Witch, Warlock, and Magician

The dialogue opens with Samuel and Daniel, the former of whom is a fanatical believer in witches. ‘These evil-favoured old witches,’ he says, ‘do trouble me.’ He repeats the common rumour that there is scarcely a town or village in the shire but has one or two witches in it. ‘In good sooth,’ he adds, ‘I may tell it to you as to my friend, when I go but into my closes, I am afraid, for I see now and then a hare, which my conscience giveth me is a witch, or some witch’s spirit, she stareth so upon me. And sometime I see an ugly weasel run through my yard; and there is a foul, great cat sometimes in my barn, which I have no liking unto.’ Having introduced his friend, who is less credulous than himself, to his wife and his home, he promotes an argument between him and another friend, M. B., a schoolmaster, on this quæstio vexata.

M. B. starts with a good deal of fervour:

‘The word of God doth show plainly that there be witches, and commandeth they should be put to death. Experience hath taught too many what harms they do. And if any have the gift to minister help against them, shall we refuse it?’

But after some discussion he agrees, at Daniel’s instance, to consider the subject in a spirit of sober argument; and the first question they take up is: ‘Are there witches that work by the Devil?’ The conversation then proceeds as follows:

Daniel. It is so evident by the Scriptures, and in all experience, that there be witches which work by the devil, or rather, I may say, the devil worketh by them, that such as go about to prove the contrary, do show themselves but cavillers.

M. B. I am glad we agree on that point; I hope we shall in the rest. What say you to this? That the witches have their spirits. Some hath one; some hath more, as two, three, four, or five. Some in one likeness and some in another, as like cats, weasels, toads, or mice, whom they nourish with milk or with a chicken, or by letting them suck now and then a drop of blood, whom they call if they be offended with any, and send them to hurt them in their bodies, yea, to kill them, and to kill their cattle.

Daniel. Here is great deceit, and great illusion; here the Devil leadeth the ignorant people into foul errors, by which he draweth them headlong into many grievous sins.

M. B. Nay, then, I see you are awry, if you deny these things, and say they be but illusions… I did dwell in a village within these five years where there was a man of good wealth, and suddenly, within ten days’ space, he had three kine died, his gelding, worth ten pounds, fell lame, he was himself taken with a great pain in his back, and a child of seven years old died. He sent to the woman at R. H., and she said he was plagued by a witch, adding, moreover, that there were three women witches in that town, and one man witch, willing him to look whom he most suspected. He suspected an old woman, and caused her to be carried before a justice of peace and examined. With much ado at the last she confessed all, which was this in effect – that she had three spirits, one like a cat, which she called Lightfoot; another like a toad, which she called Lunch; the third like a weasel, which she called Makeshift. This Lightfoot, she said, one Mother Bailey, of W., sold her above sixteen years ago, for an oven-cake, and told her the cat would do her good service; if she would, she might send her of her errands. This cat was with her but a while, but the weasel and the toad came and offered their service. The cat would kill kine, the weasel would kill horses, the toad would plague men in their bodies. She sent them all three (as she confessed) against this man. She was committed to the prison, and there she died before the assizes.

Daniel then strikes into the conversation, enlarging on the Scriptural description of devils as ‘mighty and terrible spirits, full of rage and power and cruelty’ – principalities and powers, the rulers of the darkness of this world – and forcibly insisting that if spirits so awful and potential as these assumed the shapes of such paltry vermin as cats, mice, toads, and weasels, it must be out of subtilty to cover and hide the mighty tyranny and power which they exercise over the hearts of the wicked. And he argues that such spirits would never deign to be a witch’s servant or to do her bidding. M. B. contends, however, that, although he be lord, yet is he content to serve her turn; and the witches confess, he says, that they call forth their demons, and send them on what errands they please, and hire them to hurt in their bodies and their cattle those against whom they cherish angry and revengeful feelings. ‘I am sorry,’ says Daniel mildly, ‘you are so far awry; it is a pity any man should be in such error, especially a man that hath learning, and should teach others knowledge.’

