Part 4
I, James Miller, sergeant (lately come from the frontiers of Portugal), master of the noble science of defense, hearing in most places where I have been of the fame of Timothy Buck, of London, master of the said science, do invite him to meet me and exercise at the several weapons following, viz.:
Back Sword Sword and Dagger Sword and Buckler Single Falchion Case of Falchions Quarter Staff.
“If the generous ardor of James Miller to dispute the reputation of Timothy Buck had something resembling the old heroes of romance, Timothy Buck returned answer in the same paper with the light spirit, adding a little indignation at being challenged, and seeming to condescend to fight James Miller, not in regard of Miller himself, but in that, as the fame went out, he had fought Parkes of Coventry. The acceptance of the combat ran in these words:
I, Timothy Buck, of Clare-market, master of the noble science of defense, hearing he did fight Mr. Parkes of Coventry, will not fail, God willing, to meet this fair inviter at the time and place appointed, desiring a clear stage and no favor. =Vivat Regina.=
“I shall not here look back on the spectacles of the Greeks and Romans of this kind, but must believe that this custom took its rise from the ages of knight-errantry; from those who loved one woman so well that they hated all men and women else; from those who would fight you, whether you were or were not of their mind; from those who demanded the combat of their contemporaries both for admiring their mistress or discommending her. I cannot therefore but lament that the terrible part of the ancient fight is preserved, when the amorous side of it is forgotten. We have retained the barbarity but not the gallantry of the old combatants. I could wish, me thinks, these gentlemen had consulted me in the promulgation of the conflict. I was obliged by a fair young maid, whom I understood to be called Elizabeth Preston, daughter of the keeper of the garden, with a glass of water; who I imagined might have been, for form’s sake, the general representative for the lady fought for, and from her beauty the proper Amaryllis on these occasions. It would have run better in the challenge, ‘I, James Miller, sergeant, who have traveled parts abroad, and came last from the frontiers of Portugal, for the love of Elizabeth Preston, do assert that the said Elizabeth is the fairest of women.’ Then the answer, ‘I, Timothy Buck, who have stayed in Great Britain during all the war in foreign parts for the sake of Susannah Page, do deny that Elizabeth Preston is so fair as the said Susannah Page. Let Susannah Page look on, and I desire no favor of James Miller.’
“This would give the battle quite another turn; and a proper station for the ladies whose complexion was disputed by the sword, would animate the disputants with a more gallant incentive than the expectation of money from the spectators; though I would not have that neglected, but thrown to that fair one whose lover was approved by the donor.
“Yet considering the thing wants such amendments, it was carried with great order. James Miller came on first, preceded by two disabled drummers, to show, I suppose, that the prospect of maimed bodies did not in the least deter him. There ascended with the daring Miller a gentleman, whose name I could not learn, with a dogged air, as unsatisfied that he was not principal. This son of anger lowered at the whole assembly, and, weighing himself as he marched around from side to side, with a stiff knee and shoulder, he gave intimations of the purpose he smothered till he saw the issue of this encounter. Miller had a blue ribbon tied around the sword arm; which ornament I conceive to be the remain of that custom of wearing a mistress’s favor on such occasions of old.
“Miller is a man of six foot eight inches in height, of a kind but bold aspect, well fashioned, and ready of his limbs, and such a readiness as spoke his ease in them was obtained from a habit of motion in military exercise.
“The expectation of the spectators was now almost at its height; and the crowd pressing in, several active persons thought they were placed rather according to their fortune than their merit, and took it in their heads to prefer themselves from the open area or pit to the galleries. This dispute between desert and property brought many to the ground, and raised others in proportion to seats by turns, for the space of ten minutes till Timothy Buck came on, and the whole assembly giving up their disputes, turned their eyes upon the champions. Then it was that every man’s affections turned from one or the other irresistibly. A judicious gentleman near me said, ‘I could methinks be Miller’s second, but I had rather have Buck for mine.’ Miller had an audacious look that took the eye; Buck had a perfect composure that engaged the judgment. Buck came on in a plain coat, and kept all his air till the instant of engaging, at which time he undressed to his shirt, his arm adorned with a bandage of red ribbon. No one can describe the sudden concern in the whole assembly; the most tumultuous crowd in nature was as still and as much engaged as if all their lives depended upon the first blow. The combatants met in the middle of the stage, and shaking hands, as removing all malice, with much grace to the extremities of it; from whence they immediately faced about, and approached each other, Miller with a heart full of resolution, Buck with a watchful, untroubled countenance: Buck regarding principally his own defense, Miller chiefly thoughtful of annoying his opponent. It is not easy to describe the many escapes and imperceptible defenses between two men of quick eyes and ready limbs. But Miller’s heat laid him open to the rebuke of the calm Buck, by a large cut on the forehead. Much effusion of blood covered his eyes in a moment, and the huzzas of the crowd undoubtedly quickened the anguish. The assembly was divided into parties upon their different ways of fighting; while a poor nymph in one of the galleries apparently suffered for Miller, and burst into a flood of tears. As soon as his wound was wrapped up, he came on again with a little rage, which disabled him further. But what brave man can be wounded into more caution and patience? The next was a warm, eager onset, which ended in a decisive stroke on the left leg of Miller. The Lady in the gallery during this second strife, covered her face, and for my part, I could not keep my thoughts from being mostly employed on the consideration of her most unhappy circumstance that moment, hearing the clash of swords, and apprehending life or victory concerned her lover in every blow, but not daring to satisfy herself on whom they fell. The wound was exposed to the view of all who could delight in it, and sewed up on the stage. The surly second of Miller declared at this time that he would that day fortnight fight Mr. Buck at the same weapons, declaring himself the master of the renowned Gorman; but Buck denied him the honor of that courageous disciple, and, asserting that he himself had taught that champion, accepted the challenge.
