine a one as I ever beheld, (if fondness for my own makes me
not blind); and sure it cannot be fondness, because other plain
circumstances joined at his birth to prove it a more than
ordinary remarkable one. He was born with a caul upon his head,
which we count one of the luckiest signs that can be in nature;
he had likewise three teeth ready cut through the gums, and we
reckon that an undeniable testimony and promise given to the
world by nature, that she intends such a person for her
extraordinary favourite, and that he is born for great things,
which I daily beg of heaven may come to pass.
Since I have known for some months what it is to be a father, it
adds a considerable weight to those affections which I had for my
wife. I thought that my tenderness for her was at the height of
perfection before; which shows how little we know of those parts
of nature that we have yet never tried, and of which we have not
yet been allotted our share to act upon the stage of life. I find
that I did love her then as well as a husband could love a wife,
that is, a wife without a child; but the love to a wife that has
a child, is a feeling wonderful and inexpressibly different. A
child is the seal and the pledge of love. Meditating upon this,
has likewise doubled my affection to you. I loved you before, as
a son, and because as such, I felt your tenderness; but my love
is much increased now, because I know the tenderness which you
felt for me as a father. With these pleasing images of thought, I
often keep you nearer company at this vast distance, than when I
lived irregularly under your eye. These reflections render a
solitary life dear to me. And though I have no manner of
acquaintance with her relations, who hate me, as I am told, nor
indeed with almost any of the inhabitants, but my own domestics,
and those I am forced to deal with, yet I have as much, methinks,
as I wish for, unless I could come over to Shetland and live with
you, which I the more ardently desire, because I think I and my
wife could be true comforts to you, in your advanced years; now I
know what living truly is. I am daily persuading my wife to go
with me; but she denies me with kind expressions, and says, she
owes too much to the place, however less pleasant in itself than
other climates, where she had the happiness of first joining
hands with me in wedlock, ever to part from it. But I must
explain how I ask, and how she refuses. I resolved never directly
and downrightly to ask her, because I know she can refuse me
nothing; and that would be bearing hard upon the goodness of her
will. But my way of persuading her consists in endeavouring to
make her in love with the place, by agreeable descriptions of
it, and likewise of the humane temper of the people; so that I
shortly shall induce her to signify to me that it is her own will
to come with me, and then I shall seem rather to consent to her
will, than to have moved it over to my own. These hopes I have of
seeing my dear father very shortly, and I know such news would
make this letter, which I therefore send, more acceptable to him,
to whom I will be,
A most dutiful and
affectionate son, till death,
ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL.
P.S. If I cannot bring my wife to change this country for
another, I have brought her to that pitch of devotion, that
whenever Providence, which, notwithstanding her predictions, I
hope will be long yet, shall call her to change this world for
another, it will be happy with her there; she joins with me in
begging your blessing to me, herself, and our little Duncan, whom
we christened so, out of respect to the name you bear.
* * * * *
THE THIRD LETTER.
MY DEAR FATHER,
I am lost in grief; I had just brought my wife (her that was my
wife, for I have none now, I have lost all joy), in the mind of
coming over to be a comfort to you. But now grief will let me say
no more than that I am coming to beg comfort from you, and by
this I prepare you to receive, when he comes, a son in tears and
mourning.
ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL.
P.S. I have a babe, not much above two years old, must bear the
hardships of travelling over the ice, and all through Muscovy,
for no ships can stir here for many months; and I cannot bear to
live in this inhospitable place, where she died, that only could
make it easy to me, one moment beyond the first opportunity I
have of leaving it. She is in heaven; that should make me easy,
but I cannot; I am not so good a Christian as she was--I am lost
and ruined.
CHAPTER II.
AFTER THE DEATH OF MR. DUNCAN CAMPBELL'S MOTHER IN LAPLAND, HIS
FATHER, ARCHIBALD, RETURNED WITH HIS SON TO SCOTLAND. HIS SECOND
MARRIAGE, AND HOW HIS SON WAS TAUGHT TO WRITE AND READ.
Mr. Archibald Campbell, having buried his Lapland lady, returned to
Scotland, and brought over with him his son, Mr. Duncan Campbell. By
that time he had been a year in his own country, he married a second
wife; a lady whom I had known very well for some years, and then I first
saw the boy; but, as they went into the western islands, I saw them not
again in three years. She being, quite contrary to the cruel way much in
use among stepmothers, very fond of the boy, was accustomed to say, she
did, and would always think him her own son. The child came to be about
four years of age, as she has related to me the story since, and not
able to speak one word, nor to hear any noise; the father of him used to
be mightily oppressed with grief, and complain heavily to his new wife,
who was no less perplexed, that a boy so pretty, the son of so
particular a woman, which he had made his wife, by strange accidents and
adventures, and a child coming into the world with so many amazing
circumstances attending his birth, should lose those precious senses by
which alone the social commerce of mankind is upheld and maintained, and
that he should be deprived of all advantages of education, which could
raise him to the character of being the great man that so many
concurring incidents at his nativity promised and betokened he would be.
One day, a learned divine, who was of the university of Glasgow, but had
visited Oxford, and been acquainted with the chief men of science there,
happening to be in conversation with the mother-in-law of this child,
she related to him her son's misfortunes, with so many marks of sorrow,
that she moved the good old gentleman's compassion, and excited in him a
desire to give her what relief and consolation he could in this unhappy
case. His particular inclination to do her good offices, made him
recollect, that, at the time he was at Oxford, he had been in company
with one Doctor Wallis, a man famous for learning, who had told him that
he had taught a born deaf and dumb man to write, and to read, and even
to utter some sounds articulately with his mouth; and that he told him
he was then going to commit to print the method he made use of in so
instructing that person, that others, in the like unfortunate condition
might receive the same benefits and advantages from other masters, which
his deaf and dumb pupil had received from him. A dumb man recovering his
speech, or a blind man gaining his sight, or a deaf one getting his
hearing, could not be more overjoyed than Mrs. Campbell was at these
unexpected tidings, and she wept for gladness when he told it. The good
gentleman animated and encouraged her with the kindest promises, and to
keep alive her hopes, assured her he would send to one of the chief
booksellers in London to inquire after the book, who would certainly
procure it him if it was to be got, and that afterwards he would peruse
it diligently, make himself master of Doctor Wallis's method, and though
he had many great works upon his hands at that time, he would steal from
his other studies leisure enough to complete so charitable an office, as
teaching the dumb and deaf to read and to write, and give her son, who
was by nature deprived of them, the advantages of speech, as far as art
would permit that natural defect to be supplied by her powerful
interposition.
When the mother came home, the child, who could hear no knocking, and
therefore it must be by a strange and inexplicable instinct in nature,
was the first that ran to the door, and falling in a great fit of
laughter, a thing it was not much used to before, having on the contrary
rather a melancholy cast of complexion, it clung round its mother's
knees, incessantly embracing and kissing them, as if just at that time
it had an insight into what the mother had been doing for it, and into
its own approaching relief from its misery.
When the mother came with the child in her hand to the father, to tell
him the welcome news, the child burst afresh into a great fit of
laughter, which continued for an unusual space of time; and the scene of
such reciprocal affection and joy between a wife and her own husband, on
so signal an occasion, is a thing easier to be felt by parents of a good
disposition, imagining themselves under the same circumstances, with
regard to a child they loved with fondness, than to be expressed or
described by the pen of any writer. But it is certain, whenever they
spoke of this affair, as anybody, who knows the impatience of parents
for the welfare of an only child, may guess, they must be often
discoursing it over, and wishing the time was come; the boy, who used
seldom so much as to smile at other times, and who could never hear the
greatest noise that could be made, would constantly look wishfully in
their faces and laugh immoderately, which is a plain indication that
there was then a wonderful instinct in nature, as I said before, which
made him foretaste his good fortune, and, if I may be allowed the
expression, the dawnings as it were of the second-sight, were then
pregnant within him.
To confirm this, the happy hour of his deliverance being come, and the
doctor having procured Mr. Wallis's book, came with great joy, and
desired to see his pupil; scarce were the words out of his mouth when
the child happened to come into the room, and running towards the
doctor, fell on his knees, kissed his hand eagerly, and laughed as
before, which to me is a demonstration that he had an insight into the
good which the doctor intended him.
It is certain, that several learned men, who have written concerning the
second-sight, have demonstrated by incontestable proofs, and undeniable
arguments, that children, nay, even horses and cows, see the
second-sight, as well as men and women advanced in years. But of this I
shall discourse at large in its proper place, having allotted a whole
future chapter for that same subject of second-sightedness.
In about half a year, the doctor taught his little dumb pupil first to
know his letters, then to name anything whatsoever, to leave off some
savage motions which he had taken of his own accord before, to signify
his mind by, and to impart his thoughts by his fingers and his pen, in a
manner as intelligible, and almost as swift through the eyes, as that is
of conveying our ideas to one another, by our voices, through the
conduits and portholes of the ears. But in little more than two years he
could write and read as well as anybody. Because a great many people
cannot conceive this, and others pretend it is not to be done in nature,
I will a little discourse upon Doctor Wallis's foundation, and show in a
manner obvious to the most ignorant, how this hitherto mysterious help
may be easily administered to the deaf and the dumb, which shall be the
subject of the ensuing chapter.
But I cannot conclude this without telling the handsome saying with
which this child, when not quite six years old, as soon as he thought he
could express himself well, paid his first acknowledgment to his master,
and which promised how great his future genius was to be, when so witty
a child ripened into man. The words he wrote to him were these, only
altered into English from the Scotch.
SIR,
It is no little work you have accomplished. My thanks are too
poor amends; the world, sir, shall give you thanks; for as I
could not have expressed myself without your teaching me, so
those that can talk, though they have eyes, cannot see the things
which I can see, and shall tell them; so that in doing me this,
you have done a general service to mankind.
CHAPTER III.
THE METHOD OF TEACHING DEAF AND DUMB PERSONS TO WRITE, READ, AND
UNDERSTAND A LANGUAGE.
It is, I must confess, in some measure, amazing to me that men, of any
moderate share of learning, should not naturally conceive of themselves
a plain reason for this art, and know how to account for the
practicability of it, the moment they hear the proposition advanced; the
reasons for it are so obvious to the very first consideration we can
make about it. It will be likewise as amazing to me that the most
ignorant should not conceive it, after so plain a reason is given them
for it, as I am now going to set down.
To begin: how are children at first taught a language that can hear? are
they not taught by sounds? and what are those sounds, but tokens and
signs to the ear, importing and signifying such and such a thing? If,
then, there can be signs made to the eye, agreed by the party teaching
the child, that they signify such and such a thing, will not the eye of
the child convey them to the mind, as well as the ear? They are indeed
different marks to different senses, but both the one and the other do
equally signify the same things or notions, according to the will of the
teacher, and consequently must have an equal effect with the person who
is to be instructed, for though the manners signifying are different,
the things signified are the same.
For example; if, after having invented an alphabet upon the fingers, a
master always keeps company with a deaf child, and teaches it to call
for whatsoever it wants by such motions of the fingers which, if put
down by letters, according to each invented motion of each finger, would
form in writing a word of a thing which it wanted; might not he by these
regular motions teach its eye the same notions of things, as sounds do
to the ears of children that hear? The manner of teaching the alphabet
by fingers, is plainly set down in the following table.
When the deaf child has learned by these motions a good stock of words,
as children that hear first learn by sounds, we may, methinks, call not
improperly, the fingers of such a dumb infant, its mouth, and the eye of
such a deaf child, its ear. When he has learnt thus far, he must be
taught to write the alphabet, according as it was adapted to the motions
of his fingers; as for instance, the five vowels, _a_, _e_, _i_, _o_,
_u_, by pointing to the top of the five fingers, and the other letters,
_b_, _c_, _d_, &c., by such other place or posture of a finger, as in
the above-mentioned table is set forth, or otherwise, it shall be agreed
upon. When this is done, the marks B, R, E, A, D, and so of all other
words, corresponding with such fingers, conveys through his eyes, unto
his head, the same notion, viz., the thing signified, as the sound we
give to those same letters, making the word 'bread,' do into our head,
through the ears.
This once done, he may be easily taught to understand the parts of
speech, as the verb, the noun, pronoun, &c., and so, by rules of grammar
and syntax, to compound ideas, and connect his words into a language.
The method of which, since it is plainly set forth in Doctor Wallis's
letter to Mr. Beverly, I shall set it down by way of extract; that
people in the same circumstances with the person we treat of, and of the
like genius, may not have their talents lost for want of the like
assistance.
When once a deaf person has learned so far as to understand the common
discourse of others, and to express his mind tolerably well in writing,
I see no room to doubt but that, provided nature has endowed him with a
proper strength of genius, as other men that hear, he may become
capable, upon farther improvement, of such farther knowledge as is
attainable by reading. For I must here join with the learned Doctor
Wallis in asserting, as to the present case before us, that no reason
can be assigned why such a deaf person may not attain the understanding
of a language as perfectly as those that hear; and with the same learned
author I take upon me to lay down this proposition as certain, that
allowing the deaf person the like time and exercise, as to other men is
requisite in order to attain the perfection of a language, and the
elegance of it, he may understand as well, and write as good language,
as other men; and abating only what doth depend upon sound, as tones,
cadences, and such punctilios, no whit inferior to what he might attain
to, if he had his hearing as others have?
* * * * *
_An Extract from Dr. Wallis, concerning the method of teaching the Deaf
and Dumb to Read._
It is most natural, (as children learn the names of things), to furnish
him by degrees with a nomenclator, containing a competent number of
names of things common and obvious to the eye, that you may show the
thing answering to such a name, and these digested under convenient
titles, and placed under them in such convenient order, in several
columns, or other orderly situation in the paper, as by their position
best to express to the eye their relation or respect to one another. As
contraries or correlatives one against the other, subordinates or
appurtenances under their principle, which may serve as a kind of local
memory.
Thus, in one paper, under the title mankind, may be placed, not
confusedly, but in decent order, man, woman, child (boy, girl).
In another paper, under the title body, may be written, in like
convenient order, head (hair, skin, ear), face, forehead, eye (eyelid,
eyebrow), cheek, nose (nostril), mouth (lip, chin), neck, throat, back,
breast, side (right side, left side), belly, shoulders, arm (elbow,
wrist, hand,--back, palm), finger (thumb, buckle, nail), thigh, knee,
leg (shin, calf, ancle), foot (heel, sole), toe.
And when he hath learned the import of words in each paper, let him
write them in like manner, in distinct leaves or pages of a book,
prepared for that purpose, to confirm his memory, and to have recourse
to it upon occasion.
In a third paper, you may give him the inward parts; as skull (brain),
throat (windpipe, gullet), stomach, guts, heart, lungs, liver, spleen,
kidney, bladder (urine), vein (blood), bone (marrow), flesh, fat, &c.