After some further disputation, M. B. is brought to admit that God giveth the devils power to plague and seduce because of man’s wickedness; but he asks whether a godly, faithful man or woman may not be bewitched. We see, he says, that the devil had power given him of old, as over Job. But Daniel will not admit that this is a case in point, because it is not said that the devil dealt with Job through the agency of witches. Thereupon Samuel, perceiving the drift of his argument to be that the devil has no need to act by instruments so mean and even degraded, and would assuredly never be at their command; that, consequently, there can be no witchcraft, because there is no necessity for it, suddenly interposes:

‘With your leave, M. B., I would ask two or three questions of my friend. There was but seven miles hence, at W. H., one M.; the man was of good wealth, and well accounted of among his neighbours. He pined away with sickness half a year, and at last died. After he was dead, his wife suspected ill-dealing. She went to a cunning man, who told her that her husband died of witchery, and asked her if she did not suspect any. Yes, there was one woman she did not like, one Mother W.; her husband and she fell out, and he fell sick within two days after, and never recovered. He showed her the woman as plain in a glass as we see one another, and taught her how she might bring her to confess. Well, she followed his counsel, went home, caused her to be apprehended and carried before a justice of peace. He examined her so wisely that in the end she confessed she killed the man. She was sent to prison, she was arraigned, condemned, and executed; and upon the ladder she seemed very penitent, desiring all the world to forgive her. She said she had a spirit in the likeness of a yellow dun cat. This cat came unto her, as she said, as she sat by the fire, when she was fallen out with a neighbour of hers, and wished that the vengeance of God might light upon him and his. The cat bade her not be afraid; she would do her no harm. She had served a dame five years in Kent that was now dead, and, if she would, she would be her servant. “And whereas,” said the cat, “such a man hath misused thee, if thou wilt I will plague him in his cattle.” She sent the cat; she killed three hogs and one cow. The man, suspecting, burnt a pig alive, and, as she said, her cat would never go thither any more. Afterward she fell out with that M. She sent her cat, who told her that she had given him that which he should never recover; and, indeed, the man died. Now, do you not think the woman spoke the truth in all this? Would the woman accuse herself falsely at her death? Did not the cat become her servant? Did not she send her? Did she not plague and kill both man and beast? What should a man think of this?

Daniel. You propound a particular example, and let us examine everything in it touching the witch. You say the cat came to her when she was in a great rage with one of her neighbours, and did curse, wishing the vengeance of God to fall upon him and his.

Sam. She said so, indeed. I heard her with my own ears, for I was at the execution.

Dan. Then tell me who set her in such a devilish rage, so to curse and ban, as to wish that the vengeance of God might light upon him and his? Did not the cat?

Sam. Truly I think that the devil wrought that in her.

Dan. Very well. Then, you see, the cat is the beginning of this play.

Sam. Call you it a play? It was no play to some.

Dan. Indeed, the witch at last had better have wrought hard than been at her play. But I mean Satan did play the juggler; for doth he not offer his service? Doth he not move her to send him to plague the man? Tell me, is she so forward to send, as he is to be sent? Or do you not take it that he ruleth in her heart, and even wholly directeth it to this matter?

Sam. I am fully persuaded he ruleth her heart.

Dan.Then was she his drudge, and not he her servant. He needeth not to be hired and entreated; for if her heart were to send him anywhere, unto such as he knoweth he cannot hurt, nor seeth how to make any show that he hurteth them, he can quickly turn her from that. Well, the cat goeth and killeth the man, certain hogs, and a cow. How could she tell that the cat did it?

Sam. How could she tell? Why, he told her, man, and she saw and heard that he lost his cattle.

Dan. The cat would lie – would she not? for they say such cats are liars.

Sam. I do not trust the cat’s words, but because the thing fell out so.

Dan. Because the hogs and the cow died, are you sure the cat did kill them? Might they not die of some natural causes, as you see both men and beasts are well, and die suddenly?

In this way the dialogue proceeds, with a good deal of ingenuity and some degree of dramatic spirit; and though the reasoning is not without its fallacies, yet it is sufficiently clear and forcible, on the whole, as a protest on the side of liberality and tolerance.

