CHAPTER III

SUPERSTITION

After Religion stalks her caricature, Superstition. Now the credulities of London in the Elizabethan age were many and wonderful.

Everybody, for instance, at that time believed in _witchcraft_. Yet there was not wanting an occasional protest.

“I saie, that there is none which acknowledgeth God to be onlie omnipotent ... but will denie that the elements are obedient to witches, and at their commendement; or that they may at their pleasure send raine, haile, tempests, thunder, lightning.... Such faithlesse people are also persuaded that neither hale nor snowe, thunder nor lightening, raine nor tempestuous winds, come from the heavens at the commandement of God, but are raised by the cunning and power of witches and conjurers; inasmuch as a clap of thunder or a gale of wind is no sooner heard, but wither they run to ring bells, or crie out to burne witches, or else burne consecrated things, hoping by the smoke thereof to drive the devill out of the aire.”

Witchcraft and magic were, however, recognised by the Government as real things. It was thought desirable in 1542 to pass an Act against these practices.

“It shall be felony to practise, or cause to be practised conjurations, with craft, enchantment or sorcery, to get money: or to consume any person in his body, members, or goods; or to provoke any person to unlawful love; or for the despight of Christ or lucre of money to pull down any cross; or to declare where goods stolen,” etc.

This Act of Henry VIII. was repeated or confirmed by Elizabeth twenty years later, and by James I. in 1603. Cranmer, in 1549, ordered the clergy to inquire “whether you know of any that use charms, sorcery, enchantment, witchcrafts, soothsaying, or any like craft invented by the devil.” And in 1558 Bishop Jewel, preaching before the Queen, said, “It may please your Grace to understand that witches and sorcerers within these last few years are marvellously increased within your Grace’s realm. Your subjects pine away even to the death; their colour fadeth; their flesh rotteth; their speech is benumbed; their senses are bereft.”

The precautions used against witchcraft do not belong to London, where the belief in the superstition took a less active form than in the country. A pebble with a natural hole in it, a horseshoe picked up by accident and nailed up over the door, a hare’s foot in the pocket, a bit of witchwood, were simple precautions against the witch. I do not think that these superstitions were much followed in London, though there are examples that the terror of the witch prevailed in the City as well as in the country.

It is remarkable that the spread of education and the toleration of fine thoughts in religion did not destroy this horrible superstition. On the contrary it increased, and the seventeenth century, when the greatest amount of religious freedom was practised if not allowed, only made the belief in witchcraft more profound.

Who could choose but to believe when Ben Jonson himself could write of witches as follows?

“Within a gloomy dimble she doth dwell, Down in a pit o’ergrown with brakes and briars, Close by the ruins of a shaken abbey, Torn with an earthquake down into the ground, ’Mongst graves and grots, near an old charnel-house Where you shall find her sitting in her form, As fearful and melancholie as that She is about: with caterpillars’ kells, And knotty cobwebs, rounded in with spells. Thence she steals forth to relief in the fogs, And rotten mists, upon the fens and bogs, Down to the drowned lands of Lincolnshire: To make ewes cast their lambs, swine eat their farrow, The housewives’ tun not work, nor the milk churn! Writhe children’s wrists, and suck their breath in sleep: Get vials of their blood! and where the sea Casts up his slimy ooze, search for a weed To open locks with, and to rivet charms, Planted about her in the wicked feat Of all her mischiefs, which are manifold.”

We may illustrate this belief by the case of Joan Cason or Freeman (she was the wife of one Freeman). She was indicted and solemnly tried by a jury on the charge of being a witch, and of having killed by witchcraft one Jane Cooke, aged three years.

The principal evidence was Sarah Cooke, mother of the child. She kept an alehouse. She was one day drawing a pot of ale for a stranger when he remarked the languishing condition of her child, and suggested that it was bewitched. “Take,” he said, “a tile from the house of the suspected person, lay it in the fire, and if she really is a witch the tile will sparkle round the cradle.” Wonderful to relate, Sarah Cooke took a tile from the woman’s house, laid it in the fire, and it did “sparkle round the house.” At that moment Joan Cason herself looked in, gazed upon the child, and went away. Four hours after the child died. What more was wanted? There was evidence corroborative. In the lifetime of the man Freeman there was something like a rat seen about her house, something that squeaked. In the end Joan was hanged, protesting her innocence, but confessing ill conduct with one Mason, who had died of the plague.