In another paper, under the title beast, may be placed horse
(stonehorse, gelding), mare (colt), bull (ox), cow, calf. Sheep, ram
(wether), ewe (lamb), hog, boar, sow, pig, dog, (mastiff, hound,
greyhound, spaniel), bitch (whelp, puppy), hare, rabbit, cat, mouse,
rat, &c.
Under the title bird, or fowl, put cock, capon, hen, chick, goose
(gander), gosling, duck (drake), swan, crow, kite, lark, &c.
Under the title fish, put pike, eel, place, salmon, lobster, crawfish,
&c.
You may then put plants or vegetables under several heads or
subdivisions of the same head; as tree (root, body, bark, bough, leaf,
fruit), oak, ash, apple-tree, pear-tree, vine, &c. Fruit: apple, pear,
plum, cherry, grape, nut, orange, lemon. Flower; rose, tulip,
gilliflower herb, (weed), grass, corn, wheat, barley, rye, pea, bean.
And the like of inanimates; as heaven, sun, moon, star, element, earth,
water, air, fire; and under the title earth,--clay, sand, gravel, stone.
Metal; gold, silver, brass, copper, iron (steel), lead, tin (pewter),
glass. Under the title water, put sea, pond, river, stream; under that
of air, put light, dark, mist, fog, cloud, wind, rain, hail, snow,
thunder, lightning, rainbow. Under that of fire; coal, flame, smoke,
soot, ashes.
Under the title clothes, put woollen (cloth, stuff), linen (holland,
lawn, lockarum), silk, (satin, velvet), hat, cap, band, doublet,
breeches, coat, cloak, stocking, shoe, boot, shirt, petticoat, gown, &c.
Under the title house, put wall, roof, door, window, casement, room.
Under room, put shop, hall, parlour, dining-room, chamber, study,
closet, kitchen, cellar, stable, &c.
And under each of these, as distinct heads, the furniture or utensils
belonging thereunto; with divisions and subdivisions, as there is
occasion, which I forbear to mention, that I be not too prolix.
And in like manner, from time to time, may be added more collections, or
classes of names or words, conveniently digested, under distinct heads,
and suitable distributions, to be written in distinct leaves or pages of
his book in such order as may seem convenient.
When he is furnished with a competent number of names, though not so
many as I have mentioned, it will be seasonable to teach him under the
titles singular and plural, the formation of plurals from singulars, by
adding _s_, or _es_; as hand, hands; face, faces; fish, fishes, &c.,
with some few irregulars, as man, men; woman, women; foot, feet; tooth,
teeth; mouse, mice; louse, lice; ox, oxen, &c.
Which, except the irregulars, will serve for possessives, to be after
taught him, which are formed by their primitives by like addition of _s_
or _es_, except some few irregulars, as my, mine; thy, thine; our, ours;
your, yours; his, her, hers; their, theirs, &c.
And in all those and other like cases, it will be proper first to show
him the particulars, and then the general title.
Then teach him in another page or paper, the particles, a, an, the,
this, that, these, those.
And the pronouns, I, me, my, mine, thou, thee, thy, thine, we, us, our,
ours, ye, you, your, yours, he, him, his, she, her, hers, it, its, they,
them, their, shoes, heirs, who, whom, whose.
Then under the titles substantive, adjective, teach him to connect
these, as my hand, your head, his foot, his feet, her arm, her arms, our
hats, their John's coat, William's band, &c.
And in order to furnish him with more adjectives, under the title
colours, you may place black, white, gray, green, blue, yellow, red,
&c., and having showed the particulars, let him know that these are
called colours. The like for taste and smell; as sweet, bitter, sour,
stink.
And for hearing, sound, noise, word.
Then for touch or feeling, hot, warm, cold, cool, wet, moist, dry, hard,
soft, tough, brittle, heavy, light, &c.
From whence you may furnish him with more examples of adjectives with
substantives; as white bread, brown bread, green grass, soft cheese,
hard cheese, black hat, my black hat, &c.
And then inverting the order, substantive, adjective, with the verb
copulative between; as silver is white, gold is yellow, lead is heavy,
wood is light, snow is white, ink is black, flesh is soft, bone is hard,
I am sick, I am not well, &c., which will begin to give him some notion
of syntax.
In like manner when substantive and substantive are so connected; as
gold is a metal, a rose is a flower, they are men, they are women,
horses are beasts, geese are fowls, larks are birds, &c.
Then as those before relate to quality, you may give him some other
words relating to quantity. As long, short, broad, narrow; thick, thin;
high, tall, low; deep, shallow, great, big, small (little), much,
little; many, few, full, empty; whole, part, piece; all, some, none,
strong, weak, quick, slow, equal, unequal, bigger, less.
Then words of figure; as straight, crooked, plain, bowed, concave,
hollow, convex; round, square, three-square, sphere, globe, bowl, cube,
die, upright, sloping, leaning forward, leaning backward, like, unlike.
Of gesture; as stand, lie, sit, kneel, sleep.
Of motion; as move, stir, rest, walk, go, come, run, leap, ride, fall,
rise, swim, sink, drawn, slide, creep, crawl, fly, pull, draw, thrust,
throw, bring, fetch, carry.
Then words relating to time; place, number, weight, measure, money, &c.,
are, in convenient time, to be showed him distinctly; for which the
teacher, according to his discretion, may take a convenient season.
As likewise the time of the day; the days of the week, the days of the
month, the months of the year, and other things relating to the
almanack, which he will quickly be capable to understand, if once
methodically shown him.
As likewise the names and situation of places and countries, which are
convenient for him to know; which may be orderly written in his book,
and showed him in the map of London, England, Europe, the world, &c.
But these may be done at leisure, as likewise the practice of
arithmetic, and other like pieces of learning.
In the mean time, after the concord of substantive and adjective, he is
to be showed by convenient examples, that of the nominative and verb;
as, for instance, I go, you see, he sits, they stand, the fire burns,
the sun shines, the wind blows, the rain falls, the water runs, and the
like, with the titles in the top nominative verb.
After this, under the titles nominative verb, accusative, give him
examples of verbs transitive; as I see you, you see me, the fire burns
the wood, the boy makes the fire, the cook roasts the meat, the butler
lays the cloth, we eat our dinner.
Or even with a double accusative; as, you teach me writing or to write,
John teacheth me to dance, Thomas, tell me a tale, &c.
After this you may teach him the flexion or conjugation of the verb, or
what is equivalent thereunto; for in our English tongue each verb hath
but two tenses, the present and the preter; two participles, the active
and the passive; all the rest is performed by auxiliaries, which
auxiliaries have no more tenses than the other verbs.
Those auxiliaries are, do, did, will, would, shall, should, may, might,
can, could, must, ought, to, have, had, am, be, was. And if by examples
you can insinuate the signification of these few words, you have taught
him the whole flexion of the verb.
And here it will be convenient, once for all, to write him out a full
paradigm of some one verb, suppose 'to see,' through all those
auxiliaries.
The verb itself hath but these four words to be learned, see, saw,
seeing, seen, save that after thou, in the second person singular, in
both tenses, we add est, and in the third person singular, in the
present tense, eth or es, or instead thereof, st, th, s, and so in all
verbs.
Then to the auxiliaries, do, did, will, would, shall, should, may,
might, can, could, must, ought, to, we join the indefinite see. And
after have, had, am, be, was, the passive particle seen, and so for all
other verbs.
But the auxiliary, 'am,' or 'be,' is somewhat irregular in a double
form.
Am, art, is; plural are; was, wast, was; plural were.
Be, beest, be; plural be; were, wert, were; plural were.
Be, am, was, being, been.
Which, attended with the other auxiliaries, make us the whole passive
voice.
All verbs, without exceptions, in the active participle, are formed by
adding ing, as see, seeing; teach, teaching, &c.
The preter tense and the participle are formed regularly, by adding ed,
but are often subject to contractions and other irregularities,
sometimes the same in both, sometimes different, and therefore it is
convenient here to give a table of verbs, especially the most usual, for
those three cases, which may at once teach their signification and
formation; as boil, boiled; roast, roasted, roasted; bake, baked, baked,
&c.; teach, taught, taught; bring, brought, brought; buy, bought,
bought, &c.; see, saw, seen; give, gave, given; take, took, taken;
forsake, forsook, forsaken; write, wrote, written, &c.; with many more
fit to be learned.
The verbs being thus dispatched, he is then to learn the prepositions,
wherein lies the whole regimen of the noun. For diversity of cases we
have none, the force of which is to be insinuated by convenient
examples, suited to their different significations; as for instance,
_of_ a piece _of_ bread, a pint _of_ wine, the colour _of_ a pot, the
colour _of_ gold, a ring _of_ gold, a cup _of_ silver, the mayor _of_
London, the longest _of_ all, &c.
And in like manner, for, off, on, upon, to, unto, till, until, from, at,
in, within, out, without, into, out of; about, over, under; above,
below; between, among; before, behind, after; for, by, with, through,
against, concerning; and by this time he will be pretty well enabled to
understand a single sentence.
In the last place, he is in like manner to be taught conjunctions, which
serve to connect not words only, but sentences; as and, also; likewise,
either or whether; neither, nor, if, then, why, wherefore, because,
therefore, but, though, yet, &c.; and these illustrated by convenient
examples in each case, as, _Because_ I am cold, _therefore_ I go to the
fire, _that_ I may be warm, _for_ it is cold weather.
_If_ it were fair, _then_ it would be good walking, but however,
_though_ it rain, _yet_ I must go, _because_ I promised; with other like
instances.
And by this time his book, if well furnished with plenty of words, and
those well digested under several heads, and in good order, and well
recruited from time to time as new words occur, will serve him in the
nature of a dictionary and grammar.
And in case the deaf person be otherwise of a good natural capacity, and
the teacher of a good sagacity, by this method, proceeding gradually
step by step, you may, with diligence and due application of teacher and
learner, in a year's time, or thereabouts, perceive a greater progress
than you would expect, and a good foundation laid for farther
instruction in matters of religion and other knowledge which may be
taught by books.
It will be convenient all along to have pen, ink, and paper, ready at
hand, to write down in a word what you signify to him by signs, and
cause him to write, or show how to write what he signifies by signs,
which way of signifying their mind by signs deaf persons are often very
good at; and we must endeavour to learn their language, if I may so call
it, in order to teach them ours, by showing what words answer to their
signs.
It will be convenient, also, as you go along, after some convenient
progress made, to express, in as plain language as may be, the import of
some of the tables; as for instance:--
The head is the highest part of the body, the feet the lowest part; the
face is the fore part of the head, the forehead is over the eyes, the
cheeks are under the eyes, the nose is between the cheeks, the mouth is
under the nose and above the chin, &c.
And such plain discourse put into writing, and particularly explained,
will teach him by degrees to understand plain sentences; and like
advantages a sagacious teacher may take, as occasion offers itself from
time to time.
This extract is mostly taken out of the ingenious Dr. Wallis, and lying
hid in that little book, which is but rarely inquired after and too
scarcely known, died in a manner with that great man. And as he designed
it for the general use of mankind that laboured under the misfortune of
losing those two valuable talents of hearing and speaking, I thought it
might not be amiss (in the life of so particular a dumb person as I am
writing) to give them this small but particular fragment of grammar and
syntax.
It is exactly adjusted to the English tongue; because such are the
persons with whom the Doctor had to deal, and such the persons whose
benefit alone I consult in this treatise.
One of the chief persons who was taught by Dr. Wallis was Mr. Alexander
Popham, brother-in-law (if I am not mistaken) to the present Earl of
Oxford; and he was a very great proficient in this way; and though he
was born deaf and dumb, understood the language so well as to give under
his hand, many rare indications of a masterly genius.
The uncle of his present Sardinian Majesty, as I have been credibly
informed, had the want of the same organs, and yet was a perfect
statesman, and wrote in five or six different languages elegantly well.
Bishop Burnet, in his book of travels, tells us a wonderful story,
almost incredible; but tells it as a passage that deserves our belief.
It is concerning a young lady at Genoa, who was not only deaf and dumb,
but blind, too, it seems, into the bargain; and this lady, he assures us
as a truth, could, by putting her hand on her sister's mouth, know
everything she said.
But to return back to England. We have many rare instances of our own
countrymen, the principal of whom I shall mention, as their names occur
to my memory. Sir John Gawdy, Sir Thomas Knotcliff, Sir ---- Gostwick,
Sir Henry Lydall, and Mr. Richard Lyns of Oxford, were all of this
number, and yet men eminent in their several capacities, for
understanding many authors, and expressing themselves in writing with
wonderful facility.
In Hatton garden, there now lives a miracle of wit and good nature, I
mean the daughter of Mr. Loggin, who, though born deaf and dumb, (and
she has a brother who has the same impediments), yet writes her mind
down upon any subject with such acuteness as would amaze learned men
themselves and put many students that have passed for wits, to the
blush, to see themselves so far surpassed by a woman amidst that
deficiency of the common organs. If anybody speaks a word distinctly,
this lady will, by observing narrowly the motion of the speaker's lips
pronounce the word afterwards very intelligibly.
As there are a great many families in England and Ireland that have
several, and some even have five or six dumb persons belonging to them;
and as a great many more believe it impossible for persons born deaf and
dumb to write and read, and have thence taken occasion to say and assert
that Mr. Campbell could certainly speak, I could never think it a
digression in the history of this man's life to set down the grammar by
which he himself was taught, and which he has taught others (two of
which scholars of his are boys in this town), partly to confute the
slander made against him, and partly for the help of others dumb and
deaf, whose parents may by these examples be encouraged to get them
taught.
CHAPTER IV.
YOUNG DUNCAN CAMPBELL RETURNS WITH HIS MOTHER TO EDINBURGH. THE
EARL OF ARGYLE'S OVERTHROW. THE RUIN OF MR. ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL AND
HIS DEATH. YOUNG DUNCAN'S PRACTICE IN PREDICTION AT EDINBURGH
WHILE YET A BOY.
Our young boy, now between six and seven years of age, half a Highlander
and half a Laplander, delighted in wearing a little bonnet and plaid,
thinking it looked very manly in his countrymen, and his father, as soon
as he was out of his hanging sleeves, and left off his boy's vest,
indulged him with that kind of dress, which is truly antique and heroic.
In this early part of his nonage he was brought to Edinburgh by his
mother-in-law, where I myself grew afresh acquainted with her, his
father being then but lately dead, just after the civil commotion, and
off and on, I have known him ever since, and conversed with him very
frequently during that space of time, which is now about three or four
and thirty years, so that whatever I say concerning him in the future
pages I shall relate to the reader from my own certain knowledge, which,
as I resolved to continue anonymous, may, perhaps, not have so much
weight and authority as if I had prefixed my name to the account. Be
that as it will, there are hundreds of living witnesses that will
justify each action I relate, and his own future actions while he lives
will procure belief and credit to the precedent ones, which I am going
to record; so that if many do remain infidels to my relations, and will
not allow them exact (the fate of many as credible and more important
historians than myself), I can however venture to flatter myself that
greater will be the number of those who will have a faith in my writings
than of those who will reject my accounts as incredible.