The next branch of the subject taken up for consideration is ‘the help and remedy’ that is sought for against witches ‘at the hands of cunning men;’ Daniel contending that, if the cunning men can render any assistance, it must be through the devil’s instrumentality, and, therefore, Christian men are not justified in availing themselves of it. The alleged cures performed by witches, Daniel refers to the influence of the imagination; and in this category he tells an amusing story. ‘There was a person in London,’ he say, ‘acquainted with the magician Fento. Now, this Fento had a black dog, whom he called Bomelius. This party afterwards had a conceit that Bomelius was a devil, and that he felt him within him. He was in heaviness, and made his moan to one of his acquaintances, who had a merry head, and told him he had a friend could remove Bomelius. He bade him prepare a breakfast, and he would bring him. Then this was the cure: he (the friend) made him be stripped naked and stand by a good fire, and though he were fat enough of himself, basted him all over with butter against the fire, and made him wear a sleek-stone next his skin under his belly, and the man had immediate relief, and gave him afterwards great thanks.’

‘The conceit, or imagination, does much,’ continues Daniel, ‘even when there is no apparent disease. A man feareth he is bewitched; it troubleth all the powers of his mind, and that distempereth his body, making great alterations in it, and bringeth sundry griefs. Now, when his mind is freed from such imaginations, his bodily griefs, which flew from the same, are eased. And a multitude of Satan’s is of the same character.’

The conversation next turns upon the danger of shedding innocent blood, which is inseparable from the execution of alleged witches; while juries, says Daniel, must become guilty of shedding innocent blood by condemning as guilty, and that upon their solemn oath, such as be suspected upon vain surmises, and imaginations, and illusions, rising from blindness and infidelity, and fear of Satan which is in the ignorant sort.

M. B. If you take it that this is one craft of Satan to bring many to be guilty of innocent blood, and even upon their oaths, which is horrible, what would you have the judges and juries to do, when they are arraigned of suspicion to be witches?

Dan. What would I have them do? I would wish them to be most wary and circumspect that they be not guilty of innocent blood. And that is, to condemn none but upon sure ground, and infallible proof; because presumptions shall not warrant or excuse them before God, if guiltless blood be shed.

Replying to observations made by the schoolmaster, Daniel continues:

‘You bring two reasons to prove that in convicting witches likelihoods and presumptions ought to be of force more than about thieves or murderers. The first, because their dealing is secret; the other, because the devil will not let them confess. Indeed, men, imagining that witches do work strange mischiefs, burn in desire to have them hanged, as hoping then to be free; and then, upon such persuasions as you mention, they suppose it is a very good work to put to death all which are suspected. But, touching thieves and murderers, let men take heed how they deal upon presumptions, unless they be very strong; for we see that juries sometimes do condemn such as be guiltless, which is a hard thing, especially as they are upon their oath. And in witches, above all other, the people had need to be strong, because there is greater sleight of Satan to pursue the guiltless into death than in the other. Here is special care and wisdom to be used. And so likewise for their confessing. Satan doth gain more by their confession than by their denial, and therefore rather bewrayeth them himself, and forceth them unto confession oftener than unto denial.’

Samuel at first is reluctant to accept this statement. It has always been his belief that the devil is much angered when witches confess and betray matters; and in confirmation of this belief, or at least as some excuse for it, he relates an anecdote. Of course, one woman had suspected another to be a witch. She prevailed upon a gentleman to send for the suspected person, and having accused her in his presence, left him to admonish her with due severity, and to persuade her to renounce the devil and all his works. While he was thus engaged, and she was stoutly denying the accusation brought against her, a weasel or lobster suddenly made its appearance. ‘Look,’ said the gentleman, ‘yonder is thy spirit.’ ‘Ah, master!’ she replied, ‘that is a vermin; there be many of them everywhere.’ Well, as they went towards it, it vanished out of sight; by-and-by it re-appeared, and looked upon them. ‘Surely,’ said the gentleman, ‘it is thy spirit;’ but she still denied, and with that her mouth was drawn awry. Then he pressed her further, and she confessed all. She confessed she had hurt and killed by sending her spirit. The gentleman, not being a magistrate, allowed her to go home, and then disclosed the affair to a justice. When she reached home another witch accosted her, and said: ‘Ah, thou beast, what hast thou done? Thou hast betrayed us all. What remedy now?’ said she. ‘What remedy?’ said the other; ‘send thy spirit and touch him.’ She sent her spirit, and of a sudden the gentleman had, as it were, a flash of fire about him: he lifted up his heart to God, and felt no hurt. The spirit returned, and said he could not hurt him, because he had faith. ‘What then,’ said the other witch, ‘hath he nothing that thou mayest touch?’ ‘He hath a child,’ said the other. ‘Send thy spirit,’ said she, ‘and touch the child.’ She sent her spirit; the child was in great pain, and died. The witches were hanged, and confessed.