There is also the case of Simon Penbrooke, living in St. George’s Parish, Southwark. He was suspected to be a conjurer, and was summoned before a court holden in the church of St. Mary Overies either for that or for some other case. As he was talking to a proctor, presumably about his defence, he suddenly fell dead, just as the Judge entered the church. Of course the Judge remarked that it was the just judgment of God towards those that used sorcery, “and a great example to admonish others to fear the justice of God.” They found upon him certain “develish” books of conjuration, with a tin man and other fearful things. And they were reminded of Leviticus xx. 6, “If anie soule turne himselfe after such as woorke with spirits and after soothsaiers, saith the Lorde, I will put my face against that soule, and will cut him off from among my people.”

Another form of witchcraft was that of the professional conjurer. There was, for instance, the case of William Randoll, who was charged with conjuring to know where treasure was hid in the earth. Four others were charged with assisting at the conjuration. One has no doubt of the fact or of the means employed. Randoll used, of course, the well-known bent stick, the “verge de Jacob,” which is still employed all over the world for the discovery of water, though its properties and powers in revealing the existence of metals have been of late neglected, and are now nearly forgotten. The whole of the accused were condemned to death, but in the end Randoll alone was executed. There was said at the time to be five hundred professed conjurers in the country.

The origin of touching for the King’s Evil is recounted by Stow in his _Annals_ in the following manner:—

“A young woman was afflicted with this disorder in a very alarming manner, and to a most disgusting degree, feeling uneasiness and pain consequent upon it in her sleep, dreamt that she should be cured by the simple operation of having the part washed by the King’s hand. Application was consequently made to Edward, by her friends, who very humanely consented to perform the unpleasant request. A bason of water was brought, with which he carefully softened the tumours till they broke, and the contents discharged; the sign of the cross wound up the charm; and the female retired, with the assurance of his protection during the remainder of the cure, which was effected within a week.”

Of talismans and amulets the sixteenth century had many. The word talisman is an Arabic corruption of the Greek, _i.e._ the influence of a planet or Zodiacal sign upon a person born under it. It was a symbolical figure drawn or engraved. It was supposed at once to procure love and to avert danger. The amulet derived from Latin _amolior_, to do away with, or baffle, averted danger of all kinds. Amber kept children from danger; a child’s caul made lawyers prosper; the Evil Eye was averted by certain well-known symbols, including the locust; the closed hand, the pine cone, and other objects were amulets. The German Jew at the point of death tied his head round with knotted leather. The Turks cured apoplexy by encircling the head with a parchment strip painted with signs of the Zodiac. Spells were of all kinds.

Among the superstitions of the time must not be forgotten that favourite form of superstition known as astrology, which still flourishes, though it is not so commonly practised and believed as formerly. Many of the Fathers of the Church denounced astrology, yet astrologers continued. After the Reformation they became more open in their profession and more daring in their pretensions. The names of Nostradamus, Cornelius Agrippa, William Lilly, Robert Fludd, John Dee, and Simon Former, occur as leaders among the astrologers, some of whom were also alchemists. Some of the English professors of astrology were pupils of Cornelius Agrippa in London and at Pavia; others went to study the science at Strasburg. Judicial astrology was in great vogue in London for two hundred years after the Reformation; hundreds of people gained their livelihood by casting nativities for children in which their future was foretold. The story of Dryden and his son’s nativity is well known. The astrologers picked out lucky days for the commencement of any kind of business; they told fortunes; they resolved questions; they recovered stolen goods; they predicted future events. It is, however, apparent from their own writings that they had little confidence in the stars, and that the popular part of astrology, at least, was for the most part guesswork, not without fraud. The astrologers of London in the sixteenth century formed themselves into a Society. In the year 1550 a certain Dr. Gell preached a sermon before the Society of Astrologers. Ashmole also mentions his own attendance at certain astrological banquets. But about the Society itself very little is known. Newton pointed out that the sun and stars were only other earths which could have no power over the destiny of men. But the superstition decayed very slowly.

Dr. Dee’s _Diary_ is a _locus classicus_ for the superstitions of his time—the last quarter of the sixteenth century.

He hears knockings in his chamber, with a voice like the shrieking of an owl, but more drawn out and more soft. He is offered a sight in a crystal and he “saw”—what did he see? He does not tell us.