Having just spoke of the decease of Mr. Archibald Campbell, the father
of our young Duncan Campbell, it will not be amiss here to observe how
true the predictions of his Lapland mother were, which arose from
second-sight, according to the notices given by the child's father, to
his grandfather, in his letter from Lapland, even before it was born,
which shows that the infant held this second-sighted power, or occult
faculty of divination, even by inheritance.
In the year 1685, the Duke of Monmouth and the Earl of Argyle sailed out
of the ports of Holland without any obstruction, the Earl of Argyle in
May; with three ships for Scotland, and Monmouth in June, with the same
number for England.
The Earl setting out first, was also the first at landing. Argyle having
attempted to land in the north of Scotland, and being disappointed by
the vigilance of the Bishop of the Orcades, landed in the west, and
encamped at Dunstaffnage Castle, in the province of Lorn, which had
belonged to him. He omitted nothing that might draw over to him all the
malcontents in the kingdom, whom he thought more numerous than they
afterwards appeared to be. He dispersed about his declarations, wherein,
after protesting that he had taken up arms only in defence of religion
and the laws, against an unjust usurper (so he styled James the Second),
he invited all good Protestants, and such Scotch as would assert their
liberty, to join him against a prince, he said, who was got into the
throne to ruin the Reformation, and to bring in Popery and arbitrary
power. Next he sent letters to those he thought his friends, among whom
was Mr. Archibald Campbell, who, according to the vast deference payed
by the Scots to their chief, joined him, though in his heart of quite a
different principle, to call them to his assistance. He detached two of
his sons to make inroads in the neighbourhood, and compel some by
threats, others by mighty promises, to join him. All his contrivances
could not raise him above three thousand men, with whom he encamped in
the Isle of Bute, where he was soon, in a manner besieged by the Earl of
Dumbarton, with the king's forces, and several other bodies, commanded
by the Duke of Gordon, the Marquis of Athol, the Earl of Arran, and
other great men, who came from all parts to quench the fire before it
grew to a head.
The Earl of Argyle being obliged to quit a post he could not make good,
went over into a part of the country of his own name, where, having
hastily fortified a castle called Ellingrey, he put into it the arms and
ammunition taken out of his ships, which lay at anchor under the cannon
of a fort he erected near that place. There his rout began; for going
out from the castle with his forces to make an incursion, one of his
parties was defeated by the Marquis of Athol, who slew four hundred of
his men; and Captain Hamilton, who attacked his ships with some of the
king's, and took them without any resistance.
The Earl of Dumbarton advancing towards him, at the same time, by long
marches, while he endeavoured to secure himself by rivers, surprised him
passing the Clyde in the village of Killern, as he was marching towards
Lenox. Dumbarton coming upon them at night, would have stayed till the
next day to attack the rebels, but they gave him not so much time, for
they passed the river in the night, in such confusion, that being
overcome by fear, they dispersed as soon as over. Argyle could scarce
rally so many as would make him a small guard, which was soon scattered
again; Dumbarton having passed the river, and divided his forces to
pursue those that fled. Argyle had taken guides to conduct him to
Galloway; but they mistaking the way, and leading him into a bog, most
of those that still followed him quitted their horses, every man
shifting for himself.
Argyle himself was making back alone towards the Clyde, when two
resolute servants, belonging to an officer in the king's army meeting
him, though they knew him not, bid him surrender. He fired at and missed
them; but they took better aim, and wounded him with a pistol ball. Then
the earl drawing his two pistols out of the holsters, quitted his horse,
that was quite tired, and took the river. A country fellow, who came
with those two, that had first assaulted him, pursued him with a pistol
in his hand; the earl would have fired one of his, but the flint failing
he was dangerously wounded in the head by the peasant. He discovered
himself as he fell senseless, crying out. Unfortunate Argyle. This
nobleman, how far soever he may be thought misled in principle, was
certainly in his person a very brave and a very gallant hero. They made
haste to draw him out and bring him to himself; after which, being
delivered up to the officers, the erring, unfortunate great man, was
conducted to Edinburgh and there beheaded.
Many gentlemen that followed the fortunes of this great man, though not
in his death, they shared in all the other calamities attending his
overthrow. They most of them fled into the remotest isles and the
obscurest corners of all Scotland; contented with the saving of their
lives; they grew exiles and banished men of their own making, and
abdicated their estates before they were known to be forfeited, because,
for fear of being informed against by the common fellows they commanded,
they durst not appear to lay their claims. Of this number was Mr.
Archibald Campbell, and this new disaster wounded him deep into the very
heart, after so many late misadventures, and sent him untimely to the
grave. He perfectly pined away and wasted; he was six months dying inch
by inch, and the difference between his last breath and his way of
breathing during all that time, was only, that he expired with a greater
sigh than he ordinarily fetched every time when he drew his breath.
Everything the Lapland lady had predicted so long before, being thus
come to pass, we may the less admire at the wonders performed by her
son, when we consider this faculty of divination to be so derived to him
from her, and grown as it were hereditary.
Our young prophet, who had taught most of his little companions to
converse with him by finger, was the head at every little pastime and
game they played at. Marbles, which he used to call children's playing
at bowls, yielded him mighty diversion; and he was so dexterous an
artist at shooting that little alabaster globe from between the end of
his forefinger and the knuckle of his thumb, that he seldom missed
hitting plum, as the boys call it, the marble he aimed at, though at the
distance of two or three yards. The boys always when they played coveted
to have him on their side, and by hearing that he foretold other things,
used to consult him, when they made their little matches, which were
things of great importance in their thoughts, who should get the
victory. He used commonly to leave these trifles undecided, but if ever
he gave his opinion in these trivial affairs, the persons fared well by
their consultation, for his judgment about them was like a petty oracle,
and the end always answered his prediction. But I would have my reader
imagine, that though our Duncan Campbell was himself but a boy, he was
not consulted only by boys; his penetration and insight into things of a
high nature, got air, and being attested by credible witnesses won him
the esteem of persons of mature years and discretion.
If a beautiful young virgin languished for a husband, or a widow's mind
was in labour to have a second venture of infants by another spouse; if
a housekeeper had lost anything belonging to her master, still little
Duncan Campbell was at hand; he was the oracle to be applied to, and the
little chalked circle, where he was diverting himself with his
play-fellows near the cross at Edinburgh, was frequented with as much
solicitation, and as much credit, as the tripos of Apollo was at Delphos
in ancient times.
It was highly entertaining to see a young blooming beauty come and slily
pick up the boy from his company, carry him home with as much eagerness
as she would her gallant, because she knew she should get the name of
her gallant out of him before he went, and bribe him with a sugarplum to
write down the name of a young Scotch peer in a green ribbon that her
mouth watered after.
How often after he has been wallowing in the dust, have I myself seen
nice squeamish widows help him up in their gilded chariots, and give him
a pleasant ride with them, that he might tell them they should not long
lie alone; little Duncan Campbell had as much business upon his hands as
the parsons of all the parishes in Edinburgh. He commonly was consulted,
and named the couples before the minister joined them; thus he grew a
rare customer to the toyshop, from whence he most usually received fees
and rewards for his advice. If Lady Betty Such a one was foretold that
she should certainly have Beau Such a one in marriage, then little
Duncan was sure to have a hobby-horse from the toyshop, as a reward for
the promised fop. If such a widow, that was ugly, but very rich, was to
be pushed hard for as she pretended, though in reality easily won,
little Duncan, upon insuring her such a captain, or such a
lieutenant-colonel, was sure to be presented from the same child's
warehouse, with a very handsome drum, and a silvered trumpet.
If a sempstress had an itching desire for a parson, she would, upon the
first assurance of him, give the little Apollo a pasteboard temple, or
church, finely painted, and a ring of bells into the bargain, from the
same toy-office.
If a housekeeper lost any plate, the thief was certain to be catched,
provided she took little master into the store room, and asked him the
question, after she had given him his bellyful of sweetmeats.
Neither were the women only his consulters; the grave merchants, who
were anxious for many ventures at sea, applied to the boy for his
opinion of their security, and they looked upon his opinion to be as
safe as the insurance office for ships. If he but told them, though the
ship was just set sail, and a tempest rose just after on the ocean, that
it would have a successful voyage, gain the port designed, and return
home safe laden with the exchange of traffic and merchandize, they
dismissed all their fears, banished all their cares, set their hearts at
ease, and, safe in his opinion, enjoyed a calm of mind amidst a storm of
weather.
I myself knew one Count Cog, an eminent gamester, who was a person so
far from being of a credulous disposition, that he was an unbeliever in
several points of religion, and the next door to an infidel; yet, as
much as he was a stranger to faith, he was mastered and overpowered so
far in his incredulity by the strange events which he had seen come
frequently to pass from the predictions of this child, that he had
commonly daily access to this boy to learn his more adverse and more
prosperous hours of gaming. At first indeed he would try, when the child
foretold him his ill fortune, whether it would prove true, and relying
upon the mere hazard and turn of the die, he had always, as he observed,
a run of ill luck on those forbidden days, as he never failed of good if
he chose the fortunate hours directed by the boy. One time above all the
rest, just before he was departing from Edinburgh, and when the season
of gaming was almost over--most persons of wealth and distinction
withdrawing for pleasure to their seats in the country--he came to young
Duncan Campbell to consult, and was extremely solicitous to know how
happily or unluckily he should end that term, as we may call it, of the
gamester's weighty business, viz., play, there being a long vacation
likely to ensue, when the gaming table would be empty, and the box and
dice lie idle and cease to rattle. The boy encouraged him so well with
his predictions on this occasion, that Count Cog went to the toyshop,
brought him from thence a very fine ivory T totum, as children call it,
a pretty set of painted and gilded little ninepins and a bowl, and a
large bag of marbles and alloys; and what do you think the gamester got
by this little present and the prediction of the boy? why, without
telling the least tittle of falsehood, within the space of the last
week's play, the gains of Count Cog really amounted to no less than
20,000_l_. sterling neat money.
Having mentioned these persons of so many different professions by
borrowed names, and perhaps in a manner seemingly ludicrous, I would not
have my reader from hence take occasion of looking on my account as
fabulous. If I was not to make use of borrowed names, but to tell the
real characters and names of the persons, I should do injury to those
old friends of his who first gave credit to our young seer, while I am
endeavouring to gain him the credit and esteem of new ones, in whose way
it has not yet happened to consult him. For many persons are very
willing to ask such questions as the foregoing ones; but few or none
willing to have the public told they asked them; though they succeeded
in their wish, and were amply satisfied in their curiosity. I have
represented them perhaps in a ludicrous manner, because though they are
mysterious actions they are still the actions of a boy, and as the
rewards he received for his advices did really and truly consist of such
toys as I mentioned, so could they not be treated of in a more serious
manner, without the author's incurring a magisterial air of pedantry,
and showing a mind, as it were, of being mighty grave and sententious
about trifles. There are, however, some things of greater weight and
importance done by him in a more advanced stage of life, which will be
delivered to the public with that exactitude and gravity which becomes
them; and in some of those relations the names of some persons that are
concerned shall be printed, because it will not at all be injurious to
them, or because I have their leave, and they are still living to
testify what I shall relate.
In the mean time, as the greatest part of his nonage was spent in
predicting almost innumerable things, which are all, however, reducible
to the general heads above mentioned, I will not tire the reader with
any particulars; but instead of doing that, before I come to show his
power of divination, in the more active parts of his life, and when
after removing from Edinburgh to London, he at last made it his public
profession; I shall account how such divinations may be made, and divert
the reader with many rare examples, taken from several faithful and
undoubted historians, of persons who have done the like before him, some
in one way, and some in another; though in this he seems to be peculiar,
and to be, if I may be allowed the expression, a species by himself,
alone in the talent of prediction; that he has collected within his own
individual capacity all the methods which others severally used, and
with which they were differently and singly gifted in their several ways
of foreseeing and foretelling.
This art of prediction is not attainable any otherwise, than by these
three ways; first, it is done by the company of familiar spirits and
genii, which are of two sorts; some good and some bad; who tell the
gifted person the things of which he informs other people. Secondly, it
is performed by the second-sight, which is very various, and differs in
most of the possessors, it being but a very little in some, very
extensive and constant in others; beginning with some in their infancy,
and leaving them before they come to years; happening to others in a
middle age, to others again in an old age, that never had it before, and
lasting only for a term of years, and now and then for a very short
period of time; and in some, intermitting, like fits as it were, of
vision, that leave them for a time, and then return to be as strong in
them as ever, and it being in a manner hereditary to some families,
whose children have it from their infancy, without intermission, to a
great old age, and even to the time of their death, which they often
foretell before it comes to pass, to a day, nay, even to an hour.
Thirdly, it is attained by the diligent study of the lawful part of the
art of magic.
Before I give the reader an account, as I shall do in three distinct
discourses, first, concerning the intercourse which familiar spirits,
viz., the good and bad genii, have had and continue to have to a great
degree with some select parts of mankind; secondly, concerning the
wonderful and almost miraculous power of a second-sight, with which
many, beyond all controversy, have been extraordinarily but visibly
gifted; and, thirdly, concerning the pitch of perfection to which the
magic science has been carried and promoted by some adepts in that
mysterious art; I will premise a few particulars about the genii which
attended our little Duncan Campbell, and about the second-sight which he
had when yet a child, and when we may much more easily believe that the
wonders he performed and wrote of, must have been rather brought about
by the intervention of such genii and the mediation of such a sight,
than that he could have invented such fables concerning them, and
compassed such predictions as seem to want their assistance, by the mere
dint of a child's capacity.
One day, I remember, when he was about nine years of age, going early to
the house where he and his mother lived, and it being before his mother
was stirring, I went into little Duncan Campbell's room to divert myself
with him, I found him sitting up in his bed with his eyes broad open,
but as motionless as if he had been asleep, or even, if it had not been
for a lively beautiful colour which the little pretty fair silver-haired
boy always had in his cheeks, as if he had been quite dead; he did not
seem so much as to breathe; the eyelids of him were so fixed and
immoveable, that the eyelashes did not so much as once shake, which the
least motion imaginable must agitate; not to say that he was like a
person in an ecstacy, he was at least in what we commonly call a brown
study, to the highest degree, and for the largest space of time I ever
knew. I, who had been frequently informed by people who have been
present at the operations of second-sighted persons, that at the sight
of a vision the eyelids of the person are erected, and the eyes continue
staring till the object vanishes; I, I say, sat myself softly down on
his bed-side, and with a quiet amazement observed him, avoiding
diligently any motion that might give him the least disturbance, or
cause in him any avocation or distraction of mind from the business he
was so intent upon. I remarked that he held his head sideways, with his
mouth wide open, and in a listening posture, and that after so lively a
manner, as, at first general thought, made me forget his deafness, and
plainly imagine he heard something, till the second thought of
reflection brought into my mind the misfortune that shut up all passage
for any sound through his ears. After a steadfast gaze, which lasted
about seven minutes, he smiled, and stretched his arms as one recovering
from a fit of indolence, and rubbed his eyes; then turning towards me,
he made the sign of a salute, and hinted to me, upon his fingers, his
desire for pen, ink, and paper, which I reached him from a little desk
that stood at his bed's feet.
