{"collection":"ritual-magic","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_37047/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_37047","id":"gutenberg_37047","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37047","summary":null,"tags":["Campbell, Duncan, 1680?-1730","Category: Adventure","Category: British Literature","Category: Novels","Deaf people -- Great Britain -- Biography","Occultism -- Early works to 1900","Prophets -- Great Britain -- Biography"],"text":"\n\n\n\nProduced by Steven Gibbs, Pat McCoy and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n THE\n\n HISTORY\n\n OF THE\n\n LIFE\n\n AND\n\n ADVENTURES\n\n OF\n\n MR. DUNCAN CAMPBELL,\n\n\n A Gentleman, who, tho' Deaf and Dumb, writes down any Stranger's\n name at first Sight; with their future Contingencies of Fortune.\n\n\n Now Living\n\n In _Exeter_ Court over-against the _Savoy_ in the\n _Strand_.\n\n\n _Gentem quidem nullam video neque tam humanam atque doctam;\n nequtam immanem tamque barbaram, quae non significari futura et a\n quie busdam intelligi praedicique posse censeat._\n\n Cicero de Divinatione, lib. x.\n\n\n _LONDON_:\n\n\n Printed for E. CURLL: And sold by W. MEARS and T. JAUNCY, without\n _Temple Bar_, W. MEADOWS in _Cornhill_, A. BETTESWORTH in\n _Pater-Noster-Row_. W. LEWIS in _Covent Garden and_ W. GRAVES in\n St. _James's_ Street. M.DCC.XX. (Price 5_s._)\n\n\n\n\n TO THE\n LADIES AND GENTLEMEN\n OF\n GREAT BRITAIN.\n\n\nI am not unacquainted, that, ever since this book was first promised by\nway of advertisement to the world, it was greedily coveted by a great\nmany persons of airy tempers, for the same reason that it has been\ncondemned by those of a more formal class, who thought it was calculated\npartly to introduce a great many new and diverting curiosities in the\nway of superstition, and partly to divulge the secret intrigues and\namours of one part of the sex, to give the other part room to make\nfavourite scandal the subject of their discourse; and so to make one\nhalf of the fair species very merry, over the blushes and the\nmortifications of the other half. But when they come to read the\nfollowing sheets, they will find their expectations disappointed, but I\nhope I may say too, very agreeably disappointed. They will find a much\nmore elegant entertainment than they expected. Instead of making them a\nbill of fare out of patchwork romances of polluting scandal, the good\nold gentleman who wrote the Adventures of my Life, has made it his\nbusiness to treat them with a great variety of entertaining passages,\nwhich always terminate in morals that tend to the edification of all\nreaders, of whatsoever sex, age, or profession. Instead of seducing\nyoung, innocent, unwary minds into the vicious delight which is too\noften taken in reading the gay and bewitching chimeras of the cabalists,\nand in perusing the enticing fables of new-invented tricks of\nsuperstition, my ancient friend, the writer, strikes at the very root of\nthese superstitions, and shows them how they may be satisfied in their\nseveral curiosities, by having recourse to me, who by the talent of the\nsecond-sight, which he so beautifully represents, how nature is so kind\nfrequently to implant in the minds of men born in the same climate with\nmyself, can tell you those things naturally, which when you try to learn\nyourselves, you either run the hazard of being imposed upon in your\npockets by cheats, gipsies, and common fortune-tellers, or else of being\nimposed upon in a still worse way, in your most lasting welfare, by\nhaving recourse to conjurors or enchanters that deal in black arts, and\ninvolve all their consulters in one general partnership of their\nexecrable guilt; or, lastly, of imposing worst of all upon your own\nselves, by getting into an itch of practising and trying the little\ntricks of female superstition, which are often more officiously handed\ndown by the tradition of credulous nurses and old women, from one\ngeneration to another, than the first principles of Christian doctrine,\nwhich it is their duty to instil early into little children. But I hope\nwhen this book comes to be pretty generally read among you ladies, as by\nyour generous and numerous subscriptions I have good reason to expect,\nthat it will afford a perfect remedy and a thorough cure to that\ndistemper, which first took its rise from too great a growth of\ncuriosity, and too large a stock of credulity nursed prejudicially up\nwith you in your more tender and infant years.\n\nWhatever young maid hereafter has an innocent but longing desire to know\nwho shall be her husband, and what time she shall be married, will, I\nhope, when she has read the following sheets of a man that can set her\nright in the knowledge of those points, purely by possessing the gift of\nthe second sight, sooner have recourse innocently to such a man than use\nunlawful means to acquire it, such as running to conjurors to have his\nfigure shown in their enchanted glasses, or using any of those\ntraditional superstitions, by which they may dream of their husbands, or\ncause visionary shapes of them to appear on such and such festival\nnights of the year; all which practices are not ordinarily wicked and\nimpious, but downright diabolical. I hope that the next 29th of June,\nwhich is St. John Baptist's day, I shall not see the several pasture\nfields adjacent to this metropolis, especially that behind Montague\nHouse, thronged, as they were the last year, with well dressed young\nladies crawling busily up and down upon their knees, as if they were a\nparcel of weeders, when all the business is to hunt superstitiously\nafter a coal under the root of a plantain, to put under their heads that\nnight, that they may dream who should be their husbands. In order to\nshame them out of this silly but guilty practice, I do intend to have\nsome spies out on that day, that shall discover who they are, and what\nthey have been about; and I here give notice to the public, that this\nill-acted comedy, if it be acted at all this year, must begin according\nto the rule of their superstition, on that day precisely at the hour of\ntwelve. And so much for the pretty weeders. But as you, ladies, have had\nseveral magical traditions delivered to you, which, if you put in\nexercise and practice, will be greatly prejudicial to your honour and\nyour virtue, let me interpose my counsels, which will conduct you\ninnocuously to the same end, which some ladies have laboured to arrive\nat by these impieties. Give me leave first to tell you, that though what\nyou aim at may be arrived to by these means, yet these means make that a\nmiserable fortune which would have been a good one; because, in order\nto know human things beforehand, you use preternatural mediums, which\ndestroy the goodness of the courses, which nature herself was taking for\nyou, and annexes to them diabolical influences, which commonly carry\nalong with them fatalities in this world as well as the next. You will,\ntherefore, give me your pardon likewise, ladies, if I relate some other\nof these practices, which bare relation of itself, after what I have\nsaid before, seems to me sufficient to explode them.\n\nAnother of the nurse's prescriptions is this: upon a St. Agnes's night,\nthe 21st day of January, take a row of pins and pull out every one, one\nafter another, saying a _Pater Noster_, or Our Father, sticking a pin in\nyour sleeve, and you will dream of her you shall marry. Ben Johnson, in\none of his masks, makes some mention of this:\n\n And on Sweet Agnes' night\n Please you with the promis'd sight,\n Some of husbands, some of lovers,\n Which an empty dream discovers.\n\nNow what can be more infinitely profane than to use the prayer our Lord\ninstituted in such a way?\n\nThere is another prescription, which is as follows: You must lie in\nanother county, and knit the left garter about the right-legged\nstocking, let the other garter and stocking alone, and as you rehearse\nthese following verses, at every comma, knit a knot:--\n\n This knot I knit,\n To know the thing I know not yet,\n That I may see\n The man that shall my husband be;\n How he goes, and what he wears,\n And what he does all days and years.\n\nAccordingly in your dream you will see him: if a musician, with a lute\nor other instrument; if a scholar, with a book, &c. Now I appeal to you,\nladies, what a ridiculous prescription is this? But yet as slight a\nthing as it is, it may be of great importance if it be brought about,\nbecause then it must be construed to be done by preternatural means, and\nthen those words are nothing less than an application to the devil.\n\nMr. Aubrey, of the Royal Society, says, a gentlewoman, that he knew,\nconfessed in his hearing that she used this method, and dreamt of her\nhusband whom she had never seen. About two or three years after, as she\nwas one Sunday at church, up pops a young Oxonian in the pulpit; she\ncries out presently to her sister, this is the very face of the man I\nsaw in my dream. Sir William Somes's lady did the like.\n\nAnother way is to charm the moon thus, as the old nurses give out, at\nthe first appearance of the moon, after New-year's-day, some say any\nother new moon is as good, go out in the evening, and stand over the\nspars of a gate or stile, looking on the moon (here remark that in\nYorkshire they kneel on a ground-fast stone) and say,\n\n All hail to the moon, all hail to thee,\n I prithee, good moon, reveal to me\n This night who my husband shall be.\n\nYou must presently after go to bed. The aforesaid Mr. Aubrey knew two\ngentlewomen that did thus when they were young maids, and they had\ndreams of those that married them.\n\nBut a great many of the wittiest part of your sex laugh at these common\nsuperstitions; but then they are apt to run into worse: they give\nthemselves up to the reading of the cabalistical systems of sylphs, and\ngnomes, and mandrakes, which are very wicked and delusive imaginations.\n\nI would not have you imagine, ladies, that I impute these things as\ninfirmities and frailties peculiar to your sex. No; men, and great men\ntoo, and scholars, and even statesmen, and princes themselves, have been\ntainted with superstitions, and where they infect the minds of such\ngreat personages, they make the deeper impression, according to the\nstronger and more manly ideas they have of them. Their greater degree of\nstrength in the intellect only subjects them to greater weaknesses; such\nwas even the great Paracelsus, the wonder and miracle of learning in the\nage wherein he lived, and such were all his followers, scholars,\nstatesmen, divines, and princes, that are talismanists.\n\nThese talismans that Paracelsus pretends to owe to the excogitation and\ninvention of honest art, seem to me to be of a very diabolical nature,\nand to owe their rise to being dedicated by the author to the heathen\ngods. Thus the cabalists pretending to a vast penetration into arts and\nsciences, though all their thoughts are chimeras and extravagancies,\nunless they be helped by preternatural means, say they have found out\nthe several methods appropriated to the several planets. They have\nappropriated gold to the sun on the Sunday, silver to the moon on the\nMonday, iron to Mars on the Tuesday, quicksilver to Mercury on the\nWednesday, tin to Jupiter on the Thursday, copper or brass to Venus on\nthe Friday, and lead to Saturn on the Saturday. The methods they take in\nforming these talismans are too long to dwell upon here. But the\nproperties which they pretend belong to them are, that the first\ntalisman or seal of the sun will make a man beloved by all princes and\npotentates, and cause him to abound with all the riches his heart can\nwish. The second preserves travellers from danger, and is favourable to\nmerchants, tradesmen, and workmen. The third carries destruction to any\nplace where it is put: and it is said that a certain great minister of\nstate ordered one of these to be carried into England in the times of\nthe revolution of government caused by Oliver Cromwell. The fourth they\npretend cures fevers and other diseases; and if it be put under the\nbolster, it makes the proprietor have true dreams, in which he sees all\nhe desires to know. The fifth, according to them, renders a man lucky\nand fortunate in all his businesses and undertakings. It dissipates\nmelancholy, drives away all importunate cares, and banishes panic fears\nfrom the mind. The sixth, by being put into the liquor which any one\ndrinks, reconciles mortal enemies, makes them intimate friends: it gains\nthe love of all women, and renders the proprietor very dexterous in the\nart of music. The seventh makes women be easily brought to bed without\npain; and if a horseman carries it in his left boot, himself and his\nhorse become invulnerable.\n\nThis, Paracelsus and his learned followers say, is owing to the\ninfluence of the stars; but I cannot help arguing these acts of\ndiabolical impiety. But as these arts are rarely known among the\nmiddling part of mankind, I shall neither open their mysteries, nor\ninveigh against them any farther.\n\nThe persons who are most to be avoided are your ordinary fortune-telling\nwomen and men about this town, whose houses ought to be avoided as a\nplague or a pestilence, either because they are cheats and impostors, or\nbecause they deal with black arts, none of them that I know having any\npretensions to the gift of a second-sight. Among many, a few of the most\nnotorious that I can call to mind now, are as follow. The first and\nchiefest of these mischievous fortune-tellers is a woman that does not\nlive far from the Old Bailey. And truly the justice hall in that place\nis the properest place for her to appear at, where, if she was tried for\npretending to give charms written upon paper with odd scrawls, which she\ncalls figures, she would be probably convicted, and very justly\ncondemned, and doomed to have her last journey from the Old Bailey to\nNewgate, and from Newgate to Tyburn. The other is a fellow that lives in\nMoorfields, in which place those who go to consult him ought to live all\ntheir lifetimes, at the famous palaces of the senseless men: he is the\nsuccessor of the famous Dr. Trotter, whose widow he married; and from\nbeing a tailor and patching men's garments, he now cuts flourishes with\nhis shears upon parchment, considers the heavens as a garment, and from\nthe spangles thereupon he calculates nativities, and sets up for a very\nprofound astrologer. The third is an ignorant fellow that caws out\nstrange predictions in Crow-alley, of whose croaking noise I shall here\ntake no notice, he having been sufficiently mauled in the most ingenious\nSpectators. These and such counterfeits as these, I would desire all\ngentlemen and ladies to avoid. The only two really learned men that I\never knew in the art of astrology, were my good friends Dr. Williams and\nMr. Gadbury; and I thought it necessary to pay this esteem to their\nnames, let the world judge of them what it will. I will here say no\nmore, nor hinder you any longer, gentlemen and ladies, from the\ndiversion which my good old friend, who is now departed this life, has\nprepared for you in his book, which a young gentleman of my acquaintance\nrevised, and only subscribe myself,\n\n Yours, &c.,\n\n DUNCAN CAMPBELL.\n\n\n\n\n THE\n HISTORY OF THE LIFE\n AND SURPRISING ADVENTURES\n OF\n MR. DUNCAN CAMPBELL.\n\n\n\n\n THE INTRODUCTION.\n\n\nOf all the writings delivered in an historical manner to the world, none\ncertainly were ever held in greater esteem than those which give us the\nlives of distinguished private men at full length; and, as I may say, to\nthe life. Such curious fragments of biography are the rarities which\ngreat men seek after with eager industry, and when found, prize them as\nthe chief jewels and ornaments that enrich their libraries, and\ndeservedly; for they are the beauties of the greatest men's lives handed\ndown by way of example or instruction to posterity, and commonly handed\ndown likewise by the greatest men. Since, therefore, persons\ndistinguished for merit in one kind or other are the constant subjects\nof such discourses, and the most elegant writers of each age have been\nusually the only authors who choose upon such subjects to employ their\npens, and since persons of the highest rank and dignity, and genii of\nthe most refined and delicate relish, are frequently curious enough to\nbe the readers of them, and to esteem them the most valuable pieces in a\nwhole collection of learned works; it is a wonder to me that when any\nman's life has something in it peculiarly great and remarkable in its\nkind, it should not move some more skilful writer than myself to give\nthe public a taste of it, because it must be at least vastly\nentertaining, if it be not, which is next to impossible, immensely\ninstructive and profitable withal.\n\nIf ever the life of any man under the sun was remarkable, this Mr.\nDuncan Campbell's, which I am going to treat upon, is so to a very\neminent degree.\n\nIt affords such variety of incidents, and is accompanied with such\ndiversity of circumstances, that it includes within it what must yield\nentire satisfaction to the most learned, and admiration to persons of a\nmoderate understanding. The prince and the peasant will have their\nseveral ends of worthy delight in reading it; and Mr. Campbell's life is\nof that extent, that it concerns and collects, as I may say, within\nitself, every station of life in the universe. Besides, there is a\ndemand in almost every page that relates any new act of his, for the\nfinest and closest disquisitions that learning can make upon human\nnature, to account how those acts could be done by him. For he daily\npractised, and still practises, those things naturally, which puts art\nto the rack to find out how nature can so operate in him; and his\nfleshly body, by these operations, is a living practical system, or body\nof new philosophy, which exceeds even all those that have hitherto been\ncompounded by the labour and art of many ages.\n\nIf one that had speculated deep into abstruse matters, and made it his\nstudy not only to know how to assign natural reasons for some strange\nnew acts that looked like miracles by being peculiar to the individual\ngenius of some particular admired man, but carrying his inquiry to a\nmuch greater height, had speculated likewise what might possibly be\nachieved by human genius in the full perfection of nature, and had laid\nit down as a thesis by strong arguments, that such things might be\ncompassed by a human genius, if in its true degree of perfection, as are\nthe hourly operations of the person's life I am writing, he would have\nbeen counted a wild romantic enthusiast, instead of a natural\nphilosopher. Some of the wisest would be infidels to so new and so\nrefined a scheme of thinking, and demand experiment, or cry it was all\nagainst reason, and would not allow the least tittle to be true without\nit. Yet the man that had found out so great a mystery as to tell us what\nmight be done by human genius, as it is here actually done, would have\nbeen a great man within himself; but wanting further experimental\nproof, could lay no claim to the belief of others, or consequently to\ntheir esteem. But how great, then, is the man who makes it constantly\nhis practice actually to do what would not otherwise have been thought\nto be of such a nature as might ever be acquired by mortal capacity,\nthough in its full complement of all possible perfection? He is not only\ngreat within himself, he is great to the world: his experiments force\nour belief, and the amazing singularity of those experiments provokes\nboth our wonder and esteem.\n\nIf any learned man should have advanced this proposition, that mere\nhuman art could give to the deaf man what should be equal to his\nhearing, and to the dumb man an equivalent for his want of speech, so\nthat he could converse as freely almost as other hearing or talking\npersons; that he might, though born deaf, be by art taught how to read,\nwrite, and understand any language, as well as students that have their\nhearing, would not the world, and many even of the learned part of it,\nsay that nothing could be more extravagantly wild, more mad and frantic?\nThe learned Dr. Wallis, geometry professor of Oxford, did first of all\nlay down this proposition, and was counted by many to have overshot the\npoint of learning, and to have been the author of a whimsical thesis.\nAnd I should not have wondered if, after a man's having asserted this\nmight be done, before it was actually done, some blind devout people in\nthose days, had accused him of heresy, and of attributing to men a power\nof working miracles. The notion of the antipodes was by the most learned\nmen of the age in which St. Augustin lived, and by the great St. Austin\nhimself, treated in no milder a manner: yet if the ability of teaching\nthe deaf and the dumb a language proved a truth in experience\nafterwards, ought not those to turn their contempt into admiration,\nought not those very people to vote him into the Royal Society for\nlaying down the proposition, who, before it proved true, in fact, would\nhave been very forward to have sent him to Bedlam? The first instance of\nthis accomplishment in a dumb person was proved before King Charles II.\nby this same Dr. Wallis, who was a fellow of the Royal Society, and one\nof the most ingenious of that society.\n\nBut, notwithstanding this, should I come afterwards and say, that there\nis now living a deaf and dumb man, and born so, who could by dint of his\nown genius teach all others deaf and dumb to read, write, and converse\nwith the talking and hearing part of mankind, some would, I warrant,\nvery religiously conclude, that I was about to introduce some strange\nnew miracle-monger and impostor into the world, with a design of setting\nup some new sect of anti-christianism, as formidable as that of\nBrachmans. Should I proceed still further, and say, that this same\nperson, so deaf and dumb, might be able also to show a presaging power,\nor kind of prophetical genius, (if I may be allowed to use the\nexpression,) by telling any strange persons he never saw before in his\nlife, their names in writing, and by telling them the past actions of\ntheir lives, and predicting to them determined truths of future\ncontingencies, notwithstanding what divines say, that \"in futuris\ncontingeatibus non datur determinata veritas,\" would not they conclude\nthat I was going to usher in a new Mahomet? Since, therefore, there does\nexist such a man in London, who actually is deaf and dumb, and was born\nso, who does write and read, and converse as well as anybody, who\nteaches others deaf and dumb to write, and read and converse with\nanybody, who likewise can, by a presaging gift, set down in writing the\nname of any stranger at first sight, tell him his past actions, and\npredict his future occurrences in fortune, and since he has practised\nthis talent as a profession with great success for a long series of\nyears upon innumerable persons in every state and vocation in life, from\nthe peeress to the waiting-woman, and from the lady mayoress to the\nmilliner and sempstress, will it not be wonderfully entertaining to give\nthe world a perfect history of this so singular a man's life? And while\nwe are relating the pleasant adventures with such prodigious variety,\ncan anything be more agreeably instructive in a new way than to\nintersperse the reasons, and account for the manner how nature, having a\nmind to be remarkable, performs by him acts so mysterious.\n\nI have premised this introduction, compounded of the merry and the\nserious, with the hopes of engaging many curious people of all sorts to\nbe my readers, even from the airy nice peruser of novels and romances,\nneatly bound and finely gilt, to the grave philosopher, that is daily\nthumbing over the musty and tattered pieces of more solid antiquity. I\nhave all the wonders to tell that such a merry kind of a prophet has\ntold, to entertain the fancies of the first gay tribe, by which means I\nmay entice them into some solid knowledge and judgment of human nature;\nand I have several solid disquisitions of learning to make, accounting\nfor the manner of these mysterious operations, never touched upon before\nin due form and order by the hands of the ancient or modern sages, that\nI may bribe the judgment of this last grave class, so far as to endure\nthe intermixing entertainment with their severer studies.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER I.\n\n MR. CAMPBELL'S DESCENT, FAMILY, BIRTH, ETC.\n\n\nOf the goodness and antiquity of the name and family of this gentleman,\nnobody can ever make any question. He is a Campbell, lineally descended\nfrom the house of Argyll, and bears a distant relation to the present\nduke of that name in Scotland, and who is now constituted a duke of\nEngland, by the style and title of Duke of Greenwich.\n\nIt happens frequently that the birth of extraordinary persons is so long\ndisputed by different people, each claiming him for their own, that the\nreal place where he first took breath grows at last dubious. And thus it\nfares with the person who is the subject of the following sheets; as,\ntherefore, it is my proposal to have a strict regard to historical\nfaith, so I am obliged to tell the reader that I can with no certainty\ngive an account of him till after he was three years old; from which age\nI knew him, even to this day; I will answer for the truths which I\nimpart to the public during that time, and as for his birth and the\ncircumstances of it, and how the first three years of his life passed, I\ncan only deliver them the same account I have received from others, and\nleave them to their own judgments whether it ought to be deemed real or\nfabulous.\n\nThe father of our Mr. Duncan Campbell, as these relate the story, was\nfrom his infancy of a very curious, inquisitive nature, and of an\nenterprising genius, and if he heard of anything surprising to be seen,\nthe difficulty in practice was enough to recommend to him the attempting\nto get a sight of it at any rate or any hazard. It is certain, that\nduring some civil broils and troubles in Scotland, the grandfather of\nour Mr. Campbell was driven with his wife and family, by the fate of\nwar, into the isle of Shetland, where he lived many years; and during\nhis residence there, Mr. Archibald Campbell, the father of our Duncan\nCampbell, was born.\n\nShetland lies north-east from Orkney, between sixty and sixty-one\ndegrees of latitude. The largest isle of Shetland, by the natives called\nthe Mainland, is sixty miles in length from south-west to the\nnorth-east, and from sixteen, to one mile, in breadth.\n\nThe people who live in the smaller isles have abundance of eggs and\nfowl, which contributes to maintain their families during the summer.\n\nThe ordinary folks are mostly very nimble and active in climbing the\nrocks in quest of those eggs and fowl. This exercise is far more\ndiverting than hunting and hawking among us, and would certainly for the\npleasure of it, be followed by people of greater distinction, was it not\nattended with very great dangers, sufficient to turn sport into sorrow,\nand which have often proved fatal to those who too eagerly pursue their\ngame. Mr. Archibald Campbell, however, delighted extremely in this way\nof fowling, and used to condescend to mix with the common people for\ncompany, because none of the youths of his rank and condition were\nventuresome enough to go along with him.\n\nThe most remarkable experiment of this sort, is at the isle called the\nNoss of Brassah: the Noss standing at sixteen fathoms distance from the\nside of the opposite main: the higher and lower rocks have two stakes\nfastened in each of them, and to these there are ropes tied; upon the\nropes there is an engine hung which they call a cradle, and in this a\nman makes his way over from the greater to the smaller rocks, where he\nmakes a considerable purchase of eggs and fowl; but his return being by\nan ascent, makes it the more dangerous, though those on the great rock\nhave a rope tied to the cradle, by which they draw it and the man safe\nover for the most part. Over this rock Mr. Archibald Campbell and five\nothers were in that manner let down by cradles and ropes; but before\nthey could be all drawn back again, it grew dark, and their associates\nnot daring to be benighted, were forced to withdraw, and Mr. Campbell\nwas the unfortunate person left behind, having wandered too far, and not\nminded how the day declined, being intent on his game. He passed that\nnight, you may easily guess, without much sleep, and with great anxiety\nof heart. The night, too, as he lay in the open air, was, to add to his\nmisfortunes, as boisterous and tempestuous as his own mind; but in the\nend the tempest proved very happy for him. The reader is to understand\nthat the Hamburghers, Bremeners, and Hollanders, carry on a great fish\ntrade there. Accordingly, a Holland vessel, that was just coming in the\nsound of Brassah, was by this tempest driven into a creek of the rock,\nwhich nature had made into a harbour, and they were providentially\nsaved from the bottom of the sea by a rock, from which, humanly\nspeaking, they could expect nothing but destruction, and being sent to\nthe bottom of that sea. As never could a man be taken hold of with so\nsudden and surprising a disaster, so nobody could meet with a more\nsudden and surprising relief than Mr. Campbell found when he saw a ship\nso near. He made to the vessel, and begged the Hollanders to take him\nin; they asked him what he would give them, or, said the barbarous\nsailors, we will even leave you where you are; he told them his\ndisaster, but they asked money, and nothing else would move them: as he\nknew them a self-interested people, he bethought himself, that if he\nshould tell them of the plenty of fowls and eggs they would get there,\nhe might not only be taken in a passenger, but made a partner in the\nmoney arising from the stock; it succeeded accordingly: when he proposed\nit, the whole crew were all at work, and, in four hours, pretty well\nstored the vessel, and then, returning on board, set sail for Holland.\nThey offered Mr. Campbell to put him in at his own island; but having a\nmind to see Holland, and being a partner, to learn their way of\nmerchandize, which he thought he might turn to his countrymen's\nadvantage, he told them he would go the voyage out with them, and see\nthe country of those who were his deliverers; a necessary way of speech,\nwhen one has a design to sooth barbarians, who, but for interest, would\nhave left him unredeemed, and, for aught they knew, a perpetual sole\ninhabitant of a dreadful rock, encompassed round with precipices, some\nthree hundred fathoms high. Not so the islanders, who are wrongly called\na savage set of mortals; no, they came in quest of him after so bitter a\nnight, not doubting to find him, but fearing to find him in a lamentable\ncondition; they hunted and ransacked every little hole and corner in the\nrock, but all in vain. In one place they saw a great slaughter of fowls,\nenough to serve forty families for a week; and then they guessed, though\nthey had not the ill fortune to meet the eagles frequently noted to\nhover about those isles, that they might have devoured part of him on\nsome precipice of the rock, and dropped the remnant into the sea. Night\ncame upon them, and they were afraid of falling into the same disaster\nthey went to relieve Mr. Campbell from. They returned each to their\nproper basket, and were drawn up safe by their respective friends, who\nwere amazed that one basket was drawn up empty which was let down for\nMr. Campbell, and that there was not the least intelligence to be had\nconcerning him, but the suppositious story of his having been devoured\nby eagles. The story was told at home; and with the lamentation of the\nwhole family, and all his friends, he was looked upon to be murdered or\ndead.\n\nReturn we now to Mr. Archibald Campbell, still alive, and on board the\nHolland vessel; secure, as he thought within himself that, from the\ndelivery he lately had by the gift of Providence, he was not intended to\nbe liable to any more misfortunes and dangers of life, in the compass of\nso small a voyage. But his lot was placed otherwise in the book of fate,\nthan he too fondly imagined: his time of happiness was dated some pages\nlower down, and more rubs and difficulties were to be encountered with,\nbefore his stars intended to lead him to the port of felicity. Just as\nhe arrived within sight of Amsterdam, a terrible storm arose, and, in\ndanger of their lives, for many hours, they weathered out the tempest;\nand a calm promising fair afresh, they made to the coast of Zealand; but\na new hurricane prevented the ship from coming there also; and after\nhaving lost their masts and rigging, they were driven into Lapland.\nThere they went ashore in order to careen and repair their ship, and\ntake in provisions; while the ship was repairing by the Dutch, our\nislander made merry with the inhabitants, being the most inclined to\ntheir superstitious customs; he there became acquainted with a very\nbeautiful woman, who fell in love with him, and after a very short space\nof time he married her. About the time when the ship departed, his wife,\nwho was very rich, was big with child of a son, namely, Mr. Duncan\nCampbell. He wrote a letter by the master of the vessel to his parents\nin Shetland, concerning the various adventures he had met with, which\nwas delivered the June following, about the time of fishing, to his\nparents, and several persons had copies thereof, and, for aught I know,\nsome retain them to this very day; sure I am that many remember the\nparticulars of this, surprising affair, who are now living in that\nisland.\n\nThe letter being very remarkable and singular in all its circumstances,\nI shall present it to the reader word for word, as it was given into my\nhands, together with some others which he wrote afterwards, in all\nwhich I am assured by very credible persons, and undoubted authorities,\nthere are not the least alterations, but what the version of it from the\nthen Scotch manner of expression into a more modern English dress, made\nabsolutely necessary.\n\n MY DEAREST FATHER,\n\n The same odd variety of accident, which put it out of my power to\n be personally present with you for so long a time, put it\n likewise out of my power to write to you. At last fortune has so\n ordered it, that I can send a letter to you before I can come\n myself, and it is written expressly to tell you the adventures I\n have met with, which have detained me this tedious space of time\n from my dear father, and because the same captain of a ship that\n brings you this, might as easily have brought your son to speak\n for himself. I shall in the next place lay before you the\n necessity there is for my stay a little longer among the strange\n natives of the country where I now inhabit, and where I am, in a\n manner, become naturalized.\n\n You have, no doubt of it, been informed by my companions, some of\n whom I hope got safe back again, if not all, that I was lost,\n where many a brave man has perished before me, by going over the\n high precipices of the mountain Brassah, in a basket, sliding\n down by a rope. I must suppose I have given you the anguish of a\n father for a son, who you thought had lost his life by such a\n foolhardy attempt, and I implore your pardon with all the power\n of filial contrition, penitence, and duty. You have always showed\n me such singular marks of paternal affection, that I know your\n receipt of this letter will fill your heart with joy, and cause\n you to sign me an absolution and free pardon for all the errors I\n have committed, and think the sufferings I have undergone for my\n rashness and indiscretion, a sufficient atonement for my crime of\n making you by my undutifulness, a partner of my sorrows. To free\n you the more from this uneasiness, I know I need only tell you,\n that every grief of mine is gone excepting one, which is, that I\n must still lose the pleasure of seeing you a little longer. There\n was never surely a more bitter night than that which must by me\n be for ever remembered, when I was lost in the mountain of\n Brassah, where I must, for aught I know, have lived for ever a\n wild single inhabitant, but that the storm which made the night\n so uneasy to me, rendered the first approach of daylight, beyond\n measure delightful. The first providential glimpse of the morning\n gave me a view of a ship driven by the tempest into a creek of\n the rock, that was by nature formed like a harbour; a miraculous\n security of deliverance, as I thought, both for the ship's crew\n and myself. I made all the haste I could, you may be sure, to\n them, and I found them to be Dutchmen that were come for fish;\n but in lieu of fish I instructed them to load it with eggs and\n fowl, which we compassed very happily in a short space of time,\n and I was to be a sharer with the captain in the lading, and\n bargained to go for Holland, to see the sale, and nature of the\n traffic; but when we were at sea, after much bad weather, we made\n towards Zealand, but we were driven upon the coast of Finland by\n a new storm, and thence into Lapland, where I now am, and from\n whence I send you this letter.\n\n I could not come into a place so properly named for my reception;\n as I had been undutiful to you, and fortune seemed to make me an\n exile, or a banished man, by way of punishment for the vices of\n my youth; so Lapland (which is a word originally derived from the\n Finland word _lappi_, that is, exiles, and from the Sweden word\n _lap_, signifying banished, from which two kingdoms most of our\n inhabitants were banished hither, for not embracing the Christian\n religion), was certainly the properest country in the world to\n receive me.