“There is something in human nature very unaccountable on such occasions, when we see the people take a painful gratification in beholding these encounters. Is it cruelty that administers this sort of delight? Or is it a pleasure that is taken in the exercise of pity? It was, methought, pretty remarkable that the business of the day being a trial of skill, the popularity did not run so high as one would have expected on the side of Buck. Is it that the people’s passions have their rise in self love, and thought themselves (in spite of all the courage they had) liable to the fate of Miller, but could not so easily think themselves qualified like Buck?
“Tully speaks of this custom with less horror than one would expect, though he confesses it was much abused in his time, and seems directly to approve of it under its first regulations, when criminals only fought before the people. _Crudele gladiatorum spectaculum et inhumanum nonnullis videri solet; et haud scio annon ita sit ut nunc fit; cum vero sontes ferro depugnabant, auribus fortasse multa, oculis quidem nulla, poterat esse fortior contra dolorem et mortem disciplina._ The shows of gladiators may be thought barbarous and inhuman, and I know not but it is so as it is now practiced; but in those times when only criminals were combatants, the ear might perhaps receive many better instructions, but it is impossible that anything which affects our eyes should fortify us so well against pain and death.”
* * * * *
But brave, bellicose, blood-thirsty as was the Briton in the days of Addison, he was very fearful of unseen things. He feared a witch as we fear a microbe. He was full of morbid possibilities, his nerves were strangely susceptible. As a man in our day will fight the daily fight fearlessly, will declare his intellectual independence, will be bold in the expression of his opinions, yet quail and cringe at the name of the unseen Mrs. Grundy, so those who yelled at bull fights, glorified in the bloodshed of the ring side or went forth in the street to do battle for a political cause, feared with a most lively fear dark demoniac powers who worked by occult means and subtle fascinations of evil.
In the paper that next follows, there is an exquisite touch when Sir Roger catches sight of a cat and the broomstick behind the old woman’s door. That to him seems to be proof positive of dark and nefarious doings--proof as positive as, not so long ago, it was considered proof positive by an excited crowd in a small town, when an old woman with a German name was found to have in her house a blue print of a railroad bridge. That it might have a perfectly legitimate origin was, to illogical minds, unthinkable. No. There was a blue print, and blue prints were sometimes used by spies. Germany had spies, and the old woman had a German name. So she went to jail. What further proof was needed? And who dare object to summary proceedings, lest he also be judged tainted?
ON WITCHCRAFT.
NO. 117, SPECTATOR--ADDISON.
“There are some opinions in which man should stand neuter, without engaging his assent to one side or the other. Such a hovering faith as this, which refuses to settle upon his determination, is absolutely necessary in a mind that is careful to avoid errors and prepossessions. When the arguments press equally on both sides in matters that are indifferent to us, the safest method is to give up ourselves to neither.
“It is with this temper of mind that I consider the subject of witchcraft. Whenever I hear the relations that are made from all parts of the world, not only from Norway and Lapland, from the East and West Indies, but from every particular nation in Europe, I cannot forbear thinking that there is such an intercourse and commerce with evil spirits, as that which we express by the name of witchcraft. But when I consider that the ignorant and credulous parts of the world abound most in these relations, and the persons among us who are supposed to engage in such an infernal commerce, are people of weak understanding and crazed imagination--and at the same time reflect upon the many impostures and delusions of this nature that I have detected in all ages, I endeavor to suspend my belief till I hear more certain accounts than any which have yet come to my knowledge. In short, when I consider the question, whether there are such persons in the world as those we call witches, my mind is divided between two opposite opinions, or rather (to speak my thoughts freely) I believe there is, and has been, such a thing as witchcraft; at the same time can give no credit to any particular instance of it.