Placing the paper upon his knees, he wrote me the following lines, which
together with my answers I preserve by me, for their rarity, to this
very day, and which I have transcribed word for word, as they form a
little series of dialogue.
_Duncan Campbell._ I am sorry I cannot stay with you; but I shall see my
pretty youth and my lamb by and by, in the fields, near a little coppice
or grove, where I go often to play with them, and I would not lose
their company for the whole world; for they and I are mighty familiar
together, and the boy tells me everything that gets me my reputation
among the ladies and nobility, and you must keep it secret.
_My question._ I will be sure to keep it secret; but how do you know you
are to meet them there to-day? Did the little boy appoint you?
_Duncan Campbell._ Yes, he did, and signified that he had several things
to predict to me concerning people, that he foreknew would come to me
the week following to ask me questions.
_My question._ But what was you staring at when I came in?
_Duncan Campbell._ Why, at that little boy that goes along with the lamb
I speak of, and it was then he made me the appointment.
_My question._ How does he do it? Does he write?
_Duncan Campbell._ No, he writes sometimes, but oftener he speaks with
his fingers, and mighty swift; no man can do it so quick, or write half
so soon; he has a little bell in his hand, like that which my mother
makes me a sign to shake when she wants the servants: with that he
tickles my brain strangely, and gives me an incredible delight of
feeling in the inside of my head; he usually wakes me with it in the
morning when he comes to make me an appointment. I fancy it is what you
call hearing, which makes me mighty desirous I could hear in your way;
it is sweeter to the feeling, methinks, than anything is to the taste;
it is just as if my head was tickled to death, as my nurse used to
tickle my sides; but it is a different feeling, for it makes things like
little strings tremble in my temples and behind my ears. Now I remember,
I will tell you what it is like, that makes me believe it is like your
hearing, and that strange thing which you that can speak, call sound or
noise: because, when I was at church with my mother, who told me the
bells could be heard ringing a mile off, as I was kneeling on the bench,
and leaning over the top of the pew and gnawing the board, every time
the man pulled the rope, I thought all my head beat as if it would come
to pieces, but yet it pleased me methought, rather than pained me, and I
would be always gnawing the board when the man pulled the rope, and I
told my mother the reason: the feeling of that was something like the
little bell, but only that made my head throb, as if it would break, and
this tickles me, and makes, as it were, little strings on the back of my
ears dance and tremble like anything; is not that like your way of
hearing? If it be, it is a sweet thing to hear; it is more pleasant than
to see the finest colours in the world; it is something like being
tickled in the nose with a feather till one sneezes, or like the feeling
after one strikes the leg when it has been numb, or asleep, only with
this difference, that those two ways give a pain, and the other a
pleasure. I remember, too, when I had a great cold, for about two
months, I had a feeling something like it, but that was blunt, dull,
confused, and troublesome. Is not this like what you call hearing?
_My question._--It is the finest kind of hearing, my dear: it is what we
call music. But what sort of a boy is that that meets you? and what sort
of a lamb?
_Duncan Campbell._ Oh! though they are like other boys and other lambs
which you see, they are a thousand times prettier and finer? you never
saw such a boy nor such a lamb in your lifetime.
_My question._ How big is he? As big as you are? And what sort of a boy
is he?
_Duncan Campbell._ He is a little little pretty boy, about as tall as my
knee, his face is as white as snow, and so are his little hands; his
cheeks are as red as a cherry, and so are his lips; and when he
breathes, it makes the air more perfumed than my mother's sweet bags
that she puts among the linen; he has got a crown of roses, cowslips,
and other flowers upon his head, such as the maids gather in May; his
hair is like fine silver threads, and shine like the beams of the sun;
he wears a loose veil down to his feet, that is as blue as the sky in a
clear day, and embroidered with spangles, that look like the brightest
stars in the night; he carries a silver bell in one hand, and a book and
pencil in the other, and he and the little lamb will dance and leap
about me in a ring as high as my head; the lamb has got a little silver
collar with nine little bells upon it; and every little piece of wool
upon its back, that is as white as milk, is tied up all round it in
puffs, like a little miss's hair, with ribbons of all colours; and round
its head, too, are little roses and violets stuck very thick into the
wool that grows upon its forehead, and behind and between its ears, in
the shape of a diadem. They first meet me dancing thus; and after they
have danced some time, the little boy writes down wonderful things in
his book, which I write down in mine; then they dance again, till he
rings his bell, and then they are gone all of a sudden, I know not
where; but I feel the tinkling in the inside of my head caused by the
bell less and less, till I don't feel it at all, and then I go home,
read over my lesson in my book, and when I have it by heart, I burn the
written leaves, according as the little boy bids me, or he would let me
have no more. But I hear the little bell again, the little boy is angry
with me, he pulled me twice by the ear, and I would not displease him
for anything, so I must get up and go immediately to the joy and delight
of my life.
I told him he might, if he would promise me to tell me farther another
time; he said he would, if I would keep it secret. I told him I would,
and so we parted; though just before he went, he said he smelt some
venison, and he was sure they would shortly have some for dinner; and
nothing was so sure as that, my man had my orders to bring a side of
venison to me the next day to Mrs. Campbell's, for I had been hunting,
and came thither from the death of a deer that morning; and intended, as
usual, to make a stay there for two or three days.
There are, I know, many men of severe principles, and who are more
strict, grave, and formal in their manner of thinking, than they are
wise, who will be apt to judge of these relations as things merely
fabulous and chimerical, and not contented with being disbelievers by
themselves, will labour to insinuate into others this pernicious notion,
that it is a sign of infirmity and weakness in the head to yield them
credit. But though I could easily argue these Sir Gravities down, though
a sentence or two would do their business, put them beyond the power of
replying, and strike them dumb, yet do I think it not worth my while;
their greatest and most wonted objection against these Eudemons and
Kakodemons, being, that it arises all from the work of fancy, in persons
of a melancholic blood. If we consider the nature of this child's
dialogue with me, will it not be more whimsically strange and
miraculous, to say that a child of nine years' old had only a fancy of
such things as these, of which it had never heard anybody give an
account, and that it could, by the mere strength of imagination, predict
such things as really after came to pass, than it is, when it does so
strangely predict things, to believe the child does it in the manner
itself owns it does, which is by the intervention of a good demon, or a
happy genius. Departing, therefore, from these singular and wise men's
opinions, who will believe nothing excellent can happen to others, which
it has not been their lot to enjoy a share of, I shall take my farewell
hastily of them, without losing my own time or theirs, in the words of
the ingenious Monsieur le Clerc: _Acerbos homines non moror, indignos
quippe, qui haec studia tractent, aut quorum, judicii ulla ratio
habeatur._
I shall rather see how far these things have lain open to the eyes of,
and been explained by the ancient sages; I will relate who among them
were happy in their genii, and who among the moderns, whose examples may
be authorities for our belief; I will set down as clearly as I can what
perception men have had of genii or spirits by the sense of seeing; what
by the sense of hearing; what by the sense of feeling, touching, or
tasting; and in fine, what perception others have had of these genii by
all the senses, what by dreams, and what by magic, a thing rarely to be
met with at once in any single man, and which seems particular to the
child, who was the subject of our last little historical account. When I
have brought examples and the opinions of wise philosophers, and the
evidence of undeniable witnesses, which one would think sufficient to
evince persons of the commerce men have with spirits, if they were not
past all sense of conviction; I shall, not so much to corroborate what I
say, as to shame some wiseacres, who would by their frail reason scan
all things, and pretend to solve the mysteries ascribed to spirits, as
facts merely natural, and who would banish from the thoughts of men all
belief of spirits whatsoever, I shall, I say, in order to put to shame
these wiseacres, if they have any shame left, produce the opinions of
the Fathers as divines, show the doctrines of spirits in general to be
consistent with Christianity, that they are delivered in the Scripture
and by Christian tradition, in which, if they will not acquiesce, I
shall leave them to the labyrinth of their own wild opinions, which in
the end will so perplex their judgments of things, that they will be
never able to extricate themselves; and these different heads will be
the subject of the chapter ensuing; and will, or I am greatly mistaken,
form both an instructive, edifying, and entertaining discourse, for a
reader really and truly intelligent, and that has a good taste and
relish for sublime things.
CHAPTER V.
AN ARGUMENT PROVING THE PERCEPTION WHICH MEN HAVE, AND HAVE HAD,
BY ALL THE SENSES, AS SEEING, HEARING, ETC., OF DEMONS, GENII, OR
FAMILIAR SPIRITS.
It is said in the ninth book of the Morals of Aristotle, It is better to
come at the probable knowledge of some things above us in the heavens,
than to be capable of giving many demonstrations relating to things here
below. This is no doubt an admirable proposition, and speaks the lofty
aims of that sublime mind from whence it proceeded. Among all the
disquisitions in this kind, none seem to me more excellent than those
which treat concerning the genii that attend upon men, and guide them in
the actions of life. A genius, or demon, of the good kind, is a sort of
mediate being, between human and divine, which gives the mind of man a
pleasant conjunction with angelic and celestial faculties, and brings
down to earth a faint participation of the joys of heaven. That there
have been such fortunate attendants upon wise men, we have many rare
instances. They have been ascribed to Socrates, Aristotle, Plotinus,
Porphyrius, Iamblicus, Chicus, Scaliger, and Cardan. The most celebrated
of all these ancients, was Socrates; and as for his having a genius, or
demon, we have the testimonies of Plato, Xenophon, and Antisthenes, his
contemporaries, confirmed by Laertius, Plutarch, Maximus Tyrius, Dion
Chrysostomus, Cicero, Apuleius, Ficinus, and others; many of the
moderns, besides Tertullian, Origen, Clemens Alexandrinus, Austin, and
others; and Socrates himself, in Plato's Theage, says, By some divine
lot I have a certain demon which has followed me from my childhood as an
oracle; and in the same place intimates that the way he gained his
instruction, was by hearing the demon's voice. Nothing is certainly so
easy as for men to be able to contradict things, though never so well
attested, with such an air of truth as to make the truth of the history
doubted by others as well as themselves, where no demonstrative proof
can be brought to convince them. This has been the easy task of those
who object against the demon of Socrates; but when no demonstrative
proof is to be had on either side, does not wisdom incline us to lean to
the most probable? Let us then consider whether the evidences are not
more credible, and witnesses of such a thing are not persons of more
authority than these men are, who vouchsafe to give no reason but their
own incredulity, for maintaining the contrary, and whether those,
therefore, by the right rule of judging, ought not much sooner than
these, to gain over our assent to their assertions?
We will, however, laying aside the histories of those ancient times, the
sense whereof, by various readings and interpretations being put upon
the words, is rendered obscure and almost unintelligible, descend to
more modern relations, the facts whereof shall be placed beyond doubt,
by reason of the evidences we will bring to attest them, and shall
consequently prove the perception men have of spirits, or genii, by
every sense.
SECTION I.
We will first begin as to the perception of spirits by the sight.
Mr. Glanvil, in his Collections of Relations, for proving Apparitions,
Spirits, &c., tells us of an Irishman that had like to have been carried
away by spirits, and of the ghost of a man, who had been seven years
dead, that brought a medicine to his bed-side.
The relation is thus:--
A gentleman in Ireland, near to the Earl of Orrery's, sending his butler
one afternoon to buy cards, as he passed a field, to his wonder, he
espied a company of people sitting round a table, with a deal of good
cheer before them, in the midst of the field; and he, going up towards
them, they all arose and saluted him, and desired him to sit down with
them; but one of them whispered these words in his ear: Do nothing this
company invites you to. Hereupon he refused to sit down at the table,
and immediately table and all that belonged to it were gone, and the
company are now dancing and playing upon musical instruments. And the
butler being desired to join himself with them, but he refusing this
also, they all fall to work, and he not being to be prevailed with to
accompany them in working, any more than in feasting or dancing, they
all disappeared, and the butler is now alone; but instead of going
forwards, home he returns, as fast as he could drive, in a great
consternation; and was no sooner entered his master's door, but he fell
down and lay some time senseless, but coming again to himself, he
related to his master what had passed.
The night following, there comes one of his company to his bed-side, and
tells him, that if he offered to stir out of the doors the next day, he
would be carried away. Hereupon he kept within; but towards the evening,
having need to make water, he adventured to put one foot over the
threshold (several standing by), which he had no sooner done but they
espied a rope cast about his middle; and the poor man was hurried away
with great swiftness, they following him as fast as they could, but
could not overtake him; at length they espied an horseman coming towards
him, and made signs to him to stop the man whom he saw coming near him,
and both ends of the rope, but nobody drawing; when they met he laid
hold of one end of the rope, and immediately had a smart blow given him
over his arm with the other end; but by this means the man was stopped,
and the horseman brought him back with him.
The Earl of Orrery hearing of these strange passages, sent to the master
to desire him to send this man to his house, which he accordingly did;
and the morning following, or quickly after, he told the earl that his
spectre had been with him again, and assured him that that day he should
most certainly be carried away, and that no endeavours should avail to
the saving of him; upon this he was kept in a large room with a
considerable number of persons to guard him, among whom was the famous
stroaker, Mr. Greatrix, who was a neighbour. There were, besides other
persons of quality, two bishops in the house at the same time, who were
consulted concerning the making use of a medicine, the spectre or ghost
prescribed, of which mention will be made anon, but they determined on
the negative.
Till part of the afternoon was spent, all was quiet; but at length he
was perceived to rise from the ground, whereupon Mr. Greatrix and
another lusty man clapped their arms over his shoulders, one of them
before him, and the other behind, and weighed him down with all their
strength; but he was forcibly taken up from them, and they were too weak
to keep their hold, and for a considerable time he was carried into the
air, to and fro over their heads, several of the company still running
under him to prevent his receiving hurt if he should fall; at length he
fell, and was caught before he came to the ground, and had by that means
no hurt.