\n\n When first I entered this country, I thought I was got into quite\n another world; the men are all of them pigmies to our tall,\n brawny Highlanders; they are, generally speaking, not above three\n cubits high, insomuch that though the whole country of Lapland is\n immensely large, and I have heard it reckoned by the inhabitants\n to be above a hundred German leagues in length, and fourscore and\n ten in breadth, yet I was the tallest man there, and looked upon\n as a giant. The district in which I live now, is called Uma\n Lapmark. You must understand, sir, that when I landed at North\n Cape, in Kimi Lapmark, another district of Lapland, there was at\n that time a most beautiful lady come to see a sick relation of\n her father's, who was prefect, or governor of Uma Lapmark, which\n is a post of great distinction. This lady, by being frequently in\n the company of French merchants, who traffic now and then in that\n province of Uma Lapmark, understood French, and having heard of a\n man six foot and a half high, desired to see me, and when I\n came, she happened mightily to like my person; and she talked\n French, which when I answered, she made great signs of joy, that\n she could communicate her sentiments to me, and she told me who\n she was, how rich, and that not one in the company besides could\n understand a syllable we said, and so I might speak my mind\n freely to her; she told me the customs of the country, that it\n was divided into cantons, like our shires, and those cantons into\n rekars, or certain grounds allotted to families, that are just\n like our clans. As she was beyond measure beautiful, she was\n extremely good humoured, a thing rarely to be met among Lapland\n women, of a better stature than her country women, and very rich,\n and of good birth: I thought it would be a prodigious turn of\n fortune, for a man in my circumstances, if I could make any\n progress in her heart, which she seemed a little to open to me,\n in such a manner, for the beginning, as if such a successful\n event, if managed with prudence, might not be despaired off.\n Souls that are generous are apt to love, and compassion is the\n best introducer of love into a generous bosom, and that was the\n best stock I had to go upon in my courtship! I told her of all my\n calamities, my dangers, and my escapes; the goodness of my birth,\n as being allied to one of the greatest nobles in our island; and\n still she would ask me to tell it her over again, though every\n time I told it, just at such and such passages, she was forced to\n drop the tears from her eyes. In fine, I grew more in love with\n her, more out of a sense of gratitude now, than by the power of\n her charms before; the matter in a few days went so far, that she\n owned to me I had her heart. As to marriage, I did not then know\n the custom of the nation; I thought that if it proved only\n dangerous to me, I loved her so well that I intended to marry\n her, though the law was to pronounce me dead for it; but I did\n not know whether it might not be perilous for her too, to engage\n in such a state with me, and I resolved in that case, rather to\n be singly unhappy, than to involve her in distress, and make her\n the fair companion of my woes. I would not tell her so, for fear\n she should out of love hide from me those dangers, and therefore\n using a kind sort of dissimulation, I conjured her to tell me the\n laws and customs of marriages in that country to a tittle, and\n that nothing should hinder us from happiness. She told me\n exactly, as I find since. Our marriage, said she, will be very\n hard to compass; provided we follow the strict rule of the\n country. For our women here, are bound not to see the man who\n makes their addresses to them, in some time. His way of courtship\n is to come to the parents, and his nearest friends and relations\n must make her father presents, and supplicate him like a king, to\n grant him his daughter. The courtship often lasts two or three\n years, and sometimes has not its effect at last; but if it has,\n the woman is dragged by her father and brother to church, as\n unwilling to go to be married, which is looked upon as a greater\n part of modesty in her, according to the greater disinclination\n she shows. My father and brother, said she, will both be against\n it; you have no relations in this country to move your suit, I\n cannot be so hypocritical as to be dragged unwillingly to him I\n own I desire for my lawful husband, and therefore, as I have an\n inclination to you, and I dare own I have, I will not follow\n those methods which I disapprove. I have talked with several\n Swedes, and several polite Frenchmen, about their manner of\n espousals, and I am told, that when souls are naturally united by\n affection, the couple so mutually and reciprocally loving, though\n they had rather have their parents' leave if likely to be got,\n yet, unwilling to be disappointed, only go to the next minister's\n and marry for better for worse. This way I approve of, for where\n two persons naturally love each other, the rest is nothing but a\n modest restraint to their wishes, and since it is only custom, my\n own reason teaches me there is no error committed, nor any harm\n done in breaking through it upon so commendable an occasion. I\n have, added she, a thousand rein-deer belonging to me, beyond my\n father's power of taking away, and a third share in a rekar or\n clan, that is ten leagues in compass, in the byar or canton of\n Uma Lapmark. This is at my own disposal, and it is all your own,\n if you please to accept of it with me. Our women are very coy,\n when they are courted, though they have never so much an\n inclination to their suitor; but good reason and the commerce I\n have had with persons of politer nations than ours is, teach me\n that this proceeds entirely from vanity and affectation, and the\n greatest proof of a woman's modesty, chastity, and sincerity,\n certainly consists, contrary to the general corrupted opinion, in\n yielding up herself into the arms of the man she loves. For she\n that can dally with a heart she prizes, can give away her heart,\n when she is once balked, to any man, even though she dislikes\n him. You must judge, my dear father, I must be touched with a\n woman that was exceeding beautiful, beyond any of her nation, and\n who had thoughts as beautiful as her person. I therefore was all\n in rapture, and longed for the matrimony, but still loved her\n enough to propose the question, I resolved, to her, viz., if it\n would not be in her nation accounted a clandestine marriage, and\n prove of great damage to her.\n\n To this she answered with all the wisdom which could be expected\n from a woman who had given such eminent tokens of her judgment on\n other points, amidst a nation so barbarous in its manners, and so\n corrupt in its principles, as Lapland is. I am, said she,\n answerable to my father, for nothing by our laws, having no\n portion of him, but only what was presented me by my relations at\n my birth, according to custom, in lands and rein-deer. My father\n is but deputy governor; it is a Swede who is the governor of Uma;\n and if I pay to him at every mart and fair the due tribute, which\n must either consist of fifty rein-deer or one hundred and fifty\n rixdollars, he will have the priest that marries us present at\n the court of justice, according to our custom, and keep us in\n possession of our rights, that we may be enabled to pay tribute\n to the crown of Sweden. Indeed, before the abolition of the\n Birkarti, which were our native judges, we could not have married\n thus without danger to us both; but now there is none at all.\n\n My dear father, you must easily imagine that I could not help\n embracing with all tenderness so dear and so lovely a woman. In\n fine, I am married to her, I have lived very happy hitherto, and\n am now grown more happy, for she is big with child; and likely,\n before my letter comes to your hands, to make you a grandfather\n of a pretty boy. You will perhaps wonder that I name the sex of\n the child before it comes into the world, but we have a way in\n Lapland of finding that out, which though some judicious people\n call superstitious, I am really persuaded of by experience, and\n therefore I indulged my dear wife's curiosity, when she signified\n to me she had a mind to make the usual trial, whether the child\n she was going to be delivered of would be a boy or a girl.\n\n You must understand, my dear father, the people here judge of\n the sex of the child by the moon, unto which they compare a\n big-bellied woman. If they see a star appear just above the moon,\n it is a sign it will be a boy, but, if the star be just below the\n moon, they conjecture her to be big with a girl. This observation\n and remark of Laplanders has, I know, been accounted by some, and\n those wise and judicious men too, to be ridiculously\n superstitious; but I have been led into an easy belief of this\n mystery, by a mistress that is superior to wisdom itself,\n constant, and therefore probably infallible, experience. I\n therefore indulged my wife in this her request, and went with her\n to the ceremony; the star appeared above the moon, which\n prognosticates a boy, which I wish may, and I scarce doubt will,\n prove true, and when she is brought to bed I will send you word\n of it. It is remarkable, likewise, that a star was seen just\n before the moon, which we also count a very good omen. For it is\n a custom likewise here in Lapland, to consult the moon, as an\n oracle about the health and vigour of the child. If a star be\n seen just before the moon, we count it a sign of a lusty and well\n grown child, without blemish; if a star comes just after, we\n reckon it a token that the child will have some defect or\n deformity, or die soon after it is born.\n\n Having thus told you the manners of the country I live in at\n present, as much at large as the nature of a letter will permit,\n and related to you my own happy circumstances, and the kindly\n promises of the heavens that are ushering in the birth of my\n child, I would not have you think that I addict myself to the\n superstitions of the country, which are very many and groundless,\n and arising partly from the remainder of Pagan worship, which is\n still cultivated among some of the more obstinate inhabitants. I\n have, on the contrary, since I married her, endeavoured to repay\n my wife's temporal blessings to me with those that are endless,\n instructed her in all the points of religion, and made her\n perfectly a Christian; and she, by her devotion and prayers for\n me, makes me such amends for it that I hope in us two St. Paul's\n saying will be verified, viz., \"That the woman shall be\n sanctified in her husband, and the husband shall be sanctified in\n his wife.\"\n\n However, I must take notice in this place, with all due deference\n to Christianity, that though I am obliged to applaud the prudence\n and piety of Charles the Ninth of Sweden, who, constituting\n Swedish governors over this country, abrogated their practice of\n superstitions and art magic upon pain of death, yet that king\n carried the point too far, and intermingled with these arts the\n pretensions to the gift of a second-sight, which you know how\n frequent it is with us in Scotland, and which, I assure you, my\n wife (though she durst not publicly own it for fear of incurring\n the penalty of those Swedish laws) does, as it were, inherit (for\n all her ancestors before her have had it from time immemorial) to\n a greater degree than ever I knew any of our countrywomen or\n countrymen.\n\n One day last week she distracted me between the extremes of joy\n and sorrow. She told me I should see you shortly, and that my\n coming son would grow to be one of the most remarkable men in\n England and Scotland, for his power of foresight; but that I\n should speedily lose her, and meet with difficulties in my own\n country, in the same manner as my father, meaning you, sir, had\n done before me, and on the same account, viz., of civil broils,\n and intestine wars in Scotland.\n\n These unfortunate parts of her relation I would not conceal from\n you, because the veracity of her notions should appear, if they\n are true, though you may be sure I much wish they all may prove\n false to the very last; excepting that wherein she tells me, my\n son will be greatly remarkable, and that I shall shortly see my\n dear father, which I daily long for, and will endeavour to do as\n soon as possible. Pray remember me to all friends; being,\n\n Honoured sir,\n Your most dutiful and loving son,\n ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL.\n\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n THE SECOND LETTER.\n\n I am now the happiest man alive; the prosperous part of my wife's\n predictions, which I mentioned to you in my last, is come in some\n measure to pass. The child she has brought me proves a boy, and\n as fine a one as I ever beheld, (if fondness for my own makes me\n not blind); and sure it cannot be fondness, because other plain\n circumstances joined at his birth to prove it a more than\n ordinary remarkable one. He was born with a caul upon his head,\n which we count one of the luckiest signs that can be in nature;\n he had likewise three teeth ready cut through the gums, and we\n reckon that an undeniable testimony and promise given to the\n world by nature, that she intends such a person for her\n extraordinary favourite, and that he is born for great things,\n which I daily beg of heaven may come to pass.\n\n Since I have known for some months what it is to be a father, it\n adds a considerable weight to those affections which I had for my\n wife. I thought that my tenderness for her was at the height of\n perfection before; which shows how little we know of those parts\n of nature that we have yet never tried, and of which we have not\n yet been allotted our share to act upon the stage of life. I find\n that I did love her then as well as a husband could love a wife,\n that is, a wife without a child; but the love to a wife that has\n a child, is a feeling wonderful and inexpressibly different. A\n child is the seal and the pledge of love. Meditating upon this,\n has likewise doubled my affection to you. I loved you before, as\n a son, and because as such, I felt your tenderness; but my love\n is much increased now, because I know the tenderness which you\n felt for me as a father. With these pleasing images of thought, I\n often keep you nearer company at this vast distance, than when I\n lived irregularly under your eye. These reflections render a\n solitary life dear to me. And though I have no manner of\n acquaintance with her relations, who hate me, as I am told, nor\n indeed with almost any of the inhabitants, but my own domestics,\n and those I am forced to deal with, yet I have as much, methinks,\n as I wish for, unless I could come over to Shetland and live with\n you, which I the more ardently desire, because I think I and my\n wife could be true comforts to you, in your advanced years; now I\n know what living truly is. I am daily persuading my wife to go\n with me; but she denies me with kind expressions, and says, she\n owes too much to the place, however less pleasant in itself than\n other climates, where she had the happiness of first joining\n hands with me in wedlock, ever to part from it. But I must\n explain how I ask, and how she refuses. I resolved never directly\n and downrightly to ask her, because I know she can refuse me\n nothing; and that would be bearing hard upon the goodness of her\n will. But my way of persuading her consists in endeavouring to\n make her in love with the place, by agreeable descriptions of\n it, and likewise of the humane temper of the people; so that I\n shortly shall induce her to signify to me that it is her own will\n to come with me, and then I shall seem rather to consent to her\n will, than to have moved it over to my own. These hopes I have of\n seeing my dear father very shortly, and I know such news would\n make this letter, which I therefore send, more acceptable to him,\n to whom I will be,\n\n A most dutiful and\n affectionate son, till death,\n ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL.\n\n P.S. If I cannot bring my wife to change this country for\n another, I have brought her to that pitch of devotion, that\n whenever Providence, which, notwithstanding her predictions, I\n hope will be long yet, shall call her to change this world for\n another, it will be happy with her there; she joins with me in\n begging your blessing to me, herself, and our little Duncan, whom\n we christened so, out of respect to the name you bear.\n\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n THE THIRD LETTER.\n\n\n MY DEAR FATHER,\n\n I am lost in grief; I had just brought my wife (her that was my\n wife, for I have none now, I have lost all joy), in the mind of\n coming over to be a comfort to you. But now grief will let me say\n no more than that I am coming to beg comfort from you, and by\n this I prepare you to receive, when he comes, a son in tears and\n mourning.\n\n ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL.\n\n P.S. I have a babe, not much above two years old, must bear the\n hardships of travelling over the ice, and all through Muscovy,\n for no ships can stir here for many months; and I cannot bear to\n live in this inhospitable place, where she died, that only could\n make it easy to me, one moment beyond the first opportunity I\n have of leaving it. She is in heaven; that should make me easy,\n but I cannot; I am not so good a Christian as she was--I am lost\n and ruined.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER II.\n\n AFTER THE DEATH OF MR. DUNCAN CAMPBELL'S MOTHER IN LAPLAND, HIS\n FATHER, ARCHIBALD, RETURNED WITH HIS SON TO SCOTLAND. HIS SECOND\n MARRIAGE, AND HOW HIS SON WAS TAUGHT TO WRITE AND READ.\n\nMr. Archibald Campbell, having buried his Lapland lady, returned to\nScotland, and brought over with him his son, Mr. Duncan Campbell. By\nthat time he had been a year in his own country, he married a second\nwife; a lady whom I had known very well for some years, and then I first\nsaw the boy; but, as they went into the western islands, I saw them not\nagain in three years. She being, quite contrary to the cruel way much in\nuse among stepmothers, very fond of the boy, was accustomed to say, she\ndid, and would always think him her own son. The child came to be about\nfour years of age, as she has related to me the story since, and not\nable to speak one word, nor to hear any noise; the father of him used to\nbe mightily oppressed with grief, and complain heavily to his new wife,\nwho was no less perplexed, that a boy so pretty, the son of so\nparticular a woman, which he had made his wife, by strange accidents and\nadventures, and a child coming into the world with so many amazing\ncircumstances attending his birth, should lose those precious senses by\nwhich alone the social commerce of mankind is upheld and maintained, and\nthat he should be deprived of all advantages of education, which could\nraise him to the character of being the great man that so many\nconcurring incidents at his nativity promised and betokened he would be.\n\nOne day, a learned divine, who was of the university of Glasgow, but had\nvisited Oxford, and been acquainted with the chief men of science there,\nhappening to be in conversation with the mother-in-law of this child,\nshe related to him her son's misfortunes, with so many marks of sorrow,\nthat she moved the good old gentleman's compassion, and excited in him a\ndesire to give her what relief and consolation he could in this unhappy\ncase. His particular inclination to do her good offices, made him\nrecollect, that, at the time he was at Oxford, he had been in company\nwith one Doctor Wallis, a man famous for learning, who had told him that\nhe had taught a born deaf and dumb man to write, and to read, and even\nto utter some sounds articulately with his mouth; and that he told him\nhe was then going to commit to print the method he made use of in so\ninstructing that person, that others, in the like unfortunate condition\nmight receive the same benefits and advantages from other masters, which\nhis deaf and dumb pupil had received from him. A dumb man recovering his\nspeech, or a blind man gaining his sight, or a deaf one getting his\nhearing, could not be more overjoyed than Mrs. Campbell was at these\nunexpected tidings, and she wept for gladness when he told it. The good\ngentleman animated and encouraged her with the kindest promises, and to\nkeep alive her hopes, assured her he would send to one of the chief\nbooksellers in London to inquire after the book, who would certainly\nprocure it him if it was to be got, and that afterwards he would peruse\nit diligently, make himself master of Doctor Wallis's method, and though\nhe had many great works upon his hands at that time, he would steal from\nhis other studies leisure enough to complete so charitable an office, as\nteaching the dumb and deaf to read and to write, and give her son, who\nwas by nature deprived of them, the advantages of speech, as far as art\nwould permit that natural defect to be supplied by her powerful\ninterposition.\n\nWhen the mother came home, the child, who could hear no knocking, and\ntherefore it must be by a strange and inexplicable instinct in nature,\nwas the first that ran to the door, and falling in a great fit of\nlaughter, a thing it was not much used to before, having on the contrary\nrather a melancholy cast of complexion, it clung round its mother's\nknees, incessantly embracing and kissing them, as if just at that time\nit had an insight into what the mother had been doing for it, and into\nits own approaching relief from its misery.\n\nWhen the mother came with the child in her hand to the father, to tell\nhim the welcome news, the child burst afresh into a great fit of\nlaughter, which continued for an unusual space of time; and the scene of\nsuch reciprocal affection and joy between a wife and her own husband, on\nso signal an occasion, is a thing easier to be felt by parents of a good\ndisposition, imagining themselves under the same circumstances, with\nregard to a child they loved with fondness, than to be expressed or\ndescribed by the pen of any writer. But it is certain, whenever they\nspoke of this affair, as anybody, who knows the impatience of parents\nfor the welfare of an only child, may guess, they must be often\ndiscoursing it over, and wishing the time was come; the boy, who used\nseldom so much as to smile at other times, and who could never hear the\ngreatest noise that could be made, would constantly look wishfully in\ntheir faces and laugh immoderately, which is a plain indication that\nthere was then a wonderful instinct in nature, as I said before, which\nmade him foretaste his good fortune, and, if I may be allowed the\nexpression, the dawnings as it were of the second-sight, were then\npregnant within him.\n\nTo confirm this, the happy hour of his deliverance being come, and the\ndoctor having procured Mr. Wallis's book, came with great joy, and\ndesired to see his pupil; scarce were the words out of his mouth when\nthe child happened to come into the room, and running towards the\ndoctor, fell on his knees, kissed his hand eagerly, and laughed as\nbefore, which to me is a demonstration that he had an insight into the\ngood which the doctor intended him.\n\nIt is certain, that several learned men, who have written concerning the\nsecond-sight, have demonstrated by incontestable proofs, and undeniable\narguments, that children, nay, even horses and cows, see the\nsecond-sight, as well as men and women advanced in years. But of this I\nshall discourse at large in its proper place, having allotted a whole\nfuture chapter for that same subject of second-sightedness.\n\nIn about half a year, the doctor taught his little dumb pupil first to\nknow his letters, then to name anything whatsoever, to leave off some\nsavage motions which he had taken of his own accord before, to signify\nhis mind by, and to impart his thoughts by his fingers and his pen, in a\nmanner as intelligible, and almost as swift through the eyes, as that is\nof conveying our ideas to one another, by our voices, through the\nconduits and portholes of the ears. But in little more than two years he\ncould write and read as well as anybody. Because a great many people\ncannot conceive this, and others pretend it is not to be done in nature,\nI will a little discourse upon Doctor Wallis's foundation, and show in a\nmanner obvious to the most ignorant, how this hitherto mysterious help\nmay be easily administered to the deaf and the dumb, which shall be the\nsubject of the ensuing chapter.\n\nBut I cannot conclude this without telling the handsome saying with\nwhich this child, when not quite six years old, as soon as he thought he\ncould express himself well, paid his first acknowledgment to his master,\nand which promised how great his future genius was to be, when so witty\na child ripened into man. The words he wrote to him were these, only\naltered into English from the Scotch.\n\n SIR,\n\n It is no little work you have accomplished. My thanks are too\n poor amends; the world, sir, shall give you thanks; for as I\n could not have expressed myself without your teaching me, so\n those that can talk, though they have eyes, cannot see the things\n which I can see, and shall tell them; so that in doing me this,\n you have done a general service to mankind.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER III.\n\n THE METHOD OF TEACHING DEAF AND DUMB PERSONS TO WRITE, READ, AND\n UNDERSTAND A LANGUAGE.\n\n\nIt is, I must confess, in some measure, amazing to me that men, of any\nmoderate share of learning, should not naturally conceive of themselves\na plain reason for this art, and know how to account for the\npracticability of it, the moment they hear the proposition advanced; the\nreasons for it are so obvious to the very first consideration we can\nmake about it. It will be likewise as amazing to me that the most\nignorant should not conceive it, after so plain a reason is given them\nfor it, as I am now going to set down.\n\nTo begin: how are children at first taught a language that can hear? are\nthey not taught by sounds? and what are those sounds, but tokens and\nsigns to the ear, importing and signifying such and such a thing? If,\nthen, there can be signs made to the eye, agreed by the party teaching\nthe child, that they signify such and such a thing, will not the eye of\nthe child convey them to the mind, as well as the ear? They are indeed\ndifferent marks to different senses, but both the one and the other do\nequally signify the same things or notions, according to the will of the\nteacher, and consequently must have an equal effect with the person who\nis to be instructed, for though the manners signifying are different,\nthe things signified are the same.\n\nFor example; if, after having invented an alphabet upon the fingers, a\nmaster always keeps company with a deaf child, and teaches it to call\nfor whatsoever it wants by such motions of the fingers which, if put\ndown by letters, according to each invented motion of each finger, would\nform in writing a word of a thing which it wanted; might not he by these\nregular motions teach its eye the same notions of things, as sounds do\nto the ears of children that hear? The manner of teaching the alphabet\nby fingers, is plainly set down in the following table.\n\nWhen the deaf child has learned by these motions a good stock of words,\nas children that hear first learn by sounds, we may, methinks, call not\nimproperly, the fingers of such a dumb infant, its mouth, and the eye of\nsuch a deaf child, its ear. When he has learnt thus far, he must be\ntaught to write the alphabet, according as it was adapted to the motions\nof his fingers; as for instance, the five vowels, _a_, _e_, _i_, _o_,\n_u_, by pointing to the top of the five fingers, and the other letters,\n_b_, _c_, _d_, &c., by such other place or posture of a finger, as in\nthe above-mentioned table is set forth, or otherwise, it shall be agreed\nupon. When this is done, the marks B, R, E, A, D, and so of all other\nwords, corresponding with such fingers, conveys through his eyes, unto\nhis head, the same notion, viz., the thing signified, as the sound we\ngive to those same letters, making the word 'bread,' do into our head,\nthrough the ears.\n\nThis once done, he may be easily taught to understand the parts of\nspeech, as the verb, the noun, pronoun, &c., and so, by rules of grammar\nand syntax, to compound ideas, and connect his words into a language.\nThe method of which, since it is plainly set forth in Doctor Wallis's\nletter to Mr. Beverly, I shall set it down by way of extract; that\npeople in the same circumstances with the person we treat of, and of the\nlike genius, may not have their talents lost for want of the like\nassistance.\n\nWhen once a deaf person has learned so far as to understand the common\ndiscourse of others, and to express his mind tolerably well in writing,\nI see no room to doubt but that, provided nature has endowed him with a\nproper strength of genius, as other men that hear, he may become\ncapable, upon farther improvement, of such farther knowledge as is\nattainable by reading. For I must here join with the learned Doctor\nWallis in asserting, as to the present case before us, that no reason\ncan be assigned why such a deaf person may not attain the understanding\nof a language as perfectly as those that hear; and with the same learned\nauthor I take upon me to lay down this proposition as certain, that\nallowing the deaf person the like time and exercise, as to other men is\nrequisite in order to attain the perfection of a language, and the\nelegance of it, he may understand as well, and write as good language,\nas other men; and abating only what doth depend upon sound, as tones,\ncadences, and such punctilios, no whit inferior to what he might attain\nto, if he had his hearing as others have?\n\n * * * * *\n\n_An Extract from Dr. Wallis, concerning the method of teaching the Deaf\nand Dumb to Read._\n\nIt is most natural, (as children learn the names of things), to furnish\nhim by degrees with a nomenclator, containing a competent number of\nnames of things common and obvious to the eye, that you may show the\nthing answering to such a name, and these digested under convenient\ntitles, and placed under them in such convenient order, in several\ncolumns, or other orderly situation in the paper, as by their position\nbest to express to the eye their relation or respect to one another. As\ncontraries or correlatives one against the other, subordinates or\nappurtenances under their principle, which may serve as a kind of local\nmemory.\n\nThus, in one paper, under the title mankind, may be placed, not\nconfusedly, but in decent order, man, woman, child (boy, girl).\n\nIn another paper, under the title body, may be written, in like\nconvenient order, head (hair, skin, ear), face, forehead, eye (eyelid,\neyebrow), cheek, nose (nostril), mouth (lip, chin), neck, throat, back,\nbreast, side (right side, left side), belly, shoulders, arm (elbow,\nwrist, hand,--back, palm), finger (thumb, buckle, nail), thigh, knee,\nleg (shin, calf, ancle), foot (heel, sole), toe.\n\nAnd when he hath learned the import of words in each paper, let him\nwrite them in like manner, in distinct leaves or pages of a book,\nprepared for that purpose, to confirm his memory, and to have recourse\nto it upon occasion.\n\nIn a third paper, you may give him the inward parts; as skull (brain),\nthroat (windpipe, gullet), stomach, guts, heart, lungs, liver, spleen,\nkidney, bladder (urine), vein (blood), bone (marrow), flesh, fat, &c.\n\nIn another paper, under the title beast, may be placed horse\n(stonehorse, gelding), mare (colt), bull (ox), cow, calf. Sheep, ram\n(wether), ewe (lamb), hog, boar, sow, pig, dog, (mastiff, hound,\ngreyhound, spaniel), bitch (whelp, puppy), hare, rabbit, cat, mouse,\nrat, &c.\n\nUnder the title bird, or fowl, put cock, capon, hen, chick, goose\n(gander), gosling, duck (drake), swan, crow, kite, lark, &c.\n\nUnder the title fish, put pike, eel, place, salmon, lobster, crawfish,\n&c.\n\nYou may then put plants or vegetables under several heads or\nsubdivisions of the same head; as tree (root, body, bark, bough, leaf,\nfruit), oak, ash, apple-tree, pear-tree, vine, &c. Fruit: apple, pear,\nplum, cherry, grape, nut, orange, lemon. Flower; rose, tulip,\ngilliflower herb, (weed), grass, corn, wheat, barley, rye, pea, bean.\n\nAnd the like of inanimates; as heaven, sun, moon, star, element, earth,\nwater, air, fire; and under the title earth,--clay, sand, gravel, stone.\nMetal; gold, silver, brass, copper, iron (steel), lead, tin (pewter),\nglass. Under the title water, put sea, pond, river, stream; under that\nof air, put light, dark, mist, fog, cloud, wind, rain, hail, snow,\nthunder, lightning, rainbow. Under that of fire; coal, flame, smoke,\nsoot, ashes.\n\nUnder the title clothes, put woollen (cloth, stuff), linen (holland,\nlawn, lockarum), silk, (satin, velvet), hat, cap, band, doublet,\nbreeches, coat, cloak, stocking, shoe, boot, shirt, petticoat, gown, &c.\n\nUnder the title house, put wall, roof, door, window, casement, room.\n\nUnder room, put shop, hall, parlour, dining-room, chamber, study,\ncloset, kitchen, cellar, stable, &c.\n\nAnd under each of these, as distinct heads, the furniture or utensils\nbelonging thereunto; with divisions and subdivisions, as there is\noccasion, which I forbear to mention, that I be not too prolix.\n\nAnd in like manner, from time to time, may be added more collections, or\nclasses of names or words, conveniently digested, under distinct heads,\nand suitable distributions, to be written in distinct leaves or pages of\nhis book in such order as may seem convenient.\n\nWhen he is furnished with a competent number of names, though not so\nmany as I have mentioned, it will be seasonable to teach him under the\ntitles singular and plural, the formation of plurals from singulars, by\nadding _s_, or _es_; as hand, hands; face, faces; fish, fishes, &c.,\nwith some few irregulars, as man, men; woman, women; foot, feet; tooth,\nteeth; mouse, mice; louse, lice; ox, oxen, &c.\n\nWhich, except the irregulars, will serve for possessives, to be after\ntaught him, which are formed by their primitives by like addition of _s_\nor _es_, except some few irregulars, as my, mine; thy, thine; our, ours;\nyour, yours; his, her, hers; their, theirs, &c.\n\nAnd in all those and other like cases, it will be proper first to show\nhim the particulars, and then the general title.\n\nThen teach him in another page or paper, the particles, a, an, the,\nthis, that, these, those.\n\nAnd the pronouns, I, me, my, mine, thou, thee, thy, thine, we, us, our,\nours, ye, you, your, yours, he, him, his, she, her, hers, it, its, they,\nthem, their, shoes, heirs, who, whom, whose.\n\nThen under the titles substantive, adjective, teach him to connect\nthese, as my hand, your head, his foot, his feet, her arm, her arms, our\nhats, their John's coat, William's band, &c.\n\nAnd in order to furnish him with more adjectives, under the title\ncolours, you may place black, white, gray, green, blue, yellow, red,\n&c., and having showed the particulars, let him know that these are\ncalled colours. The like for taste and smell; as sweet, bitter, sour,\nstink.\n\nAnd for hearing, sound, noise, word.\n\nThen for touch or feeling, hot, warm, cold, cool, wet, moist, dry, hard,\nsoft, tough, brittle, heavy, light, &c.\n\nFrom whence you may furnish him with more examples of adjectives with\nsubstantives; as white bread, brown bread, green grass, soft cheese,\nhard cheese, black hat, my black hat, &c.\n\nAnd then inverting the order, substantive, adjective, with the verb\ncopulative between; as silver is white, gold is yellow, lead is heavy,\nwood is light, snow is white, ink is black, flesh is soft, bone is hard,\nI am sick, I am not well, &c., which will begin to give him some notion\nof syntax.\n\nIn like manner when substantive and substantive are so connected; as\ngold is a metal, a rose is a flower, they are men, they are women,\nhorses are beasts, geese are fowls, larks are birds, &c.\n\nThen as those before relate to quality, you may give him some other\nwords relating to quantity. As long, short, broad, narrow; thick, thin;\nhigh, tall, low; deep, shallow, great, big, small (little), much,\nlittle; many, few, full, empty; whole, part, piece; all, some, none,\nstrong, weak, quick, slow, equal, unequal, bigger, less.\n\nThen words of figure; as straight, crooked, plain, bowed, concave,\nhollow, convex; round, square, three-square, sphere, globe, bowl, cube,\ndie, upright, sloping, leaning forward, leaning backward, like, unlike.\n\nOf gesture; as stand, lie, sit, kneel, sleep.\n\nOf motion; as move, stir, rest, walk, go, come, run, leap, ride, fall,\nrise, swim, sink, drawn, slide, creep, crawl, fly, pull, draw, thrust,\nthrow, bring, fetch, carry.\n\nThen words relating to time; place, number, weight, measure, money, &c.,\nare, in convenient time, to be showed him distinctly; for which the\nteacher, according to his discretion, may take a convenient season.\n\nAs likewise the time of the day; the days of the week, the days of the\nmonth, the months of the year, and other things relating to the\nalmanack, which he will quickly be capable to understand, if once\nmethodically shown him.\n\nAs likewise the names and situation of places and countries, which are\nconvenient for him to know; which may be orderly written in his book,\nand showed him in the map of London, England, Europe, the world, &c.\n\nBut these may be done at leisure, as likewise the practice of\narithmetic, and other like pieces of learning.\n\nIn the mean time, after the concord of substantive and adjective, he is\nto be showed by convenient examples, that of the nominative and verb;\nas, for instance, I go, you see, he sits, they stand, the fire burns,\nthe sun shines, the wind blows, the rain falls, the water runs, and the\nlike, with the titles in the top nominative verb.\n\nAfter this, under the titles nominative verb, accusative, give him\nexamples of verbs transitive; as I see you, you see me, the fire burns\nthe wood, the boy makes the fire, the cook roasts the meat, the butler\nlays the cloth, we eat our dinner.\n\nOr even with a double accusative; as, you teach me writing or to write,\nJohn teacheth me to dance, Thomas, tell me a tale, &c.\n\nAfter this you may teach him the flexion or conjugation of the verb, or\nwhat is equivalent thereunto; for in our English tongue each verb hath\nbut two tenses, the present and the preter; two participles, the active\nand the passive; all the rest is performed by auxiliaries, which\nauxiliaries have no more tenses than the other verbs.\n\nThose auxiliaries are, do, did, will, would, shall, should, may, might,\ncan, could, must, ought, to, have, had, am, be, was. And if by examples\nyou can insinuate the signification of these few words, you have taught\nhim the whole flexion of the verb.\n\nAnd here it will be convenient, once for all, to write him out a full\nparadigm of some one verb, suppose 'to see,' through all those\nauxiliaries.