A friend is strangely troubled by a “spiritual creature” about midnight. Robert Gardiner reveals to him a great philosophical secret, which is received with common prayer. He hears of an alchemist who gives away “great lumps” of the philosopher’s stone. He dreams that he is to be bereft of his books.

There was trouble with Anne his nurse. She was tempted by a wicked spirit who possessed her. He prayed with her; he anointed her with “holy oil” twice, the wicked spirit resisting. Despite the power of the oil Anne threw herself into the well, but was dragged out in time. Three weeks later she evaded her keeper and cut her throat.

In 1596 Dee received a message from the Queen; he was to do what he would in philosophy and alchemy; no one should hinder him. And so on to the end of the _Diary_.

In the autumn of 1899 there was found in the garden of Lincoln’s Inn a thin leaden tablet about four inches square. On one side were eighty-one small squares, arranged in a large square, each with a number engraved upon it. On the other side were three names—Hasmodar, Scherchemosh, and Scharhahan, with a symbol to each. The explanation is as follows:—The square is a charm; the number eighty-one is the number of the Moon, each planet having its own number in the “science” of astrology. The arrangement of the numbers in the eighty-one squares is such that added up vertically or horizontally or diagonally the sum shall always be the same. In this case it is 369. Why 369 I cannot explain. On the other side the three names are the three spirits of the Moon, each with its hieroglyph.

The writing is an expression of an invitation or a command to the spirits to work mischief on an unfortunate man. Had the sorcerer desired good fortune he would have used a silver plate. In either case it was necessary to bury the plate in some secret place, unseen and unsuspected.

The following story is gravely told by Philip Stubbes. Perhaps he did not believe it himself; but it is certain that he meant his readers to believe it.

“This gentlewoman beeyng a very riche Merchaunte mannes daughter: upon a tyme was invited to a Bridall or Wedding, whiche was solemnized in that Toune, againste whiche daie she made great preparation, for the plumyng of herself in gorgious arraie, that as her body was moste beautifull, faire, and proper, so her attire in every respecte might bee corespondent to the same. For the accomplishment whereof, she curled her haire, she died her lockes, and laied them out after the best maner, she coloured her face with waters and Ointmentes; but in no case could she gette any (so curious and daintie she was) that could starche and sette her Ruffes and Neckerchers to her mynde; wherefore she sent for a couple of Laundresses, who did the best thei could to please her humours, but in anywise thei could not. Then fell she to sweare and teare, to cursse and banne, castyng the Ruffes under feete, and wishyng that the Devill might take her when she weare any of those Neckerchers againe. In the meane tyme (through the sufferaunce of God) the Devill, transformyng himself into the forme of a young man, as brave and proper as she in every pointe in outward appearance, came in, fainyng himself to bee a woer or suter unto her. And seyng her thus agonized, and in suche a peltyng chase, he demaunded of her the cause thereof, who straight waie tolde hym how she was abused in the settyng of her Ruffes, which thyng beeyng heard of hym, he promised to please her minde, and thereto tooke in hande the setting of her Ruffes, whiche he performed to her greate contentation, and likyng, in so muche as she lokyng her self in a glasse (as the Devill bad her) became greatly inamoured with hym. This dooen, the yong man kissed her, in the doyng whereof he writhe her necke in sunder, so she died miserably, her bodie beyng metamorphosed into blacke and blewe colours most ugglesome to behold, and her face (whiche before was so amorous) became moste deformed, and fearfull to looke upon. This being knowen, preparaunce was made for her burial, a riche coffin was provided, and her fearfull bodie was laied therein, and it covered verie sumpteously. Foure men immediatly assaied to lifte up the corps, but could not move it, then sixe attempted the like, but could not once stirre it from the place where it stoode. Whereat the standers by marveilyng, caused the Coffin to bee opened, to see the cause thereof. Where thei founde the bodie to be taken awaie, and a blacke Catte verie leane and deformed sittyng in the Coffin, setting of greate Ruffes, and frizlyng of haire, to the greate feare and wonder of all beholders. This wofull spectacle have I offered to their viewe, that by looking into it, instead of their other looking Glasses thei might see their own filthinesse, and avoyde the like offence, for feare of the same, or worser judgment: whiche God graunt thei maie doe.”

ELIZABETHAN LONDON