All being quiet till bed-time, my lord ordered two of his servants to
lie with him, and the next morning he told his lordship, that his
spectre was again with him, and brought a wooden dish with grey liquor
in it, and bid him drink it off; at the first sight of the spectre he
said he endeavoured to awake his bed-fellows; but it told him, that that
endeavour should be in vain; and that he had no cause to fear him, he
being his friend, and he that at first gave him the good advice in the
field, which had he not followed, he had been before now perfectly in
the power of the company he saw there; he added, that he concluded it
was impossible but that he should have been carried away the day before,
there being so strong a combination against him; but now he could assure
him there would be no more attempts of that nature, but he being
troubled with two sorts of sad fits, he had brought that liquor to cure
him of them, and bid him drink it; he peremptorily refusing, the spectre
was angry, and upbraided him with great disingenuity, but told him,
however, he had a kindness for him, and that if he would take plantain
juice he should be well of one sort of fits, but he should carry the
other to his grave; the poor man having by this somewhat recovered
himself, asked the spectre whether by the juice of plantain he meant
that of the leaves or roots? It replied, The roots.
Then it asked him whether he did not know him? He answered, No; it
replied, I am such a one; the man answered he had been long dead; I have
been dead, said the spectre or ghost, seven years, and you know that I
lived a loose life, and ever since, I have been hurried up and down in a
restless condition with the company you saw, and shall be to the day of
judgment; then he proceeded to tell him, that had he acknowledged God in
his ways, he had not suffered such severe things by their means; and
farther said, you never prayed to God before that day you met with this
company in the fields.
This relation was sent to Dr. Henry More by Mr. E. Fowler, who said, Mr.
Greatrix told it several persons; the Lord Orrery also owned the truth
of it; and Mr. Greatrix told it to Dr. Henry More himself, who
particularly inquired of Mr. Greatrix about the man's being carried up
into the air, above men's heads, in the room, and he did expressly
affirm that he was an eye-witness thereof.
A vision which happened to the ingenious and learned Dr. Donne, may not
improperly be here inserted. Mr. Isaac Walton, writing the life of the
said doctor, tells us, that the doctor and his wife, living with Sir
Robert Drury, who gave them a free entertainment at his house in
Drury-lane, it happened that the Lord Haye was by King James sent in an
embassy to the French King, Henry IV., whom Sir Robert resolved to
accompany, and engaged Dr. Donne to go with them, whose wife was then
with child, at Sir Robert's house. Two days after their arrival at
Paris, Dr. Donne was left alone in that room in which Sir Robert and he
and some other friends had dined together. To this place Sir Robert
returned within half an hour; and as he left so he found Dr. Donne
alone, but in such an ecstacy, and so altered in his looks, as amazed
Sir Robert to behold him, insomuch that he earnestly desired Dr. Donne
to declare what had befallen him in the short time of his absence. To
which Dr. Donne was not able to make a present answer; but after a long
and perplexed pause, did at last say, I have seen a dreadful vision,
since I saw you; I have seen my dear wife pass twice by me, through this
room, with her hair hanging about her shoulders, and a dead child in her
arms; this I have seen since I saw you. To which Sir Robert replied,
Sure, sir, you have slept since I saw you, and this is the result of
some melancholy dream, which I desire you to forget, for you are now
awake. To which Dr. Donne's reply was, I cannot be surer that I now live
than that I have not slept since I saw you, and am as sure at her second
appearing she stopped and looked me in the face and vanished. Rest and
sleep had not altered Dr. Donne's opinion the next day; for he then
affirmed this vision with a more deliberate and so confirmed a
confidence, that he inclined Sir Robert to a faint belief that the
vision was true, who immediately sent a servant to Drury house, with a
charge to hasten back and bring him word whether Mrs. Donne were alive;
and if alive, what condition she was in as to her health. The twelfth
day the messenger returned with this account; that he found and left
Mrs. Donne very sad and sick in bed, and that after a long and
dangerous labour she had been delivered of a dead child, and upon
examination the abortion proved to be the same day, and about the very
hour that Dr. Donne affirmed he saw her pass by in his chamber. Mr.
Walton adds this, as a relation which will beget some wonder, and well
it may, for most of our world are at present possessed with an opinion
that visions and miracles are ceased, and though it is most certain that
two lutes both being strung and tuned to an equal pitch, and then one
played upon, the other, that is not touched, being laid upon the table
at a fit distance, will, like an echo to a trumpet, warble a faint,
audible harmony in answer to the same tune, yet many will not believe
that there is any such thing as a sympathy with souls, &c.
SECTION II.
I shall next relate some little histories to show what perception men
have had of spirits by the sense of hearing. For, as Wierus says,
spirits appear sometimes invisibly, so that only a sound, voice, or
noise, is perceived by men, viz., a stroke, knocking, whistling,
sneezing, groaning, lamenting, or clapping of the hands, to make men
attent to inquire or answer.
In Luther's Colloquia Mensalia, &c., set forth in Latin, at Frankfort,
anno 1557, it being a different collection from that of Aurifaber, which
is translated from high Dutch into English. We have the following
relation:--
It happened in Prussia, that as a certain boy was born, there presently
came to him a genius, or what you please to call it, for I leave it to
men's judgments, who had so faithful a care of the infant, that there
was no need either of mother or servant; and, as he grew up, he had a
like care of him; he went to school with him, but so, that he could
never be seen either by himself, or any others in all his life.
Afterwards he travelled into Italy, he accompanied him, and whensoever
any evil was like to happen to him, either on the road or in the inn, he
was perceived to foretell it by some touch or stroke; he drew off his
boots as a servant; if he turned his journey another way, he continued
with him, having the same care of him in foretelling evil; at length he
was made a canon; and as, on a time, he was sitting and feasting with
his friends in much jollity, a vehement stroke was struck on a sudden on
the table, so that they were all terrified; presently the canon said to
his friends, be not afraid, some great evil hangs over my head. The next
day he fell into a great fever, and the fit continued on him for three
whole days, till he died, miserably.
Captain Henry Bell, in his narrative prefixed to Luther's Table, printed
in English, anno 1652, having acquainted us how the German copy printed
of it had been discovered under ground, where it had lain hid fifty-two
years, that edition having been suppressed by an edict of the Emperor
Rudolphus the second, so that it was death for any person to keep a copy
thereof; and having told us that Casparus van Spar, a German gentleman,
with whom he was familiarly acquainted, while he negotiated affairs in
Germany for King James the first, was the person that discovered it,
anno 1626, and transmitted it into England to him, and earnestly desired
him to translate the said book into English, says, he accordingly set
upon the translation of it many times, but was always hindered from
proceeding in it by some intervening business. About six weeks after he
had received the copy, being in bed with his wife, one night, between
twelve and one of the clock, she being asleep, but himself awake, there
appeared to him an ancient man standing at his bed-side, arrayed all in
white, having a long and broad white beard hanging down to his girdle,
who taking him by his right ear, said thus to him: Sirrah! will you not
take time to translate that book which is sent unto you out of Germany?
I will shortly provide for you both place and time to do it; and then he
vanished. Hereupon, being much affrighted, he fell into an extreme
sweat, so that his wife awaking and finding him all over wet, she asked
him what he ailed? He told her what he had seen and heard; but he never
regarded visions nor dreams, and so the same fell out of his mind. But a
fortnight after, being on a Sunday; at his lodging in King-street,
Westminster, at dinner with his wife, two messengers were sent from the
whole council-board, with a warrant to carry him to the Gate-house,
Westminster, there to be kept till farther order from the lords of the
council; upon which warrant he was kept there ten whole years close
prisoner, where he spent five years of it in translating the said book,
having good cause to be mindful of the old man's saying: I will shortly
provide for you both place and time to translate it.
Though the perception of spirits chiefly affects the hearing and seeing
faculties, yet are not the other senses without some participation of
these genial objects, whether good or evil; for, as St. Austin says, The
evil work of the devil creeps through all the passages of the senses; he
presents himself in figures, applies himself to colours, adheres to
sounds, introduces odours, infuses himself in savours, and fills all the
passages of intelligence; sometimes cruelly tormenting with grief and
fear, sometimes sportingly diverting man or taunting with mocks; and on
the other hand, as the learned Walter Hilton, a great master of
contemplative life, in his Scale of Perfection sets forth, that
appearances or representations to the corporeal senses may be both good
and evil.
But before I conclude upon this head, to give still more weight and
authority to the perception men have had of these genii, both by the
senses of hearing and seeing, I will relate two very remarkable
fragments of history of this kind, told us by persons who demand our
credit, and done within the memory of our grandfathers and fathers.
The first is concerning that Duke of Buckingham who was stabbed by
Felton, August the twenty-third, 1628.
Mr. Lilly, the astrologer, in his book entituled Monarchy or No
Monarchy, in England, printed in quarto, 1651; having mentioned the Duke
of Buckingham, writes as follows: Since I am upon the death of
Buckingham, I shall relate a true story, of his being admonished often
of the death he should die, in this manner:--
An aged gentlemen, one Parker, as I now remember, having formerly
belonged unto the duke, or of great acquaintance with the duke's father,
and now retired, had a demon appeared several times to him in the shape
of Sir George Villiers, the duke's father: this demon walked many times
in Parker's bedchamber, without any action of terror, noise, hurt, or
speech; but at last, one night, broke out in these words: Mr. Parker, I
know you loved me formerly, and my son George at this time very well, I
would have you go from me, you know me very well to be his father, old
Sir George Villiers of Leicestershire, and acquaint him with these and
these particulars, &c.; and that he above all refrain the council and
company of such and such, whom he then nominated, or else he will come
to destruction, and that suddenly. Parker, though a very discreet man,
partly imagined himself in a dream all this time; and being unwilling to
proceed upon no better grounds, forbode addressing himself to the duke;
for he conceived, if he should acquaint the duke with the words of his
father, and the manner of his appearance to him, such apparitions being
not usual, he should be laughed at and thought to dote, in regard he was
aged. Some few nights past without farther trouble to the old man, but
not very many nights after, old Sir George Villiers appeared again,
walked quick and furiously in the room, seemed angry with Parker, and at
last said, Mr. Parker, I thought you had been my friend so much, and
loved my son George so well, that you would have acquainted him with
what I desired, but I know you have not done it; by all the friendship
that ever was betwixt you and me, and the great respect you bear my son,
I desire you to deliver what I formerly commanded you to my son. The old
man seeing himself thus solicited, promised the demon he would, but
first argued it thus, that the duke was not easy to be spoken withal,
and that he would account him a vain man to come with such a message
from the dead: nor did he conceive the duke would give any credit to
him; to which the demon thus answered: If he will not believe you have
this discourse from me, tell him of such a secret and named it, which he
knows none in the world ever knew but myself and him. Mr. Parker being
now well satisfied that he was not asleep, and that the apparition was
not a vain delusion, took a fit opportunity, and seriously acquainted
the duke with his father's words and the manner of his apparition. The
duke laughed heartily at the relation, which put old Parker to a stand,
but at last he assumed courage, and told the duke that he acquainted his
father's ghost with what he found now to be true, viz., scorn and
derision. But, my lord, says he, your father bid me acquaint you by this
token, and he said it was such as none in the world but your two selves
did yet know. Hereat the duke was amazed and much astonished, but took
no warning or notice thereof, keeping the same company still, advising
with such counsellors and performing such actions as his father by
Parker countermanded. Shortly after, old Sir George Villiers, in a very
quiet but sorrowful posture, appears again to Parker, and said, Mr.
Parker, I know you delivered my words to George, my son, I thank you for
so doing, but he slighted them, and now I only request this more at your
hands, that once again you repair to my son, and tell him that if he
will not amend, and follow the counsel I have given him, this knife or
dagger, and with that he pulled a knife or dagger from under his gown,
shall end him; and do you, Mr. Parker, set your house in order, for you
shall die at such a time. Mr. Parker once more engaged, though very
unwillingly, to acquaint the duke with the last message, and so did; but
the duke told him to trouble him no farther with such messages and
dreams, and told him he perceived he was now an old man and doted; and
within a month after, meeting Mr. Parker on Lambeth bridge, said, Now,
Mr. Parker, what say you of your dream? Who only returned; Sir, I wish
it may never have success, &c. But within six weeks after, he was
stabbed with a knife, according to his father's admonition beforehand,
and Mr. Parker died soon after he had seen the dream or vision
performed.
This relation is inserted also in the great Lord Clarendon's History,
and in Sir R. Baker's Chronicle. The Lord Clarendon, in his History,
vol. i. lib. i., having given some relations, says, that amongst others,
there was one, meaning this of Parker, which was upon a better
foundation of credit than usually such discourses are founded upon. And
he tells us that Parker 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 Villiers, the father of the duke
lived, and had been much cherished 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 the apparition was
seen. After the third appearance, he made a journey to London, where the
court then was; he was very well known to Sir Ralph Freeman, one of the
masters of the requests, who had married a lady that was nearly allied
to the duke, and was himself well received by him. He informed the duke
with the reputation and honesty of the man, and Sir Ralph Freeman
carried the man the next morning, by five of the clock, to Lambeth,
according to the duke's appointment, and there presented him to the
duke, who received him courteously at his landing, and walked in
conference near an hour with him, and Sir Ralph's and the duke's
servants at such a distance that they heard not a word; but Sir Ralph
always fixed his eyes on the duke, who sometimes spoke with great
commotion and disorder; and the man told Sir Ralph in their return over
the water, that when he mentioned those particulars that were to gain
him credit, the duke's colour changed, and he swore he could come to
that knowledge only by the devil; for that those particulars were known
only to himself and to one person more, who, he was sure, would never
speak of them. So far the Lord Clarendon.
I will now subjoin an authentic relation, which Mr. Beaumont tells us at
the end of his book of Genii, or Familiar Spirits, printed in the year
1705, he had just before received from the mouth of the then Bishop of
Gloucester himself. It is as follows, word for word:--
Sir Charles Lee, by his first lady, had only one daughter, of which she
died in childbirth; and when she died, her sister, the Lady Everard,
desired to have the education of the child; and she was by her very well
educated till she was marriageable; and a match was concluded for her
with Sir William Perkins, but was then prevented in an extraordinary
manner. Upon a Thursday night, she thinking she saw a light in her
chamber after she was in bed, knocked for her maid, who presently came
to her; and she asked why she left a candle burning in her chamber? The
maid said she left none, and there was none, but what she brought with
her at that time. Then she said it was the fire; but that the maid told
her was quite out, and said she believed it was only a dream: whereupon
she said it might be so, and composed herself again to sleep; but about
two of the clock she was awakened again, and saw the apparition of a
little woman between her curtain and her pillow, who told her she was
her mother, and that she was happy, and that by twelve of the clock that
day she should be with her; whereupon she knocked again for her maid,
called for her clothes, and when she was dressed, went into her closet,
and came not out again till nine; and then brought out with her a
letter, sealed, to her father, brought it to her aunt, the Lady Everard,
told her what had happened, and desired that, as soon as she was dead,
it might be sent to him; but the lady thought she was suddenly fallen
mad; and thereupon sent presently away to Chelmsford for a physician and
surgeon, who both came immediately, but the physician could discern no
indication of what the lady imagined, or of any indisposition of her
body; notwithstanding, the lady would needs have her let blood, which
was done accordingly; and when the young woman had patiently let them do
what they would with her, she desired that the chaplain might be called
to read prayers, and when prayers were ended, she took her guitar and
psalm book, and sat down upon a chair without arms, and played and sung
so melodiously and admirably, that her music master, who was then there,
admired at it; and near the stroke of twelve, she rose and sat herself
down in a great chair with arms, and presently fetching a strong
breathing or two, immediately expired, and was so suddenly cold as was
much wondered at by the physician and surgeon. She died at Waltham, in
Essex, three miles from Chelmsford; and the letter was sent to Sir
Charles, at his house in Warwickshire; but he was so afflicted with the
death of his daughter, that he came not till she was buried: but when he
came he caused her to be taken up, and to be buried by her mother at
Edmonton, as she desired in her letter. This was about the year one
thousand six hundred and sixty-two or sixty-three; and this relation the
Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of Gloucester had from Sir Charles Lee
himself; and Mr. Beaumont printed it in his book above mentioned, from
the bishop's own mouth.