\n\nThe verb itself hath but these four words to be learned, see, saw,\nseeing, seen, save that after thou, in the second person singular, in\nboth tenses, we add est, and in the third person singular, in the\npresent tense, eth or es, or instead thereof, st, th, s, and so in all\nverbs.\n\nThen to the auxiliaries, do, did, will, would, shall, should, may,\nmight, can, could, must, ought, to, we join the indefinite see. And\nafter have, had, am, be, was, the passive particle seen, and so for all\nother verbs.\n\nBut the auxiliary, 'am,' or 'be,' is somewhat irregular in a double\nform.\n\nAm, art, is; plural are; was, wast, was; plural were.\n\nBe, beest, be; plural be; were, wert, were; plural were.\n\nBe, am, was, being, been.\n\nWhich, attended with the other auxiliaries, make us the whole passive\nvoice.\n\nAll verbs, without exceptions, in the active participle, are formed by\nadding ing, as see, seeing; teach, teaching, &c.\n\nThe preter tense and the participle are formed regularly, by adding ed,\nbut are often subject to contractions and other irregularities,\nsometimes the same in both, sometimes different, and therefore it is\nconvenient here to give a table of verbs, especially the most usual, for\nthose three cases, which may at once teach their signification and\nformation; as boil, boiled; roast, roasted, roasted; bake, baked, baked,\n&c.; teach, taught, taught; bring, brought, brought; buy, bought,\nbought, &c.; see, saw, seen; give, gave, given; take, took, taken;\nforsake, forsook, forsaken; write, wrote, written, &c.; with many more\nfit to be learned.\n\nThe verbs being thus dispatched, he is then to learn the prepositions,\nwherein lies the whole regimen of the noun. For diversity of cases we\nhave none, the force of which is to be insinuated by convenient\nexamples, suited to their different significations; as for instance,\n_of_ a piece _of_ bread, a pint _of_ wine, the colour _of_ a pot, the\ncolour _of_ gold, a ring _of_ gold, a cup _of_ silver, the mayor _of_\nLondon, the longest _of_ all, &c.\n\nAnd in like manner, for, off, on, upon, to, unto, till, until, from, at,\nin, within, out, without, into, out of; about, over, under; above,\nbelow; between, among; before, behind, after; for, by, with, through,\nagainst, concerning; and by this time he will be pretty well enabled to\nunderstand a single sentence.\n\nIn the last place, he is in like manner to be taught conjunctions, which\nserve to connect not words only, but sentences; as and, also; likewise,\neither or whether; neither, nor, if, then, why, wherefore, because,\ntherefore, but, though, yet, &c.; and these illustrated by convenient\nexamples in each case, as, _Because_ I am cold, _therefore_ I go to the\nfire, _that_ I may be warm, _for_ it is cold weather.\n\n_If_ it were fair, _then_ it would be good walking, but however,\n_though_ it rain, _yet_ I must go, _because_ I promised; with other like\ninstances.\n\nAnd by this time his book, if well furnished with plenty of words, and\nthose well digested under several heads, and in good order, and well\nrecruited from time to time as new words occur, will serve him in the\nnature of a dictionary and grammar.\n\nAnd in case the deaf person be otherwise of a good natural capacity, and\nthe teacher of a good sagacity, by this method, proceeding gradually\nstep by step, you may, with diligence and due application of teacher and\nlearner, in a year's time, or thereabouts, perceive a greater progress\nthan you would expect, and a good foundation laid for farther\ninstruction in matters of religion and other knowledge which may be\ntaught by books.\n\nIt will be convenient all along to have pen, ink, and paper, ready at\nhand, to write down in a word what you signify to him by signs, and\ncause him to write, or show how to write what he signifies by signs,\nwhich way of signifying their mind by signs deaf persons are often very\ngood at; and we must endeavour to learn their language, if I may so call\nit, in order to teach them ours, by showing what words answer to their\nsigns.\n\nIt will be convenient, also, as you go along, after some convenient\nprogress made, to express, in as plain language as may be, the import of\nsome of the tables; as for instance:--\n\nThe head is the highest part of the body, the feet the lowest part; the\nface is the fore part of the head, the forehead is over the eyes, the\ncheeks are under the eyes, the nose is between the cheeks, the mouth is\nunder the nose and above the chin, &c.\n\nAnd such plain discourse put into writing, and particularly explained,\nwill teach him by degrees to understand plain sentences; and like\nadvantages a sagacious teacher may take, as occasion offers itself from\ntime to time.\n\nThis extract is mostly taken out of the ingenious Dr. Wallis, and lying\nhid in that little book, which is but rarely inquired after and too\nscarcely known, died in a manner with that great man. And as he designed\nit for the general use of mankind that laboured under the misfortune of\nlosing those two valuable talents of hearing and speaking, I thought it\nmight not be amiss (in the life of so particular a dumb person as I am\nwriting) to give them this small but particular fragment of grammar and\nsyntax.\n\nIt is exactly adjusted to the English tongue; because such are the\npersons with whom the Doctor had to deal, and such the persons whose\nbenefit alone I consult in this treatise.\n\nOne of the chief persons who was taught by Dr. Wallis was Mr. Alexander\nPopham, brother-in-law (if I am not mistaken) to the present Earl of\nOxford; and he was a very great proficient in this way; and though he\nwas born deaf and dumb, understood the language so well as to give under\nhis hand, many rare indications of a masterly genius.\n\nThe uncle of his present Sardinian Majesty, as I have been credibly\ninformed, had the want of the same organs, and yet was a perfect\nstatesman, and wrote in five or six different languages elegantly well.\n\nBishop Burnet, in his book of travels, tells us a wonderful story,\nalmost incredible; but tells it as a passage that deserves our belief.\nIt is concerning a young lady at Genoa, who was not only deaf and dumb,\nbut blind, too, it seems, into the bargain; and this lady, he assures us\nas a truth, could, by putting her hand on her sister's mouth, know\neverything she said.\n\nBut to return back to England. We have many rare instances of our own\ncountrymen, the principal of whom I shall mention, as their names occur\nto my memory. Sir John Gawdy, Sir Thomas Knotcliff, Sir ---- Gostwick,\nSir Henry Lydall, and Mr. Richard Lyns of Oxford, were all of this\nnumber, and yet men eminent in their several capacities, for\nunderstanding many authors, and expressing themselves in writing with\nwonderful facility.\n\nIn Hatton garden, there now lives a miracle of wit and good nature, I\nmean the daughter of Mr. Loggin, who, though born deaf and dumb, (and\nshe has a brother who has the same impediments), yet writes her mind\ndown upon any subject with such acuteness as would amaze learned men\nthemselves and put many students that have passed for wits, to the\nblush, to see themselves so far surpassed by a woman amidst that\ndeficiency of the common organs. If anybody speaks a word distinctly,\nthis lady will, by observing narrowly the motion of the speaker's lips\npronounce the word afterwards very intelligibly.\n\nAs there are a great many families in England and Ireland that have\nseveral, and some even have five or six dumb persons belonging to them;\nand as a great many more believe it impossible for persons born deaf and\ndumb to write and read, and have thence taken occasion to say and assert\nthat Mr. Campbell could certainly speak, I could never think it a\ndigression in the history of this man's life to set down the grammar by\nwhich he himself was taught, and which he has taught others (two of\nwhich scholars of his are boys in this town), partly to confute the\nslander made against him, and partly for the help of others dumb and\ndeaf, whose parents may by these examples be encouraged to get them\ntaught.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER IV.\n\n YOUNG DUNCAN CAMPBELL RETURNS WITH HIS MOTHER TO EDINBURGH. THE\n EARL OF ARGYLE'S OVERTHROW. THE RUIN OF MR. ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL AND\n HIS DEATH. YOUNG DUNCAN'S PRACTICE IN PREDICTION AT EDINBURGH\n WHILE YET A BOY.\n\n\nOur young boy, now between six and seven years of age, half a Highlander\nand half a Laplander, delighted in wearing a little bonnet and plaid,\nthinking it looked very manly in his countrymen, and his father, as soon\nas he was out of his hanging sleeves, and left off his boy's vest,\nindulged him with that kind of dress, which is truly antique and heroic.\nIn this early part of his nonage he was brought to Edinburgh by his\nmother-in-law, where I myself grew afresh acquainted with her, his\nfather being then but lately dead, just after the civil commotion, and\noff and on, I have known him ever since, and conversed with him very\nfrequently during that space of time, which is now about three or four\nand thirty years, so that whatever I say concerning him in the future\npages I shall relate to the reader from my own certain knowledge, which,\nas I resolved to continue anonymous, may, perhaps, not have so much\nweight and authority as if I had prefixed my name to the account. Be\nthat as it will, there are hundreds of living witnesses that will\njustify each action I relate, and his own future actions while he lives\nwill procure belief and credit to the precedent ones, which I am going\nto record; so that if many do remain infidels to my relations, and will\nnot allow them exact (the fate of many as credible and more important\nhistorians than myself), I can however venture to flatter myself that\ngreater will be the number of those who will have a faith in my writings\nthan of those who will reject my accounts as incredible.\n\nHaving just spoke of the decease of Mr. Archibald Campbell, the father\nof our young Duncan Campbell, it will not be amiss here to observe how\ntrue the predictions of his Lapland mother were, which arose from\nsecond-sight, according to the notices given by the child's father, to\nhis grandfather, in his letter from Lapland, even before it was born,\nwhich shows that the infant held this second-sighted power, or occult\nfaculty of divination, even by inheritance.\n\nIn the year 1685, the Duke of Monmouth and the Earl of Argyle sailed out\nof the ports of Holland without any obstruction, the Earl of Argyle in\nMay; with three ships for Scotland, and Monmouth in June, with the same\nnumber for England.\n\nThe Earl setting out first, was also the first at landing. Argyle having\nattempted to land in the north of Scotland, and being disappointed by\nthe vigilance of the Bishop of the Orcades, landed in the west, and\nencamped at Dunstaffnage Castle, in the province of Lorn, which had\nbelonged to him. He omitted nothing that might draw over to him all the\nmalcontents in the kingdom, whom he thought more numerous than they\nafterwards appeared to be. He dispersed about his declarations, wherein,\nafter protesting that he had taken up arms only in defence of religion\nand the laws, against an unjust usurper (so he styled James the Second),\nhe invited all good Protestants, and such Scotch as would assert their\nliberty, to join him against a prince, he said, who was got into the\nthrone to ruin the Reformation, and to bring in Popery and arbitrary\npower. Next he sent letters to those he thought his friends, among whom\nwas Mr. Archibald Campbell, who, according to the vast deference payed\nby the Scots to their chief, joined him, though in his heart of quite a\ndifferent principle, to call them to his assistance. He detached two of\nhis sons to make inroads in the neighbourhood, and compel some by\nthreats, others by mighty promises, to join him. All his contrivances\ncould not raise him above three thousand men, with whom he encamped in\nthe Isle of Bute, where he was soon, in a manner besieged by the Earl of\nDumbarton, with the king's forces, and several other bodies, commanded\nby the Duke of Gordon, the Marquis of Athol, the Earl of Arran, and\nother great men, who came from all parts to quench the fire before it\ngrew to a head.\n\nThe Earl of Argyle being obliged to quit a post he could not make good,\nwent over into a part of the country of his own name, where, having\nhastily fortified a castle called Ellingrey, he put into it the arms and\nammunition taken out of his ships, which lay at anchor under the cannon\nof a fort he erected near that place. There his rout began; for going\nout from the castle with his forces to make an incursion, one of his\nparties was defeated by the Marquis of Athol, who slew four hundred of\nhis men; and Captain Hamilton, who attacked his ships with some of the\nking's, and took them without any resistance.\n\nThe Earl of Dumbarton advancing towards him, at the same time, by long\nmarches, while he endeavoured to secure himself by rivers, surprised him\npassing the Clyde in the village of Killern, as he was marching towards\nLenox. Dumbarton coming upon them at night, would have stayed till the\nnext day to attack the rebels, but they gave him not so much time, for\nthey passed the river in the night, in such confusion, that being\novercome by fear, they dispersed as soon as over. Argyle could scarce\nrally so many as would make him a small guard, which was soon scattered\nagain; Dumbarton having passed the river, and divided his forces to\npursue those that fled. Argyle had taken guides to conduct him to\nGalloway; but they mistaking the way, and leading him into a bog, most\nof those that still followed him quitted their horses, every man\nshifting for himself.\n\nArgyle himself was making back alone towards the Clyde, when two\nresolute servants, belonging to an officer in the king's army meeting\nhim, though they knew him not, bid him surrender. He fired at and missed\nthem; but they took better aim, and wounded him with a pistol ball. Then\nthe earl drawing his two pistols out of the holsters, quitted his horse,\nthat was quite tired, and took the river. A country fellow, who came\nwith those two, that had first assaulted him, pursued him with a pistol\nin his hand; the earl would have fired one of his, but the flint failing\nhe was dangerously wounded in the head by the peasant. He discovered\nhimself as he fell senseless, crying out. Unfortunate Argyle. This\nnobleman, how far soever he may be thought misled in principle, was\ncertainly in his person a very brave and a very gallant hero. They made\nhaste to draw him out and bring him to himself; after which, being\ndelivered up to the officers, the erring, unfortunate great man, was\nconducted to Edinburgh and there beheaded.\n\nMany gentlemen that followed the fortunes of this great man, though not\nin his death, they shared in all the other calamities attending his\noverthrow. They most of them fled into the remotest isles and the\nobscurest corners of all Scotland; contented with the saving of their\nlives; they grew exiles and banished men of their own making, and\nabdicated their estates before they were known to be forfeited, because,\nfor fear of being informed against by the common fellows they commanded,\nthey durst not appear to lay their claims. Of this number was Mr.\nArchibald Campbell, and this new disaster wounded him deep into the very\nheart, after so many late misadventures, and sent him untimely to the\ngrave. He perfectly pined away and wasted; he was six months dying inch\nby inch, and the difference between his last breath and his way of\nbreathing during all that time, was only, that he expired with a greater\nsigh than he ordinarily fetched every time when he drew his breath.\n\nEverything the Lapland lady had predicted so long before, being thus\ncome to pass, we may the less admire at the wonders performed by her\nson, when we consider this faculty of divination to be so derived to him\nfrom her, and grown as it were hereditary.\n\nOur young prophet, who had taught most of his little companions to\nconverse with him by finger, was the head at every little pastime and\ngame they played at. Marbles, which he used to call children's playing\nat bowls, yielded him mighty diversion; and he was so dexterous an\nartist at shooting that little alabaster globe from between the end of\nhis forefinger and the knuckle of his thumb, that he seldom missed\nhitting plum, as the boys call it, the marble he aimed at, though at the\ndistance of two or three yards. The boys always when they played coveted\nto have him on their side, and by hearing that he foretold other things,\nused to consult him, when they made their little matches, which were\nthings of great importance in their thoughts, who should get the\nvictory. He used commonly to leave these trifles undecided, but if ever\nhe gave his opinion in these trivial affairs, the persons fared well by\ntheir consultation, for his judgment about them was like a petty oracle,\nand the end always answered his prediction. But I would have my reader\nimagine, that though our Duncan Campbell was himself but a boy, he was\nnot consulted only by boys; his penetration and insight into things of a\nhigh nature, got air, and being attested by credible witnesses won him\nthe esteem of persons of mature years and discretion.\n\nIf a beautiful young virgin languished for a husband, or a widow's mind\nwas in labour to have a second venture of infants by another spouse; if\na housekeeper had lost anything belonging to her master, still little\nDuncan Campbell was at hand; he was the oracle to be applied to, and the\nlittle chalked circle, where he was diverting himself with his\nplay-fellows near the cross at Edinburgh, was frequented with as much\nsolicitation, and as much credit, as the tripos of Apollo was at Delphos\nin ancient times.\n\nIt was highly entertaining to see a young blooming beauty come and slily\npick up the boy from his company, carry him home with as much eagerness\nas she would her gallant, because she knew she should get the name of\nher gallant out of him before he went, and bribe him with a sugarplum to\nwrite down the name of a young Scotch peer in a green ribbon that her\nmouth watered after.\n\nHow often after he has been wallowing in the dust, have I myself seen\nnice squeamish widows help him up in their gilded chariots, and give him\na pleasant ride with them, that he might tell them they should not long\nlie alone; little Duncan Campbell had as much business upon his hands as\nthe parsons of all the parishes in Edinburgh. He commonly was consulted,\nand named the couples before the minister joined them; thus he grew a\nrare customer to the toyshop, from whence he most usually received fees\nand rewards for his advice. If Lady Betty Such a one was foretold that\nshe should certainly have Beau Such a one in marriage, then little\nDuncan was sure to have a hobby-horse from the toyshop, as a reward for\nthe promised fop. If such a widow, that was ugly, but very rich, was to\nbe pushed hard for as she pretended, though in reality easily won,\nlittle Duncan, upon insuring her such a captain, or such a\nlieutenant-colonel, was sure to be presented from the same child's\nwarehouse, with a very handsome drum, and a silvered trumpet.\n\nIf a sempstress had an itching desire for a parson, she would, upon the\nfirst assurance of him, give the little Apollo a pasteboard temple, or\nchurch, finely painted, and a ring of bells into the bargain, from the\nsame toy-office.\n\nIf a housekeeper lost any plate, the thief was certain to be catched,\nprovided she took little master into the store room, and asked him the\nquestion, after she had given him his bellyful of sweetmeats.\n\nNeither were the women only his consulters; the grave merchants, who\nwere anxious for many ventures at sea, applied to the boy for his\nopinion of their security, and they looked upon his opinion to be as\nsafe as the insurance office for ships. If he but told them, though the\nship was just set sail, and a tempest rose just after on the ocean, that\nit would have a successful voyage, gain the port designed, and return\nhome safe laden with the exchange of traffic and merchandize, they\ndismissed all their fears, banished all their cares, set their hearts at\nease, and, safe in his opinion, enjoyed a calm of mind amidst a storm of\nweather.\n\nI myself knew one Count Cog, an eminent gamester, who was a person so\nfar from being of a credulous disposition, that he was an unbeliever in\nseveral points of religion, and the next door to an infidel; yet, as\nmuch as he was a stranger to faith, he was mastered and overpowered so\nfar in his incredulity by the strange events which he had seen come\nfrequently to pass from the predictions of this child, that he had\ncommonly daily access to this boy to learn his more adverse and more\nprosperous hours of gaming. At first indeed he would try, when the child\nforetold him his ill fortune, whether it would prove true, and relying\nupon the mere hazard and turn of the die, he had always, as he observed,\na run of ill luck on those forbidden days, as he never failed of good if\nhe chose the fortunate hours directed by the boy. One time above all the\nrest, just before he was departing from Edinburgh, and when the season\nof gaming was almost over--most persons of wealth and distinction\nwithdrawing for pleasure to their seats in the country--he came to young\nDuncan Campbell to consult, and was extremely solicitous to know how\nhappily or unluckily he should end that term, as we may call it, of the\ngamester's weighty business, viz., play, there being a long vacation\nlikely to ensue, when the gaming table would be empty, and the box and\ndice lie idle and cease to rattle. The boy encouraged him so well with\nhis predictions on this occasion, that Count Cog went to the toyshop,\nbrought him from thence a very fine ivory T totum, as children call it,\na pretty set of painted and gilded little ninepins and a bowl, and a\nlarge bag of marbles and alloys; and what do you think the gamester got\nby this little present and the prediction of the boy? why, without\ntelling the least tittle of falsehood, within the space of the last\nweek's play, the gains of Count Cog really amounted to no less than\n20,000_l_. sterling neat money.\n\nHaving mentioned these persons of so many different professions by\nborrowed names, and perhaps in a manner seemingly ludicrous, I would not\nhave my reader from hence take occasion of looking on my account as\nfabulous. If I was not to make use of borrowed names, but to tell the\nreal characters and names of the persons, I should do injury to those\nold friends of his who first gave credit to our young seer, while I am\nendeavouring to gain him the credit and esteem of new ones, in whose way\nit has not yet happened to consult him. For many persons are very\nwilling to ask such questions as the foregoing ones; but few or none\nwilling to have the public told they asked them; though they succeeded\nin their wish, and were amply satisfied in their curiosity. I have\nrepresented them perhaps in a ludicrous manner, because though they are\nmysterious actions they are still the actions of a boy, and as the\nrewards he received for his advices did really and truly consist of such\ntoys as I mentioned, so could they not be treated of in a more serious\nmanner, without the author's incurring a magisterial air of pedantry,\nand showing a mind, as it were, of being mighty grave and sententious\nabout trifles. There are, however, some things of greater weight and\nimportance done by him in a more advanced stage of life, which will be\ndelivered to the public with that exactitude and gravity which becomes\nthem; and in some of those relations the names of some persons that are\nconcerned shall be printed, because it will not at all be injurious to\nthem, or because I have their leave, and they are still living to\ntestify what I shall relate.\n\nIn the mean time, as the greatest part of his nonage was spent in\npredicting almost innumerable things, which are all, however, reducible\nto the general heads above mentioned, I will not tire the reader with\nany particulars; but instead of doing that, before I come to show his\npower of divination, in the more active parts of his life, and when\nafter removing from Edinburgh to London, he at last made it his public\nprofession; I shall account how such divinations may be made, and divert\nthe reader with many rare examples, taken from several faithful and\nundoubted historians, of persons who have done the like before him, some\nin one way, and some in another; though in this he seems to be peculiar,\nand to be, if I may be allowed the expression, a species by himself,\nalone in the talent of prediction; that he has collected within his own\nindividual capacity all the methods which others severally used, and\nwith which they were differently and singly gifted in their several ways\nof foreseeing and foretelling.\n\nThis art of prediction is not attainable any otherwise, than by these\nthree ways; first, it is done by the company of familiar spirits and\ngenii, which are of two sorts; some good and some bad; who tell the\ngifted person the things of which he informs other people. Secondly, it\nis performed by the second-sight, which is very various, and differs in\nmost of the possessors, it being but a very little in some, very\nextensive and constant in others; beginning with some in their infancy,\nand leaving them before they come to years; happening to others in a\nmiddle age, to others again in an old age, that never had it before, and\nlasting only for a term of years, and now and then for a very short\nperiod of time; and in some, intermitting, like fits as it were, of\nvision, that leave them for a time, and then return to be as strong in\nthem as ever, and it being in a manner hereditary to some families,\nwhose children have it from their infancy, without intermission, to a\ngreat old age, and even to the time of their death, which they often\nforetell before it comes to pass, to a day, nay, even to an hour.\nThirdly, it is attained by the diligent study of the lawful part of the\nart of magic.\n\nBefore I give the reader an account, as I shall do in three distinct\ndiscourses, first, concerning the intercourse which familiar spirits,\nviz., the good and bad genii, have had and continue to have to a great\ndegree with some select parts of mankind; secondly, concerning the\nwonderful and almost miraculous power of a second-sight, with which\nmany, beyond all controversy, have been extraordinarily but visibly\ngifted; and, thirdly, concerning the pitch of perfection to which the\nmagic science has been carried and promoted by some adepts in that\nmysterious art; I will premise a few particulars about the genii which\nattended our little Duncan Campbell, and about the second-sight which he\nhad when yet a child, and when we may much more easily believe that the\nwonders he performed and wrote of, must have been rather brought about\nby the intervention of such genii and the mediation of such a sight,\nthan that he could have invented such fables concerning them, and\ncompassed such predictions as seem to want their assistance, by the mere\ndint of a child's capacity.\n\nOne day, I remember, when he was about nine years of age, going early to\nthe house where he and his mother lived, and it being before his mother\nwas stirring, I went into little Duncan Campbell's room to divert myself\nwith him, I found him sitting up in his bed with his eyes broad open,\nbut as motionless as if he had been asleep, or even, if it had not been\nfor a lively beautiful colour which the little pretty fair silver-haired\nboy always had in his cheeks, as if he had been quite dead; he did not\nseem so much as to breathe; the eyelids of him were so fixed and\nimmoveable, that the eyelashes did not so much as once shake, which the\nleast motion imaginable must agitate; not to say that he was like a\nperson in an ecstacy, he was at least in what we commonly call a brown\nstudy, to the highest degree, and for the largest space of time I ever\nknew. I, who had been frequently informed by people who have been\npresent at the operations of second-sighted persons, that at the sight\nof a vision the eyelids of the person are erected, and the eyes continue\nstaring till the object vanishes; I, I say, sat myself softly down on\nhis bed-side, and with a quiet amazement observed him, avoiding\ndiligently any motion that might give him the least disturbance, or\ncause in him any avocation or distraction of mind from the business he\nwas so intent upon. I remarked that he held his head sideways, with his\nmouth wide open, and in a listening posture, and that after so lively a\nmanner, as, at first general thought, made me forget his deafness, and\nplainly imagine he heard something, till the second thought of\nreflection brought into my mind the misfortune that shut up all passage\nfor any sound through his ears. After a steadfast gaze, which lasted\nabout seven minutes, he smiled, and stretched his arms as one recovering\nfrom a fit of indolence, and rubbed his eyes; then turning towards me,\nhe made the sign of a salute, and hinted to me, upon his fingers, his\ndesire for pen, ink, and paper, which I reached him from a little desk\nthat stood at his bed's feet.\n\nPlacing the paper upon his knees, he wrote me the following lines, which\ntogether with my answers I preserve by me, for their rarity, to this\nvery day, and which I have transcribed word for word, as they form a\nlittle series of dialogue.\n\n_Duncan Campbell._ I am sorry I cannot stay with you; but I shall see my\npretty youth and my lamb by and by, in the fields, near a little coppice\nor grove, where I go often to play with them, and I would not lose\ntheir company for the whole world; for they and I are mighty familiar\ntogether, and the boy tells me everything that gets me my reputation\namong the ladies and nobility, and you must keep it secret.\n\n_My question._ I will be sure to keep it secret; but how do you know you\nare to meet them there to-day? Did the little boy appoint you?\n\n_Duncan Campbell._ Yes, he did, and signified that he had several things\nto predict to me concerning people, that he foreknew would come to me\nthe week following to ask me questions.\n\n_My question._ But what was you staring at when I came in?\n\n_Duncan Campbell._ Why, at that little boy that goes along with the lamb\nI speak of, and it was then he made me the appointment.\n\n_My question._ How does he do it? Does he write?\n\n_Duncan Campbell._ No, he writes sometimes, but oftener he speaks with\nhis fingers, and mighty swift; no man can do it so quick, or write half\nso soon; he has a little bell in his hand, like that which my mother\nmakes me a sign to shake when she wants the servants: with that he\ntickles my brain strangely, and gives me an incredible delight of\nfeeling in the inside of my head; he usually wakes me with it in the\nmorning when he comes to make me an appointment. I fancy it is what you\ncall hearing, which makes me mighty desirous I could hear in your way;\nit is sweeter to the feeling, methinks, than anything is to the taste;\nit is just as if my head was tickled to death, as my nurse used to\ntickle my sides; but it is a different feeling, for it makes things like\nlittle strings tremble in my temples and behind my ears. Now I remember,\nI will tell you what it is like, that makes me believe it is like your\nhearing, and that strange thing which you that can speak, call sound or\nnoise: because, when I was at church with my mother, who told me the\nbells could be heard ringing a mile off, as I was kneeling on the bench,\nand leaning over the top of the pew and gnawing the board, every time\nthe man pulled the rope, I thought all my head beat as if it would come\nto pieces, but yet it pleased me methought, rather than pained me, and I\nwould be always gnawing the board when the man pulled the rope, and I\ntold my mother the reason: the feeling of that was something like the\nlittle bell, but only that made my head throb, as if it would break, and\nthis tickles me, and makes, as it were, little strings on the back of my\nears dance and tremble like anything; is not that like your way of\nhearing? If it be, it is a sweet thing to hear; it is more pleasant than\nto see the finest colours in the world; it is something like being\ntickled in the nose with a feather till one sneezes, or like the feeling\nafter one strikes the leg when it has been numb, or asleep, only with\nthis difference, that those two ways give a pain, and the other a\npleasure. I remember, too, when I had a great cold, for about two\nmonths, I had a feeling something like it, but that was blunt, dull,\nconfused, and troublesome. Is not this like what you call hearing?\n\n_My question._--It is the finest kind of hearing, my dear: it is what we\ncall music. But what sort of a boy is that that meets you? and what sort\nof a lamb?\n\n_Duncan Campbell._ Oh! though they are like other boys and other lambs\nwhich you see, they are a thousand times prettier and finer? you never\nsaw such a boy nor such a lamb in your lifetime.\n\n_My question._ How big is he? As big as you are? And what sort of a boy\nis he?\n\n_Duncan Campbell._ He is a little little pretty boy, about as tall as my\nknee, his face is as white as snow, and so are his little hands; his\ncheeks are as red as a cherry, and so are his lips; and when he\nbreathes, it makes the air more perfumed than my mother's sweet bags\nthat she puts among the linen; he has got a crown of roses, cowslips,\nand other flowers upon his head, such as the maids gather in May; his\nhair is like fine silver threads, and shine like the beams of the sun;\nhe wears a loose veil down to his feet, that is as blue as the sky in a\nclear day, and embroidered with spangles, that look like the brightest\nstars in the night; he carries a silver bell in one hand, and a book and\npencil in the other, and he and the little lamb will dance and leap\nabout me in a ring as high as my head; the lamb has got a little silver\ncollar with nine little bells upon it; and every little piece of wool\nupon its back, that is as white as milk, is tied up all round it in\npuffs, like a little miss's hair, with ribbons of all colours; and round\nits head, too, are little roses and violets stuck very thick into the\nwool that grows upon its forehead, and behind and between its ears, in\nthe shape of a diadem. They first meet me dancing thus; and after they\nhave danced some time, the little boy writes down wonderful things in\nhis book, which I write down in mine; then they dance again, till he\nrings his bell, and then they are gone all of a sudden, I know not\nwhere; but I feel the tinkling in the inside of my head caused by the\nbell less and less, till I don't feel it at all, and then I go home,\nread over my lesson in my book, and when I have it by heart, I burn the\nwritten leaves, according as the little boy bids me, or he would let me\nhave no more. But I hear the little bell again, the little boy is angry\nwith me, he pulled me twice by the ear, and I would not displease him\nfor anything, so I must get up and go immediately to the joy and delight\nof my life.\n\nI told him he might, if he would promise me to tell me farther another\ntime; he said he would, if I would keep it secret. I told him I would,\nand so we parted; though just before he went, he said he smelt some\nvenison, and he was sure they would shortly have some for dinner; and\nnothing was so sure as that, my man had my orders to bring a side of\nvenison to me the next day to Mrs. Campbell's, for I had been hunting,\nand came thither from the death of a deer that morning; and intended, as\nusual, to make a stay there for two or three days.\n\nThere are, I know, many men of severe principles, and who are more\nstrict, grave, and formal in their manner of thinking, than they are\nwise, who will be apt to judge of these relations as things merely\nfabulous and chimerical, and not contented with being disbelievers by\nthemselves, will labour to insinuate into others this pernicious notion,\nthat it is a sign of infirmity and weakness in the head to yield them\ncredit. But though I could easily argue these Sir Gravities down, though\na sentence or two would do their business, put them beyond the power of\nreplying, and strike them dumb, yet do I think it not worth my while;\ntheir greatest and most wonted objection against these Eudemons and\nKakodemons, being, that it arises all from the work of fancy, in persons\nof a melancholic blood. If we consider the nature of this child's\ndialogue with me, will it not be more whimsically strange and\nmiraculous, to say that a child of nine years' old had only a fancy of\nsuch things as these, of which it had never heard anybody give an\naccount, and that it could, by the mere strength of imagination, predict\nsuch things as really after came to pass, than it is, when it does so\nstrangely predict things, to believe the child does it in the manner\nitself owns it does, which is by the intervention of a good demon, or a\nhappy genius. Departing, therefore, from these singular and wise men's\nopinions, who will believe nothing excellent can happen to others, which\nit has not been their lot to enjoy a share of, I shall take my farewell\nhastily of them, without losing my own time or theirs, in the words of\nthe ingenious Monsieur le Clerc: _Acerbos homines non moror, indignos\nquippe, qui haec studia tractent, aut quorum, judicii ulla ratio\nhabeatur._\n\nI shall rather see how far these things have lain open to the eyes of,\nand been explained by the ancient sages; I will relate who among them\nwere happy in their genii, and who among the moderns, whose examples may\nbe authorities for our belief; I will set down as clearly as I can what\nperception men have had of genii or spirits by the sense of seeing; what\nby the sense of hearing; what by the sense of feeling, touching, or\ntasting; and in fine, what perception others have had of these genii by\nall the senses, what by dreams, and what by magic, a thing rarely to be\nmet with at once in any single man, and which seems particular to the\nchild, who was the subject of our last little historical account. When I\nhave brought examples and the opinions of wise philosophers, and the\nevidence of undeniable witnesses, which one would think sufficient to\nevince persons of the commerce men have with spirits, if they were not\npast all sense of conviction; I shall, not so much to corroborate what I\nsay, as to shame some wiseacres, who would by their frail reason scan\nall things, and pretend to solve the mysteries ascribed to spirits, as\nfacts merely natural, and who would banish from the thoughts of men all\nbelief of spirits whatsoever, I shall, I say, in order to put to shame\nthese wiseacres, if they have any shame left, produce the opinions of\nthe Fathers as divines, show the doctrines of spirits in general to be\nconsistent with Christianity, that they are delivered in the Scripture\nand by Christian tradition, in which, if they will not acquiesce, I\nshall leave them to the labyrinth of their own wild opinions, which in\nthe end will so perplex their judgments of things, that they will be\nnever able to extricate themselves; and these different heads will be\nthe subject of the chapter ensuing; and will, or I am greatly mistaken,\nform both an instructive, edifying, and entertaining discourse, for a\nreader really and truly intelligent, and that has a good taste and\nrelish for sublime things.