Daniel, by an ingenious analysis, soon dismisses this absurd story, which, like all such stories, he takes to be further evidence of Satan’s craft, and no disproof at all of the argument he has laid down. ‘Then,’ says Samuel, ‘I will tell you of another thing which was done of late.

‘A woman suspected of being a witch, and of having done harm among the cattle, was examined and brought to confess that she had a spirit, which resided in a hollow tree, and spoke to her out of a hole in the trunk. And whenever she was offended with any persons she went to that tree and sent her spirit to kill their cattle. She was persuaded to confess her faults openly, and to promise that she would utterly forsake such ungodly ways: after she had made this open confession, the spirit came unto her, being alone. “Ah!” said he, “thou hast confessed and betrayed all. I could turn it to rend thee in pieces:” with that she was afraid, and went away, and got her into company. Within some few weeks after she fell out greatly into anger against one man. Towards the tree she goeth, and before she came at it – “Oh!” said the spirit, “wherefore comest thou? Who hath angered thee?” “Such a man,” said the witch. “And what wouldest thou have me do?” said the spirit. “He hath,” saith she, “two horses going yonder; touch them, or one of them.” Well, I think even that night one of the horses died, and the other was little better. Indeed, they recovered again that one which was not dead, but in very evil case. Now methinketh it is plain: he was angry that she had betrayed all. And yet when she came to the tree he let go all displeasure and went readily.’

There is much common-sense, as we should nowadays call it, in Daniel’s comments on this extraordinarily wild story. ‘Do you think,’ he is represented as saying, ‘that Satan lodgeth in a hollow tree? Is he become so lazy and idle? Hath he left off to be as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour? Hath he put off the bloody and cruel nature of the fiery dragon, so that he mindeth no harm but when an angry woman entreats him to go kill a cow or a horse? Is he become so doting with age that man shall espy his craft – yea, be found craftier than he is?’

And now for the winding-up of Parson Gifford’s ‘Dialogue.’ ’Tis to be wished that all the parsons of his time had been equally sensible and courageous.

M. B. I could be content to hear more in these matters; I see how fondly I have erred. But seeing you must be gone, I hope we shall meet here again at some other time. God keep you!

Sam. I am bound to give you great thanks. And, I pray you, when occasion serveth, that you come this way. Let us see you at my house.

M. B. I thought there had not been such subtle practices of the devil, nor so great sins as he leadeth men into.

Sam. It is strange to see how many thousands are carried away, and deceived, yea, many that are very wise men.

M. B. The devil is too crafty for the wisest, unless they have the light of God’s Word.

Samuel’s Wife. Husband, yonder cometh the goodwife R.

Sam. I wish she had come sooner.

Goodwife R. Ho, who is within, by your leave?

Samuel’s Wife. I would you had come a little sooner; here was one even now that said you were a witch.

Goodwife R. Was there one said I am a witch? You do but jest.

Samuel’s Wife. Nay, I promise you he was in good earnest.

Goodwife R. I a witch? I defy him that saith it, though he be a lord. I would all the witches in the land were hanged, and their spirits by them.

M. B. Would you not be glad, if their spirits were hanged up with them, to have a gown furred with some of their skins?

Goodwife R. Out upon them. There were few!

Sam. Wife, why didst thou say that the goodwife R. is a witch? He did not say so.

Samuel’s Wife. Husband, I did mark his words well enough; he said she is a witch.

Sam. He doth not know her, and how could he say she is a witch?

Samuel’s Wife. What though he did not know her? Did he not say that she played the witch that heated the spit red hot, and thrust it into her cream when the butter would not come?

Sam. Indeed, wife, thou sayest true. He said that was a thing taught by the devil, as also the burning of a hen, or of a hog alive, and all such like devices.

Goodwife R. Is that witchcraft? Some Scripture man hath told you so. Did the devil teach it? Nay, the good woman at R. H. taught it my husband: she doth more good in one year than all those Scripture men will do so long as they live.

M. B. Who do you think taught it the cunning woman at R. H.?

Goodwife R. It is a gift which God hath given her. I think the Holy Spirit of God doth teach her.