The relations which I have given above, are not like the trifling
accounts too often given of these things, and therefore causing grave
ones to be ridiculed in common with them. They are of that nature, that,
whoever attempts to ridicule them, will, instead of turning them into
jest, become the object of ridicule himself.
The first story, which has in it such amazing circumstances, and such
uncommon and dreadful incidents concerning the butler in Ireland, is, as
the reader sees, attested by no less a personage than an Earl of Orrery,
two bishops, and many other noblemen and gentlemen being present and
eye-witnesses of what the earl said. What greater testimony would the
most incredulous have? They say such things are told for interest. What
interest could an earl and many noblemen have in promoting such an
imposture? The incredulous say, likewise, great and learned men delight
sometimes in putting frauds upon the world, and after laugh at their
credulity. Would a number of noble laymen choose two prelates to carry
on such a fraud; and would two pious bishops probably combine with
several, and some servants there present, in spreading such a deceit?
It is past believing, and it demands the strictest of moral faith that
can be given to the most unquestioned history that the pen of man ever
wrote.
The second story is founded, first, upon the experience of one of the
most ingenious men of that age, Dr. Donne, and then upon the proof made
by his friend Sir Robert Drury, who could at first scarce believe it;
and shall we doubt the credit of men, whose company, for their credit be
it spoken, a British ambassador was proud of gaining.
The third story is told by Luther himself, who began the great work of
the Reformation.
The fourth is told by one that was a king's public minister and told
from his own trial of the matter, where he could have no interest in the
telling it.
The fifth is related by those great historians, the Lord Clarendon and
Sir Richard Baker, as a truth relied upon by themselves, and fit to be
credited by their readers.
The sixth and last was related to Mr. Beaumont, by the Lord Bishop of
Gloucester, who received the account from Sir Charles Lee himself, to
whose granddaughter the matter happened.
Men who will not believe such things as these, so well attested to us,
and given us by such authorities, because they did not see them
themselves, nor anything of the like nature, ought not only to deny the
demon of Socrates, but that there was such a man as Socrates himself;
they should not dispute the genii of Caesar, Cicero, Brutus, Marc Antony,
but avow that there were never any such men existing upon earth, and
overthrow all credible history whatsoever. Meanwhile, all men, but those
who run such lengths in their fantastical incredulity, will, from the
facts above mentioned, rest satisfied, that there are such things as
evil and good genii, and that men have sometimes a commerce with them by
all their senses, particularly those of seeing and hearing, and will not
therefore be startled at the strange fragments of histories which I am
going to relate of our young Duncan Campbell, and look upon some
wonderful adventures which he performed by the intervention of his
familiar demon or genius, as falsehoods, only because they are uncommon
and surprising, more especially since they were not done in a corner,
but by an open way of profession of a predictor of things, in the face
of the metropolis of London, where he settled young, as will appear in
the progress of his life. However, some people, notwithstanding all
this, may allege, that though a man may have a genius appear to him, so
as to convey into his mind, through his senses, the knowledge of things
that are to come to pass, yet this happens but on very eminent and
extraordinary occasions. The murder, for example, of a prime minister,
and the favourite of a monarch, in such a manner as it was performed on
the great Duke of Buckingham, by Felton, was a thing so uncommon, that
it might perhaps deserve, by the permission of Heaven, an uncommon
prediction; the others likewise are instances eminent in their way,
particularly that of the lady Everard's niece; for that young lady being
then marriageable, and a treaty for that end being on foot with Sir
William Perkins, the Divine Providence foreseeing that such a state
might call away her thoughts, hitherto bent on him and spiritual
affairs, and fix them on the trifles of this world, might perhaps permit
her to be called by a holy mother to the state of happiness she before
her enjoyed, lest her daughter's mind should change, and she go into the
ways of a sinner. But if these supereminent, these scarce and rare
examples, may be admitted of man's holding a conversation with the
spiritualized beings of another world; it will, however, be far below
the dignity of human reason, methinks, to make such large concessions to
people who pretend to converse that wonderful way, as to allow them the
credit of being able to do it upon every slight occasion, and every
indifferent occurrence of human life.
I cannot help acknowledging, that a man of wisdom may at first thought,
make such an objection; but reflection will presently retract it, and
the same good sense that taught him to make an objection so well upon
the first thought, will teach him, upon second thoughts, to acquiesce in
the answer.
Infants may have, no doubt, the benefit of such an attending genius, as
well as people more advanced in years; as may be seen in one of the
instances, which is a very famous one, relating to the boy born in
Prussia, who was attended by one constantly, from the time of his birth
to his death. Besides, it is a mistake in the understanding to imagine,
that death, which is the determination and end of life, is of more
consequence to be known than the manner of regulating that life; for in
reality, according to the right way of considering death, or the
determination of a man's life, derives its importance from the steps
which he took in the due regulation of it; and therefore, every, the
least step proper to be taken for the due regulation of life, is of more
consequence to be known than the death of a person, though this at first
sight carries the face of significance, and the other nothing better
than the look of a trifle. Marriage, for example, is a step in life of
the utmost importance, whether we consider that estate with regard to
this, or the next world. Death is but the finishing of one person, but
marriage may be the introducing of many into the world with happiness;
it is therefore a thing of more importance to be known beforehand, and
consequently more worthy of the communication of a genius, to the man
with whom he conversed. Posidonius tells us, that a certain Rhodian
dying, nominated six of his equals, and said who should die first, who
next, and so on, and the event answered the prediction; why, then,
though some people are apt to make a jest of it, may not a man, by the
intervention of his good genius, tell a woman that is to have six
husbands, who she shall have first, who next, and so on, and the event
answer the prediction? If men of learning may acquire such knowledge as
to attain to extraordinary things by their ordinary faculties, why may
not ordinary things be taught others in this extraordinary way? For will
anybody say that it is easier for a man to accommodate himself to the
knowledge of a demon or genius than for a demon or genius to accommodate
himself to the knowledge of a man? Certain it is, indeed, that if this
good genius, that induces a man with a prophetic kind of science, be
anything resembling a good angel, the primary end of his being permitted
to direct mankind must consist in things relating more to their welfare
hereafter: yet I know not why they may not sometimes inspire, or openly
direct them in human knowledge, and in things relating to human life, so
they are of a good tendency; more especially since such a good
inspiration may be a counterbalance to the bad knowledge which some have
been inspired with by evil spirits. I would not be thought to go too far
in a point of this nature, and have, therefore, though perhaps I could
say much more if I followed entirely my own private opinion, and would
venture to introduce it here, in order to communicate it to others, and
make it a public one, said no more on this head than what divines
generally teach.
But the most unexceptionable mistress, that teaches these things to be
in nature, is experience. If we had very many people gifted this way,
the extraordinary thing would have been become ordinary, and therefore I
cannot help wondering that it should be so ordinary a thing for wise men
themselves to wonder too much at things because they are extraordinary,
and suspect them as frauds because they are uncommon.
There has scarce been any period of time in which some person of this
prophetic class has not existed, and has not been consulted by the
greatest of men, and their predictions found at the long run to come
true; ignorant men always rise to their belief of them by experience,
and the most learned men submit their great opinions to experience, but
your men of middling talents, who make up their want of reason with
bustling obstinacy and noisy contradiction, have been and still continue
to be their own opposers, and without discovering the reason for what
they say, they content themselves with having the laugh on their sides,
and barely affirming without proving, that it is a kind of ideal juggle
and intellectual legerdemain, by which these modern predictors impose
things upon the eye of reason, as the corporeal eye is imposed upon by
sleight of hand; but it is a strange thing that men of such quick reason
cannot give us a sample of the frauds. Thus, I remember to have read, I
cannot tell where, the story of some courtiers, who, when a great artist
of legerdemain was to act before the King, pretended to be so
quick-sighted, that nothing he did should escape their discovery, were
left by his nimble fingers in the dark, and forced at last with blushes
to own they had no better eyes than other people. In a word, if people
will be led by suspicions and remote possibilities of fraud and
contrivance of such men, all historical truth shall be ended, when it
consists not with a man's private humour or prejudice to admit it. Now,
therefore, to prove by experience and undeniable testimonies, that these
kind of genii will submit to little offices, in order to bring men to
greater good, I will give three or four curious passages that will set
the reasonable reader at ease, and prepare him for reading the passages
of Mr. Campbell's life with pleasure, and as a fine history of wonderful
facts, that, though they seem to surpass belief, yet ought to have his
credit.
What in nature can be more trivial than for a spirit to employ himself
in knocking on a morning at a wainscot by the bed's-head of a man who
got drunk over-night, according to the way that such things are
ordinarily explained? And yet I shall give you such a relation of this,
that not even the most devout and precise Presbyterian will offer to
call in question. For Mr. Baxter, in his Historical Discourse of
Apparitions, writes thus:--
There is now in London an understanding, sober, pious man, oft one of my
hearers, who has an elder brother, a gentleman of considerable rank,
who, having formerly seemed pious, of late years does often fall into
the sin of drunkenness, he often lodges long together here in his
brother's house; and whensoever he is drunk and has slept himself sober,
something knocks at his bed's-head, as if one knocked on a wainscot;
when they remove his bed it follows him; besides other loud noises, on
other parts where he is, that all the house hears; they have often
watched him, and kept his hands lest he should do it himself. His
brother has often told it me, and brought his wife, a discreet woman, to
attest it; who avers, moreover, that as she watched him, she has seen
his shoes under the bed taken up, and nothing visible to touch them.
They brought the man himself to me, and when we asked him how he dare
sin again after such a warning, he had no excuse: but being persons of
quality, for some special reason of worldly interest, I must not name
him.
Two things are remarkable in this instance, says Mr. Baxter. First, what
a powerful thing temptation and fleshly concupiscence is, and what a
hardened heart sin brings men to; if one rose from the dead to warn such
sinners, it would not of itself persuade them.
Secondly, says Mr. Baxter, it poses me to think what kind of spirit this
is that has such a care of this man's soul, which makes me hope he will
recover. Do good spirits dwell so near us, or are they sent on such
messages? or is it his guardian angel? or is it the soul of some dead
friend that suffers? and yet, retaining love to him, as Dives to his
brethren, would have him saved? God yet keeps such things from us in the
dark.
So far we have the authority of the renowned and famous Mr. Baxter, who
makes this knocking of the spirit at the bed's-head, though what we
commonly call frivolous, an important errand.
Another relation of this kind was sent to Mr. John Beaumont, whom I
myself personally know, and which he has inserted in his Account of
Genii, or Familiar Spirits, in a letter by an ingenious and learned
clergyman of Wiltshire, who had given him the relation likewise before,
by word of mouth. It is as follows:--
Near eighty years since, in the parish of Wilcot, which is by Devizes,
in the vicar's house, there was heard for a considerable time the sound
of a bell constantly tolling every night. The occasion was this: A
debauched person who lived in the parish came one night very late and
demanded the keys of the church of the vicar, that he might ring a peal,
which the vicar refused to let him have, alleging the unseasonableness
of the time, and that he should, by granting his desires, give a
disturbance to Sir George Wroughton and his family, whose house adjoined
the churchyard. Upon this refusal, the fellow went away in a rage,
threatening to be revenged of the vicar, and going some time after to
Devizes, met with one Cantle or Cantlow, a person noted in those days
for a wizard, and he tells him how the vicar had served him, and begs
his help to be even with him. The reply Cantle made him was this; Does
he not love ringing? he shall have enough of it: and from that time a
bell began to toll in his house, and continued so to do till Cantle's
death, who confessed at Fisherton gaol, in Sarum, where he was confined
by King James during his life, that he caused that sound, and that it
should be heard in that place during life. The thing was so notorious
that persons came from all parts to hear it; and King James sent a
gentleman from London on purpose to give him satisfaction concerning the
truth of the report. Mr. Beaumont had likewise this story, as he tells,
from the mouth of Sir George Wroughton's own son; with this remarkable
circumstance, that if any in the house put their heads out of the window
they could not hear the sound, but heard it immediately again as soon as
they stood in the room.
The reader here sees that good and bad genii exercise themselves upon
very little functions, knocking at bed's-heads, and ringing of bells.
For proof of this we have the testimonies of two divines, of a man of
quality and probity, and the same satisfaction that a learned king had,
who sent to inquire into the matter; and after this there can be, I
think, no room for doubt.
But to carry the point still nearer home; inasmuch as I know some will
leave no stone unturned to make the extraordinary actions which the
person whose life I write has performed, appear impostures, and inasmuch
as for this end they may say, that though many people may have been
gifted in this extraordinary manner, yet not so as to make a profession
of it, and therefore, from thence they take their suspicions, I shall in
this place, to remove every nicest scruple they can have touching this
affair, give the reader one instance of this kind likewise, before I
proceed with my history.
There lived not many years since a very aged gentlewoman in London, in
Water-lane, by Fleet-street, whose name was Pight, who was endowed with
a prophetic spirit; and the ingenious Mr. Beaumont, whom I personally
knew, and who had a familiar genius himself, gives the world this
account of her. She was very well known, says he, to many persons of my
acquaintance now living in London. Among others, a gentleman, whose
candour I can no way suspect, has told me, that he often resorted to her
as to an oracle; and that as soon as he came into her presence, she
would usually tell him, that she knew what he was coming for, for that
she had seen his spirit for some time before; and without his saying
anything to her, she would commonly tell him what the business was which
he came to consult her about, and what the event of it would be; which
he always found to fall out as she said, and many other persons now
living can testify the like experience of her as to themselves.
Before I conclude this chapter, I am willing to give the public one
farther little history of the like kind with the foregoing ones, with
this only difference, that if it be valued according to the worth the
world has always attributed to the very ingenious person whom it
concerns, it will be far the most famous of them all, and therefore
fittest to finish this chapter, and to crown this part of the work, in
which we are showing that persons have had a perception of genii or
spirits, not visible at the same time to others.