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER V.\n\n AN ARGUMENT PROVING THE PERCEPTION WHICH MEN HAVE, AND HAVE HAD,\n BY ALL THE SENSES, AS SEEING, HEARING, ETC., OF DEMONS, GENII, OR\n FAMILIAR SPIRITS.\n\n\nIt is said in the ninth book of the Morals of Aristotle, It is better to\ncome at the probable knowledge of some things above us in the heavens,\nthan to be capable of giving many demonstrations relating to things here\nbelow. This is no doubt an admirable proposition, and speaks the lofty\naims of that sublime mind from whence it proceeded. Among all the\ndisquisitions in this kind, none seem to me more excellent than those\nwhich treat concerning the genii that attend upon men, and guide them in\nthe actions of life. A genius, or demon, of the good kind, is a sort of\nmediate being, between human and divine, which gives the mind of man a\npleasant conjunction with angelic and celestial faculties, and brings\ndown to earth a faint participation of the joys of heaven. That there\nhave been such fortunate attendants upon wise men, we have many rare\ninstances. They have been ascribed to Socrates, Aristotle, Plotinus,\nPorphyrius, Iamblicus, Chicus, Scaliger, and Cardan. The most celebrated\nof all these ancients, was Socrates; and as for his having a genius, or\ndemon, we have the testimonies of Plato, Xenophon, and Antisthenes, his\ncontemporaries, confirmed by Laertius, Plutarch, Maximus Tyrius, Dion\nChrysostomus, Cicero, Apuleius, Ficinus, and others; many of the\nmoderns, besides Tertullian, Origen, Clemens Alexandrinus, Austin, and\nothers; and Socrates himself, in Plato's Theage, says, By some divine\nlot I have a certain demon which has followed me from my childhood as an\noracle; and in the same place intimates that the way he gained his\ninstruction, was by hearing the demon's voice. Nothing is certainly so\neasy as for men to be able to contradict things, though never so well\nattested, with such an air of truth as to make the truth of the history\ndoubted by others as well as themselves, where no demonstrative proof\ncan be brought to convince them. This has been the easy task of those\nwho object against the demon of Socrates; but when no demonstrative\nproof is to be had on either side, does not wisdom incline us to lean to\nthe most probable? Let us then consider whether the evidences are not\nmore credible, and witnesses of such a thing are not persons of more\nauthority than these men are, who vouchsafe to give no reason but their\nown incredulity, for maintaining the contrary, and whether those,\ntherefore, by the right rule of judging, ought not much sooner than\nthese, to gain over our assent to their assertions?\n\nWe will, however, laying aside the histories of those ancient times, the\nsense whereof, by various readings and interpretations being put upon\nthe words, is rendered obscure and almost unintelligible, descend to\nmore modern relations, the facts whereof shall be placed beyond doubt,\nby reason of the evidences we will bring to attest them, and shall\nconsequently prove the perception men have of spirits, or genii, by\nevery sense.\n\n\n SECTION I.\n\nWe will first begin as to the perception of spirits by the sight.\n\nMr. Glanvil, in his Collections of Relations, for proving Apparitions,\nSpirits, &c., tells us of an Irishman that had like to have been carried\naway by spirits, and of the ghost of a man, who had been seven years\ndead, that brought a medicine to his bed-side.\n\nThe relation is thus:--\n\nA gentleman in Ireland, near to the Earl of Orrery's, sending his butler\none afternoon to buy cards, as he passed a field, to his wonder, he\nespied a company of people sitting round a table, with a deal of good\ncheer before them, in the midst of the field; and he, going up towards\nthem, they all arose and saluted him, and desired him to sit down with\nthem; but one of them whispered these words in his ear: Do nothing this\ncompany invites you to. Hereupon he refused to sit down at the table,\nand immediately table and all that belonged to it were gone, and the\ncompany are now dancing and playing upon musical instruments. And the\nbutler being desired to join himself with them, but he refusing this\nalso, they all fall to work, and he not being to be prevailed with to\naccompany them in working, any more than in feasting or dancing, they\nall disappeared, and the butler is now alone; but instead of going\nforwards, home he returns, as fast as he could drive, in a great\nconsternation; and was no sooner entered his master's door, but he fell\ndown and lay some time senseless, but coming again to himself, he\nrelated to his master what had passed.\n\nThe night following, there comes one of his company to his bed-side, and\ntells him, that if he offered to stir out of the doors the next day, he\nwould be carried away. Hereupon he kept within; but towards the evening,\nhaving need to make water, he adventured to put one foot over the\nthreshold (several standing by), which he had no sooner done but they\nespied a rope cast about his middle; and the poor man was hurried away\nwith great swiftness, they following him as fast as they could, but\ncould not overtake him; at length they espied an horseman coming towards\nhim, and made signs to him to stop the man whom he saw coming near him,\nand both ends of the rope, but nobody drawing; when they met he laid\nhold of one end of the rope, and immediately had a smart blow given him\nover his arm with the other end; but by this means the man was stopped,\nand the horseman brought him back with him.\n\nThe Earl of Orrery hearing of these strange passages, sent to the master\nto desire him to send this man to his house, which he accordingly did;\nand the morning following, or quickly after, he told the earl that his\nspectre had been with him again, and assured him that that day he should\nmost certainly be carried away, and that no endeavours should avail to\nthe saving of him; upon this he was kept in a large room with a\nconsiderable number of persons to guard him, among whom was the famous\nstroaker, Mr. Greatrix, who was a neighbour. There were, besides other\npersons of quality, two bishops in the house at the same time, who were\nconsulted concerning the making use of a medicine, the spectre or ghost\nprescribed, of which mention will be made anon, but they determined on\nthe negative.\n\nTill part of the afternoon was spent, all was quiet; but at length he\nwas perceived to rise from the ground, whereupon Mr. Greatrix and\nanother lusty man clapped their arms over his shoulders, one of them\nbefore him, and the other behind, and weighed him down with all their\nstrength; but he was forcibly taken up from them, and they were too weak\nto keep their hold, and for a considerable time he was carried into the\nair, to and fro over their heads, several of the company still running\nunder him to prevent his receiving hurt if he should fall; at length he\nfell, and was caught before he came to the ground, and had by that means\nno hurt.\n\nAll being quiet till bed-time, my lord ordered two of his servants to\nlie with him, and the next morning he told his lordship, that his\nspectre was again with him, and brought a wooden dish with grey liquor\nin it, and bid him drink it off; at the first sight of the spectre he\nsaid he endeavoured to awake his bed-fellows; but it told him, that that\nendeavour should be in vain; and that he had no cause to fear him, he\nbeing his friend, and he that at first gave him the good advice in the\nfield, which had he not followed, he had been before now perfectly in\nthe power of the company he saw there; he added, that he concluded it\nwas impossible but that he should have been carried away the day before,\nthere being so strong a combination against him; but now he could assure\nhim there would be no more attempts of that nature, but he being\ntroubled with two sorts of sad fits, he had brought that liquor to cure\nhim of them, and bid him drink it; he peremptorily refusing, the spectre\nwas angry, and upbraided him with great disingenuity, but told him,\nhowever, he had a kindness for him, and that if he would take plantain\njuice he should be well of one sort of fits, but he should carry the\nother to his grave; the poor man having by this somewhat recovered\nhimself, asked the spectre whether by the juice of plantain he meant\nthat of the leaves or roots? It replied, The roots.\n\nThen it asked him whether he did not know him? He answered, No; it\nreplied, I am such a one; the man answered he had been long dead; I have\nbeen dead, said the spectre or ghost, seven years, and you know that I\nlived a loose life, and ever since, I have been hurried up and down in a\nrestless condition with the company you saw, and shall be to the day of\njudgment; then he proceeded to tell him, that had he acknowledged God in\nhis ways, he had not suffered such severe things by their means; and\nfarther said, you never prayed to God before that day you met with this\ncompany in the fields.\n\nThis relation was sent to Dr. Henry More by Mr. E. Fowler, who said, Mr.\nGreatrix told it several persons; the Lord Orrery also owned the truth\nof it; and Mr. Greatrix told it to Dr. Henry More himself, who\nparticularly inquired of Mr. Greatrix about the man's being carried up\ninto the air, above men's heads, in the room, and he did expressly\naffirm that he was an eye-witness thereof.\n\nA vision which happened to the ingenious and learned Dr. Donne, may not\nimproperly be here inserted. Mr. Isaac Walton, writing the life of the\nsaid doctor, tells us, that the doctor and his wife, living with Sir\nRobert Drury, who gave them a free entertainment at his house in\nDrury-lane, it happened that the Lord Haye was by King James sent in an\nembassy to the French King, Henry IV., whom Sir Robert resolved to\naccompany, and engaged Dr. Donne to go with them, whose wife was then\nwith child, at Sir Robert's house. Two days after their arrival at\nParis, Dr. Donne was left alone in that room in which Sir Robert and he\nand some other friends had dined together. To this place Sir Robert\nreturned within half an hour; and as he left so he found Dr. Donne\nalone, but in such an ecstacy, and so altered in his looks, as amazed\nSir Robert to behold him, insomuch that he earnestly desired Dr. Donne\nto declare what had befallen him in the short time of his absence. To\nwhich Dr. Donne was not able to make a present answer; but after a long\nand perplexed pause, did at last say, I have seen a dreadful vision,\nsince I saw you; I have seen my dear wife pass twice by me, through this\nroom, with her hair hanging about her shoulders, and a dead child in her\narms; this I have seen since I saw you. To which Sir Robert replied,\nSure, sir, you have slept since I saw you, and this is the result of\nsome melancholy dream, which I desire you to forget, for you are now\nawake. To which Dr. Donne's reply was, I cannot be surer that I now live\nthan that I have not slept since I saw you, and am as sure at her second\nappearing she stopped and looked me in the face and vanished. Rest and\nsleep had not altered Dr. Donne's opinion the next day; for he then\naffirmed this vision with a more deliberate and so confirmed a\nconfidence, that he inclined Sir Robert to a faint belief that the\nvision was true, who immediately sent a servant to Drury house, with a\ncharge to hasten back and bring him word whether Mrs. Donne were alive;\nand if alive, what condition she was in as to her health. The twelfth\nday the messenger returned with this account; that he found and left\nMrs. Donne very sad and sick in bed, and that after a long and\ndangerous labour she had been delivered of a dead child, and upon\nexamination the abortion proved to be the same day, and about the very\nhour that Dr. Donne affirmed he saw her pass by in his chamber. Mr.\nWalton adds this, as a relation which will beget some wonder, and well\nit may, for most of our world are at present possessed with an opinion\nthat visions and miracles are ceased, and though it is most certain that\ntwo lutes both being strung and tuned to an equal pitch, and then one\nplayed upon, the other, that is not touched, being laid upon the table\nat a fit distance, will, like an echo to a trumpet, warble a faint,\naudible harmony in answer to the same tune, yet many will not believe\nthat there is any such thing as a sympathy with souls, &c.\n\n\n SECTION II.\n\nI shall next relate some little histories to show what perception men\nhave had of spirits by the sense of hearing. For, as Wierus says,\nspirits appear sometimes invisibly, so that only a sound, voice, or\nnoise, is perceived by men, viz., a stroke, knocking, whistling,\nsneezing, groaning, lamenting, or clapping of the hands, to make men\nattent to inquire or answer.\n\nIn Luther's Colloquia Mensalia, &c., set forth in Latin, at Frankfort,\nanno 1557, it being a different collection from that of Aurifaber, which\nis translated from high Dutch into English. We have the following\nrelation:--\n\nIt happened in Prussia, that as a certain boy was born, there presently\ncame to him a genius, or what you please to call it, for I leave it to\nmen's judgments, who had so faithful a care of the infant, that there\nwas no need either of mother or servant; and, as he grew up, he had a\nlike care of him; he went to school with him, but so, that he could\nnever be seen either by himself, or any others in all his life.\nAfterwards he travelled into Italy, he accompanied him, and whensoever\nany evil was like to happen to him, either on the road or in the inn, he\nwas perceived to foretell it by some touch or stroke; he drew off his\nboots as a servant; if he turned his journey another way, he continued\nwith him, having the same care of him in foretelling evil; at length he\nwas made a canon; and as, on a time, he was sitting and feasting with\nhis friends in much jollity, a vehement stroke was struck on a sudden on\nthe table, so that they were all terrified; presently the canon said to\nhis friends, be not afraid, some great evil hangs over my head. The next\nday he fell into a great fever, and the fit continued on him for three\nwhole days, till he died, miserably.\n\nCaptain Henry Bell, in his narrative prefixed to Luther's Table, printed\nin English, anno 1652, having acquainted us how the German copy printed\nof it had been discovered under ground, where it had lain hid fifty-two\nyears, that edition having been suppressed by an edict of the Emperor\nRudolphus the second, so that it was death for any person to keep a copy\nthereof; and having told us that Casparus van Spar, a German gentleman,\nwith whom he was familiarly acquainted, while he negotiated affairs in\nGermany for King James the first, was the person that discovered it,\nanno 1626, and transmitted it into England to him, and earnestly desired\nhim to translate the said book into English, says, he accordingly set\nupon the translation of it many times, but was always hindered from\nproceeding in it by some intervening business. About six weeks after he\nhad received the copy, being in bed with his wife, one night, between\ntwelve and one of the clock, she being asleep, but himself awake, there\nappeared to him an ancient man standing at his bed-side, arrayed all in\nwhite, having a long and broad white beard hanging down to his girdle,\nwho taking him by his right ear, said thus to him: Sirrah! will you not\ntake time to translate that book which is sent unto you out of Germany?\nI will shortly provide for you both place and time to do it; and then he\nvanished. Hereupon, being much affrighted, he fell into an extreme\nsweat, so that his wife awaking and finding him all over wet, she asked\nhim what he ailed? He told her what he had seen and heard; but he never\nregarded visions nor dreams, and so the same fell out of his mind. But a\nfortnight after, being on a Sunday; at his lodging in King-street,\nWestminster, at dinner with his wife, two messengers were sent from the\nwhole council-board, with a warrant to carry him to the Gate-house,\nWestminster, there to be kept till farther order from the lords of the\ncouncil; upon which warrant he was kept there ten whole years close\nprisoner, where he spent five years of it in translating the said book,\nhaving good cause to be mindful of the old man's saying: I will shortly\nprovide for you both place and time to translate it.\n\nThough the perception of spirits chiefly affects the hearing and seeing\nfaculties, yet are not the other senses without some participation of\nthese genial objects, whether good or evil; for, as St. Austin says, The\nevil work of the devil creeps through all the passages of the senses; he\npresents himself in figures, applies himself to colours, adheres to\nsounds, introduces odours, infuses himself in savours, and fills all the\npassages of intelligence; sometimes cruelly tormenting with grief and\nfear, sometimes sportingly diverting man or taunting with mocks; and on\nthe other hand, as the learned Walter Hilton, a great master of\ncontemplative life, in his Scale of Perfection sets forth, that\nappearances or representations to the corporeal senses may be both good\nand evil.\n\nBut before I conclude upon this head, to give still more weight and\nauthority to the perception men have had of these genii, both by the\nsenses of hearing and seeing, I will relate two very remarkable\nfragments of history of this kind, told us by persons who demand our\ncredit, and done within the memory of our grandfathers and fathers.\n\nThe first is concerning that Duke of Buckingham who was stabbed by\nFelton, August the twenty-third, 1628.\n\nMr. Lilly, the astrologer, in his book entituled Monarchy or No\nMonarchy, in England, printed in quarto, 1651; having mentioned the Duke\nof Buckingham, writes as follows: Since I am upon the death of\nBuckingham, I shall relate a true story, of his being admonished often\nof the death he should die, in this manner:--\n\nAn aged gentlemen, one Parker, as I now remember, having formerly\nbelonged unto the duke, or of great acquaintance with the duke's father,\nand now retired, had a demon appeared several times to him in the shape\nof Sir George Villiers, the duke's father: this demon walked many times\nin Parker's bedchamber, without any action of terror, noise, hurt, or\nspeech; but at last, one night, broke out in these words: Mr. Parker, I\nknow you loved me formerly, and my son George at this time very well, I\nwould have you go from me, you know me very well to be his father, old\nSir George Villiers of Leicestershire, and acquaint him with these and\nthese particulars, &c.; and that he above all refrain the council and\ncompany of such and such, whom he then nominated, or else he will come\nto destruction, and that suddenly. Parker, though a very discreet man,\npartly imagined himself in a dream all this time; and being unwilling to\nproceed upon no better grounds, forbode addressing himself to the duke;\nfor he conceived, if he should acquaint the duke with the words of his\nfather, and the manner of his appearance to him, such apparitions being\nnot usual, he should be laughed at and thought to dote, in regard he was\naged. Some few nights past without farther trouble to the old man, but\nnot very many nights after, old Sir George Villiers appeared again,\nwalked quick and furiously in the room, seemed angry with Parker, and at\nlast said, Mr. Parker, I thought you had been my friend so much, and\nloved my son George so well, that you would have acquainted him with\nwhat I desired, but I know you have not done it; by all the friendship\nthat ever was betwixt you and me, and the great respect you bear my son,\nI desire you to deliver what I formerly commanded you to my son. The old\nman seeing himself thus solicited, promised the demon he would, but\nfirst argued it thus, that the duke was not easy to be spoken withal,\nand that he would account him a vain man to come with such a message\nfrom the dead: nor did he conceive the duke would give any credit to\nhim; to which the demon thus answered: If he will not believe you have\nthis discourse from me, tell him of such a secret and named it, which he\nknows none in the world ever knew but myself and him. Mr. Parker being\nnow well satisfied that he was not asleep, and that the apparition was\nnot a vain delusion, took a fit opportunity, and seriously acquainted\nthe duke with his father's words and the manner of his apparition. The\nduke laughed heartily at the relation, which put old Parker to a stand,\nbut at last he assumed courage, and told the duke that he acquainted his\nfather's ghost with what he found now to be true, viz., scorn and\nderision. But, my lord, says he, your father bid me acquaint you by this\ntoken, and he said it was such as none in the world but your two selves\ndid yet know. Hereat the duke was amazed and much astonished, but took\nno warning or notice thereof, keeping the same company still, advising\nwith such counsellors and performing such actions as his father by\nParker countermanded. Shortly after, old Sir George Villiers, in a very\nquiet but sorrowful posture, appears again to Parker, and said, Mr.\nParker, I know you delivered my words to George, my son, I thank you for\nso doing, but he slighted them, and now I only request this more at your\nhands, that once again you repair to my son, and tell him that if he\nwill not amend, and follow the counsel I have given him, this knife or\ndagger, and with that he pulled a knife or dagger from under his gown,\nshall end him; and do you, Mr. Parker, set your house in order, for you\nshall die at such a time. Mr. Parker once more engaged, though very\nunwillingly, to acquaint the duke with the last message, and so did; but\nthe duke told him to trouble him no farther with such messages and\ndreams, and told him he perceived he was now an old man and doted; and\nwithin a month after, meeting Mr. Parker on Lambeth bridge, said, Now,\nMr. Parker, what say you of your dream? Who only returned; Sir, I wish\nit may never have success, &c. But within six weeks after, he was\nstabbed with a knife, according to his father's admonition beforehand,\nand Mr. Parker died soon after he had seen the dream or vision\nperformed.\n\nThis relation is inserted also in the great Lord Clarendon's History,\nand in Sir R. Baker's Chronicle. The Lord Clarendon, in his History,\nvol. i. lib. i., having given some relations, says, that amongst others,\nthere was one, meaning this of Parker, which was upon a better\nfoundation of credit than usually such discourses are founded upon. And\nhe tells us that Parker was an officer in the king's wardrobe in Windsor\nCastle, of a good reputation for honesty and discretion, and then about\nthe age of fifty years or more. This man had, in his youth, been bred in\na school in the parish where Sir George Villiers, the father of the duke\nlived, and had been much cherished and obliged in that season of his age\nby the said Sir George, whom afterwards he never saw. About six months\nbefore the miserable end of the Duke of Buckingham the apparition was\nseen. After the third appearance, he made a journey to London, where the\ncourt then was; he was very well known to Sir Ralph Freeman, one of the\nmasters of the requests, who had married a lady that was nearly allied\nto the duke, and was himself well received by him. He informed the duke\nwith the reputation and honesty of the man, and Sir Ralph Freeman\ncarried the man the next morning, by five of the clock, to Lambeth,\naccording to the duke's appointment, and there presented him to the\nduke, who received him courteously at his landing, and walked in\nconference near an hour with him, and Sir Ralph's and the duke's\nservants at such a distance that they heard not a word; but Sir Ralph\nalways fixed his eyes on the duke, who sometimes spoke with great\ncommotion and disorder; and the man told Sir Ralph in their return over\nthe water, that when he mentioned those particulars that were to gain\nhim credit, the duke's colour changed, and he swore he could come to\nthat knowledge only by the devil; for that those particulars were known\nonly to himself and to one person more, who, he was sure, would never\nspeak of them. So far the Lord Clarendon.\n\nI will now subjoin an authentic relation, which Mr. Beaumont tells us at\nthe end of his book of Genii, or Familiar Spirits, printed in the year\n1705, he had just before received from the mouth of the then Bishop of\nGloucester himself. It is as follows, word for word:--\n\nSir Charles Lee, by his first lady, had only one daughter, of which she\ndied in childbirth; and when she died, her sister, the Lady Everard,\ndesired to have the education of the child; and she was by her very well\neducated till she was marriageable; and a match was concluded for her\nwith Sir William Perkins, but was then prevented in an extraordinary\nmanner. Upon a Thursday night, she thinking she saw a light in her\nchamber after she was in bed, knocked for her maid, who presently came\nto her; and she asked why she left a candle burning in her chamber? The\nmaid said she left none, and there was none, but what she brought with\nher at that time. Then she said it was the fire; but that the maid told\nher was quite out, and said she believed it was only a dream: whereupon\nshe said it might be so, and composed herself again to sleep; but about\ntwo of the clock she was awakened again, and saw the apparition of a\nlittle woman between her curtain and her pillow, who told her she was\nher mother, and that she was happy, and that by twelve of the clock that\nday she should be with her; whereupon she knocked again for her maid,\ncalled for her clothes, and when she was dressed, went into her closet,\nand came not out again till nine; and then brought out with her a\nletter, sealed, to her father, brought it to her aunt, the Lady Everard,\ntold her what had happened, and desired that, as soon as she was dead,\nit might be sent to him; but the lady thought she was suddenly fallen\nmad; and thereupon sent presently away to Chelmsford for a physician and\nsurgeon, who both came immediately, but the physician could discern no\nindication of what the lady imagined, or of any indisposition of her\nbody; notwithstanding, the lady would needs have her let blood, which\nwas done accordingly; and when the young woman had patiently let them do\nwhat they would with her, she desired that the chaplain might be called\nto read prayers, and when prayers were ended, she took her guitar and\npsalm book, and sat down upon a chair without arms, and played and sung\nso melodiously and admirably, that her music master, who was then there,\nadmired at it; and near the stroke of twelve, she rose and sat herself\ndown in a great chair with arms, and presently fetching a strong\nbreathing or two, immediately expired, and was so suddenly cold as was\nmuch wondered at by the physician and surgeon. She died at Waltham, in\nEssex, three miles from Chelmsford; and the letter was sent to Sir\nCharles, at his house in Warwickshire; but he was so afflicted with the\ndeath of his daughter, that he came not till she was buried: but when he\ncame he caused her to be taken up, and to be buried by her mother at\nEdmonton, as she desired in her letter. This was about the year one\nthousand six hundred and sixty-two or sixty-three; and this relation the\nRight Reverend the Lord Bishop of Gloucester had from Sir Charles Lee\nhimself; and Mr. Beaumont printed it in his book above mentioned, from\nthe bishop's own mouth.\n\nThe relations which I have given above, are not like the trifling\naccounts too often given of these things, and therefore causing grave\nones to be ridiculed in common with them. They are of that nature, that,\nwhoever attempts to ridicule them, will, instead of turning them into\njest, become the object of ridicule himself.\n\nThe first story, which has in it such amazing circumstances, and such\nuncommon and dreadful incidents concerning the butler in Ireland, is, as\nthe reader sees, attested by no less a personage than an Earl of Orrery,\ntwo bishops, and many other noblemen and gentlemen being present and\neye-witnesses of what the earl said. What greater testimony would the\nmost incredulous have? They say such things are told for interest. What\ninterest could an earl and many noblemen have in promoting such an\nimposture? The incredulous say, likewise, great and learned men delight\nsometimes in putting frauds upon the world, and after laugh at their\ncredulity. Would a number of noble laymen choose two prelates to carry\non such a fraud; and would two pious bishops probably combine with\nseveral, and some servants there present, in spreading such a deceit?\nIt is past believing, and it demands the strictest of moral faith that\ncan be given to the most unquestioned history that the pen of man ever\nwrote.\n\nThe second story is founded, first, upon the experience of one of the\nmost ingenious men of that age, Dr. Donne, and then upon the proof made\nby his friend Sir Robert Drury, who could at first scarce believe it;\nand shall we doubt the credit of men, whose company, for their credit be\nit spoken, a British ambassador was proud of gaining.\n\nThe third story is told by Luther himself, who began the great work of\nthe Reformation.\n\nThe fourth is told by one that was a king's public minister and told\nfrom his own trial of the matter, where he could have no interest in the\ntelling it.\n\nThe fifth is related by those great historians, the Lord Clarendon and\nSir Richard Baker, as a truth relied upon by themselves, and fit to be\ncredited by their readers.\n\nThe sixth and last was related to Mr. Beaumont, by the Lord Bishop of\nGloucester, who received the account from Sir Charles Lee himself, to\nwhose granddaughter the matter happened.\n\nMen who will not believe such things as these, so well attested to us,\nand given us by such authorities, because they did not see them\nthemselves, nor anything of the like nature, ought not only to deny the\ndemon of Socrates, but that there was such a man as Socrates himself;\nthey should not dispute the genii of Caesar, Cicero, Brutus, Marc Antony,\nbut avow that there were never any such men existing upon earth, and\noverthrow all credible history whatsoever. Meanwhile, all men, but those\nwho run such lengths in their fantastical incredulity, will, from the\nfacts above mentioned, rest satisfied, that there are such things as\nevil and good genii, and that men have sometimes a commerce with them by\nall their senses, particularly those of seeing and hearing, and will not\ntherefore be startled at the strange fragments of histories which I am\ngoing to relate of our young Duncan Campbell, and look upon some\nwonderful adventures which he performed by the intervention of his\nfamiliar demon or genius, as falsehoods, only because they are uncommon\nand surprising, more especially since they were not done in a corner,\nbut by an open way of profession of a predictor of things, in the face\nof the metropolis of London, where he settled young, as will appear in\nthe progress of his life. However, some people, notwithstanding all\nthis, may allege, that though a man may have a genius appear to him, so\nas to convey into his mind, through his senses, the knowledge of things\nthat are to come to pass, yet this happens but on very eminent and\nextraordinary occasions. The murder, for example, of a prime minister,\nand the favourite of a monarch, in such a manner as it was performed on\nthe great Duke of Buckingham, by Felton, was a thing so uncommon, that\nit might perhaps deserve, by the permission of Heaven, an uncommon\nprediction; the others likewise are instances eminent in their way,\nparticularly that of the lady Everard's niece; for that young lady being\nthen marriageable, and a treaty for that end being on foot with Sir\nWilliam Perkins, the Divine Providence foreseeing that such a state\nmight call away her thoughts, hitherto bent on him and spiritual\naffairs, and fix them on the trifles of this world, might perhaps permit\nher to be called by a holy mother to the state of happiness she before\nher enjoyed, lest her daughter's mind should change, and she go into the\nways of a sinner. But if these supereminent, these scarce and rare\nexamples, may be admitted of man's holding a conversation with the\nspiritualized beings of another world; it will, however, be far below\nthe dignity of human reason, methinks, to make such large concessions to\npeople who pretend to converse that wonderful way, as to allow them the\ncredit of being able to do it upon every slight occasion, and every\nindifferent occurrence of human life.\n\nI cannot help acknowledging, that a man of wisdom may at first thought,\nmake such an objection; but reflection will presently retract it, and\nthe same good sense that taught him to make an objection so well upon\nthe first thought, will teach him, upon second thoughts, to acquiesce in\nthe answer.\n\nInfants may have, no doubt, the benefit of such an attending genius, as\nwell as people more advanced in years; as may be seen in one of the\ninstances, which is a very famous one, relating to the boy born in\nPrussia, who was attended by one constantly, from the time of his birth\nto his death. Besides, it is a mistake in the understanding to imagine,\nthat death, which is the determination and end of life, is of more\nconsequence to be known than the manner of regulating that life; for in\nreality, according to the right way of considering death, or the\ndetermination of a man's life, derives its importance from the steps\nwhich he took in the due regulation of it; and therefore, every, the\nleast step proper to be taken for the due regulation of life, is of more\nconsequence to be known than the death of a person, though this at first\nsight carries the face of significance, and the other nothing better\nthan the look of a trifle. Marriage, for example, is a step in life of\nthe utmost importance, whether we consider that estate with regard to\nthis, or the next world. Death is but the finishing of one person, but\nmarriage may be the introducing of many into the world with happiness;\nit is therefore a thing of more importance to be known beforehand, and\nconsequently more worthy of the communication of a genius, to the man\nwith whom he conversed. Posidonius tells us, that a certain Rhodian\ndying, nominated six of his equals, and said who should die first, who\nnext, and so on, and the event answered the prediction; why, then,\nthough some people are apt to make a jest of it, may not a man, by the\nintervention of his good genius, tell a woman that is to have six\nhusbands, who she shall have first, who next, and so on, and the event\nanswer the prediction? If men of learning may acquire such knowledge as\nto attain to extraordinary things by their ordinary faculties, why may\nnot ordinary things be taught others in this extraordinary way? For will\nanybody say that it is easier for a man to accommodate himself to the\nknowledge of a demon or genius than for a demon or genius to accommodate\nhimself to the knowledge of a man? Certain it is, indeed, that if this\ngood genius, that induces a man with a prophetic kind of science, be\nanything resembling a good angel, the primary end of his being permitted\nto direct mankind must consist in things relating more to their welfare\nhereafter: yet I know not why they may not sometimes inspire, or openly\ndirect them in human knowledge, and in things relating to human life, so\nthey are of a good tendency; more especially since such a good\ninspiration may be a counterbalance to the bad knowledge which some have\nbeen inspired with by evil spirits. I would not be thought to go too far\nin a point of this nature, and have, therefore, though perhaps I could\nsay much more if I followed entirely my own private opinion, and would\nventure to introduce it here, in order to communicate it to others, and\nmake it a public one, said no more on this head than what divines\ngenerally teach.\n\nBut the most unexceptionable mistress, that teaches these things to be\nin nature, is experience. If we had very many people gifted this way,\nthe extraordinary thing would have been become ordinary, and therefore I\ncannot help wondering that it should be so ordinary a thing for wise men\nthemselves to wonder too much at things because they are extraordinary,\nand suspect them as frauds because they are uncommon.\n\nThere has scarce been any period of time in which some person of this\nprophetic class has not existed, and has not been consulted by the\ngreatest of men, and their predictions found at the long run to come\ntrue; ignorant men always rise to their belief of them by experience,\nand the most learned men submit their great opinions to experience, but\nyour men of middling talents, who make up their want of reason with\nbustling obstinacy and noisy contradiction, have been and still continue\nto be their own opposers, and without discovering the reason for what\nthey say, they content themselves with having the laugh on their sides,\nand barely affirming without proving, that it is a kind of ideal juggle\nand intellectual legerdemain, by which these modern predictors impose\nthings upon the eye of reason, as the corporeal eye is imposed upon by\nsleight of hand; but it is a strange thing that men of such quick reason\ncannot give us a sample of the frauds. Thus, I remember to have read, I\ncannot tell where, the story of some courtiers, who, when a great artist\nof legerdemain was to act before the King, pretended to be so\nquick-sighted, that nothing he did should escape their discovery, were\nleft by his nimble fingers in the dark, and forced at last with blushes\nto own they had no better eyes than other people. In a word, if people\nwill be led by suspicions and remote possibilities of fraud and\ncontrivance of such men, all historical truth shall be ended, when it\nconsists not with a man's private humour or prejudice to admit it. Now,\ntherefore, to prove by experience and undeniable testimonies, that these\nkind of genii will submit to little offices, in order to bring men to\ngreater good, I will give three or four curious passages that will set\nthe reasonable reader at ease, and prepare him for reading the passages\nof Mr. Campbell's life with pleasure, and as a fine history of wonderful\nfacts, that, though they seem to surpass belief, yet ought to have his\ncredit.