M. B. You do not think, then, that the devil doth teach her?

Goodwife R. How should I think that the devil doth teach her? Did you ever hear that the devil did teach any good thing?

M. B. Do you know that was a good thing?

Goodwife R. Was it not a good thing to drive the evil spirit out of any man?

M. B. Do you think the devil was afraid of your spit?

Goodwife R. I know he was driven away, and we have been rid of him ever since.

M. B. Can a spit hurt him?

Goodwife R. It doth hurt him, or it hurteth the witch: one of them, I am sure: for he cometh no more. Either she can get him come no more, because it hurteth him: or else she will let him come no more, because it hurteth her.

M. B. It is certain that spirits cannot be hurt but with spiritual weapons: therefore your spit cannot fray nor hurt the devil. And how can it hurt the witch? You did not think she was in your cream, did you?

Goodwife R. Some think she is there, and therefore when they thrust in the spit they say: ‘If thou beest here, have at thine eye.’

M. B. If she were in your cream, your butter was not very cleanly.

Goodwife R. You are merrily disposed, M. B. I know you are of my mind, though you put these questions to me. For I am sure none hath counselled more to go to the cunning folk than you.

M. B. I was of your mind, but I am not now, for I see how foolish I was. I am sorry that I offended so grievously as to counsel any for to seek unto devils.

Goodwife R. Why, M. B., who hath schooled you to-day? I am sure you were of another mind no longer agone than yesterday.

Samuel’s Wife. Truly, goodwife R., I think my husband is turned also: here hath been one reasoning with them three or four hours.

Goodwife R. Is your husband turned, too? I would you might lose all your hens one after another, and then I would she would set her spirit upon your ducks and your geese, and leave you not one alive. Will you come to defend witches?..

M. B. You think the devil can kill men’s cattle, and lame both man and beast at his pleasure: you think if the witch entreat him and send him, he will go, and if she will not have him go, he will not meddle. And you think when he doth come, you can drive him away with a hot spit, or with burning a live hen or a pig.

Goodwife R. Never tell me I think so, for you yourself have thought so; and let them say what they can, all the Scripture men in the world shall never persuade me otherwise.

M. B. I do wonder, not so much at your ignorance as at this, that I was ever of the same mind that you are, and could not see mine own folly.

Goodwife R. Folly! how wise you are become of a sudden! I know that their spirits lie lurking, for they foster them; and when anybody hath angered them, then they call them forth and send them. And look what they bid them do, or hire them to do, that shall be done: as when she is angry, the spirit will ask her, ‘What shall I do?’ ‘Such a man hath misused me,’ saith she; ‘go, kill his cow’; by-and-by he goeth and doeth it. ‘Go, kill such a woman’s hens’; down go they. And some of them are not content to do these lesser harms; but they will say, ‘Go, make such a man lame, kill him, or kill his child.’ Then are they ready, and will do anything; and I think they be happy that can learn to drive them away.

M. B. If I should reason with you out of the words of God, you should see that all this is false, which you say. The devil cannot kill nor hurt anything; no, not so much as a poor hen. If he had power, who can escape him? Would he tarry to be sent or entreated by a woman? He is a stirrer up unto all harms and mischiefs.

Goodwife R. What will you tell me of God’s word? Doth not God’s word say there be witches? and do not you think God doth suffer bad people? Are you a turncoat? Fare you well; I will no longer talk with you.

M. B. She is wilful indeed. I will leave you also.

Samuel. I thank you for your good company.

About the same time that Gifford was endeavouring to teach his countrymen a more excellent way of dealing with the vexed questions of demonology and witchcraft, a Dutch minister, named Bekker, scandalized the orthodox by a frank denial of all power whatsoever to the devil, and, consequently, to the witches and warlocks who were supposed to be at one and the same time his servants and yet his employers. His ‘Monde Enchanté’ (originally written in Dutch) consists of four ponderous volumes, remarkable for prolixity and repetition, as well as for a certain originality of argument. There was no just ground, however, as Hallam remarks, for throwing imputations on the author’s religious sincerity. He shared, however, the opprobrium that attaches to all who deviate in theology from the orthodox path; and it must be admitted that his Scriptural explanations in the case of the demoniacs and the like are more ingenious than satisfactory.