The famous Torquatus Tasso, Prince of the Italian poets, and scarce
inferior to the immortal Virgil himself, and who seems to enjoy the
intermingled gifts of the most accurate judgment of this Latin poet, and
the more fertile and copious invention and fancy of the Greek one,
Homer, strongly asserted his own experience in this kind. His life was
written and published in French, anno 1692, by D.C.D.D.V. who, in his
preface, tells us, that in what he writ he has followed chiefly the
history given us in Italian by John Baptista Manso, a Neapolitan
gentleman, who had been a very intimate friend to Tasso. In his life,
among other things, he acquaints us that Tasso was naturally of that
melancholic temperament, which has always made the greatest men, and
that this temperament being aggravated by many hardships he had
undergone, it made him sometimes beside himself, and that those
melancholic vapours being despatched, he came again to himself, like
those that return from fits of the falling sickness, his spirit being as
free as before. That, near his latter end, he retired from the city of
Naples, to his friend Manso, at Bisaccia, a small town in the kingdom of
Naples, where Manso had a considerable estate, and passed an autumn
there in the diversions of the season.
And here the French author gives us an account of Tasso's sensible
perception of a genius, as follows:--As after these amusements, he
usually retired to his chamber, to entertain himself there with his
friend Manso, the latter had the opportunity to inquire into one of the
most singular effects of Tasso's melancholy, of this heroic melancholy,
as I may call it, which raised and brightened his spirit, so far it was
from depressing or rendering it obscure; and which, among the ancients,
would have reasonably caused them to have ascribed a familiar demon to
him, as to Socrates. They were often in a warm debate concerning this
spirit, with which Tasso pretended to have so free a communication. I am
too much your friend, said Manso to him one day, not to let you know
what the world thinks of you concerning this thing, and what I think of
it myself. Is it possible, that being enlightened as you are, you should
be fallen into so great a weakness as to think you have a familiar
spirit; and will you give your enemies that advantage, to be able to
prove by your own acknowledgment, what they have already published to
the world? You know, they say, you did not publish your Dialogue of the
Messenger, as a fiction; but you would have men believe that the spirit
which you make to speak there, was a real and true spirit; hence men
have drawn this injurious consequence, that your studies have embroiled
your imagination, so that there is made in it a confused mixture of the
fictions of the poets, the inventions of the philosophers, and the
doctrine of religion.
I am not ignorant, answered Tasso, of all that is spread abroad in the
world on account of my Dialogue; I have taken care divers times to
disabuse my friends, both by letter and word of mouth: I prevented even
the malignity of my enemies, as you know at the time I published my
Dialogue. Men could not be ignorant that I composed it for the young
Prince of Mantua, to whom I would explain after an agreeable manner, the
principal mysteries of the Platonic philosophy. It was at Mantua itself,
after my second flight from Ferrara, that I formed the idea of it, and I
committed it to paper a little after my unfortunate return. I addressed
it to this prince, and all men might have read in the epistle
dedicatory, the protestation I there make, that this dialogue, being
written according to the doctrine of the Platonics, which is not always
conformable to revealed truths, men must not confound what I expose
there as a philosopher, with what I believe as a Christian. This
distinction is by so much the more reasonable, that at that time nothing
extraordinary had happened to me, and I spake not of any apparition.
This can be attested by all those with whom I lodged, or whom frequented
in this voyage; and therefore there is no reason for confounding the
fiction of my Dialogue with what has happened to me since. I am
persuaded of all you say to me, replied Manso; but truly I cannot be of
what you believe, at present, concerning yourself. Will you imagine that
you are in commerce with a spirit? And I ask you, of what order is that
spirit? Shall we place him in the number of the rebels, whom their pride
precipitated into the abyss? or of the intelligences, who continued firm
in faith and submission to their creator? For there is no mean to take
in the true religion, and we must not fall into the extravagances of the
gnomes and sylphs of the cabalists.
Now the spirit in question cannot be a demon: you own that instead of
inspiring you anything contrary to piety and religion, he often
fortifies in you the maxims of Christianity: he strengthens your faith
by profound reasonings, and has the same respect with you for sacred
names and things. Neither can you say that it is an angel; for though
you have always led a regular life, and far from all dissoluteness;
though for some years past you have applied yourself, after a
particular manner, to the duties of a true Christian, you will agree
with me, that these sorts of favours are not common; that a man must
have attained to a high degree of sanctity, and not be far from the
pureness of celestial spirits, to merit a familiar converse, and bear a
harmony with them. Believe me, there is nothing in all these discourses
which you imagine you have with this spirit. You know, better than any
man, those symptoms which the black humours wherewith you are tormented
causes in you. Your vapours are the source of your visions, and yourself
would not judge otherwise of another person to whom a like thing should
happen; and you will come to this in your own respect also, if you will
make a mature reflection, and apply yourself to blot out, by an effort
of reason, these imaginations which the violence of your evil effect
causes in you. You may have reason, replied Tasso, to think so of the
things that pass in me; but as to myself, who have a sensible perception
of them, I am forced to reason after another manner. If it were true
that the spirit did not show himself to me, but in the violent assault
of my vapours; if he offered to my imagination but wandering and
confused species, without connection or due sequel; if he used to me
frivolous reasonings, which ended in nothing; or if having begun some
solid reasoning he broke it off on a sudden, and left me in darkness, I
should believe with you, that all things that pass are but mere dreams
and phantoms; but it is quite otherwise. This spirit is a spirit of
truth and reason, and of a truth so distinct, of a reason so sublime,
that he raises me often to knowledges that are above all my reasonings,
though they appear to me no less clear; that he teaches me things which,
in my most profound meditations, never came into my spirit, and which I
never heard of any man, nor read in any book. This spirit, therefore, is
somewhat of real; of whatsoever order he be, I hear him and see him,
nevertheless for its being impossible for me to comprehend and define
him. Manso did not yield to these facts, which Tasso would have passed
for proofs; he pressed him with new questions, which were not without
answers. Since you will not believe me on my word, said Tasso to him
another day, after having well disputed, I must convince you by your own
eyes, that these things are not pure imaginations: and the next day,
conversing together in the same chamber, Manso perceived that, on a
sudden, he fixed his eyes towards the window, and that he stood, as it
were, immoveable; he called to him and jogged him many times, but
instead of answering him; See there the spirit, says Tasso, at last,
that has been pleased to come and visit me, and to entertain himself
with me; look on him, and you will acknowledge the truth of what I say.
Manso, somewhat surprised, cast his eyes towards the place he showed
him, and perceived nothing but the rays of the sun passing through the
glass, nor did he see anything in all the chamber; though he cast his
eyes round it with curiosity, and he desired him to show him the spirit,
which he looked for in vain, while he heard Tasso speak with much
vehemency. He declares in a letter which he writ concerning this to the
Admiral of Naples, that he really heard no other voice but Tasso's own;
but they were sometimes questions made by him to the pretended spirit,
sometimes answers that he made to the pretended questions of the spirit,
and which were couched in such admirable terms, so efficacious,
concerning subjects so elevated, and so extraordinary, that he was
ravished with admiration, and dared not to interrupt him. He hearkened,
therefore, attentively, and being quite beside himself at this
mysterious conversation, which ended at last by a recess of the spirit,
as he found by the last words of Tasso; after which, Tasso, turning
himself to him, Well, said he, are your doubts at last dissipated? On
the contrary, answered Manso, I am more embroiled than ever; I have
truly heard wonderful things; but you have not showed me what you
promised me. You have seen and heard, resumed Tasso, perhaps more
than----he stopped here; and Manso, who could not recover himself of his
surprise, and had his head filled with the ideas of this extraordinary
entertainment, found himself not in a condition to press him farther.
Meanwhile he engaged himself not to speak a word to any man of these
things he had heard, with a design to make them public, though he should
have liberty granted him. They had many other conversations concerning
this matter, after which Manso owned he was brought to that pass, that
he knew not what to think or say, only, that if it were a weakness in
his friend to believe these visions, he much feared it would prove
contagious to him, and that he should become at last as credulous as
himself.
Dr. Beaumont, who is still living, and with whom I have had formerly
some acquaintance myself, has set down, among the others, this relation
at large concerning Tasso, and gives this reason for it: Because, says
the doctor, I think it contains a sufficient answer to what many learned
friends have said to myself on the like occasion.
Perhaps it may not be ungrateful to the reader, if I subjoin here the
short eulogium writ on Tasso, by the famous Thuanas, which is as
follows:--
Torquatus Tasso died about the forty-fifth year of his age, a man of a
wonderful and prodigious wit, who was seized with an incurable fury in
his youth, when he lived at the court of Ferrara, and nevertheless, in
lucid intervals, he writ many things both in verse and prose, with so
much judgment, elegancy, and extreme correctness of style, that he
turned at length that pity which many men had conceived for him, into an
amazement; while by that fury, which, in others, makes their minds
outrageous or dulls them, after it was over, his understanding became as
it were more purified, more ready in inventing things, more acute in
aptly disposing them after they were invented, and more copious in
adorning them with choice words and weight of sentences; and that which
a man of the soundest sense would scarce excogitate at his leisure, with
the greatest labour and care imaginable, he, after a violent agitation
of the mind set beside itself, naturally performed with a wonderful
felicity, so that he did not seem struck with an alienation of mind, but
with a divine fury. He that knows not these things, which all men know
that have been in Italy, and concerning which himself sometimes
complains, though modestly, in his writings; let him read his divine
works, and he must necessarily conclude, either that I speak of another
man than Tasso, or that these things were written by another man than
Tasso.
After having given my readers so many memorable accounts concerning the
perception men have had in all ages, and still continue to have of genii
or familiar spirits, by all the senses, as seeing, hearing, &c., which
accounts have been attested by men of the greatest learning and quality,
if any of them still remain dissatisfied, I am contented, and desire
them, for their punishment, to lay down the book before they arrive at
the more pleasant parts of it, which are yet to come, and not to read
one tittle farther. These unbelieving gentlemen shall then be at
liberty, according as their different spirits dictate, to ridicule me
in the same manner as many more learned and greater men than I have been
satirized, before my time, by persons of a like infidel temper, who
would fain pass incredulity upon the world as wisdom; and they may, with
all the freedom in nature, bestow upon me those merry appellations
which, I very well know such extraordinary freethinkers imagine to
belong of right, to any author, that either believes himself, or would
possess the world with an opinion and belief, that there is such a thing
as the holding commerce and conversation in this habitable world with
genii, and familiar spirits. I shall only first tell them all I have to
say to terminate the dispute between them and me.
Those who, to give themselves the air and appearance of men of solid
wisdom and gravity, load other men, who believe in spirits, with the
titles of being men of folly, levity, or melancholy, are desired to
learn, that the same folly, as they are pleased to term it, of opinion,
is to be found in the greatest men of learning that ever existed in the
universe. Let them, in order to be convinced of this, read Apuleius's
book, _de deo Socrat._; Censorinus's book _de die Nat._ c. 3;
Porphyrius, in his book _de Abstinentia_; Agrippa, in his _Treatise de
Occult. Phil._ 1. 3, c. 22, and also c. 21; _Natalis_ comes in his
_Myth._ 1. 4, c. 3; Maraviglia, in his _Pseudomantia. Dissertation._ 9
and 11, and _Animadversion_. 10; Plato in his _Timoeus et Cratylus_;
Ammianus Marcellinus's History, book 21; Hieronimus Cardanus in his book
_de Vita Propria_, c. 47; the great Kircher, in his _OEdipus
AEgyptiacus_, vol. iii. p. 474; Pausanius, in _Cliac. Poster._; that
immortal orator, Cicero, lib. i. _de Divinatione_; lib. ii. _de Natura
Deorum_; the _Histoire Prodigieuse_, written by Pere Arnault; and a book
entituled _Lux e Tenebris_, which is a collection of modern visions and
prophecies in Germany by several persons, translated into Latin, by Jo.
Amos. Comenius, printed at Amsterdam, 1655. And if they will be at the
pains of having due recourse to these quotations, they will find that
all these men, whose learning is unquestionable, and most of whom have
been in a firm and undisputed possession of fame for many centuries,
have all unanimously agreed in this opinion, how foolish soever they may
think it, that there ever was and ever would be a communication held
between some select men and genii, or familiar spirits. I must therefore
desire their pardon, if I rejoice to see them remain wise by themselves,
and that I continue to be esteemed by them a fool among so much good
company.
Others out of a mere contempt of religion, or cowardly, for fear of
being thought pusillanimous by men, turn bravos to Heaven, and laugh at
every notion of spirits as imbibed from the nurse or imposed upon us by
priests, and may top these lines upon us with an elegant and a
convincing magisterial sneer, though the divine Socrates was of our
opinion, and even experienced it to be true, having a genius himself:--
The priests but finish what the nurse began,
And thus the child imposes on the man.
These bring into my mind a saying of Sir Roger L'Estrange on Seneca,
which I must apply to Socrates; I join in opinion with a Christian
heathen, while they remain heathen Christians.
The third sort, out of a pretended veneration to religion and divinity,
may call me superstitious and chimerical. To them I answer, I will
continue chimerical and superstitious with St. Austin; who gives the
same opinion in his _Civitate Dei_ with Ludovicus Vives; let them be
solider and more religious divines than St. Austin in disowning it. Thus
I bid these austere critics heartily farewell; but let my better-natured
readers go on and find a new example of this conversation being held
with the genii by our Duncan Campbell.
CHAPTER VI.
A NARRATIVE OF MR. CAMPBELL'S COMING TO LONDON AND TAKING UPON
HIM THE PROFESSION OF A PREDICTOR; TOGETHER WITH AN ACCOUNT OF
MANY STRANGE THINGS THAT CAME TO PASS JUST AS HE FORETOLD.
To proceed on regularly with the life of young Duncan Campbell, I must
let the reader know that he continued thus conversing with his little
genius, as is set forth above in the dialogue he had with me, and
predicting many things of the like nature, as I have described, till the
year 1694, when he was just fourteen years of age, and then he left
Scotland.
But before I come to speak of the manner of his departure from thence,
his half native country, inasmuch as his father was of that country,
and he had his education there, what education he could have, being deaf
and dumb. I must let the reader know that in the year 1692, my very good
friend, Mrs. Campbell, his mother-in-law, died, and left him there at
Edinburgh, an orphan of twelve years of age.
He was, I may venture to say, the most beautiful boy of that age I ever
knew; and the sensible reader, who considers a child of good birth, with
the misfortunes of being deaf and dumb, left fatherless and motherless
in the wide world, at twelve years old, without any competency for his
maintenance and support, without any relations, in a manner, that knew
him or assisted him; all the little fortune his father had having been
lost in the civil commotions in Scotland, as I have related above, need
not hear me describe the compassion I and many more had for him; because
such a reader must certainly feel in his own bosom the same lively acts
of pity and commiseration at the hearing of such a mishap as I had at
the seeing it, or at least as I have now revived afresh within me at the
relating it.