\n\nWhat in nature can be more trivial than for a spirit to employ himself\nin knocking on a morning at a wainscot by the bed's-head of a man who\ngot drunk over-night, according to the way that such things are\nordinarily explained? And yet I shall give you such a relation of this,\nthat not even the most devout and precise Presbyterian will offer to\ncall in question. For Mr. Baxter, in his Historical Discourse of\nApparitions, writes thus:--\n\nThere is now in London an understanding, sober, pious man, oft one of my\nhearers, who has an elder brother, a gentleman of considerable rank,\nwho, having formerly seemed pious, of late years does often fall into\nthe sin of drunkenness, he often lodges long together here in his\nbrother's house; and whensoever he is drunk and has slept himself sober,\nsomething knocks at his bed's-head, as if one knocked on a wainscot;\nwhen they remove his bed it follows him; besides other loud noises, on\nother parts where he is, that all the house hears; they have often\nwatched him, and kept his hands lest he should do it himself. His\nbrother has often told it me, and brought his wife, a discreet woman, to\nattest it; who avers, moreover, that as she watched him, she has seen\nhis shoes under the bed taken up, and nothing visible to touch them.\nThey brought the man himself to me, and when we asked him how he dare\nsin again after such a warning, he had no excuse: but being persons of\nquality, for some special reason of worldly interest, I must not name\nhim.\n\nTwo things are remarkable in this instance, says Mr. Baxter. First, what\na powerful thing temptation and fleshly concupiscence is, and what a\nhardened heart sin brings men to; if one rose from the dead to warn such\nsinners, it would not of itself persuade them.\n\nSecondly, says Mr. Baxter, it poses me to think what kind of spirit this\nis that has such a care of this man's soul, which makes me hope he will\nrecover. Do good spirits dwell so near us, or are they sent on such\nmessages? or is it his guardian angel? or is it the soul of some dead\nfriend that suffers? and yet, retaining love to him, as Dives to his\nbrethren, would have him saved? God yet keeps such things from us in the\ndark.\n\nSo far we have the authority of the renowned and famous Mr. Baxter, who\nmakes this knocking of the spirit at the bed's-head, though what we\ncommonly call frivolous, an important errand.\n\nAnother relation of this kind was sent to Mr. John Beaumont, whom I\nmyself personally know, and which he has inserted in his Account of\nGenii, or Familiar Spirits, in a letter by an ingenious and learned\nclergyman of Wiltshire, who had given him the relation likewise before,\nby word of mouth. It is as follows:--\n\nNear eighty years since, in the parish of Wilcot, which is by Devizes,\nin the vicar's house, there was heard for a considerable time the sound\nof a bell constantly tolling every night. The occasion was this: A\ndebauched person who lived in the parish came one night very late and\ndemanded the keys of the church of the vicar, that he might ring a peal,\nwhich the vicar refused to let him have, alleging the unseasonableness\nof the time, and that he should, by granting his desires, give a\ndisturbance to Sir George Wroughton and his family, whose house adjoined\nthe churchyard. Upon this refusal, the fellow went away in a rage,\nthreatening to be revenged of the vicar, and going some time after to\nDevizes, met with one Cantle or Cantlow, a person noted in those days\nfor a wizard, and he tells him how the vicar had served him, and begs\nhis help to be even with him. The reply Cantle made him was this; Does\nhe not love ringing? he shall have enough of it: and from that time a\nbell began to toll in his house, and continued so to do till Cantle's\ndeath, who confessed at Fisherton gaol, in Sarum, where he was confined\nby King James during his life, that he caused that sound, and that it\nshould be heard in that place during life. The thing was so notorious\nthat persons came from all parts to hear it; and King James sent a\ngentleman from London on purpose to give him satisfaction concerning the\ntruth of the report. Mr. Beaumont had likewise this story, as he tells,\nfrom the mouth of Sir George Wroughton's own son; with this remarkable\ncircumstance, that if any in the house put their heads out of the window\nthey could not hear the sound, but heard it immediately again as soon as\nthey stood in the room.\n\nThe reader here sees that good and bad genii exercise themselves upon\nvery little functions, knocking at bed's-heads, and ringing of bells.\nFor proof of this we have the testimonies of two divines, of a man of\nquality and probity, and the same satisfaction that a learned king had,\nwho sent to inquire into the matter; and after this there can be, I\nthink, no room for doubt.\n\nBut to carry the point still nearer home; inasmuch as I know some will\nleave no stone unturned to make the extraordinary actions which the\nperson whose life I write has performed, appear impostures, and inasmuch\nas for this end they may say, that though many people may have been\ngifted in this extraordinary manner, yet not so as to make a profession\nof it, and therefore, from thence they take their suspicions, I shall in\nthis place, to remove every nicest scruple they can have touching this\naffair, give the reader one instance of this kind likewise, before I\nproceed with my history.\n\nThere lived not many years since a very aged gentlewoman in London, in\nWater-lane, by Fleet-street, whose name was Pight, who was endowed with\na prophetic spirit; and the ingenious Mr. Beaumont, whom I personally\nknew, and who had a familiar genius himself, gives the world this\naccount of her. She was very well known, says he, to many persons of my\nacquaintance now living in London. Among others, a gentleman, whose\ncandour I can no way suspect, has told me, that he often resorted to her\nas to an oracle; and that as soon as he came into her presence, she\nwould usually tell him, that she knew what he was coming for, for that\nshe had seen his spirit for some time before; and without his saying\nanything to her, she would commonly tell him what the business was which\nhe came to consult her about, and what the event of it would be; which\nhe always found to fall out as she said, and many other persons now\nliving can testify the like experience of her as to themselves.\n\nBefore I conclude this chapter, I am willing to give the public one\nfarther little history of the like kind with the foregoing ones, with\nthis only difference, that if it be valued according to the worth the\nworld has always attributed to the very ingenious person whom it\nconcerns, it will be far the most famous of them all, and therefore\nfittest to finish this chapter, and to crown this part of the work, in\nwhich we are showing that persons have had a perception of genii or\nspirits, not visible at the same time to others.\n\nThe famous Torquatus Tasso, Prince of the Italian poets, and scarce\ninferior to the immortal Virgil himself, and who seems to enjoy the\nintermingled gifts of the most accurate judgment of this Latin poet, and\nthe more fertile and copious invention and fancy of the Greek one,\nHomer, strongly asserted his own experience in this kind. His life was\nwritten and published in French, anno 1692, by D.C.D.D.V. who, in his\npreface, tells us, that in what he writ he has followed chiefly the\nhistory given us in Italian by John Baptista Manso, a Neapolitan\ngentleman, who had been a very intimate friend to Tasso. In his life,\namong other things, he acquaints us that Tasso was naturally of that\nmelancholic temperament, which has always made the greatest men, and\nthat this temperament being aggravated by many hardships he had\nundergone, it made him sometimes beside himself, and that those\nmelancholic vapours being despatched, he came again to himself, like\nthose that return from fits of the falling sickness, his spirit being as\nfree as before. That, near his latter end, he retired from the city of\nNaples, to his friend Manso, at Bisaccia, a small town in the kingdom of\nNaples, where Manso had a considerable estate, and passed an autumn\nthere in the diversions of the season.\n\nAnd here the French author gives us an account of Tasso's sensible\nperception of a genius, as follows:--As after these amusements, he\nusually retired to his chamber, to entertain himself there with his\nfriend Manso, the latter had the opportunity to inquire into one of the\nmost singular effects of Tasso's melancholy, of this heroic melancholy,\nas I may call it, which raised and brightened his spirit, so far it was\nfrom depressing or rendering it obscure; and which, among the ancients,\nwould have reasonably caused them to have ascribed a familiar demon to\nhim, as to Socrates. They were often in a warm debate concerning this\nspirit, with which Tasso pretended to have so free a communication. I am\ntoo much your friend, said Manso to him one day, not to let you know\nwhat the world thinks of you concerning this thing, and what I think of\nit myself. Is it possible, that being enlightened as you are, you should\nbe fallen into so great a weakness as to think you have a familiar\nspirit; and will you give your enemies that advantage, to be able to\nprove by your own acknowledgment, what they have already published to\nthe world? You know, they say, you did not publish your Dialogue of the\nMessenger, as a fiction; but you would have men believe that the spirit\nwhich you make to speak there, was a real and true spirit; hence men\nhave drawn this injurious consequence, that your studies have embroiled\nyour imagination, so that there is made in it a confused mixture of the\nfictions of the poets, the inventions of the philosophers, and the\ndoctrine of religion.\n\nI am not ignorant, answered Tasso, of all that is spread abroad in the\nworld on account of my Dialogue; I have taken care divers times to\ndisabuse my friends, both by letter and word of mouth: I prevented even\nthe malignity of my enemies, as you know at the time I published my\nDialogue. Men could not be ignorant that I composed it for the young\nPrince of Mantua, to whom I would explain after an agreeable manner, the\nprincipal mysteries of the Platonic philosophy. It was at Mantua itself,\nafter my second flight from Ferrara, that I formed the idea of it, and I\ncommitted it to paper a little after my unfortunate return. I addressed\nit to this prince, and all men might have read in the epistle\ndedicatory, the protestation I there make, that this dialogue, being\nwritten according to the doctrine of the Platonics, which is not always\nconformable to revealed truths, men must not confound what I expose\nthere as a philosopher, with what I believe as a Christian. This\ndistinction is by so much the more reasonable, that at that time nothing\nextraordinary had happened to me, and I spake not of any apparition.\nThis can be attested by all those with whom I lodged, or whom frequented\nin this voyage; and therefore there is no reason for confounding the\nfiction of my Dialogue with what has happened to me since. I am\npersuaded of all you say to me, replied Manso; but truly I cannot be of\nwhat you believe, at present, concerning yourself. Will you imagine that\nyou are in commerce with a spirit? And I ask you, of what order is that\nspirit? Shall we place him in the number of the rebels, whom their pride\nprecipitated into the abyss? or of the intelligences, who continued firm\nin faith and submission to their creator? For there is no mean to take\nin the true religion, and we must not fall into the extravagances of the\ngnomes and sylphs of the cabalists.\n\nNow the spirit in question cannot be a demon: you own that instead of\ninspiring you anything contrary to piety and religion, he often\nfortifies in you the maxims of Christianity: he strengthens your faith\nby profound reasonings, and has the same respect with you for sacred\nnames and things. Neither can you say that it is an angel; for though\nyou have always led a regular life, and far from all dissoluteness;\nthough for some years past you have applied yourself, after a\nparticular manner, to the duties of a true Christian, you will agree\nwith me, that these sorts of favours are not common; that a man must\nhave attained to a high degree of sanctity, and not be far from the\npureness of celestial spirits, to merit a familiar converse, and bear a\nharmony with them. Believe me, there is nothing in all these discourses\nwhich you imagine you have with this spirit. You know, better than any\nman, those symptoms which the black humours wherewith you are tormented\ncauses in you. Your vapours are the source of your visions, and yourself\nwould not judge otherwise of another person to whom a like thing should\nhappen; and you will come to this in your own respect also, if you will\nmake a mature reflection, and apply yourself to blot out, by an effort\nof reason, these imaginations which the violence of your evil effect\ncauses in you. You may have reason, replied Tasso, to think so of the\nthings that pass in me; but as to myself, who have a sensible perception\nof them, I am forced to reason after another manner. If it were true\nthat the spirit did not show himself to me, but in the violent assault\nof my vapours; if he offered to my imagination but wandering and\nconfused species, without connection or due sequel; if he used to me\nfrivolous reasonings, which ended in nothing; or if having begun some\nsolid reasoning he broke it off on a sudden, and left me in darkness, I\nshould believe with you, that all things that pass are but mere dreams\nand phantoms; but it is quite otherwise. This spirit is a spirit of\ntruth and reason, and of a truth so distinct, of a reason so sublime,\nthat he raises me often to knowledges that are above all my reasonings,\nthough they appear to me no less clear; that he teaches me things which,\nin my most profound meditations, never came into my spirit, and which I\nnever heard of any man, nor read in any book. This spirit, therefore, is\nsomewhat of real; of whatsoever order he be, I hear him and see him,\nnevertheless for its being impossible for me to comprehend and define\nhim. Manso did not yield to these facts, which Tasso would have passed\nfor proofs; he pressed him with new questions, which were not without\nanswers. Since you will not believe me on my word, said Tasso to him\nanother day, after having well disputed, I must convince you by your own\neyes, that these things are not pure imaginations: and the next day,\nconversing together in the same chamber, Manso perceived that, on a\nsudden, he fixed his eyes towards the window, and that he stood, as it\nwere, immoveable; he called to him and jogged him many times, but\ninstead of answering him; See there the spirit, says Tasso, at last,\nthat has been pleased to come and visit me, and to entertain himself\nwith me; look on him, and you will acknowledge the truth of what I say.\n\nManso, somewhat surprised, cast his eyes towards the place he showed\nhim, and perceived nothing but the rays of the sun passing through the\nglass, nor did he see anything in all the chamber; though he cast his\neyes round it with curiosity, and he desired him to show him the spirit,\nwhich he looked for in vain, while he heard Tasso speak with much\nvehemency. He declares in a letter which he writ concerning this to the\nAdmiral of Naples, that he really heard no other voice but Tasso's own;\nbut they were sometimes questions made by him to the pretended spirit,\nsometimes answers that he made to the pretended questions of the spirit,\nand which were couched in such admirable terms, so efficacious,\nconcerning subjects so elevated, and so extraordinary, that he was\nravished with admiration, and dared not to interrupt him. He hearkened,\ntherefore, attentively, and being quite beside himself at this\nmysterious conversation, which ended at last by a recess of the spirit,\nas he found by the last words of Tasso; after which, Tasso, turning\nhimself to him, Well, said he, are your doubts at last dissipated? On\nthe contrary, answered Manso, I am more embroiled than ever; I have\ntruly heard wonderful things; but you have not showed me what you\npromised me. You have seen and heard, resumed Tasso, perhaps more\nthan----he stopped here; and Manso, who could not recover himself of his\nsurprise, and had his head filled with the ideas of this extraordinary\nentertainment, found himself not in a condition to press him farther.\nMeanwhile he engaged himself not to speak a word to any man of these\nthings he had heard, with a design to make them public, though he should\nhave liberty granted him. They had many other conversations concerning\nthis matter, after which Manso owned he was brought to that pass, that\nhe knew not what to think or say, only, that if it were a weakness in\nhis friend to believe these visions, he much feared it would prove\ncontagious to him, and that he should become at last as credulous as\nhimself.\n\nDr. Beaumont, who is still living, and with whom I have had formerly\nsome acquaintance myself, has set down, among the others, this relation\nat large concerning Tasso, and gives this reason for it: Because, says\nthe doctor, I think it contains a sufficient answer to what many learned\nfriends have said to myself on the like occasion.\n\nPerhaps it may not be ungrateful to the reader, if I subjoin here the\nshort eulogium writ on Tasso, by the famous Thuanas, which is as\nfollows:--\n\nTorquatus Tasso died about the forty-fifth year of his age, a man of a\nwonderful and prodigious wit, who was seized with an incurable fury in\nhis youth, when he lived at the court of Ferrara, and nevertheless, in\nlucid intervals, he writ many things both in verse and prose, with so\nmuch judgment, elegancy, and extreme correctness of style, that he\nturned at length that pity which many men had conceived for him, into an\namazement; while by that fury, which, in others, makes their minds\noutrageous or dulls them, after it was over, his understanding became as\nit were more purified, more ready in inventing things, more acute in\naptly disposing them after they were invented, and more copious in\nadorning them with choice words and weight of sentences; and that which\na man of the soundest sense would scarce excogitate at his leisure, with\nthe greatest labour and care imaginable, he, after a violent agitation\nof the mind set beside itself, naturally performed with a wonderful\nfelicity, so that he did not seem struck with an alienation of mind, but\nwith a divine fury. He that knows not these things, which all men know\nthat have been in Italy, and concerning which himself sometimes\ncomplains, though modestly, in his writings; let him read his divine\nworks, and he must necessarily conclude, either that I speak of another\nman than Tasso, or that these things were written by another man than\nTasso.\n\nAfter having given my readers so many memorable accounts concerning the\nperception men have had in all ages, and still continue to have of genii\nor familiar spirits, by all the senses, as seeing, hearing, &c., which\naccounts have been attested by men of the greatest learning and quality,\nif any of them still remain dissatisfied, I am contented, and desire\nthem, for their punishment, to lay down the book before they arrive at\nthe more pleasant parts of it, which are yet to come, and not to read\none tittle farther. These unbelieving gentlemen shall then be at\nliberty, according as their different spirits dictate, to ridicule me\nin the same manner as many more learned and greater men than I have been\nsatirized, before my time, by persons of a like infidel temper, who\nwould fain pass incredulity upon the world as wisdom; and they may, with\nall the freedom in nature, bestow upon me those merry appellations\nwhich, I very well know such extraordinary freethinkers imagine to\nbelong of right, to any author, that either believes himself, or would\npossess the world with an opinion and belief, that there is such a thing\nas the holding commerce and conversation in this habitable world with\ngenii, and familiar spirits. I shall only first tell them all I have to\nsay to terminate the dispute between them and me.\n\nThose who, to give themselves the air and appearance of men of solid\nwisdom and gravity, load other men, who believe in spirits, with the\ntitles of being men of folly, levity, or melancholy, are desired to\nlearn, that the same folly, as they are pleased to term it, of opinion,\nis to be found in the greatest men of learning that ever existed in the\nuniverse. Let them, in order to be convinced of this, read Apuleius's\nbook, _de deo Socrat._; Censorinus's book _de die Nat._ c. 3;\nPorphyrius, in his book _de Abstinentia_; Agrippa, in his _Treatise de\nOccult. Phil._ 1. 3, c. 22, and also c. 21; _Natalis_ comes in his\n_Myth._ 1. 4, c. 3; Maraviglia, in his _Pseudomantia. Dissertation._ 9\nand 11, and _Animadversion_. 10; Plato in his _Timoeus et Cratylus_;\nAmmianus Marcellinus's History, book 21; Hieronimus Cardanus in his book\n_de Vita Propria_, c. 47; the great Kircher, in his _OEdipus\nAEgyptiacus_, vol. iii. p. 474; Pausanius, in _Cliac. Poster._; that\nimmortal orator, Cicero, lib. i. _de Divinatione_; lib. ii. _de Natura\nDeorum_; the _Histoire Prodigieuse_, written by Pere Arnault; and a book\nentituled _Lux e Tenebris_, which is a collection of modern visions and\nprophecies in Germany by several persons, translated into Latin, by Jo.\nAmos. Comenius, printed at Amsterdam, 1655. And if they will be at the\npains of having due recourse to these quotations, they will find that\nall these men, whose learning is unquestionable, and most of whom have\nbeen in a firm and undisputed possession of fame for many centuries,\nhave all unanimously agreed in this opinion, how foolish soever they may\nthink it, that there ever was and ever would be a communication held\nbetween some select men and genii, or familiar spirits. I must therefore\ndesire their pardon, if I rejoice to see them remain wise by themselves,\nand that I continue to be esteemed by them a fool among so much good\ncompany.\n\nOthers out of a mere contempt of religion, or cowardly, for fear of\nbeing thought pusillanimous by men, turn bravos to Heaven, and laugh at\nevery notion of spirits as imbibed from the nurse or imposed upon us by\npriests, and may top these lines upon us with an elegant and a\nconvincing magisterial sneer, though the divine Socrates was of our\nopinion, and even experienced it to be true, having a genius himself:--\n\n The priests but finish what the nurse began,\n And thus the child imposes on the man.\n\nThese bring into my mind a saying of Sir Roger L'Estrange on Seneca,\nwhich I must apply to Socrates; I join in opinion with a Christian\nheathen, while they remain heathen Christians.\n\nThe third sort, out of a pretended veneration to religion and divinity,\nmay call me superstitious and chimerical. To them I answer, I will\ncontinue chimerical and superstitious with St. Austin; who gives the\nsame opinion in his _Civitate Dei_ with Ludovicus Vives; let them be\nsolider and more religious divines than St. Austin in disowning it. Thus\nI bid these austere critics heartily farewell; but let my better-natured\nreaders go on and find a new example of this conversation being held\nwith the genii by our Duncan Campbell.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER VI.\n\n A NARRATIVE OF MR. CAMPBELL'S COMING TO LONDON AND TAKING UPON\n HIM THE PROFESSION OF A PREDICTOR; TOGETHER WITH AN ACCOUNT OF\n MANY STRANGE THINGS THAT CAME TO PASS JUST AS HE FORETOLD.\n\n\nTo proceed on regularly with the life of young Duncan Campbell, I must\nlet the reader know that he continued thus conversing with his little\ngenius, as is set forth above in the dialogue he had with me, and\npredicting many things of the like nature, as I have described, till the\nyear 1694, when he was just fourteen years of age, and then he left\nScotland.\n\nBut before I come to speak of the manner of his departure from thence,\nhis half native country, inasmuch as his father was of that country,\nand he had his education there, what education he could have, being deaf\nand dumb. I must let the reader know that in the year 1692, my very good\nfriend, Mrs. Campbell, his mother-in-law, died, and left him there at\nEdinburgh, an orphan of twelve years of age.\n\nHe was, I may venture to say, the most beautiful boy of that age I ever\nknew; and the sensible reader, who considers a child of good birth, with\nthe misfortunes of being deaf and dumb, left fatherless and motherless\nin the wide world, at twelve years old, without any competency for his\nmaintenance and support, without any relations, in a manner, that knew\nhim or assisted him; all the little fortune his father had having been\nlost in the civil commotions in Scotland, as I have related above, need\nnot hear me describe the compassion I and many more had for him; because\nsuch a reader must certainly feel in his own bosom the same lively acts\nof pity and commiseration at the hearing of such a mishap as I had at\nthe seeing it, or at least as I have now revived afresh within me at the\nrelating it.\n\nHowever, it came so to pass, that a person of the name of Campbell, and\nwho was a distant relation of the boy, though he himself was but in\nindifferent circumstances, was resolved to see him provided for one way\nor another, in a manner somewhat suitable to his condition, and till\nthat time to take the best care of him himself that he was able.\n\nSeveral ladies of quality who had known his perfections, coveted to make\nthe boy one of their domestics, as a page, or a playfellow to their\nchildren; for though he could not speak, he had such a vivacity in all\nhis actions, such a sprightliness of behaviour, and such a merriment\naccompanying all his gestures, that he afforded more entertainment than\nthe prettiest and wittiest little prattlers at those years are wont to\ndo. Mr. Campbell had certainly accepted of some of these fortunate\noffers for his little cousin, which were many of them likely to prove\nvery advantageous, if it had not been put in his head by some friends,\nparticularly myself, that if he had a mind to dispose of the boy in that\nmanner, the best way he could take would be to present him to the late\nEarl of Argyle, who for his namesake and for his father's sake, as well\nas the qualifications and endowments of the boy, would more naturally,\naccording to all probability, take a greater pleasure and delight in\nhim, and consequently provide better for him, and with a more lasting\ncare, than any other person of quality that had a sudden liking to him,\nwhich might change, and took him as a stranger out of a bare curiosity.\nMr. Campbell was by these reasons overruled in the disposal of his\nlittle dumb prophetical cousin, as he called him, and resolved that an\noffer should be made of him to the present illustrious Duke of Argyle's\nmost noble father. But it so unfortunately happened, that the earl\nmaking very much a longer stay at London than was expected, Mr.\nCampbell, the uncle, sent our young Duncan Campbell, his nephew,\nhandsomely accoutred, and with a handsome sum of money in his pocket, by\nsea, with Captain Meek of Kircaldie, to London, with letters of\nrecommendation to the earl's favour, and just a few days before young\nDuncan arrived in London, the earl was set out on his journey to his\nseat in Scotland.\n\nI had now left him for near three years, not having seen him since about\na year after his mother's death; and then coming to London, I had by\nmere accident an appointment to meet some Scotch gentlemen at the\nBuffalo at Charing-cross. There happened at that time to be a great\nconcourse of Scotch nobility there at an entertainment; and one of the\nladies and gentlemen passing by and seeing one of my friends, desired\nhim to come in, and told him both he and his companion should be very\nwelcome to partake of the diversion. The lady told him they had got a\nlovely youth, a Scotch miracle, among them, that would give us exquisite\ndelight, and write down to us all the occurrences of our future lives,\nand tell us our names upon our first appearance. The moment I heard of\nit, Duncan Campbell came into my head; but as it is a thing not rare to\nbe met with in Scotland for second sighted persons to tell such things,\nand as the Earl of Argyle was in the north, I thought little Duncan had\nbeen under his protection and with him, and did not dream of meeting\nwith him there; and accordingly told my friend, before I went in, that I\nbelieved I knew a lad in Scotland would exceed this in foresight, let\nhim be as dexterous in his art as he would.\n\nAs soon as I entered the room, I was surprised to find myself\nencompassed and surrounded by a circle of the most beautiful females\nthat ever my eyes beheld. In the centre of this angelic tribe was seated\na heavenly youth, with the most winning comeliness of aspect that ever\npleased the sight of any beholder of either sex; his face was divinely\nfair, and tinged only with such a sprightly blush as a painter would use\nto colour the picture of health with, and the complexion was varnished\nover by a blooming like that of flourishing fruit, which had not yet\nfelt the first nippings of an unkind and an uncivil air; with this\nbeauty was joined such a smiling draught of all the features as is the\nresult of pleasantry and good humour. His eyes were large, full of\nlustre, majestic, well set, and the soul shone so in them, as told the\nspectators plainly how great was the inward vivacity of his genius; the\nhair of his head was thick, and reclined far below his shoulders; it was\nof a fine silver colour, and hung down in ringlets like the curling\ntendrils of a copious vine. He was by the women entertained, according\nto the claim which so many perfections joining in a youth just ripening\ninto manhood might lay to the benevolent dispositions of the tender sex.\nOne was holding the basin of water, another washing a hand, a third with\na towel drying his face, which another fair had greedily snatched the\npleasure of washing before, while a fourth was disposing into order his\nsilver hairs with an ivory comb, in a hand as white, and which a monarch\nmight have been proud to have had so employed in adjusting the crown\nupon his head; a fifth was setting into order his cravat; a sixth stole\na kiss, and blushed at the innocent pleasure, and mistook her own\nthoughts as if she kissed the angel and not the man; and they all rather\nseemed to adore than to love him, as if they had taken him not for a\nperson that enjoyed the frequent gift of the second-sight, but as if he\nhad been some little prophet peculiarly inspired; and while they all\nthus admired and wondered, they all consulted him as an oracle. The\nsurprise of seeing a young man so happy amidst the general concurring\nfavours of the fair, made me be for awhile lost in a kind of delightful\namazement, and the consideration of what bliss he was possessed made me\nscarce believe my own eyes, when they told me it was Duncan Campbell,\nwho I had left an unhappy orphan at Edinburgh. But so it was, though he\nwas much altered in stature, being now shot up pretty fast in his growth\nsince I had seen him, and having gained a kind of a fixed comportment,\nsuch as we may daily observe in those who are taking leave of their\nminority, and stepping into a stage of maturer life.\n\nThe first remarkable thing I knew him do in London, being in this\nsplendid company, where there were so many undoubted witnesses of\nquality too, that had ocular proof of his predictions at that public\ntavern: I choose to record it here in the first place according to its\ndue order. It was in the year 1698.\n\nAmong this angelical class of beauties were Dr. W--lw--d's lady and\ndaughter. Upon earth there was not sure a more beautiful creature than\nthe daughter was; she was the leading light of all the sparkling tribe;\nand Otway's character suits her exactly; for she was among ten thousand\neminently fair. One would imagine prosperous and lucky fortune was\nwritten upon her face, and that nothing unhappy could be read in so fair\na book; and it was therefore the unanimous consent of all, that by way\nof good omen to the rest, his predictions should begin to be opened\nluckily that day, and that therefore he should first of all be consulted\nabout her.\n\nAccordingly, the mother, to be satisfied of his talent before she\nproceeded to any other questions, asked him in writing if he knew the\nyoung lady, her name, and who she was. After a little ruminating and\npondering upon the matter, and taking an exact view of the beauty, he\nwrote down her name, told Mrs. W--lw--d she was her daughter, and that\nher father was a doctor. Convinced by his so readily telling the name\nand quality of persons he had never seen in his lifetime, that fame had\nnot given a false character of his capacity, she proceeded in her\nquestions as to her future fortune. He gazed afresh at her very eagerly\nfor some time, and his countenance during that time of viewing her\nseemed to be ruffled with abundance of disturbance and perplexity. We\nall imagined that the youth was a little touched at the heart himself\nwith what he saw, and that instead of telling hers, he had met in her\nbright eyes with his own destiny, the destiny of being for ever made a\nslave and a captive to so many powerful and almost irresistible charms.\n\nAt length, after having a long debate within himself, which we thought\nproceeded from the strugglings of love and passion, he fetching a great\nsigh, which still convinced us more, took the pen and wrote to Mrs.\nW--lw--d, that he begged to be excused, and that his pen might remain as\ndumb and silent as his tongue on that affair. By this answer we\nconcluded, one and all, that our former conjectures were true, and we\njoined in pressing him the more earnestly to deliver his real and\nsincere opinion concerning the accidents upon which the future fortunes\nof her life were to turn and depend. He showed many mighty reluctances\nin the doing it; and I have often since considered him in the same\nanguish as the late great Dr. Ratcliff, who was endeavouring by study to\nsave a certain fair one, whom he loved with a vehemence of temper, and\nwho was, as his reason told him, got far away beyond the reach of the\nart of physic to recover. At last he wrote in plain terms that his\nbackwardness and unwillingness to tell it, arose from his wishes that\nher fortune would be better than his certain foreknowledge of it told\nhim it would be, and begged that we would rest satisfied with that\ngeneral answer, since it was in so particular a case, where he himself\nwas a well-wisher in vain, to the lady about whom he was consulted. The\nyoung lady herself thinking that if she knew any disasters that were to\nbefall her she might, by knowing the nature of them beforehand, and the\ntime when they were likely to happen, be able, by timely prudence and\nforecast, to avert those evils, with many beseechings urged him to\nreveal the fatal secret. After many struggles to avoid it, and as many\ninstances made to him both by mother and daughter for the discovery of\nhis prescience in that point, he complied with very great difficulty;\nand blotting the paper with tears that trickled fast from his eyes, he\ngave her the lamentable scroll, containing the words that follow; viz.,\nI wish it had not fallen to my lot to tell this lady, whom everybody\nthat but once looks at her must admire, though they must not have leave\nto love, that she is not much longer to be possessor of that lovely\nface, which gains her such a number of adorers. The smallpox will too\nsoon turn a ravisher, and rifle all those sweets and charms that might\nbe able to vanquish a king and to subdue a conqueror of mighty battles.\nHer reign is doomed, alas! to be as short as it is now great and\nuniversal; I believe she has internal beauties of the mind, not the\nleast inferior to those external excellences of the body; and she might,\nperhaps, by the power of her mind alone, be absolute queen of the\naffections of men, if the smallpox threatened not too surely to be her\nfarther enemy, and, not contented to destroy the face, was not\nperversely bent to destroy the whole woman. But I want words to express\nmy sorrow. I would not tell it if you did not extort the baneful secret\nfrom my bosom. This fair creature, whose beauty would make one wish her\nimmortal, will, by the cruel means of the smallpox, give us too sudden a\nproof of her mortality. But neither the mother nor herself ought too\nmuch to repine at this, seeing it appears to be the decree of\nProvidence, which is always to be interpreted as meant for our good, and\nseeing it may be the means of translating her the sooner only to her\nkindred angels, whose beauty she so much resembles here on earth, and to\nbe among the lowest class of whom, is better than being the greatest\nbeauty of the world here below, and wearing an imperial crown. While I\ncomfort you, I cannot help the force of nature, which makes me grieve\nmyself; and I only give you, because you compel me to it, so particular\nand so exact an answer to so particular and so exacting a question.\n\nThe mother, who took the paper, was prudent enough to conceal from the\ndaughter what he said; but nature would force its way, and bubbled from\nher eyes; and the daughter perceiving that, pressed hard to see it, and\nwept at the consideration that hard fate, though she knew not\nparticularly what way, was to befall her. Never surely was anything so\nbeautiful in tears, and I obtained of the mother to see the writing. At\nlast, in general terms, to free her from a suspense of mind, it was told\nher that some trouble should happen to her that should diminish her\nbeauty. She had courage enough to hear that misfortune with disdain, and\ncrying, If that be all, I am armed, I don't place much pride in that\nwhich I know age must shortly after destroy, if trouble did not do it\nbefore; and she dried up her tears; and, if what Mr. Bruyere says, be\ntrue, viz., that the last thing a celebrated woman thinks of when she\ndies, is the loss of her beauty, she showed an admirable pattern of\nfemale philosophy, in bearing such a cruel prediction with such\nunspeakable magnanimity, as exceeded even the patience of stern\nstoicism, considering she was a woman, to whom beauty is more dear than\nlife.