“I am engaged in this speculation, by some occurrences that I met with yesterday, which I shall give my reader an account of at large. As I was walking with my friend Sir Roger by the side of one of his woods, an old woman applied herself to me for charity. Her dress and figure put me in the mind of the following description in Otway:
In a close lane as I pursu’d my journey I spied a wrinkled hag, with age grown double, Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself. Her eyes with scalding rheum were gall’d and red; Cold palsy shook her head; her hands seemed wither’d; And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapt The tatter’d remnant of an old striped hanging, Which served to keep her carcass from the cold: So there was nothing of a piece about her. Her lower weeds were all o’er coarsely patch’d With different colored rags, black, red, white, yellow, And seemed to speak variety of wretchedness.
“As I was musing on this description, and comparing it with the object before me, the knight told me, that this very old woman had the reputation of a witch all over the country; that her lips were observed to be always in motion; and that there was not a switch about her house which her neighbors did not believe had carried her several hundred miles. If she chanced to stumble, they always found sticks or straws that lay in the figure of a cross before her. If she made any mistake at church, and cried amen in the wrong place, they never failed to conclude that she was saying her prayers backward. There was not a maid in the parish that would take a pin of her, though she should offer a bag of money with it. She goes by the name of Moll White, and has made the country ring with several imaginary exploits which are palmed upon her. If the dairy-maid does not make her butter come so soon as she would have it, Moll White is at the bottom of the churn. If a horse sweats in the stable, Moll White has been upon his back. If a hare makes an unexpected escape from the hounds, the huntsman curses Moll White. ‘Nay,’ says Sir Roger, ‘I have known the master of the pack, upon such an occasion, send one of his servants to see if Moll White had been out that morning.’
“This account raised my curiosity so far, that I begged my friend Sir Roger to go with me into her hovel, which stood in a solitary corner under the side of the wood. Upon our first entering, Sir Roger winked to me, and pointed to something that stood behind the door, which upon looking that way, I found to be an old broom-staff. At the same time he whispered to me in the ear to take notice of a tabby cat that sat in the chimney corner, which, as the old knight told me, lay under as bad a report as Moll herself; for beside that Moll is said to accompany her in the same shape, the cat is reported to have spoken twice or thrice in her life, and to have played several pranks above the capacity of an ordinary cat.
“I was secretly concerned to see human nature in so much wretchedness and disgrace, but at the same time could not forbear smiling to hear Sir Roger, who is a little puzzled about the old woman, advising her as a justice of peace to avoid all communication with the devil, and never to hurt any of her neighbors’ cattle. We concluded our visit with a bounty which was very acceptable.
“In our return Sir Roger told me that Moll had been often brought before him for making children spit pins, and giving maids the nightmare; and that the country people would be tossing her into a pond and trying experiments with her every day, if it was not for him and his chaplain.
“I have since found upon inquiry that Sir Roger was several times staggered with the reports that had been brought him concerning this old woman, and would frequently have bound her over to the county sessions, had not his chaplain with much ado persuaded him to the contrary.
“I have been the more particular in this account, because I hear there is scarcely a village in England that has not a Moll White in it. When an old woman begins to doat, and grow chargeable to a parish, she is generally turned into a witch, and fills the whole country into extravagant fancies, imaginary distempers, and terrifying dreams. In the meantime, the poor wretch that is the innocent occasion of so many evils, begins to be frightened at herself, and sometimes confesses secret commerces and familiarities that her imagination forms in a delirious old age. This frequently cuts off charity from the greatest objects of compassion, and inspires people with a malevolence towards those poor discrepit parts of our species, in whom human nature is defaced by infirmity and dotage.”
* * * * *
A word of explanation here seems necessary. At the time of Sir Roger’s supposed movements, memory of the great Matthew Hopkins was lively in many places, and, now and then, imitators sprang up, just as today, while the idea is generally discarded and thrown on the scrap heap of exploded opinions, you will find in back country districts, “water witches” who will undertake to locate water or minerals and tell the depth at which they are to be found.
Matthew Hopkins lived in Essex and had made himself conspicuous in discovering the devil’s mark on many witches. He had a peculiar monopoly for a time, and, being a specialist, was much sought after, aiding the judges with his knowledge of “such cattle” as he called them, whenever a witch was suspected. Lesser lights in the way of specialists soon appeared.
Later, he assumed the title of “Witch Finder General” and traveled through the central counties witch hunting. In one year, he brought more than sixty old women to the stake. His favorite method was that advocated by King James in his “Demonologie.” The hands and feet of the suspected one were cross tied, then, wrapped in a blanket, they were laid on their backs in a pond. If they sank, they were adjudged innocent, but if they floated for a short time, as was often the case, especially when they were laid carefully on the water, they were judged guilty and burned.
Another test was to make the suspected one repeat the Lord’s Prayer and the Creed. If a word was missed or wrongly pronounced, she was accounted guilty. It was said that witches could not weep more than three tears, and those only from the left eye. Thus, the natural excitement and its effect became a proof of guilt.
Hopkins traveled through his counties like a man of consideration, attended by two assistants, put up at the chief inn of the place, and always at the cost of the authorities. His charges were twenty shillings a town, his expenses of living while there, and his transportation. This he claimed whether he found witches or not. If he found any, he charged twenty shillings a head in addition when they were brought to execution. For three years he carried on this infamous trade, success making him so insolent and rapacious, that high and low became his enemies. The Rev. Mr. Gaul, a clergyman of Houghton, in Huntingdonshire, wrote a pamphlet accusing him of being a common nuisance. Hopkins replied in an angry letter to the mayor of Houghton, stating his intention of visiting their town, but desiring to know whether it held many such sticklers for witchcraft as Mr. Gaul, and asking whether they were willing to receive and entertain him with the customary hospitality. He added by way of threat, that in case he did not receive a satisfactory reply, “He would waive their shire altogether and betake himself to such places where he might do and punish, not only without control, but with thanks and recompense.”
Mr. Gaul describes, in his pamphlet, one of the modes employed by Hopkins. It was proof even more atrocious than the swimming test. He says, that the “witch-finding general” used to take the suspected witch and place her in the middle of a room, upon a stool or table, cross-legged, or in some other uneasy posture. If she refused to sit in this manner, she was bound with strong cords. Hopkins then placed persons to watch her, for four and twenty hours, during which time she was to be kept with meat and drink. It was supposed that one of her imps would come during that interval, and suck her blood. As the imp might come in the shape of a wasp, a moth, a fly or other insect, a hole was made in the door or window to let it enter. The watchers were ordered to keep a sharp lookout, and endeavor to kill any insect that appeared in the room. If any fly escaped, or if they could not kill it, the woman was guilty; the fly was her imp, and she was sentenced to be burned, and twenty shillings went into the pockets of master Hopkins. In this manner he made one old woman confess because four flies had appeared in the room, that she was attended by four imps, named “Ilemazar,” “Pyewackett,” “Peck-in-the-crown,” and “Grizel-Greedigut.”
Hopkins was eventually caught in his own trap. Suspected presently, he was beset by a mob in the village of Suffolk, and accused of being himself a wizard. An old reproach was brought against him, that he had, by means of sorcery, cheated the devil out of a certain memorandum book, in which Satan had entered the names of all the witches in England. “Thus,” said someone, “you find out witches, not by God’s aid, but by the devil’s.” In vain he denied his guilt. The crowd put him to his own test. He was stripped and given the swimming test. Some say that he floated, was taken out, tried and executed upon no other proof of his guilt. Others assert that he was drowned. As no judicial entry of his trial and execution is found in any register, it appears most probable that he was killed.
SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY.
We come to Sir Roger himself, the character that Addison loved as Dickens loved _Pickwick_, as Cervantes loved _Don Quixote_, as Rabelais loved his _Pantagruel_. Sir Roger was no wooden puppet, no dummy stuffed with straw. He lived. He had his faults, his opinions, his character. His is a type that has passed away. The county squire, in his position as magistrate, land owner, benefactor, respected authority, no longer exists. Be it remembered, there was, as William Morris used to point out, much of good, as well as much of evil, in the feudal system. In that day the land owner’s domain, was a little state, paternally governed. We have freed ourselves from that, to become institution governed. A Sir Roger scolded his tenants, knew their affairs, gave them advice, assistance, orders. There was indeed, a “mixture of the father and the master of the family” in him. He lived with his people and was respected, obeyed, loved; the simplicity of his tastes put him on something very near a level with them. That was something, as it is always something to see authority face to face.
* * * * *
A VISIT TO SIR ROGER.
NO. 106, SPECTATOR, JULY 2, 1711--ADDISON.
“Having often received an invitation from my friend Sir Roger de Coverley to pass away a month, with him in the country, I last week accompanied him hither, and am settled with him for some time at his country-house. Sir Roger, who is well acquainted with my humor, lets me rise and go to bed when I please; dine at his own table or in my own chamber as I see fit; sit still and say nothing without bidding me be merry. When the gentlemen of the country come to see him, he only shows me at a distance: as I have been walking in his field I have observed them stealing a sight of me over an hedge, and have heard the knight desiring them not to let me see them, for that I hated to be stared at.