However, it came so to pass, that a person of the name of Campbell, and
who was a distant relation of the boy, though he himself was but in
indifferent circumstances, was resolved to see him provided for one way
or another, in a manner somewhat suitable to his condition, and till
that time to take the best care of him himself that he was able.
Several ladies of quality who had known his perfections, coveted to make
the boy one of their domestics, as a page, or a playfellow to their
children; for though he could not speak, he had such a vivacity in all
his actions, such a sprightliness of behaviour, and such a merriment
accompanying all his gestures, that he afforded more entertainment than
the prettiest and wittiest little prattlers at those years are wont to
do. Mr. Campbell had certainly accepted of some of these fortunate
offers for his little cousin, which were many of them likely to prove
very advantageous, if it had not been put in his head by some friends,
particularly myself, that if he had a mind to dispose of the boy in that
manner, the best way he could take would be to present him to the late
Earl of Argyle, who for his namesake and for his father's sake, as well
as the qualifications and endowments of the boy, would more naturally,
according to all probability, take a greater pleasure and delight in
him, and consequently provide better for him, and with a more lasting
care, than any other person of quality that had a sudden liking to him,
which might change, and took him as a stranger out of a bare curiosity.
Mr. Campbell was by these reasons overruled in the disposal of his
little dumb prophetical cousin, as he called him, and resolved that an
offer should be made of him to the present illustrious Duke of Argyle's
most noble father. But it so unfortunately happened, that the earl
making very much a longer stay at London than was expected, Mr.
Campbell, the uncle, sent our young Duncan Campbell, his nephew,
handsomely accoutred, and with a handsome sum of money in his pocket, by
sea, with Captain Meek of Kircaldie, to London, with letters of
recommendation to the earl's favour, and just a few days before young
Duncan arrived in London, the earl was set out on his journey to his
seat in Scotland.
I had now left him for near three years, not having seen him since about
a year after his mother's death; and then coming to London, I had by
mere accident an appointment to meet some Scotch gentlemen at the
Buffalo at Charing-cross. There happened at that time to be a great
concourse of Scotch nobility there at an entertainment; and one of the
ladies and gentlemen passing by and seeing one of my friends, desired
him to come in, and told him both he and his companion should be very
welcome to partake of the diversion. The lady told him they had got a
lovely youth, a Scotch miracle, among them, that would give us exquisite
delight, and write down to us all the occurrences of our future lives,
and tell us our names upon our first appearance. The moment I heard of
it, Duncan Campbell came into my head; but as it is a thing not rare to
be met with in Scotland for second sighted persons to tell such things,
and as the Earl of Argyle was in the north, I thought little Duncan had
been under his protection and with him, and did not dream of meeting
with him there; and accordingly told my friend, before I went in, that I
believed I knew a lad in Scotland would exceed this in foresight, let
him be as dexterous in his art as he would.
As soon as I entered the room, I was surprised to find myself
encompassed and surrounded by a circle of the most beautiful females
that ever my eyes beheld. In the centre of this angelic tribe was seated
a heavenly youth, with the most winning comeliness of aspect that ever
pleased the sight of any beholder of either sex; his face was divinely
fair, and tinged only with such a sprightly blush as a painter would use
to colour the picture of health with, and the complexion was varnished
over by a blooming like that of flourishing fruit, which had not yet
felt the first nippings of an unkind and an uncivil air; with this
beauty was joined such a smiling draught of all the features as is the
result of pleasantry and good humour. His eyes were large, full of
lustre, majestic, well set, and the soul shone so in them, as told the
spectators plainly how great was the inward vivacity of his genius; the
hair of his head was thick, and reclined far below his shoulders; it was
of a fine silver colour, and hung down in ringlets like the curling
tendrils of a copious vine. He was by the women entertained, according
to the claim which so many perfections joining in a youth just ripening
into manhood might lay to the benevolent dispositions of the tender sex.
One was holding the basin of water, another washing a hand, a third with
a towel drying his face, which another fair had greedily snatched the
pleasure of washing before, while a fourth was disposing into order his
silver hairs with an ivory comb, in a hand as white, and which a monarch
might have been proud to have had so employed in adjusting the crown
upon his head; a fifth was setting into order his cravat; a sixth stole
a kiss, and blushed at the innocent pleasure, and mistook her own
thoughts as if she kissed the angel and not the man; and they all rather
seemed to adore than to love him, as if they had taken him not for a
person that enjoyed the frequent gift of the second-sight, but as if he
had been some little prophet peculiarly inspired; and while they all
thus admired and wondered, they all consulted him as an oracle. The
surprise of seeing a young man so happy amidst the general concurring
favours of the fair, made me be for awhile lost in a kind of delightful
amazement, and the consideration of what bliss he was possessed made me
scarce believe my own eyes, when they told me it was Duncan Campbell,
who I had left an unhappy orphan at Edinburgh. But so it was, though he
was much altered in stature, being now shot up pretty fast in his growth
since I had seen him, and having gained a kind of a fixed comportment,
such as we may daily observe in those who are taking leave of their
minority, and stepping into a stage of maturer life.
The first remarkable thing I knew him do in London, being in this
splendid company, where there were so many undoubted witnesses of
quality too, that had ocular proof of his predictions at that public
tavern: I choose to record it here in the first place according to its
due order. It was in the year 1698.
Among this angelical class of beauties were Dr. W--lw--d's lady and
daughter. Upon earth there was not sure a more beautiful creature than
the daughter was; she was the leading light of all the sparkling tribe;
and Otway's character suits her exactly; for she was among ten thousand
eminently fair. One would imagine prosperous and lucky fortune was
written upon her face, and that nothing unhappy could be read in so fair
a book; and it was therefore the unanimous consent of all, that by way
of good omen to the rest, his predictions should begin to be opened
luckily that day, and that therefore he should first of all be consulted
about her.
Accordingly, the mother, to be satisfied of his talent before she
proceeded to any other questions, asked him in writing if he knew the
young lady, her name, and who she was. After a little ruminating and
pondering upon the matter, and taking an exact view of the beauty, he
wrote down her name, told Mrs. W--lw--d she was her daughter, and that
her father was a doctor. Convinced by his so readily telling the name
and quality of persons he had never seen in his lifetime, that fame had
not given a false character of his capacity, she proceeded in her
questions as to her future fortune. He gazed afresh at her very eagerly
for some time, and his countenance during that time of viewing her
seemed to be ruffled with abundance of disturbance and perplexity. We
all imagined that the youth was a little touched at the heart himself
with what he saw, and that instead of telling hers, he had met in her
bright eyes with his own destiny, the destiny of being for ever made a
slave and a captive to so many powerful and almost irresistible charms.
At length, after having a long debate within himself, which we thought
proceeded from the strugglings of love and passion, he fetching a great
sigh, which still convinced us more, took the pen and wrote to Mrs.
W--lw--d, that he begged to be excused, and that his pen might remain as
dumb and silent as his tongue on that affair. By this answer we
concluded, one and all, that our former conjectures were true, and we
joined in pressing him the more earnestly to deliver his real and
sincere opinion concerning the accidents upon which the future fortunes
of her life were to turn and depend. He showed many mighty reluctances
in the doing it; and I have often since considered him in the same
anguish as the late great Dr. Ratcliff, who was endeavouring by study to
save a certain fair one, whom he loved with a vehemence of temper, and
who was, as his reason told him, got far away beyond the reach of the
art of physic to recover. At last he wrote in plain terms that his
backwardness and unwillingness to tell it, arose from his wishes that
her fortune would be better than his certain foreknowledge of it told
him it would be, and begged that we would rest satisfied with that
general answer, since it was in so particular a case, where he himself
was a well-wisher in vain, to the lady about whom he was consulted. The
young lady herself thinking that if she knew any disasters that were to
befall her she might, by knowing the nature of them beforehand, and the
time when they were likely to happen, be able, by timely prudence and
forecast, to avert those evils, with many beseechings urged him to
reveal the fatal secret. After many struggles to avoid it, and as many
instances made to him both by mother and daughter for the discovery of
his prescience in that point, he complied with very great difficulty;
and blotting the paper with tears that trickled fast from his eyes, he
gave her the lamentable scroll, containing the words that follow; viz.,
I wish it had not fallen to my lot to tell this lady, whom everybody
that but once looks at her must admire, though they must not have leave
to love, that she is not much longer to be possessor of that lovely
face, which gains her such a number of adorers. The smallpox will too
soon turn a ravisher, and rifle all those sweets and charms that might
be able to vanquish a king and to subdue a conqueror of mighty battles.
Her reign is doomed, alas! to be as short as it is now great and
universal; I believe she has internal beauties of the mind, not the
least inferior to those external excellences of the body; and she might,
perhaps, by the power of her mind alone, be absolute queen of the
affections of men, if the smallpox threatened not too surely to be her
farther enemy, and, not contented to destroy the face, was not
perversely bent to destroy the whole woman. But I want words to express
my sorrow. I would not tell it if you did not extort the baneful secret
from my bosom. This fair creature, whose beauty would make one wish her
immortal, will, by the cruel means of the smallpox, give us too sudden a
proof of her mortality. But neither the mother nor herself ought too
much to repine at this, seeing it appears to be the decree of
Providence, which is always to be interpreted as meant for our good, and
seeing it may be the means of translating her the sooner only to her
kindred angels, whose beauty she so much resembles here on earth, and to
be among the lowest class of whom, is better than being the greatest
beauty of the world here below, and wearing an imperial crown. While I
comfort you, I cannot help the force of nature, which makes me grieve
myself; and I only give you, because you compel me to it, so particular
and so exact an answer to so particular and so exacting a question.
The mother, who took the paper, was prudent enough to conceal from the
daughter what he said; but nature would force its way, and bubbled from
her eyes; and the daughter perceiving that, pressed hard to see it, and
wept at the consideration that hard fate, though she knew not
particularly what way, was to befall her. Never surely was anything so
beautiful in tears, and I obtained of the mother to see the writing. At
last, in general terms, to free her from a suspense of mind, it was told
her that some trouble should happen to her that should diminish her
beauty. She had courage enough to hear that misfortune with disdain, and
crying, If that be all, I am armed, I don't place much pride in that
which I know age must shortly after destroy, if trouble did not do it
before; and she dried up her tears; and, if what Mr. Bruyere says, be
true, viz., that the last thing a celebrated woman thinks of when she
dies, is the loss of her beauty, she showed an admirable pattern of
female philosophy, in bearing such a cruel prediction with such
unspeakable magnanimity, as exceeded even the patience of stern
stoicism, considering she was a woman, to whom beauty is more dear than
life.
If any evil, that is impending over people's heads, could be evaded by
foreknowledge, or eluded by art, she had the fairest opportunity of
having this prediction annulled, which would have been more to the
satisfaction of the predictor than knowing it verified, than ever any
woman had. Her mother was specifically told that the fatal distemper
should be the smallpox; her father was, and is still, a very eminent
physician; and distempers of that kind, especially, are much more easily
prevented by care, than cured by art, and by art more easily set aside,
when there is a timely warning given to a physician to prepare the body
against the danger of the poison, than when the distemper has once
catched hold of a body at unawares, when it is unpurged of any gross
humours that may accompany it. But neither the foreknowledge and caution
of the mother, nor the skill and wisdom of the great physician her
father, were sufficient to ward off the approaching harm, that was
written in the books of fate. Not many suns had finished their yearly
courses, before she was forced to submit to the inevitable stroke of
death, after the infectious and malicious malady had first ravished her
beauty, rioted in all her sweets, and made an odious deformed spectacle
of the charmer of mankind. The death of the daughter worked hard upon
the mother's bowels, and dragged her speedily after her, with a broken
heart to the grave.
This lady, whose fortune so great and so distinguished an assembly had
chosen to hear as a happy forerunner and lucky omen of all their own,
which were to be asked afterwards in their turns, proving so contrary to
their expectations, already unfortunate in the prediction, and having
been in tears about the matter, disheartened all the rest of the
beauties from consulting him farther that day. The person who kept the
tavern, by name, Mrs. Irwin, alleged that as some people were very
fortunate, and others unfortunate upon the same day, so one lady might
be before told a mishap one minute, and another lady all the prosperity
in nature the very next minute following, and therefore that what the
unfortunate lady had heard was not to be taken as ominous, or as what
could malignantly influence the day, neither ought it to be the least
hinderance to any who had the curiosity of being let into the secrets of
time beforehand. However, whether the ladies were convinced or no; if
she prevailed over their belief in that point, she could not prevail
over their humour, which, though they might not believe the former
prediction ominous to themselves, were naturally awed for fear of the
like, peradventure, for a time, and so it was agreed, _nemine
contradicente_, as a witty lady wrote it down, That no more petitions
should for that day be presented by any of that company to his dumb, yet
oracular, majesty. Mrs. Irwin, however, would have her way; said she did
not presume to such honour as to call herself of that company, and that
therefore she might consult him without breaking through the votes of
the assembly. Many endeavoured to dissuade her, but as she was
passionately fond of knowing future events; and had a mighty itch to be
very inquisitive with the oracle about what might happen, not only to
herself, but her posterity; it was agreed that he should have the
liberty of satisfying her curiosity, since she presumed her fortune was
sure to be so good, and was so forward and eager for the knowledge of
it. But, alas! such is too often the fantastical impulse of nature
unluckily depraved, that it carries us often into wishes of knowing,
what when known we would be glad to unknow again, and then our memory
will not let us be untaught.
Mrs. Irwin was at that time in a pretty commodious way of business,
everything in plenty round about her, and lived more like a person of
distinction, that kept such a cellar of wine, open house, and a free
table, than like one who kept a tavern. She brought in her pretty
children, that were then almost babies, the youngest having not long
been out of the nurse's arms, or trusted to the use of its own legs.
These children she loved as a mother should love children; they were the
delight of her eyes all day, and the dream of her imagination all night.
All the passions of her soul were confined to them; she was never
pleased but when they were so, and always angry if they were crossed;
her whole pride was centered in them, and they were clothed and went
attended more like the infants of a princess, than of a vintner's
relict. The fortune of these was what she had near at heart, and of
which she was so eager of being immediately apprised. Her impatience was
proportionable to the love she had for them, and which made her wish to
foreknow all the happiness that was like to attend them. She sat
cheerfully down, presented one to him, and smiling, wrote the question
in general terms, viz., is this boy to be happy or unhappy. A melancholy
look once more spread itself all over the face of the predictor, when he
read the too inquisitive words, and he seemed mightily to regret being
asked a question, to which he was by his talent of foreseeing compelled
to give so unwelcome an answer. The colour of the poor woman flushed and
vanished alternately, and very quick, and she looked not quite like the
picture of despair, but a disconsolate woman, with little hopes on one
hand, and great doubts and dismal fears on the other. She professed she
read great evil in the troubles of his face, thanked him for his good
nature, told him that they all knew that though he could foretell he
could no
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