\n\nIf any evil, that is impending over people's heads, could be evaded by\nforeknowledge, or eluded by art, she had the fairest opportunity of\nhaving this prediction annulled, which would have been more to the\nsatisfaction of the predictor than knowing it verified, than ever any\nwoman had. Her mother was specifically told that the fatal distemper\nshould be the smallpox; her father was, and is still, a very eminent\nphysician; and distempers of that kind, especially, are much more easily\nprevented by care, than cured by art, and by art more easily set aside,\nwhen there is a timely warning given to a physician to prepare the body\nagainst the danger of the poison, than when the distemper has once\ncatched hold of a body at unawares, when it is unpurged of any gross\nhumours that may accompany it. But neither the foreknowledge and caution\nof the mother, nor the skill and wisdom of the great physician her\nfather, were sufficient to ward off the approaching harm, that was\nwritten in the books of fate. Not many suns had finished their yearly\ncourses, before she was forced to submit to the inevitable stroke of\ndeath, after the infectious and malicious malady had first ravished her\nbeauty, rioted in all her sweets, and made an odious deformed spectacle\nof the charmer of mankind. The death of the daughter worked hard upon\nthe mother's bowels, and dragged her speedily after her, with a broken\nheart to the grave.\n\nThis lady, whose fortune so great and so distinguished an assembly had\nchosen to hear as a happy forerunner and lucky omen of all their own,\nwhich were to be asked afterwards in their turns, proving so contrary to\ntheir expectations, already unfortunate in the prediction, and having\nbeen in tears about the matter, disheartened all the rest of the\nbeauties from consulting him farther that day. The person who kept the\ntavern, by name, Mrs. Irwin, alleged that as some people were very\nfortunate, and others unfortunate upon the same day, so one lady might\nbe before told a mishap one minute, and another lady all the prosperity\nin nature the very next minute following, and therefore that what the\nunfortunate lady had heard was not to be taken as ominous, or as what\ncould malignantly influence the day, neither ought it to be the least\nhinderance to any who had the curiosity of being let into the secrets of\ntime beforehand. However, whether the ladies were convinced or no; if\nshe prevailed over their belief in that point, she could not prevail\nover their humour, which, though they might not believe the former\nprediction ominous to themselves, were naturally awed for fear of the\nlike, peradventure, for a time, and so it was agreed, _nemine\ncontradicente_, as a witty lady wrote it down, That no more petitions\nshould for that day be presented by any of that company to his dumb, yet\noracular, majesty. Mrs. Irwin, however, would have her way; said she did\nnot presume to such honour as to call herself of that company, and that\ntherefore she might consult him without breaking through the votes of\nthe assembly. Many endeavoured to dissuade her, but as she was\npassionately fond of knowing future events; and had a mighty itch to be\nvery inquisitive with the oracle about what might happen, not only to\nherself, but her posterity; it was agreed that he should have the\nliberty of satisfying her curiosity, since she presumed her fortune was\nsure to be so good, and was so forward and eager for the knowledge of\nit. But, alas! such is too often the fantastical impulse of nature\nunluckily depraved, that it carries us often into wishes of knowing,\nwhat when known we would be glad to unknow again, and then our memory\nwill not let us be untaught.\n\nMrs. Irwin was at that time in a pretty commodious way of business,\neverything in plenty round about her, and lived more like a person of\ndistinction, that kept such a cellar of wine, open house, and a free\ntable, than like one who kept a tavern. She brought in her pretty\nchildren, that were then almost babies, the youngest having not long\nbeen out of the nurse's arms, or trusted to the use of its own legs.\nThese children she loved as a mother should love children; they were the\ndelight of her eyes all day, and the dream of her imagination all night.\nAll the passions of her soul were confined to them; she was never\npleased but when they were so, and always angry if they were crossed;\nher whole pride was centered in them, and they were clothed and went\nattended more like the infants of a princess, than of a vintner's\nrelict. The fortune of these was what she had near at heart, and of\nwhich she was so eager of being immediately apprised. Her impatience was\nproportionable to the love she had for them, and which made her wish to\nforeknow all the happiness that was like to attend them. She sat\ncheerfully down, presented one to him, and smiling, wrote the question\nin general terms, viz., is this boy to be happy or unhappy. A melancholy\nlook once more spread itself all over the face of the predictor, when he\nread the too inquisitive words, and he seemed mightily to regret being\nasked a question, to which he was by his talent of foreseeing compelled\nto give so unwelcome an answer. The colour of the poor woman flushed and\nvanished alternately, and very quick, and she looked not quite like the\npicture of despair, but a disconsolate woman, with little hopes on one\nhand, and great doubts and dismal fears on the other. She professed she\nread great evil in the troubles of his face, thanked him for his good\nnature, told him that they all knew that though he could foretell he\ncould not alter the acts and decretals of fate, and therefore desired\nhim to tell her the worst; for that the misfortunes, were they never so\ngreat, would be less dreadful to her than remaining in the state of fear\nand suspension. He at last wrote down to her that great and unexpected\nand even unavoidable accidents would involve the whole family in new\ncalamities, that the son she asked him about would have the bitterest\ntask of hardship to go through withal, while he lived, and that to\nfinish all more unhappily, he would be basely and maliciously brought to\nan untimely end, by some mortal enemy or other, but that she should not\ntrouble herself so much on that head, she would never see it, for it\nwould happen some years after she was departed from the world. This\nmelancholy account closed up the book of predictions for that day, and\nput a sad stop to all the projected mirth and curiosity. Now I must tell\nthe reader how and when the event answered the prediction. And in a few\nwords, it was thus; poor Mrs. Irwin, by strange accidents, decayed in\nthe world, and dying poor, her sons were forced to be put out\napprentices to small trades, and the son, whom the above-mentioned\nprediction concerned, was, for stealing one cheese from a man in the\nHaymarket, severely prosecuted at the Old Bailey, and on Wednesday, the\n23rd of December, 1713, hanged at Tyburn, with several other criminals.\n\nThe two foregoing passages are of so tragical a nature, that it is time\nI should relieve the minds of my readers with some histories of ladies\nwho consulted him with more success and advantage, to whom his\npredictions were very entertaining, when they so came to pass in their\nfavour, the relation whereof will consequently be agreeable to all\nreaders who have within them a mixture of happy curiosity and good\nnature.\n\nTwo ladies, who were the most remarkable beauties in London, and most\ncourted, turned at the same time their thoughts to matrimony; and being\nsatiated, I may say wearied, with the pleasure of having continually\nafter them a great number and variety of adorers, resolved each, about\nthe same time, to make a choice of their several men, to whom they\nthought they could give most happiness, and from whom they might receive\nmost. Their names, for they are both persons of distinction, shall be\nChristallina and Urbana. Christallina was a virgin, and Urbana a young\nwidow. Christallina engrossed the eyes, the hearts, and the sighs of the\nwhole court; and wherever she appeared, put any court lady out of her\nplace, that had one before in the heart of any youth; and was the most\ncelebrated toast among the _beau monde_. Urbana's beauty made as\nterrible havock in the city; all the citizens' daughters that had many\nadmirers, and were in fair hopes of having husbands when they pleased\nthemselves, as soon as Urbana had lost her old husband, found that they\nevery day lost their lovers; and it was a general fear among the\nprettiest maids, that they should remain maids still, as long as Urbana\nremained a widow. She was the monopolizer of city affection, and made\nmany girls, that had large stocks of suitors, bankrupts in the trade of\ncourtship, and broke some of their hearts, when her charms broke off\ntheir amours. Well, but the day was near at hand when both the belles of\nthe court and the city damsels were to be freed from the ravages which\nthese two tyrants, triumphant in beauty and insolent in charms, made\namong the harvest of love. Each had seen her proper man, to whom the\nenjoyment of their person was to be dedicated for life. But it being an\naffair of so lasting importance, each had a mind to be let into the\nknowledge of the consequences of such a choice, as far as possible,\nbefore they stepped into the irrevocable state of matrimony. Both of\nthem happened to take it into their heads, that the best way to be\nentirely satisfied in their curiosity, was to have recourse to the great\npredictor of future occurrences, Mr. Duncan Campbell, whose fame was at\nthat time spread pretty largely about the town. Christallina and Urbana\nwere not acquainted with each other, only by the report which fame had\nmade of beauty. They came to Mr. Campbell's on the same day, and both\nwith the same resolution of keeping themselves concealed and under\nmasks, that none of the company of consulters, who happened to be there,\nmight know who they were. It happened that on that very day, just when\nthey came, Mr. Campbell's rooms were more than ordinarily crowded with\ncurious clients of the fair sex, so that he was obliged to desire these\ntwo ladies, who expressed so much precaution against, and fear of having\ntheir persons discovered, to be contented with only one room between\nthem, and with much ado they complied with the request, and condescended\nto sit together _incog._ Distant compliments of gesture passed between\nthem, the dress and comportment of each making them appear to be persons\nof figure and breeding, and after three or four modish courtesies, down\nthey sat, without so much as once opening their lips, or intending so to\ndo. The silence between them was very formal and profound for near half\nan hour, and nothing was to be heard but the snapping of fans, which\nthey both did very tunably, and with great harmony, and played as it\nwere in concert.\n\nAt last, one of the civil, well-bred mutes, happening to sneeze, the\nother very gracefully bowed, and before she was well aware, out popped\nthe words, Bless you, madam. The fair sneezer returned the bow, with\nan--I thank you, madam. They found they did not know one another's\nvoices, and they began to talk very merrily together, with pretty great\nconfidence, and they taking a mutual liking from conversation, so much\nfamiliarity grew thereupon instantly between them, that they began not\nonly to unmask, but to unbosom themselves to one another, and confess\nalternately all their secrets. Christallina owned who she was, and told\nUrbana the beau and courtier that had her heart. Urbana as frankly\ndeclared that she was a widow, that she would not become the lady's\nrival, that she had pitched upon a second husband, an alderman of the\ncity. Just by that time they had had their chat out, and wished one\nanother the pleasure of a successful prediction, it came to\nChristallina's turn to visit the dumb gentleman, and receive from his\npen oracular answers to all the questions she had to propose. Well, he\naccordingly satisfied her in every point she asked him about; but while\nshe was about this, one of Mr. Campbell's family going with Urbana to\ndivert her a little, the widow rallied at the virgin as a fool, to\nimagine that she should ever make a conquest of the brightest spark\nabout the court, and then let fly some random bolts of malice to wound\nher reputation for chastity. Now it became the widow's turn to go and\nconsult; and the same person of Mr. Campbell's family in the mean time\nentertained Christallina. The maid was not behindhand with the widow;\nshe rallied against the widow, represented her as sometimes a coquette,\nsometimes a lady of pleasure, sometimes a jilt, and lifted up her hands\nin wonder and amazement that Urbana should imagine so rich a man as an\nalderman such a one, should fall to her lot. Thus Urbana swore and\nprotested that Christallina could never arrive at the honour of being\nthe wife to the courtly Secretarius, let Mr. Campbell flatter her as he\nwould; and Christallina vowed that Campbell must be a downright wizard\nif he foretold that such a one as Urbana would get Alderman Stiffrump as\na husband, provided a thing so improbable should come to pass.\n\nHowever, it seems, Duncan had told them their own names and the names of\ntheir suitors, and told them farther, how soon they were both to be\nmarried, and that too directly to their heart's content, as they said\nrejoicingly to themselves, and made their mutual gratulations.\n\nThey went away each satisfied that she should have her own lover, but\nChristallina laughed at Mr. Campbell for assigning the alderman to\nUrbana; and Urbana laughed at him for promising the courtier to the arms\nof Christallina.\n\nThis a pretty good figure of the tempers of two reigning toasts with\nregard to one another.\n\nFirst, their curiosity made them, from resolving to be concealed,\ndiscover one another wilfully; from utter strangers grow as familiar as\nold friends in a moment, swear one another to secrecy, and exchange the\nsentiments of their hearts together; and, from being friends, become\nenvious of each other's enjoying a similitude of happiness; the\ncompliments made on either side face to face, were, upon the turning of\nthe back, turned into reflections, detraction, and ridicule; each was a\nself-lover and admirer of her own beauty and merit, and a despiser of\nthe other's.\n\nHowever, Duncan Campbell, proved at last to be in the right; Urbana was\nwrong in her opinion of Christallina's want of power over Secretarius,\nand Christallina was as much out in her opinion that Urbana would miss\nin her aim of obtaining Stiffrump; for they both proved in the right of\nwhat they thought with regard to their own dear single persons, and\nwere made happy according to their expectations, just at the time\nforetold by Mr. Campbell.\n\nChristallina's ill wishes did not hinder Urbana from being mistress of\nAlderman Stiffrump's person and stock, nor did Urbana's hinder\nChristallina from showing herself a shining bride at the Ring, in\nSecretarius's gilded chariot, drawn by six prancers of the proud Belgian\nkind, with her half dozen of liveries with favours in their hats,\nwaiting her return at the gate of Hyde Park.\n\nBoth loved and both envied, but both allowed of Mr. Campbell's\nforeknowledge.\n\nHaving told you two very sorrowful passages, and one tolerably\nsuccessful and entertaining; I shall now relate to you another of my own\nknowledge, that is mixed up with the grievous and the pleasant, and\nchequered, as it were, with the shade and the sunshine of fortune.\n\nThough there are vicissitudes in every stage of life under the sun, and\nnot one ever ran continually on with the same series of prosperity; yet\nthose conditions which are the most liable to the signal alterations of\nfortune, are the conditions of merchants; for professed gamesters I\nreckon in a manner as men of no condition of life at all; but what comes\nunder the statute of vagabonds.\n\nIt was, indeed, as the reader would guess, a worthy and a wealthy\nmerchant, who was to run through these different circumstances of being.\nHe came and visited our Mr. Campbell in the year 1707, he found him\namidst a crowd of consulters; and being very eager and solicitous to\nknow his own fortune just at that critical juncture of time, he begged\nof him, if possible, to adjourn his other clients to the day following,\nand sacrifice that one wholly to his use; which as it was probably more\nimportant than all the others together, so he wrote down that he would\nrender the time spent about it more advantageous to Mr. Campbell; and,\nby way of previous encouragement, threw him down ten guineas as a\nretaining fee.\n\nMr. Campbell, who held money in very little esteem, and valued it so\nmuch too little, that he has often had my reprehensions on that head,\npaused a little, and after looking earnestly in the gentleman's face,\nand reading there, as I suppose, in that little space of time in\ngeneral, according to the power of the second-sight, that what concerned\nhim was highly momentous, wrote him this answer; That he would comply\nwith his requests, adjourn his other clients to the day following, and\nset apart all the remnant of that, till night, for inspecting the future\noccurrences of which he had a mind to be made a master.\n\nThere is certainly a very keen appetite in curiosity; it cannot stay for\nsatisfaction, it is pressing for its necessary repast, and is without\nall patience: hunger and thirst are not appetites more vehement and more\nhard and difficult to be repressed than that of curiosity; nothing but\nthe present now is able to allay it. A more expressive picture of this I\nnever beheld than in the faces of some, and the murmurs and complaints\nof others, in that little inquisitive company, when the unwelcome note\nwas given about signifying an adjournment for only twenty-four hours.\n\nThe colour of a young woman there came and went a hundred times, if\npossible, in the space of two minutes; she blushed like a red rose this\nmoment, and in the switch of an eyelash she was all over as pale as a\nwhite one: the suitor, whose name her heart had gone pit-a-pat for the\nspace of an hour to be informed of from the pen of a seer, was now\ndeferred a whole day longer; she was once or twice within an ace of\nswooning away, but he comforted her in particular, by telling her,\nthough he said it only by way of jest, that the day following would be a\nmore lucky day to consult about husbands than the present that she came\non. The answer was a kind of cordial to her hopes, and brought her a\nlittle better to herself.\n\nTwo others, I remember, sisters and old maids, that it seems were\nmisers, women ordinarily dressed and in blue aprons, and yet, by\nrelation, worth no less than two thousand pounds each, were in a peck of\ntroubles about his going and leaving them unsatisfied. They came upon an\ninquiry after goods that were stolen, and they complained that by next\nmorning at that time, the thief might be got far enough off, and creep\ninto so remote a corner, that he would put it beyond the power of the\ndevil and the art of conjuration to find him out and bring him back\nagain. The disturbance and anxiety that was to be seen in their\ncountenances was like that which is to be beheld in the face of a great\nlosing gamester, when his all, his last great stake, lies upon the\ntable, and is just sweeping off by another winning hand into his own\nhat.\n\nThe next was a widow who bounced, because, as she pretended, he would\nnot tell her what was best to do with her sons, and what profession it\nwould be most happy for them to be put to; but in reality all the cause\nof the widow's fuming and fretting, was not that she wanted to provide\nfor her sons, but for herself; she wanted a second husband, and was not\nhalf so solicitous about being put in a way of educating those children\nshe had already, as of knowing when she should be in a likelihood of\ngetting more. This was certainly in her thoughts, or else she would\nnever have flounced about in her weed, from one end of the room to the\nother, and all the while of her passion, smile by fits upon the\nmerchant, and leer upon a young pretty Irish fellow that was there. The\nyoung Irishman made use of a little eye-language; she grew appeased,\nwent away in quite a good humour, scuttled too airily down stairs for a\nwoman in her clothes, and the reason was certainly that she knew the\nmatter before, which we took notice of presently after: the Irishman\nwent precipitately after her down stairs without taking his leave.\n\nBut neither were the two misers for their gold, the virgin for a first\nhusband, nor the widow for a second, half so eager as another married\nwoman there was for the death of her spouse. She had put the question in\nso expecting a manner for a lucky answer, and with so much keen desire\nappearing plainly in her looks, that no big-bellied woman was ever more\neager for devouring fruit; no young, hasty bridegroom, just married to a\nbeauty, more impatient for night and enjoyment, than she was to know\nwhat she thought a more happy moment, the moment of her husband's last\nagonising gasp. As her expectation was the greatest, so was her\ndisappointment, too, and consequently her disorder upon his going and\nleaving her unresolved. She was frantic, raging, and implacable; she was\nin such a fury at the delay of putting off her answer to the day\nfollowing, that in her fury she acted as if she would have given herself\nan answer which of the two should die first, by choking herself upon the\nspot, with the indignation that swelled in her stomach and rose into her\nthroat on that occasion. It may look like a romance to say it, but\nindeed they were forced to cut her lace, and then she threw out of the\nroom with great passion; but yet had so much of the enraged wife left,\nbeyond the enraged woman, as to return instantly up stairs, and signify\nvery calmly, she would be certain to be there next day, and beseeched\nearnestly that she might not meet with a second disappointment.\n\nAll this hurry and bustle created a stay a little too tedious for the\nmerchant, who began to be impatient himself, especially when word was\nbrought up that a fresh company was come in; but Mr. Campbell was denied\nto them; and to put a stop to any more interruptions, the merchant and\nthe dumb gentleman agreed to slip into a coach, drive to a tavern in the\ncity, and settle matters of futurity over a bottle of French claret.\n\nThe first thing done at the tavern, was Mr. Campbell's saluting him upon\na piece of paper by his name, and drinking his health. The next paper\nheld a discourse of condolence for a disaster that was past long since;\nnamely, a great and considerable loss that happened to his family, in\nthe dreadful conflagration of the city of London. In the third little\ndialogue which they had together, he told the merchant that losses and\nadvantages were general topics, which a person unskilled in that art\nmight venture to assign to any man of his profession; it being next to\nimpossible that persons who traffic should not sometimes gain, and\nsometimes lose. But, said Mr. Duncan Campbell, I will sketch out\nparticularly, and specify to you some future misfortunes with which you\nwill unavoidably meet; it is in your stars, it is in destiny, that you\nshould have some trials, and therefore when you are forewarned, take a\nprudent care to be forearmed with patience, and by longanimity, and\nmeekly and resignedly enduring your lot, render it more easy, since\nimpatience can't avert it, and will only render it more burdensome and\nheavy. He gave these words to the merchant; who pressed for his opinion\nthat moment. By your leave, resuming the pen, said the dumb gentleman,\nin writing, we will have this bottle out first and tap a fresh one, that\nyou may be warmed with courage enough to receive the first speculative\nonset of ill fortune, that I shall predict to you, with a good grace,\nand that may perhaps enable you to meet it when it comes to reduce\nitself into action, with a manful purpose and all becoming resolution.\nThe merchant agreed to the proposal, and put on an air of the careless\nand indifferent as well as he could, to signify that he had no need to\nraise up an artificial courage from the auxiliary forces of the grape.\nBut nature, when hard pressed, will break through all disguises, and not\nonly notwithstanding the air of pleasantry he gave himself, which\nappeared forced and constrained, but in spite of two or three sparkling\nand enlivening bumpers, a cloud of care would ever and anon gather and\nshoot heavily across his brow, though he laboured all he could to dispel\nit as quickly, and to keep fair weather in his countenance. Well, they\nhad cracked the first bottle, and the second succeeded upon the table,\nand they called to blow a pipe together. This pipe Mr. Campbell found\nhad a very ill effect; it is certainly a pensive kind of instrument, and\nfills a mind, anything so disposed, with disturbing thoughts, black\nfumes, and melancholy vapours, as certainly as it doth the mouth with\nsmoke. It plainly took away even the little sparks of vivacity which the\nwine had given before; so he wrote for a truce of firing those sort of\nnoxious guns any longer, and they laid down their arms by consent, and\ndrank off the second bottle. A third immediately supplied its place, and\nat the first glass, the opening of the bottle, Mr. Campbell began to\nopen to him his future case, in the following words: Sir, you have now\nsome ventures at sea from such and such a place, to such a value. Don't\nbe discomforted at the news which you certainly will have within three\nmonths, but it will be false at last, that they are by three different\ntempests made the prey of the great ocean, and enrich the bottom of the\nsea, the palace of Neptune. A worse storm than all these attends you at\nhome, a wife who is, and will be more, the tempest of the house wherein\nshe lives. The high and lofty winds of her vanity will blow down the\npillars of your house and family; the high tide of her extravagance will\nroll on like a resistless torrent, and leave you at low water, and the\nebb of all your fortunes. This is the highest and the most cutting\ndisaster that is to befall you; your real shipwreck is not foreign but\ndomestic; your bosom friend is to be your greatest foe, and even your\npowerful undoer for a time; mark what I say, and take courage, it shall\nbe but for a time, provided you take courage; it will upon that\ncondition be only a short and wholesome taste of adversity given to you,\nthat you may relish returning prosperity with virtue, and with a\ngreater return of thanks to Him that dispenses it at pleasure to\nmankind. Remember, courage and resignation is what I advise you to; use\nit, as becomes you, in your adversity, and believe that as I foretold\nthat adversity, so I can foretell a prosperity will again be the\nconsequence of those virtues; and the more you feel the one ought not to\ncast you down, but raise your hopes the more, that he who foretold you\nthat so exactly, could likewise foretell you the other. The merchant was\nby this put into a great suspense of mind, but somewhat easier by the\nsecond prediction being annexed so kindly to the first fatal one. They\ncrowned the night with a flask of Burgundy, and then parting, each went\nto their respective homes.\n\nThe reader may perchance wonder how I, who make no mention of my being\nthere, as in truth I was not at the tavern, should be able to relate\nthis as of my own knowledge; but if he pleases to have patience to the\nend of the story, he will have entire satisfaction in that point.\n\nAbout half a year after, the merchant came again, told him that his\nprediction was too far verified, to his very dear cost, and that he was\nnow utterly undone, and beyond any visible means of a future recovery,\nand doubting lest the other fortunate part of the prediction was only\ntold him by way of encouragement, for groundless doubts and fears always\nattend a mind implunged in melancholy, besought him very earnestly to\ntell him candidly and sincerely if there was no real prospect of good,\nand rid him at once of the uneasiness of such a suspension of thought;\nBut pray too, said he, with all the vehemence of repeated expostulation,\nsatisfy me if there are any farther hopes on this side the grave?\n\nTo this Duncan Campbell made a short, but a very significant reply in\nwriting. May the heavens preserve you from a threatening danger of life.\nTake care only of yourself, great and mighty care; and if you outlive\nFriday next, you will yet be great and more fortunate than ever you was\nin all the height of your former most flourishing space of life. He\ncoloured inordinately when Duncan Campbell said Friday, and conjured him\nto tell him as particularly as he could what he meant by Friday. He told\nhim he could not particularise any farther, but that great danger\nthreatened him that day; and that without extraordinary precaution it\nwould prove fatal to him, even to death. He shook his head, and went\naway in a very sorrowful plight. Friday past, Saturday came, and on that\nvery Saturday morning came likewise the joyful tidings, that what\nventures of his were given over for lost at sea, were all come safe into\nthe harbour. He came the moment he received those dispatches from his\nagent, to Mr. Duncan Campbell's apartment, embraced him tenderly, and\nsaluted him with much gladness of heart, before a great roomful of\nladies, where I happened to be present at that time; crying out in a\nloud voice, before he knew what he said, that Mr. Campbell had saved his\nlife, that Friday was his birthday, and he had intended with a pistol to\nshoot himself that very day. The ladies thought him mad; and he,\nrecovered from his ecstacy, said no more, but sat down, till Mr.\nCampbell dismissed all his clients; and then we three went to the tavern\ntogether, where he told me the whole little history or narrative, just\nas is above related.\n\nThe fame which Mr. Duncan Campbell got by the foregoing, and several\nother predictions of the like kind, was become very large and extensive,\nand had spread itself into the remotest corners of this metropolis. The\nsquares rung with it, it was whispered from one house to another through\nthe more magnificent streets, where persons of quality and distinction\nreside; it catched every house in the city, like the news of stock from\nExchange-alley; it run noisily through the lanes and little\nthoroughfares where the poor inhabit; it was the chat of the tea-table,\nand the babble of the streets; and the whole town, from the top to the\nbottom, was full of it. Whenever any reputation rises to a degree like\nthis, let it be for what art or accomplishment, or on what account\nsoever it will, malice, envy, and detraction, are sure to be the\nimmediate pursuers of it with full mouth, and to hunt it down if\npossible, with full cry. Even the great Nostradamus, though favoured by\nkings and queens, which always without any other reason creates enemies,\nwas not more pursued by envy and detraction for his predictions in\nParis, and throughout France, than our Duncan Campbell was in London,\nand even throughout England. Various, different, and many were the\nobjections raised to blot his character and extenuate his fame, that\nwhen one was confuted another might not be wanting to supply its place,\nand so to maintain a course and series of backbiting, according to the\nknown maxim, Throw dirt, and if it does not stick, throw dirt\ncontinually, and some will stick.\n\nNeither is there any wonder; for a man, that has got applauders of all\nsorts and conditions, must expect condemners and detractors of all sorts\nand conditions likewise. If a lady of high degree, for example, should\nsay smiling, though really thinking absolutely what she says, for fear\nof being thought over-credulous: Well, I vow, some things Mr. Campbell\ndoes are surprising after all; they would be apt to incline one to a\nbelief that he is a wonder of a man; for one would imagine the things he\ndoes impossible: why, then, a prude, with an assumed, supercilious air\nand a scornful _tihee_, would, in order to seem more wise than she was,\nreply; Laud, madam, it is more a wonder to me that you can be imposed\nupon so. I vow to Gad, madam, I would as soon consult an almanack maker,\nand pin my faith upon what he pricks down; or believe, like my creed, in\nthe cross which I make upon the hand of a gipsy. Lard, madam, I assure\nyour la'ship he knows no more than I do of you. I assure you so, and\ntherefore believe me. He has it all by hearsay. If the lady that\nbelieved it, should reply, that if he had notice of every stranger by\nhearsay he must be a greater man than she suspected, and must keep more\nspies in pay than a prime minister; the prude's answer would be with a\nloud laugh, and giggling out these words; Lard, madam, I assure you\nnothing can be more easy; and so take it for granted. Because she was\ninclined to say so, and had the act of wisdom on her side, forsooth,\nthat she appeared hard of belief, which some call hard to be put upon,\nand the other lady credulous, which some though believing upon good\ngrounds are called, and so thought, foolish; the prude's answer would be\nthought sufficient and convincing.\n\nThus malice and folly, by dint of noise and impudence, and strong though\nempty assertions, often run down modesty and good sense. Among the\ncommon people it is the same, but only done in a different manner. For\nexample, an ordinary person that had consulted, might say, as he walked\nalong, there goes the dumb gentleman who writes down any name of a\nstranger at first sight. Steps up a blunt fellow, that takes\nstubbornness for sense, and says, That is a confounded lie; he is a\ncheat and an impostor, and you are one of his accomplices; he will tell\nme my name, I suppose, if you tell it him first: he is no more dumb\nthan I am; he can speak and hear as well as us; I have been with those\nthat say they have heard him; I wish I and two or three more had him in\nour stable, and I warrant you with our cartwhips we would lick some\nwords out of his chaps, as dumb as you call him. I tell you it is all a\nlie, and all a bite. If the other desires to be convinced for himself by\nhis own experience, the rougher rogue, who perhaps has stronger sinews\nthan the other, answers, If you lie any farther I will knock you down;\nand so he is the vulgar wit, and the mouth of the rabble-rout, and thus\nthe detraction spreads below with very good success, as it does above in\nanother kind.\n\nAs there are two comical adventures in his life, which directly suit and\ncorrespond with the foregoing reflections, this seems the most proper\nplace to insert them in. The first consists of a kind of mob-way of\nusage he met with from a fellow who got to be an officer in the army,\nbut by the following behaviour will be found unworthy of the name and\nthe commission.\n\nIn the year 1701, a lady of good quality came and addressed herself to\nhim much after the following manner. She told him she had choice of\nlovers, but preferred one above the rest; but desired to know his name,\nand if she made him her choice what would be the subsequent fate of such\na matrimony. Mr. Duncan Campbell very readily gave her down in writing\nthis plain and honest reply; That of all her suitors she was most\ninclined to a captain, a distinguished officer, and a great beau, naming\nhis name, and one that had a great many outward, engaging charms,\nsufficient to blind the eyes of any lady that was not thoroughly\nacquainted with his manner of living. He therefore assured her, and\nthought himself bound, being conjured so to do, having received his fee,\nthough there was danger in such plain and open predictions, that he was\na villain and a rogue in his heart, a profligate gamester, and that if\nshe took him to her bed, she would only embrace her own ruin. The lady's\nwoman, who was present, being in fee with the captain, resolving to give\nintelligence, for fear the officer, her so good friend, should be\ndisappointed in the siege, slily shuffled the papers into her pocket,\nand made a present of them to the military spark. Fired with indignation\nat the contents, he vowed revenge; and in order to compass it, conspires\nwith his female spy about the means. In fine, for fear of losing the\nlady, though he quarrelled with Duncan Campbell, a method was to be\nfound out how to secure her by the very act of revenge. At last it was\nresolved to discover to her, that he had found out what she had been\ntold by Mr. Campbell, but the way how he had been informed was to remain\na secret. He did do so, and ended his discovery with these words:--I\ndesire, madam, that if I prove him an impostor, you would not believe a\nword he says. The lady agreed to so fair a proposal. Then the captain\nswore that he himself would never eat a piece of bread more till he had\nmade Mr. Campbell eat his words; nay, he insisted upon it that he would\nbring him to his tongue, and make him own by word of mouth, that what he\nhad written before was false and calumnious. To which the lady answered\nagain, that if he performed what he said, she would be convinced. This\nbrave, military man, however, not relying upon his own single valour and\nprowess, to bring about so miraculous a thing as the making a person\nthat was dumb to speak, he took with him for this end three lusty\nassistants to combine with him in the assassination. The ambuscade was\nsettled to be at the Five Bells tavern, in Wych-street, in the Strand.\nAfter the ambush was settled with so much false courage, the business of\ndecoying Mr. Campbell into it was not practicable any other way than by\nsending out false colours. The lady's woman, who was by her own interest\ntied fast to the interests of the beau, was to play the trick of\nDelilah, and betray this deaf and dumb Samson, as he will appear to be a\nkind of one in the sequel of the story, into the hands of these\nPhilistines. She smooths her face over with a complimenting lie from her\nmistress to Mr. Campbell, and acted her part of deceit so well, that he\npromised to follow her to the Five Bells with all haste; and so she\nscuttled back to prepare the captain, and to tell him how lucky she was\nin mischief; and how she drew him out by smiles into perdition. The\nshort of the story is, when they got him in among them, they endeavoured\nto assassinate him; but they missed of their aim; yet it is certain they\nleft him in a very terrible and bloody condition; and the captain went\naway in as bad a plight as the person was left in, whom he assaulted so\ncowardly with numbers, and to such disadvantage. I was sent for to him\nupon this disaster, and the story was delivered to me thus, by one of\nthe drawers of the tavern, when I inquired into it. They began to banter\nhim, and speaking to him as if he heard, asked him if he knew his own\nfortune; they told him it was to be beaten to death. This was an odd way\nof addressing a deaf and dumb man. They added, they would make him speak\nbefore they had done. The boy seeing he made no reply, but only smiled,\nthought what passed between them was a jest with an old acquaintance,\nand withdrew about his business. The door being fastened, however,\nbefore they began the honourable attack, they vouchsafed to write down\ntheir intent in the words above mentioned, which they had uttered before\nto make sure that he should understand their meaning, and what this odd\nway of correction was for. All the while the maid who had brought him\ninto it was peeping through a hole and watching the event, as appears\nafterwards. Mr. Campbell wrote them the following answer, viz., That he\nhoped for fair play, that he understood beargarden as well as they; but\nif a gentleman was amongst them he would expect gentlemanly usage. The\nrejoinder they made to this, consisted, it seems, not of words but of\naction. The officer in conjunction with another ruffian, one of the\nstrongest of the three he had brought, commenced the assault. As good\nluck would have it, he warded off their first blows, it seems, with\ntolerable success, and a wine quart pot standing upon the table, Duncan\ntook to his arms, and at two or three quick blows, well managed, and\nclose laid in upon the assailants, felled them both to the ground. Here\nit was that the maid discovered her knowledge of it, and privity to the\nplot to the whole house; for she no sooner sees the famous leader, the\nvaliant captain, lie sprawling on the floor with bleeding temples, but\nshe shrieked out with all the voice she could exert, Murder, murder,\nmurder! Alarmed at this outcry, the master and all the attendants of the\ntavern scampered up stairs, burst into the room, and found Duncan\nCampbell struggling with the other two, and the quart pot still fast\nclenched in his hand, which they were endeavouring to wrench from him.\nThe drawers rescued him out of their hands, and inquired into the\nmatter. The maid in a fright confessed the whole thing. The officer and\nhis associate rubbed their eyes as recovering from a stunning sleep,\nreeled as they went to rise, paid the reckoning and slunk pitifully\naway; or, as the rakes' term for it is, they brushed off, and for all\ntheir odds had the worst of the lay. I, who had some authority with Mr.\nCampbell, by reason of my years, and the strict acquaintance I had with\nhis mother, when I came and found him in that pickle, and had the whole\nrelation told to me by the people of the house, though I could not\nforbear pitying him within my own mind, took upon me to reprehend him,\nand told him that these hardships would by Providence be daily permitted\nto fall upon him, for he met with them twenty times, while he continued\nin that irregular way of living and spending his time, that might be so\nprecious to himself and many others, in drunkenness and debauchery; and\nI think the lessons I wrote down to him upon that head, though a little\nsevere just at that juncture, were, notwithstanding, well timed, and\ndid, as I guessed they would, make a more solid impression in him than\nat any other. In all these scuffles, whether it is that being deaf and\ndumb an affront works deeper upon a man, and so renders him far more\nfierce or resolute, it must be said, that, though nature has been kind\nin making him very strong, robust, and active withal, yet he has bore\nsome shocks, one would imagine, beyond the strength of a man, having\nsometimes got the better of five or six ruffians in rencounters of the\nlike kind.\n\nThe next banter he met with was in a gentler way, from an unbelieving\nlady, and yet she came off with very ill success, and the banter turned\nall upon herself in the end.\n\nA lady of distinction, whose name shall therefore be concealed in this\nplace, came with two or three of her special friends, who took her for\nthe most merry, innocent, spotless virgin upon earth, and whose modesty\nwas never suspected in the least by her relations or servants that were\nnearest about her; after having rallied Mr. Campbell with several\nfrivolous questions, doubting his capacity, and vexing and teasing him\nwith gay impertinences beyond all patience, was by him told, that he did\nnot take fees in his profession to be made a jest of like a common\nfortuneteller, but to do real good to those who consulted him, as far as\nhe was able by his predictions; that he was treated with more respect by\npersons of a higher condition, though her own was very good, and so\noffered her guinea back again with a bow and a smile. She had a little\nmore generosity of spirit than not to be a little nettled at the\nproffer she had caused by so coarse an usage. She affected appearing\ngrave a little, and told him she would be serious for the future, and\nasked him to set down her name, which she had neglected before, to ask\nother questions that were nothing to the purpose. He promised to write\nit down, but pausing a little longer than ordinary about it, she\nreturned to her former way of uncivil merriment and ungallant raillery.\nShe repeated to him in three or four little scraps of paper, one after\nanother, as fast as she could write them, the same words, viz., That he\ncould not tell her name, nor whether she was maid, wife, or widow; and\nlaughed as if she would split her sides, triumphing to the rest of her\ncompanions over his ignorance and her own wit, as if she had posed him,\nand put him to an entire stand. But see what this overweening opinion of\nsecurity ended in: the man of the second-sight was not to be so easily\nbaffled. Vexed at being so disturbed, and coming out of his brown study,\nhe reaches the paper and begins to write. Now it was the lady's turn to\nsuffer, she had deserved hearty punishment, and it came into her hands\nwith the note, to a degree of severity, as you will perceive by the\ncontents of it just now. She read it, and swooning away, dropped from\nher chair. The whole room being in a bustle, I, that was in the outward\nchamber, ran in: while Mr. Campbell was sprinkling water in her face, a\nlady snatched up the note to read it, at which he seemed mightily\ndispleased; I, therefore, who understood his signs, recovered it out of\nher hands by stratagem, and ran to burn it, which I did so quick that I\nwas not discovered in the curiosity which I must own I satisfied myself\nin by reading it first; a curiosity raised too high by so particular an\nadventure, to be overcome in so little a time of thought, as I was to\nkeep it in my hands, and so I came by the knowledge of it myself,\nwithout being informed by Mr. Campbell. This shows how a sudden\ncuriosity, when there is not time given to think and correct it, may\novercome a man as well as a woman; for I was never over-curious in my\nlife, and though I was pleased with the oddness of the adventure, I\noften blushed to myself since for the unmanly weakness of not being able\nto step with a note from one room to another to the fireside, without\npeeping into the contents of it. The contents of it were these: Madam\nsince you provoke me, your name is ----. You are no widow, you are no\nwife, and yet you are no maid; you have a child at nurse at such a\nplace, by such a gentleman, and you were brought to bed in\nLeicestershire. The lady, convinced by this answer of his strange and\nmystical power, and pleased with his civility in endeavouring to conceal\nfrom others the secret, after so many repeated provocations, though she\nshowed great disorder for that day, became one of his constant attenders\nsome time after, and would not take any step in her affairs without his\nadvice, which she often has said since, she found very much to her\nadvantage. She was as serious in her dealings with him afterwards, and\nimproved by being so, as she was gay and turbulent with him before, and\nsmarted for it. In fine, she was a thorough convert, and a votary of\nhis; and the only jest she used afterwards to make, concerning him, was\na civil witticism to his wife; to whom she was wont, every now and then,\nsmiling, to address herself after this manner: Your husband, madam, is a\ndevil, but he is a very handsome and a very civil one.\n\nNot long after this came another lady, with a like intent, to impose\nupon him; and was resolved, as she owned, to have laughed him to scorn\nif she had succeeded in her attempt. She had very dexterously dressed\nherself in her woman's habit, and her woman in her own; her footman\nsquired the new-made lady in a very gentlemanly dress, hired for the\npurpose of a disguise, from Monmouth-street. The strange and unknown\nmasqueraders entered Mr. Campbell's room with much art. The fellow was\nby nature of a clean make, and had a good look, and from following a\ngenteel master when he was young, copied his gait a little, and had some\nappearance of a mien, and a tolerable good air about him. But this being\nthe first time of his being so fine, and he a little vain in his temper,\nhe over-acted his part; he strutted too much; he was as fond of his\nruffles, his watch, his sword, his cane, and his snuff box, as a boy of\nbeing newly put into breeches; and viewed them all too often to be\nthought the possessor of any such things long. The affectation of the\nchambermaid was insufferable; she had the toss of the head, the jut of\nthe bum, the sidelong leer of the eye, the imperious look upon her lady,\nnow degraded into her woman, that she was intolerable, and a person\nwithout the gift of the second-sight would have guessed her to have been\na pragmatical upstart, though it is very probable that during that time\nshe fancied herself really better than her mistress; the mistress acted\nher part of maid the best; for it is easier for genteel modesty to act a\nlow part, than for affected vanity to act a high one. She kept her\ndistance like a servant, but would, to disguise things the better, be\nevery now and then pert, according to their way, and give occasion to be\nchid. But there is an air of gentility inborn and inbred to some people;\nand even when they aim to be awkward a certain grace will attend all\ntheir minutest actions and gestures, and command love, respect, and\nveneration. I must therefore own that there was not need of a man's\nbeing a conjuror to guess who ought to be the lady and who the maid; but\nto know who absolutely was the lady, and who was the maid did require\nthat skill. For how many such real ladies have we that are made so from\nsuch upstarts, and how many genteel waiting-women of great descent that\nare born with a grace about them, and are bred to good manners. Mr.\nCampbell's art made him positive in the case; he took the patches from\nthe face of the maid, and placed them on the mistress's; he pulled off\nher hood and scarf, and gave it the lady, and taking from the lady her\nriding-hood, gave it the maid in exchange; for ladies at that time of\nday were not entered into that fashion of cloaking themselves. Then he\nwrote down that he should go out, and ought to send his maid in to\nundress them quite, and give the mistress her own clothes and the maid\nhers and with a smile wrote down both their names, and commended her\ncontrivance; but after that it was remarked by the lady that he paid her\nless respect than she expected, and more to her footman, who was in\ngentleman's habit, whom he took by his side, and told a great many fine\nthings; whereas he would tell the lady nothing farther. The lady nettled\nat this, wrote to him that she had vanity enough to believe that she\nmight be distinguished from her maid in any dress, but that he had shown\nhis want of skill in not knowing who that gentleman was. Mr. Campbell\ntold her her mistake in sharp terms; and begging her pardon, assured her\nhe knew several chambermaids as genteel and as well-born as her, and\nmany mistresses more awkward and worse born than her maid; that he did\nnot go therefore by the rule of guess and judging what ought to be, but\nby the rule of certainty and the knowledge of what actually was. She,\nhowever, unsatisfied with that answer, perplexed him mightily to know\nwho the man was. He answered, he would be a great man. The lady laughed\nscornfully, and said she wanted to know who he was, not what he would\nbe. He answered again, he was her footman, but that she would have a\nworse. She grew warm, and desired to be informed, why, since he knew the\nfellow's condition, he respected her so little and him so much, and\naccused him of want of practising manners, if he had not want of\nknowledge. He answered, Madam, since you will be asking questions too\nfar, this footman will advance himself to the degree of a gentleman, and\nhave a woman of distinction to his wife; while you will degrade yourself\nby a marriage to be the wife of a footman; his ambition is laudable,\nyour condescension, mean, therefore I give him the preference; I have\ngiven you fair warning and wholesome advice, you may avoid your lot by\nprudence; but his will certainly be what I tell you.\n\nThis coming afterwards to pass exactly as was predicted, and his\ndisappointing so many that had a mind to impose upon him, has rendered\nhim pretty free from such wily contrivances since, though now and then\nthey have happened, but still to the mortification and disappointment of\nthe contrivers. But as we have not pretended to say, with regard to\nthese things, that he has his genius always at his elbow or his beck, to\nwhisper in his ear the names of persons, and such little constant events\nas these; so, that we may not be deemed to give a fabulous account of\nhis life and adventures, we think ourselves bound to give the reader an\ninsight into the particular power and capacity which he has for bringing\nabout these particular performances, especially that of writing down\nnames of strangers at first sight, which I don't doubt will be done to\nthe satisfaction of all persons who shall read the succeeding chapter,\nconcerning the gift of the second-sight.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER VII.\n\n CONCERNING THE SECOND-SIGHT.\n\n\nMr. Martin lately published a book, entituled, A Description of the\nWestern Isles of Scotland, called by the ancient geographers, Hebrides.\nIt contains many curious particulars relating to the natural and civil\nhistory of those islands, with a map of them; and in his preface he\ntells us that, perhaps, it is peculiar to those isles that they have\nnever been described, till now, by any man that was a native of the\ncountry, or had travelled them, as himself has done; and in the\nconclusion of the said preface he tells us, he has given here such an\naccount of the second-sight as the nature of the thing will bear, which\nhas always been reckoned sufficient among the unbiassed part of mankind;\nbut for those that will not be satisfied, they ought to oblige us with a\nnew scheme, by which we may judge of matters of fact. The chief\nparticulars he has given us concerning the second-sight, are here set\ndown by way of abstract or epitome, that they may not be too tedious to\nthe reader.\n\n1. In the second-sight, the vision makes such a lively impression on the\nseers, that they neither see nor think of anything else but the vision\nas long as it continues, and then they appear pensive or jovial,\naccording to the object which was presented to them.\n\n2. At the sight of a vision the eyelids of the person are erected, and\nthe eyes continue staring till the object vanish, as has often been\nobserved by the author and others present.\n\n3. There is one in Skye, an acquaintance of whom observed, that when he\nsees a vision, the inner part of his eyelids turns so far upwards, that,\nafter the object disappears, he must draw them down with his fingers,\nand sometimes employs others to draw them down, which he finds to be\nmuch the easier way.\n\n4. The faculty of the second-sight does not lineally descend in a\nfamily, as some imagine; for he knows several parents that are endowed\nwith it, but not their children, and so on the contrary; neither is it\nacquired by any previous compact; and after a strict inquiry, he could\nnever learn from any among them that this faculty was communicable any\nway whatsoever.\n\nNOTE. That this account is differing from the account that is given by\nMr. Aubrey, a gentleman of the Royal Society; and I think Mr. Martin's\nreason here against the descent of this faculty from parents to children\nis not generally conclusive. For though he may know parents endowed with\nit and not children, and so vice versa, yet there may be parents who\nare endowed with it, being qualified, as Mr. Aubrey has said, viz., both\nbeing second-sighted, or even one to an extraordinary degree, whose\nchildren may have it by descent. And as to this faculty being any\notherwise communicable, since the accounts differ, I must leave it to a\nfarther examination.\n\n5. The seer knows neither the object, time, nor place of a vision before\nit appears; and the same object is often seen by different persons\nliving at a considerable distance from one another. The true way of\njudging as to the time and circumstance of an object, is by observation;\nfor several persons of judgment, without this faculty, are more capable\nto judge of the design of a vision, than a novice that is a seer. As an\nobject appears in the day or night, it will come to pass sooner or later\naccordingly.\n\n6. If an object be seen early in the morning, which is not frequent, it\nwill be accomplished in a few hours afterwards; if at noon, it will\ncommonly be accomplished that very day; if in the evening, perhaps that\nnight; if after candles be lighted, it will be accomplished that night;\nit is later always in accomplishment by weeks, months, and sometimes\nyears, according to the time of the night the vision is seen.\n\n7. When a shroud is perceived about one, it is a sure prognostic of\ndeath; the time is judged according to the height of it about the\nperson; for if it be not seen above the middle, death is not to be\nexpected for the space of a year, and perhaps some months longer; and as\nit is frequently seen to ascend higher towards the head, death is\nconcluded to be at hand in a few days, if not hours, as daily experience\nconfirms. Examples of this kind were shown the author, when the persons,\nof whom the observations were made, enjoyed perfect health.\n\nThere was one instance lately of a prediction of this kind, by a seer\nthat was a novice, concerning the death of one of the author's\nacquaintance; this was communicated to a few only, and with great\nconfidence; the author being one of the number, did not in the least\nregard it, till the death of the person, about the time foretold,\nconfirmed to him the certainty of the prediction. The foresaid novice is\nnow a skilful seer, as appears from many late instances; he lives in the\nparish of St. Mary's, the most northern in Skye.\n\n8. If a woman be seen standing at a man's left hand, it is a presage\nthat she will be his wife, whether they are married to others, or\nunmarried, at the time of the apparition. If two or three women are seen\nat once standing near a man's left hand, she that is next him will\nundoubtedly be his wife first, and so on, whether all three, or the man,\nbe single or married at the time of the vision; of which there are\nseveral late instances of the author's acquaintance. It is an ordinary\nthing for them to see a man, that is to come to the house shortly after;\nand though he be not of the seer's acquaintance yet he not only tells\nhis name, but gives such a lively description of his stature,\ncomplexion, habit, &c, that upon his arrival he answers the character\ngiven of him in all respects. If the person so appearing be one of the\nseer's acquaintance, he can tell by his countenance whether he comes in\ngood or bad humour. The author has been seen thus, by seers of both\nsexes, at some hundreds of miles' distance; some that saw him in this\nmanner had never seen him personally, and it happened according to their\nvisions, without any previous design of his to go to those places, his\ncoming there being purely accidental; and in the nineteenth page of his\nbook he tells us, that Mr. Daniel Morrison, a minister, told him, that\nupon his landing in the island Rona, the natives received him very\naffectionately, and addressed themselves to him with this salutation;\nGod save you, Pilgrim! you are heartily welcome here, for we have had\nrepeated apparitions of your person amongst us; viz., after the manner\nof the second-sight.\n\n9. It is ordinary with them to see houses, gardens, and trees, in places\nvoid of all three, and this in process of time used to be accomplished;\nof which he gives an instance in the island of Skye.\n\n10. To see a spark of fire fall upon one's arm, or breast, is a\nforerunner of a dead child to be seen in the arms of those persons, of\nwhich there are several fresh instances.\n\nTo see a seat empty at the time of one's sitting in it, is a presage of\nthat person's death quickly after.\n\nWhen a novice, or one that has lately obtained the second-sight, sees a\nvision in the night-time without doors, and comes near a fire, he\npresently falls into a swoon.\n\nSome find themselves, as it were, in a crowd of people, having a corpse,\nwhich they carry along with them; and after such visions the seers come\nin sweating, and describe the people that appeared; if there are any of\ntheir acquaintance among them, they give an account of their names, and\nalso of the bearers. But they know nothing concerning the corpse.\n\nAll those that have the second-sight, do not always see these visions at\nonce, though they are together at the time; but if one, who has this\nfaculty, designedly touch his fellow seer, at the instant of a vision's\nappearing, then the second sees it as well as the first.\n\n11. There is the way of foretelling death by a cry, that they call\n_taisk_, which some call a _wraith_, in the lowland. They hear a loud\ncry without doors, exactly resembling the voice of some particular\nperson, whose death is foretold by it, of which he gives a late\ninstance, which happened in the village Rigg, in Skye isle.\n\n12. Things are also foretold by smelling, sometimes, as follows: Fish or\nflesh is frequently smelt in the fire, when at the same time neither of\nthe two are in the house, or, in any probability, like to be had in it\nfor some weeks or months. This smell several persons have who are endued\nwith the second-sight, and it is always accomplished soon after.\n\n13. Children, horses, and cows, have the second-sight, as well as men\nand women advanced in years.\n\nThat children see it, it is plain, from their crying aloud at the very\ninstant that a corpse or any other vision appears to an ordinary seer;\nof which he gives an instance in a child when himself was present.\n\nThat horses likewise see it is very plain, from their violent and sudden\nstarting, when the rider, or seer in company with them, sees a vision of\nany kind by night or day. It is observable of a horse, that he will not\ngo forward that way, till he be led about at some distance from the\ncommon road, and then he is in a sweat; he gives an instance of this in\na horse in the Isle of Skye.\n\nThat cows have the second-sight appears from this; that if a woman\nmilking a cow happens to see a vision by the second-sight, the cow runs\naway in a great fright at the same time, and will not be pacified for\nsome time after.\n\nIn reference to this, Paracelsus, tom. ix. l. _de arte presaga_, writes\nthus; \"Horses also have their auguries, who perceive, by their sight and\nsmell, wandering spirits, witches, and spectres, and the like things;\nand dogs both see and hear the same.\"\n\nHere in the next place the author answers objections that have lately\nbeen made against the reality of the second-sight.\n\nFirst, it is objected, that these seers are visionary and melancholy\npeople, who fancy they see things that do not appear to them or anybody\nelse.\n\nHe answers, the people of these isles, and particularly the seers, are\nvery temperate, and their diet is simple and moderate in quantity and\nquality; so that their brains are not, in all probability, disordered by\nundigested fumes of meat or drink. Both sexes are free from hysteric\nfits, convulsions, and several other distempers of that sort. There are\nno madmen among them, nor any instance of self-murder. It is observed\namong them, that a man drunk, never has a vision of the second-sight;\nand he that is a visionary would discover himself in other things as\nwell as in that; nor are such as have the second-sight, judged to be\nvisionaries by any of their friends or acquaintance.\n\nSecondly, it is objected, that there are none among the learned able to\noblige the world with a satisfactory account of these visions; therefore\nthey are not to be believed.\n\nHe answers, if everything of which the learned are not able to give a\nsatisfactory account, shall be condemned as false and impossible, we\nshall find many other things, generally believed, which must be rejected\nas such.\n\nThirdly, it is objected, that the seers are impostors, and the people\nwho believe them are credulous, and easy to be imposed upon.\n\nHe answers, the seers are generally illiterate, and well-meaning people,\nand altogether void of design; nor could he ever learn that any of them\nmade the least gain of it; neither is it reputable among them to have\nthat faculty; beside, the people of the Isles are not so credulous as to\nbelieve an impossibility, before the thing foretold be accomplished; but\nwhen it actually comes to pass, afterwards it is not in their power to\ndeny it, without offering violence to their senses and reason; beside,\nif the seers were deceivers, can it be reasonable to imagine that all\nthe islanders, who have not the second-sight, should combine together\nand offer violence to their understandings and senses, to force\nthemselves to believe a lie from age to age? There are several persons\namong them, whose birth and education raise them above the suspicion of\nconcurring with an imposture merely to gratify an illiterate and\ncontemptible sort of persons. Nor can a reasonable man believe, that\nchildren, horses, and cows, could be engaged in a combination to\npersuade the world of the reality of a second-sight.\n\nEvery vision that is seen comes exactly to pass according to the rules\nof observation, though novices and heedless persons do not always judge\nby those rules; concerning which he gives instances.\n\nThere are visions seen by several persons, in whose days they are not\naccomplished; and this is one of the reasons why some things have been\nseen, that are said never to have come to pass; and there are also\nseveral visions seen, which are not understood till they are\naccomplished.\n\nThe second-sight is not a late discovery, seen by one or two in a\ncorner, or a remote isle; but it is seen by many persons of both sexes,\nin several isles, separated about forty or fifty leagues from one\nanother; the inhabitants of many of these isles never had the least\nconverse by word or writing; and this faculty of seeing visions having\ncontinued, as we are informed by tradition, ever since the plantation of\nthese isles, without being disproved by the nicest sceptic after the\nstrictest inquiry, seems to be a clear proof of its reality.\n\nIt is observable, that it was much more common twenty or thirty years\nago than at present; for one in ten does not see it now, that saw it\nthen.\n\nThe second-sight is not confined to the Western Isles alone, the author\nhaving an account that it is in several parts of Holland, but\nparticularly in Bommel, where a woman has it, for which she is courted\nby some, and dreaded by others. She sees a smoke about one's face, which\nis the forerunner of the death of a person so seen, and she actually\nforetold the deaths of several that lived there. She was living in that\ntown a few winters ago.\n\nThe second-sight is likewise in the Isle of Man, as appears by this\ninstance: Captain Leathes, the chief commander of Belfast, in his voyage\n1690, lost thirteen men by a violent storm; and upon his landing in the\nIsle of Man, an ancient man, clerk to a parish there, told him\nimmediately that he had lost thirteen men there; the captain inquired\nhow he came to the knowledge of that; he answered that it was by\nthirteen lights, which he had seen come into the churchyard; as Mr.\nSacheverel tells us in his late description of the Isle of Man. Note,\nthat this is like the sight of the corpse-candles in Wales, which is\nalso well attested.\n\nHere the author adds many other instances concerning the second-sight,\nof which I shall set down only a few.\n\nA man in Knockow, in the parish of St. Mary's, the northernmost part of\nSkye, being in perfect health, and sitting with his fellow-servants at\nnight, was on a sudden taken ill, dropped from his seat backward, and\nthen fell a vomiting; at which the family was much concerned, he having\nnever been subject to the like before; but he came to himself soon\nafter, and had no sort of pain about him. One of the family, who was\naccustomed to see the second-sight, told them that the man's illness\nproceeded from a very strange cause, which was thus: An ill-natured\nwoman, whom he named, who lives in the next adjacent village of\nBornskittag, came before him in a very angry and furious manner, her\ncountenance full of passion, and her mouth full of reproaches, and\nthreatened him with her head and hands, till he fell over, as you have\nseen him. This woman had a fancy for the man, but was like to be\ndisappointed as to her marrying of him. This instance was told the\nauthor by the master of the family, and others who were present when it\nhappened.\n\nSir Norman Macleod and some others, playing at tables, at a game called\nin Irish, Falmermore, wherein there are three of a side, and each of\nthem throw the dice by turns, there happened to be one difficult point\nin the disposing of one of the tablemen; this obliged the gamester to\ndeliberate before he was to change his man, since upon the disposing of\nit, the winning or losing of the game depended; at length the butler,\nwho stood behind, advised the player where to place the man, with which\nhe complied, and won the game. This being thought extraordinary, and Sir\nNorman hearing one whisper him in the ear, asked who advised him so\nskilfully? He answered it was the butler; but this seemed more strange,\nfor it was generally thought he could not play at tables. Upon this Sir\nNorman asked him how long it was since he had learned to play? and the\nfellow owned that he had never played in his life, but that he saw the\nspirit Brownie, a spirit usually seen in that country, reaching his arm\nover the player's head, and touching the part with his finger where the\ntableman was to be placed. This was told the author by Sir Norman, and\nothers who happened to be present at the time.\n\nDaniel Bow, _alias_ Black, an inhabitant of Bornskittag, who is one of\nthe precisest seers in the Isles, foretold the death of a young woman in\nMinginis, within less than twenty-four hours before the time, and\naccordingly she died suddenly in the fields, though at the time of the\nprediction she was in perfect health; but the shroud appearing close\nabout her head, was the ground of his confidence that her death was at\nhand.\n\nThe same person foretold the death of a child in his master's arms, by\nseeing a spark of fire fall on his left arm; and this was likewise\naccomplished soon after the prediction.\n\nSome of the inhabitants of Harris, sailing round the Isle of Skye, with\na design to go to the opposite mainland, were strangely surprised with\nan apparition of two men hanging down by the ropes that secured the\nmast, but could not conjecture what it meant; they pursued their voyage,\nbut the wind turning contrary, they were forced into Broad-ford, in the\nIsle of Skye, where they found Sir Donald Macdonald keeping a sheriff's\ncourt, and two criminals receiving sentence of death there. The ropes\nand mast of that very boat were made use of to hang those criminals.\nThis was told the author by several, who had this instance related to\nthem by the boat's crew.\n\nSeveral persons, living in a certain family, told the author that they\nhad frequently seen two men standing at a gentle-woman's left hand, who\nwas their master's daughter; they told the men's names, and being her\nequals, it was not doubted but she would be married to one of them; and\nperhaps to the other after the death of the first. Some time after a\nthird man appeared, who seemed always to stand nearest to her of the\nthree, but the seers did not know him, though they could describe him\nexactly; and within some months after, this man who was seen last,\nactually came to the house, and fully answered the description given of\nhim by those who never saw him but in a vision; and he married the woman\nshortly after. They live in the Isle of Skye, and both themselves and\nothers confirmed the truth of this instance when the author saw them.\n\nArchibald Macdonald, of the parish of St. Mary's, in the Isle of Skye,\nbeing reputed famous in his skill of foretelling things to come, by the\nsecond-sight, happening to be in the village Knockow one night, and\nbefore supper, told the family that he had just then seen the strangest\nthing he ever saw in his life, viz., a man with an ugly long cap, always\nshaking his head; but that the strangest of all was a little kind of a\nharp which he had, with four strings only, and that it had two hart's\nhorns fixed in the front of it. All that heard this odd vision fell a\nlaughing at Archibald, telling him that he was dreaming, or had not his\nwits about him, since he pretended to see a thing which had no being,\nand was not so much as heard of in any part of the world. All this could\nnot alter Archibald's opinion, who told them that they must excuse him\nif he laughed at them after the accomplishment of the vision. Archibald\nreturned to his own house, and within three or four days after, a man\nwith a cap, harp, &c., came to the house, and the harp, strings, horns,\nand cap, answered the description of them at first view, and he shook\nhis head when he played; for he had two bells fixed to his cap. This\nharper was a poor man, who made himself a buffoon for his bread, and was\nnever seen before in those parts, and at the time of the prediction he\nwas in the Isle of Barray, which is about twenty leagues distant from\nthat part of Skye. This relation is vouched by Mr. Daniel Martin, and\nall his family, and such as were then present; and they live in the\nvillage where this happened.\n\nOne Daniel Nicholson, minister of St. Mary's, in Skye, the parish in\nwhich Mr. Archibald Macdonald lived, told the author, that one Sunday,\nafter sermon, at the chapel Uge, he took an occasion to inquire of\nArchibald, if he still retained that unhappy faculty of seeing the\nsecond-sight, and wished him to get rid of it, if possible; for, said\nhe, it is no true character of a good man. Archibald was highly\ndispleased, and answered, that he hoped he was no more unhappy than his\nneighbours, for seeing what they could not perceive. I had, said he, as\nserious thoughts as my neighbours in time of hearing a sermon to-day,\nand even then I saw a corpse laid on the ground, close to the pulpit;\nand I assure you it will be accomplished shortly, for it was in the\nday-time. There were none in the parish then sick, and few are buried\nat that little chapel, nay, sometimes, not one in a year. Yet when Mr.\nNicholson returned to preach in the said chapel, a fortnight or three\nweeks after, he found one buried in the very spot named by Archibald.\nThis story is vouched by Mr. Nicholson the minister, and several of the\nparishioners still living.\n\nNote, that it is counted by many an argument of somewhat evil attending\nupon this faculty of the second-sight, because there are instances given\nof some persons who have been freed of it upon using some Christian\npractices; but I shall hereafter show that this opinion cannot be\nentirely true.\n\nSir Norman Macleod, who has his residence in the Isle of Bernera, which\nlies between the isles of North Uist and Harris, went to the Isle of\nSkye about business, without appointing any time for his return; his\nservants, in his absence, being altogether in the large hall at night;\none of them, who had the second-sight, told the rest they must remove,\nfor there would be abundance of other company in the hall that night.\nOne of his fellow-servants answered that there was very little\nlikelihood of that, because of the darkness of the night, and the danger\nof coming through the rocks that lie round the isle; but within an hour\nafter, one of Sir Norman's men came to the house, bidding them provide\nlights, &c., for his master had newly landed.\n\nSir Norman being told of this, called for the seer and examined him\nabout it. He answered, that he had seen the spirit Brownie, in human\nshape, come several times and make a show of carrying an old woman, that\nsat by the fire, to the door, and at last seemed to carry her out by\nneck and heels, which made him laugh heartily, and gave occasion to the\nrest to conclude him mad, to laugh so much without any reason. This\ninstance was told the author by Sir Norman himself.\n\nFour men from the Isle of Skye and Harris went to Barbadoes, and stayed\nthere some years; who though they had wont to see the second-sight in\ntheir native country, never saw it in Barbadoes; but upon their return\nto England, the first night after their landing, they saw the\nsecond-sight; as the author was told by several of their acquaintance.\n\nJohn Morrison, who lives in Bernera, of Harris, wears the plant called\n_fuga daemonum_ sewed in the neck of his coat, to prevent his seeing of\nvisions, and says, he never saw any since he first carried that plant\nabout him.\n\nA spirit, by the country people called Brownie, was frequently seen in\nall the most considerable families in the isles, and north of Scotland,\nin the shape of a tall man, having very long brown hair; but within\nthese twenty years past he has been seen but rarely.\n\nThere were spirits also that appeared in the shape of women, horses,\nswine, cats, and some like fiery bulls, which would follow men in the\nfields; but there have been but few instances of these for upwards of\nforty years past.\n\nThese spirits used also to form sounds in the air, resembling those of a\nharp, pipes, crowing of a cock, and of the grinding of hand-mills; and\nsometimes voices have been heard in the air at night, singing Irish\nsongs; the words of which songs some of the author's acquaintances still\nretain; one of them resembled the voice of a woman who died some time\nbefore, and the song related to her state in the other world. All these\naccounts, the author says, he had from persons of as great integrity as\nany are in the world. So far Mr. Martin, whose account is so long, that\nI have given the reader only a short abridgment thereof; and shall\ntherefore satisfy myself, without relating any further passages, by\ndirecting the reader to others also, learned men, who have written on\nthe same subject. Laurentius Ananias printed a volume in Latin, at\nVenice, anno 1581, about the nature of demons; where, in the third book,\nhe writes concerning the second-sight. The learned Camerarius does the\nlike, and names a person of his own acquaintance whom he testifies to\nhave had that gift. St. Austin himself testifies something (not very\ndifferent from what we now call the gift of the second-sight) of one\nCurina, who lived in the country of Hippo, in Africa. Bonaysteau tells\nus something like it in his _Disc. de Excell. et Dig. Hominis_,\nconcerning the spirit of Hermotimus. So do likewise Herodotus and\nMaximus Tyrius, about the spirit of Aristaeus. Cardan does the same in\nhis _De Rerum Variet._ 1. 8. c. 84, of his kinsman Baptista Cardan, a\nstudent at Pavia. Baptista Fulgosus tells us of what we call the\nsecond-sight, in other words, in his _Fact. et Dict. Memorab._ 1. i. c.\n6. Among our own countrymen, the Lord Henry Howard, in the book he writ\nagainst supposed prophecies, in his seventeenth chapter, tells us a\nwonderful story of this kind of sight; and sure that noble lord may be\nlooked upon as an unexceptionable testimony, in a story he relates of\nhis own knowledge, he having otherwise little faith in things of this\nkind. Mr. Cotton Mather, a minister of New England, in his relation of\nthe wonders of the invisible world, inserted in his Ecclesiastical\nHistory of that country, printed in London, anno 1702, in folio, has\ngiven us several instances of this kind, as also of many other\ndiabolical operations. Mr. Baxter's book concerning The Certainty of the\nWorld of Spirits, has the like proofs in it. Mr. Aubrey, Fellow of the\nRoyal Society, has written largely concerning second-sighted persons; so\nhas Mr. Beaumont, in his book of Genii and Familiar Spirits, who has\ncollected almost all the other accounts together; and many others, whose\nvery names it would be tedious to recite. However, as there are a few\nmore passages, very curious in themselves, I will venture so far upon\nthe reader's patience, as not only to recite the names of the authors,\nbut the accounts themselves, in as succinct and brief a manner as it is\npossible for any one to do.\n\nMr. Th. May, in his History, lib. viii. writes, that an old man, like a\nhermit, second-sighted, took his leave of king James I. when he came\ninto England; he took little notice of Prince Henry, but addressing\nhimself to the Duke of York, since King Charles I., fell a weeping to\nthink what misfortunes he should undergo; and that he should be one of\nthe most miserable and most unhappy princes that ever was.\n\nA Scotch nobleman sent for one of these second-sighted men out of the\nHighlands, to give his judgment of the then great George Villiers, Duke\nof Buckingham. As soon as ever he saw him; Pish, said he, he will come\nto nothing, I see a dagger in his breast; and he was stabbed in the\nbreast by Captain Felton, as has been at large recounted in some of the\nforegoing pages.\n\nSir James Melvin hath several the like passages in his history.\n\nA certain old man in South Wales, told a great man there of the fortune\nof his family, and that there should not be a third male generation. It\nhas fallen out accordingly.\n\nSir William Dugdale with his own mouth informed several gentlemen, that\nMajor-General Middleton (since lord) went into the Highlands of Scotland\nto endeavour to make a party for King Charles I. An old gentleman, that\nwas second-sighted, came and told him that his endeavour was good, but\nhe would be unsuccessful; and, moreover, that they would put the king to\ndeath; and that several other attempts would be made, but all in vain;\nbut that his son would come in, but not reign in a long time; but would\nat last be restored. This Lord Middleton had a great friendship with the\nlaird Bocconi, and they made an agreement, that the first of them that\ndied should appear to the other in extremity. The Lord Middleton was\ntaken prisoner at Worcester fight, and was prisoner in the Tower of\nLondon, under three locks. Lying in his bed, pensive, Bocconi appeared\nto him; my Lord Middleton asked him if he were dead or alive? He said,\nDead; and that he was a ghost; and told him that within three days he\nshould escape, and he did so, in his wife's clothes; when he had done\nhis message, he gave a frisk, and said--\n\n Givanni, Givanni, 'tis very strange,\n In the world to see so sudden a change;\n\nand then gathered up and vanished. This account Sir William Dugdale had\nfrom the Bishop of Edinburgh; and this account he hath writ in a book of\nMiscellanies, which is now reposited, with other books of his, in the\nMuseum at Oxford.\n\nThus the reader sees what great authorities may be produced to prove\nthat wonderful and true predictions have been delivered by many persons\ngifted with the second-sight. The most learned men in almost all\nnations, who are not in all likelihood deceived themselves; the most\ncelebrated and authentic historians, and some divines in England, who,\nit is not to be thought, have combined together and made it their\nbusiness to obtrude upon us falsehoods; persons of all ranks, from the\nhighest to the lowest, in Scotland, who, it would be even madness to\nthink would join in a confederacy to impose tricks upon us, and to\npersuade us to the greatest of impostures as solemn truths delivered\nfrom their own mouths; all these, I say, have unanimously, and, as it\nwere, with one voice, asserted, repeated, and confirmed to us, that\nthere have been at all times, and in many different nations, and that\nstill there are persons, who, possessed with the gift of a second sight,\npredict things that wonderfully come to pass; and seem to merit very\nlittle less than the name of prophets for their miraculous discoveries.\nNow, if any man should come, and without giving the least manner of\nreason for it (for there is no reason to be given against such\nassertions), declare his disbelief of all these authentic, though\nstrange accounts, can he with reason imagine that his incredulity shall\npass for a token of wisdom? Shall his obstinacy confute the learned?\nShall his want of faith be thought justly to give the lie to so many\npersons of the highest honour and quality, and of the most undoubted\nintegrity? In fine, shall his infidelity, by a reverse kind of power to\nthat which is attributed to the philosopher's stone, be able to change\nthe nature of things, turn and transmute truth into falsehood, and make\na downright plain matter of fact to be no more than a chimera, or an\n_ens rationis_? And shall a manifest experience be so easily exploded?\n\nTaking it, therefore, for granted, that no modest man whatsoever, though\nnever so hard of belief, which is certainly as great a weakness as that\nof too much credulity, will make bold openly to declare his disbelief of\nthings so well attested; and taking it much more for granted still, that\nit is impossible for any man of common sense to have the front of\ndeclaring his disbelief of them in such a manner as to urge it for an\nargument and a reason why others should disbelieve them too; taking\nthis, I say, as I think I very well may, for granted, I think there\nremains nothing farther for me to offer, before I conclude this chapter,\nexcept a few remarks as to the similitude there is between those actions\nwhich I have related above to have been performed by Mr. Campbell, and\nthese actions which so many learned, ingenious, and noble authors, as I\nhave just now quoted, have asserted to have been performed by persons\nwhom they knew to be gifted with the second-sight.\n\nAs to what is said several pages above, concerning Duncan Campbell when\na boy at Edinburgh, that he even told his little companions who would\nhave success at their little matches when they played at marbles, and\nthat he informed a great gamester there, whose name I have disguised\nunder that of Count Cog, what times he should choose to play if he would\nwin, as ludicrous as it may have appeared to be, and as much as it may\nhave seemed to my readers to carry with it nothing better than the face\nof invention and the air of fiction, yet if they will be at the pains\nof comparing that passage of Duncan Campbell's with the account given in\nthis chapter from the mouth of Sir Norman Macleod, concerning a man,\nwho, though he never played at tables in his life, instructed a skilful\ngamester, when he was at a stand, to place one of his men right, upon\nwhich the whole game depended, which the ignorant fellow, when asked how\nhe came to do it, said he was directed to by the spirit Brownie;\nwhoever, I say, will be at the pains of comparing these passages\ntogether, will find they bear a very near resemblance, and that the way\nwe may most reasonably account for Duncan Campbell's prediction when he\nwas a boy, must be, that he was at that time directed by his little\ngenius or familiar spirit, which I described in the precedent pages, as\nthis fellow was by the spirit Brownie, according to Sir Norman Macleod's\nassertion; which spirit Brownie, as Mr. Martin, a very good and credited\nwriter, assures us, in his History of the Western Islands, dedicated to\nthe late Prince George of Denmark, is a spirit usually seen all over\nthat country.\n\nIf the reader recollects, he will remember likewise, that in the little\ndiscourse which I mentioned to have been held between me and this Duncan\nCampbell, when a boy, concerning his little genius, I there say, the boy\nsignified to me that he smelt venison, and was sure that some one would\ncome to his mother's house shortly after; accordingly I came thither\nthat morning from the death of a deer, and ordered a part of it to be\nbrought after me to her house. Now Mr. Martin's twelfth observation\nabout the second-sight, in this chapter, clears it plainly up that this\nknowledge in the boy proceeded from the gift of second-sight. Not to\ngive the reader too often the trouble of looking back in order to judge\nof the truth of what I say, I will here repeat that observation, which\nis as follows: Things are also foretold by smelling sometimes: for\nexample, fish or flesh is frequently smelt in the fire, when, at the\nsame time, neither of the two are in the house, or, in any probability,\nlike to be had in it for some weeks or months. This smell several\npersons have, who are, endued with the second-sight, and it is always\naccomplished soon after.\n\nBut I will here omit any farther remarks by way of accounting how he\ncompassed his predictions when a boy, either by the intervention of his\ngenius, or the gift of a second-sight; and examine how nearly those\nthings, which I have related to have been done by him in his more\nadvanced years, when he took up the profession of a predictor, in\nLondon, correspond with the accounts given us in this chapter about a\nsecond-sight, and how near a resemblance the things done by him bear to\nthose things that are so well attested to have been performed by others,\nthrough the efficacious power of this wonderful faculty.\n\nFirst, then, if we have a mind to make a tolerable guess which way Mr.\nCampbell came acquainted that the death of the beautiful young lady,\nMiss W--lw--d was so near at hand, and that, though she was so\nuniversally admired she would die unmarried, the accounts given of other\nsecond-sighted persons in the like cases, will put us in the most\nprobable way of guessing right. This is explained by the seventh\nobservation in this chapter, where it is said from Mr. Martin, that when\na shroud is perceived about one, it is a sure prognostic of death; the\ntime is judged according to the height of it, about the person; for if\nit be not seen above the middle, death is not to be expected for the\nspace of a year or longer, but as it comes nearer to the head it is\nexpected sooner; if to the very head, it is concluded to be at hand\nwithin a few days, if not hours. Of this we have an example, of which\nMr. Martin was an eye-witness, concerning the death of his own\nacquaintance; but he did not in the least regard it, till the death of\nthe person, about the time foretold, confirmed to him the certainty of\nthe prediction.\n\nSecondly, as to the ignominious death that Irwin came to, and which he\npredicted to his mother so long before, when she was in flourishing\ncircumstances, and when there was no appearance that any of her children\nshould be brought to a beggarly condition, and learn among base gangs of\ncompany to thieve, and be carried to the gallows; the story told in this\nchapter of some of the inhabitants of Harris, sailing round the Isle of\nSkye, and seeing the apparition of two men hanging by the ropes on the\nmast of their vessel, and when they came to the opposite mainland,\nfinding two criminals just sentenced to death by Sir Donald Macdonald,\nand seeing their own very mast and ropes made choice of for their\nexecution, clears up the manner how Mr. Campbell might predict this of\nIrwin likewise, by the force of the second-sight.\n\nThirdly, as to Mr. Campbell's telling Christallina the belle and chief\ntoast of the court, and Urbana the reigning beauty of the city, that\nthey should shortly be married, and who were to be their husbands, it is\na thing he has done almost every day in his life to one woman or other,\nthat comes to consult him about the man she is to be married to; the\nmanner he probably takes in doing this may be likewise explained by the\nforegoing story in this chapter about the servants, who said they saw\nthree men standing by the left hand of their master's daughter; and that\nhe that was nearest would marry her first, whom they plainly and exactly\ndescribed, though they had never seen him but in their vision, as\nappeared afterwards. For within some months after, the very man\ndescribed did come to the house, and did marry her. Vide the eighth\nobservation of the second-sight.\n\nFourthly, as to the predictions delivered by Mr. Campbell to the\nmerchant, which are set down at length in the foregoing chapter, I know\nno better way at guessing the manner how the second-sight operated in\nhim at that time, than by comparing them to these two instances, which I\nbriefly repeat because they are set down at length before, in this\nchapter. And first it may be asked, how did the second-sight operate in\nMr. Campbell, when it gave him to know that the merchant's ships, which\nrepeated intelligences had in appearance confirmed to be lost, were at\nthat time safe, and would return securely home into the harbour\ndesigned? The best way of accounting for it, that I know, is by the\nstory that Sir Norman Macleod is above affirmed to have told with his\nown mouth, concerning a servant of his, who rightly foretold his\nreturning home and landing on the Isle of Bernera one night, where his\nresidence is, when there was very little or no likelihood of it, because\nof the darkness of the night, and the danger of coming through the rocks\nthat lie round the isle. When Sir Norman examined him about it, he\nanswered that he knew it by a vision of the spirit Brownie; and hence it\nmay be the most probably conjectured that Mr. Campbell's knowledge of\nthe merchant's ships being safe came from a vision of his particular\ngenius, or familiar spirit, which we spoke of before. What I have\nalready instanced in, is, I think, sufficient with regard to the\nwonderful things which Mr. Campbell has performed, either by the\nintervention of a genius, or the power of a second-sight. But as he has\nfrequently done a great many amazing performances, which seem to be of\nsuch a nature that they can't be well and clearly explained to have been\ndone either by the intervention of his familiar spirit and genius, or by\nthe power of the second-sighted faculty, we must have recourse to the\nthird means by which only such predictions and practises can be\ncompassed, before we expound these new mysteries, which appear like\nincredible riddles, and enigmas at the first; and this third means which\nwe must have recourse to for expounding these strange acts of his, is a\ndue consideration of the force and power of natural magic, which,\ntogether with a narrative of the acts, which he seems magically to bring\nabout, will be the subject of the following chapter.\n\n\n\n\n CHAPTER VIII.\n\n\nBut before we proceed to our disquisitions concerning the power and\nefficacy of natural magic, and examine what mysterious operations may be\nbrought about and compassed by magical practises, and before we take a\nfarther survey of what Mr. Campbell has performed in this kind, that\nrelates to his profession and the public part of his life, which\nconcerns other people as well as himself; I shall here relate some\nsingular adventures that he passed through in his private life, and\nwhich regard only his own person. In order to this, I must return back\nto the year 1702, about which time some unaccountable turns of fortune\nattended him in his own private capacity, which must be very surprising\nand entertaining to my readers, when they find a man, whose foresight\nwas always so great a help and assistance to others, who consulted him\nin their own future affairs, helpless, as it has been an observation\nconcerning all such men in the account of the second-sight, and blind in\nhis own future affairs, tossed up and down by inevitable and spiteful\naccidents of fortune, and made the may-game of chance and hazard, as if\nthat wayward and inconstant goddess, was resolved to punish him, when\nshe catched him on the blind side, for having such a quick insight and\npenetrating faculty in other people's matters, and scrutinizing too\nnarrowly into her mysteries, and so sometimes preventing those fatal\nintentions of hers, into which she would fain lead many mortals\nhood-winked, and before they knew where they were. In this light, these\nmighty and famous seers seem to be born for the benefit and felicity of\nothers, but at the same time to be born to unhappiness themselves. And\ncertainly, inasmuch as we consider them as useful and beneficial often,\nbut always satisfactory to persons who are curious in their enquiries\nabout their fortunes, it will be natural to those of us who have the\nleast share of generosity in our minds, to yield our pity and compassion\nto them, when they are remarkably unfortunate themselves; especially\nwhen that calamity seems more particularly to light upon them for their\nability, and endeavour to consult the good fortune of other folks.\n\nAbout the above-mentioned year, 1702, Duncan Campbell grew a little\ntired of his profession; such a multitude of followers troubled him,\nseveral of whom were wild youths, and came to banter him, and many more\ntoo inquisitive females to tease him with endless impertinences, and\nwho, the more he told them, had still the more to ask, and whose\ncuriosity was never to be satisfied: and besides this, he was so much\nenvied, and had so many malicious artifices daily practised against him,\nthat he resolved to leave off his profession. He had, I know, followed\nit pretty closely from the time I first saw him in London, which was, I\nthink, in the beginning of the year 1698, till the year 1702, with very\ngood success; and in those few years he had got together a pretty round\nsum of money. Our young seer was now at man's estate, and had learned\nthe notion that he was to be his own governor, so far as to be his own\ncounsellor too in what road of life he was to take, and this\nconsideration no doubt worked with a deeper impression on his mind, than\nit usually does on others that are in the same blossom and pride of\nmanhood, because it might appear more natural for him to believe that he\nhad a sufficient ability to be his own proper adviser, who had given so\nmany others, and some more aged than himself, counsel, with very good\nsuccess. Now every experienced person knows, that when manhood is yet\ngreen, it is still in the same dangerous condition as a young plant,\nwhich is liable to be warped by a thousand cross fortuitous accidents,\nif good measures be not taken to support it against all the contingent\nshocks it may meet with from the weather or otherwise. Now, it was his\nmisfortune to be made averse to business, which he loved before, by\nhaving too much of it, and to be so soured by meeting with numerous\nperplexities and malicious rubs laid in his way by invidious people,\n(who are the useless and injurious busy-bodies that always repine at the\ngood of others, and rejoice to do harm to the diligent and assiduous,\nthough they reap no profit by it themselves), that he was disgusted and\ndeterred entirely from the prosecution of a profession by which he got\nnot only a competent but a copious and plentiful subsistence. Nay,\nindeed, this was another mischief arising to him from his having so much\nbusiness, that he had got money enough to leave it off, when the\nperplexities of it had made him willing to do so, and to live very\ncomfortably and handsomely, like a gentleman, without it, for a time;\nand we know the youngest men are not wont to look the farthest before\nthem, in matters that concern their own welfare. Now, inasmuch as he had\nthus taken a disgust to business and application, and was surfeited, as\nI may say, with the perplexities of it, it must be as natural for him,\nwe know, to search for repose in the contrary extreme, viz., recreation\nand idleness, as it is for a man to seek rest after toil, to sleep after\na day's labour, or to sit down after a long and tiresome walk. But there\nare two very distinct sorts of idleness, and two very different kinds of\nrecreation; there is a shameful idleness which is no better than\ndownright sloth; and there is a splendid kind of indolence, where a man\nhaving taken an aversion to the wearisomeness of a business which\nproperly belongs to him, neglects not however to employ his thoughts,\nwhen they are vacant from what they ought more chiefly to be about, in\nother matters not entirely unprofitable in life, the exercise of which\nhe finds he can follow with more abundant ease and satisfaction. There\nare some sorts of recreations, too, that are mean, sordid, and base;\nothers that are very innocent, though very diverting, and that will give\none the very next most valuable qualifications of a gentleman, after\nthose which are obtained by a more serious application of the mind. The\nidea which I have already given my readers of our Duncan Campbell, will\neasily make them judge, before I tell them, which way, in these two\nways, his genius would naturally lead him; and that, when he grew an\nidle man, he would rather indulge himself with applying his mind to the\nshining trifles of life, than be wholly slothful and inactive; and that\nwhen he diverted himself he would not do it after a sordid, base\nmanner, as having a better taste and a relish for good company; but that\nhis recreations would still be the recreations of a gentleman. And just,\naccordingly, as my readers would naturally judge beforehand in his case,\nso it really happened. The moment he shook off business, and dismissed\nthe thoughts of it, his genius led him to a very gallant way of life; in\nhis lodgings, in his entertainments, in paying and receiving visits, in\ncoffee-houses, in taverns, in fencing-schools, in balls, and other\npublic assemblies, in all ways, in fine, both at home and abroad, Duncan\nCampbell was a well-comported and civil fine gentleman; he was a man of\npleasure, and nothing of the man of business appeared about him. But a\ngentleman's life, without a gentleman's estate, however shining and\npleasant it may be for a time, will certainly end in sorrow, if not in\ninfamy; and comparing life, as moralists do, to a day, one may safely\npronounce this truth to all the splendid idlers I have mentioned, that\nif they have sunshiny weather till noon, yet the afternoon of their life\nwill be very stormy, rainy and uncomfortable, and perhaps just at the\nend of their journey, to carry on the metaphor throughout, close in the\ndarkest kind of night. Of this, as I was a man of years and more\nexperienced in the world than he, I took upon me to forewarn Mr.\nCampbell, as soon as I perceived the first dangerous fit of this elegant\nidleness had seized him. But when will young men, by so much the more\nheadstrong as they have less of the beard, be guided and brought to\nlearn! and when shall we see that happy age, in which the grey heads of\nold men shall be clapped upon the shoulders of youth! I told him, that\nin this one thing he ought to consult me, and acknowledge me to be a\ntrue prophet, if I told him the end of the seeming merry steps in life\nhe was now taking, would infallibly bring him to a labyrinth of\ndifficulties, out of which if he extricated himself at all, he would at\nleast find it a laborious piece of work. His taste had been already\nvitiated with the sweets which lay at the top of the bitter draught of\nfortune, and my honest rugged counsel came too late to prevail, when his\nfancy had decoyed and debauched his judgment, and carried it over into\nanother interest. I remember I writ down to him the moral story, where\nvicious Pleasure and Virtue are pictured by the philosopher to appear\nbefore Hercules, to court him into two several paths. I told him more\nparticularly, since he had not an estate to go through with the\ngentlemanly life, as he called it, that, if he followed the alluring\npleasures which endeavoured to tempt Hercules, he would involve himself\nat last in a whole heap of miseries, out of which it would be more than\nan Herculean labour for him to disentangle himself again. If he had been\na man that could have ever heard with either, I would have told the\nreader in a very familiar idiom, that he turned the deaf ear to me; for\nhe did not mind one syllable or tittle of the prescriptions I set down\nfor him, no more than if he had never read them; but, varying the phrase\na little, I may say at least, when he should have looked upon my counsel\nwith all the eyes he had, he turned the blind side upon it. I was\nresolved to make use of the revenge natural to a man of years, and\ntherefore applied that reproachful proverb to him, which we ancients\ndelight much in making use of to youths that follow their own false and\nhot imaginations, and will not heed the cooler dictates of age,\nexperience, and wisdom. Accordingly, I wrote down to him these words,\nand left him in a seeming passion: I am very well assured, young man,\nyou think me that am old, to be a fool; but I that am old, absolutely\nknow you, who are a young fellow, to be a downright fool, and so I leave\nyou to follow your own ways, till sad and woful experience teaches you\nto know it your own self, and makes you come to me to own it of your own\naccord. As I was going away, after this tart admonition and severe\nreprimand, I had a mind to observe his countenance, and I saw him smile,\nwhich I rightly construed to be done in contempt of the advice of age,\nand in the gaiety and fulness of conceit, which youth entertains of its\nown fond opinions and hair-brained rash resolves. He was got into the\ncompany of a very pretty set of gentlemen, whose fortunes were far\nsuperior to his; but he followed the same genteel exercises, as fencing,\n&c., and made one at all their public entertainments; and so being at an\nequal expense with those who could well afford to spend what they did\nout of their estates, he went on very pleasantly for a time, still\nspending and never getting, without ever considering that it must, by\ninevitable consequence, fall to his lot at last to be entirely reduced\nto a state of indigence and want. And what commonly heightens the\nmisfortune of such men, and so of all gentlemen's younger brothers, who\nlive upon the ready money that is given them for their portions, is,\nthat the prosperity they live in for a time gains them credit enough\njust to bring them in debt, and render them more miserable than those\nvery wretches who never had either any money or credit at all. They run\nthemselves into debt out of shame, and to put off the evil day of\nappearing ruined men as long as they can, and then, when their tempers\nare soured by adversity, they grow tired of their own lives; and then,\nin a quarrel, they or some other gentleman, may be, is run through, or\nelse being hunted by bailiffs, they exercise their swords upon those\npursuers. Thus, where gentlemen will not consider their circumstances,\ntheir very prosperity is a cause of, and aggravates their misery; their\nvery pride, which was a decent pride at first, in keeping up and\nmaintaining their credit, subjects them too often to the lowest and the\nmeanest acts, and their courage, which was of a laudable kind, turns\ninto a brutish and savage rage; and all the fine, esteemed, flourishing,\nand happy gentleman ends, and is lost in the contemned, poor and\nmiserable desperado, whose portion at last is confinement and a gaol,\nand sometimes even worse, and what I shall not so much as name here.\nInto many of these calamities Mr. Campbell had brought himself before it\nwas long, by his heedlessness, and running, according to the wild\ndictates of youth, counter to all sound and wholesome advice. He had, it\nseems, run himself into debt, and one day as he was at a coffee-house,\nthe sign of the Three Crowns, in Great Queen-street, in rushed four\nbailiffs upon him, who being directed by the creditor's wife, had\nwatched him into that house, and told him they had a warrant against\nhim, and upon his not answering, they being unacquainted with his being\ndeaf and dumb, offered to seize his sword. He startled at their offering\nof violence, and taking them for ruffians, which he had often met with,\nrepelled the assaulters, and drawing his sword, as one man, more bold\nthan the rest, closed in with him, he shortened his blade, and in the\nfall pinned the fellow through the shoulder, and himself through the\nleg, to the floor. After that he stood at bay with all the four\nofficers, when the most mischievous assailant of them all, the\ncreditor's wife, ventured to step into the fray, and very barbarously\ntook hold of that nameless part of the man, for which, as she was a\nmarried woman, nature methinks should have taught her to have a greater\ntenderness, and almost squeezed and crushed those vitals to death. But\nat last he got free from them all, and was going away as fast as he\ncould, not knowing what consequences might ensue. But the woman who\naimed herself at committing murder, in the most savage and inhuman\nmanner, ran out after him, crying out, Murder! murder! as loud as she\ncould, and alarmed the whole street. The bailiffs following the woman,\nand being bloody from head to foot, by means of the wound he received,\ngave credit to the outcry. The late Earl Rivers's footmen happening to\nbe at the door, ran immediately to stop the supposed murderer, and they\nindeed did take him at last, but perceived their mistake, and discovered\nthat instead of being assistants in taking a man whom they thought to be\na murderer endeavouring to make his escape from the hands of justice,\nthey had only been tricked in by that false cry to be adjutants to a\nbailiff in retaking a gentleman, who, by so gallant a defence, had\nrescued himself from the dangers of a prison; and when they had\ndiscovered this their mistake they were mighty sorry for what they had\ndone. The most active and busy among the earl's footmen was a Dutchman,\nand the earl happening to be in a room next the street, and hearing the\noutcry of murder, stepped to the window, and seeing his own servants in\nthe midst of the bustle, examined the Dutchman how the matter was, and,\nbeing told it, he chid the man for being concerned in stopping a\ngentleman that was getting free from such troublesome companions. But\nthe Dutchman excused himself, like a Dutchman, by making a very merry\nblunder for a reply; _Sacramente_, said he, to his lord, if I had\nthought they were bailiffs, I would have fought for the poor dumb\ngentlemen, but then why had he not told me they were bailiffs, my lord?\n\nIn short, Duncan Campbell was carried off as their prisoner; but the\nbailiff that was wounded was led back to the coffee-house, where he\npretended the wound was mortal, and that he despaired of living an hour.\nThe proverb, however, was of the fellow's side, and he recovered sooner\nthan other people expected he could. As soon as all danger was over, an\naction for damages and smart money, as their term is, was brought\nagainst Mr. Campbell; the damages were exaggerated and the demand was so\nextravagant, that Duncan Campbell was neither able, just at that time,\nnor willing, had he been able, to pay so much, as he thought, in his\nown wrong, and having no bail, and being ashamed to make his case known\nto his better sort of friends, who were both able and willing to help\nhim at a dead lift, he was hurried away to gaol by the bailiffs, who\nshowed such a malignant and insolent pleasure, as commonly attends\npowerful revenge, when they put him into the Marshalsea. There he lay in\nconfinement six weeks, till at last four or five of his chief friends\ncame by mere chance to hear of it; immediately they consulted about his\ndeliverance, and unanimously resolved to contribute for his enlargement,\nand they accordingly went across the water together, and procured it out\nof hand.\n\nTwo of his benefactors were officers, and were just then going over to\nFlanders. Duncan Campbell, to whom they communicated their design, was\nresolved to try his fortune in a military way, out of a roving kind of\nhumour, raised in him partly by his having taken a sort of aversion to\nhis own profession in town, and partly by his finding that he could not\nlive, without following a profession, as he had done, any longer. He,\nover a bottle, frankly imparted his mind to them at large; he signified\nto them that he hoped, since they had lately done him so great a favour\nin freeing him from one captivity, they would not think him too urgent\nif he pressed for one favour farther, upon natures so generous as\ntheirs, by whom he took as great a pleasure in being obliged, as he\ncould receive in being capable of obliging others. He wrote to them that\nthe favour he meant was to redeem him from another captivity, almost as\nirksome to him as that out of which they had lately ransomed him. This\ncaptivity, continued he, is being either forced to follow my old\nprofession, which I have taken an entire disgust to, for a maintenance,\nor being forced to live in a narrower way than suits with my genius, and\nthe better taste I have of higher life. Such a state, gentlemen, you\nknow, is more unpalatable than half-pay; it is like either being forced\nto go upon the forlorn hope, or else like a man's being an entirely\ncashiered and broken officer, that had no younger brother's fortune, and\nno other support but his commission. Thus, though you have set my body\nat liberty, my soul is still under an imprisonment, and will be till I\nleave England, and can find means of visiting Flanders, which I can do\nno otherwise than by the advantage of having you for my convoy. I have\na mighty longing to experience some part of a military life, and I\nfancy, if you will grant me your interest, and introduce me to the\nvaliant young Lord Lorne, and be spokesmen for a dumb man, I shall meet\nwith a favourable reception; and as for you, gentlemen, after having\nnamed that great patron and pattern of courage and conduct in the field,\nI can't doubt but the very name I bear, if you had not known me, would\nhave made you take me for a person of a military genius, and that I\nshould do nothing but what would become a British soldier, and a\ngentleman; nothing, in fine, that should make you repent the\nrecommendation.\n\nThese generous and gallant friends of his, it seems, complied with his\nrequest, and promised they would make application for him to the Lord\nLorne, and Duncan Campbell had nothing to do but to get his bag and\nbaggage ready, and provide himself with a pass. His baggage was not very\nlong a getting together, and he had it in tolerable good order, and as\nfor his pass, a brother of the Lord Forbes was so kind as to procure him\none upon the first application Duncan made to him.\n\nAccordingly, in a few days afterwards, they went on board, and having a\nspeedy and an easy passage, arrived soon at Rotterdam. Duncan met with\nsome of his English acquaintance in that town, and his mind being pretty\nmuch bent upon rambling, and seeing all the curiosities, customs, and\nhumours he could, in all the foreign places he was to pass through, he\nwent, out of a frolic, with some gentlemen, next day, in a boat to an\nadjacent village, to make merry over a homely Dutch entertainment, the\nintended repast being to consist of what the boors there count a great\ndelicacy, brown bread and white beer. He walked out of sight from his\ncompany, and they lost one another; and strolling about by himself at an\nunseasonable hour, as they call it there after the bell has tolled,\nDuncan Campbell, who neither knew their laws, nor if he had, was capable\nof being guided by the notice which their laws ordain, was taken into\ncustody in the village, for that night, and carried away the next day to\nWilliamstadt, where he was taken for a spy, and put into a close\nimprisonment for three or four days.\n\nBut some Scotch gentlemen, who had been in company with Mr. