The History of the Life and Adventures of Mr. Duncan Campell

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 Cæsar, 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.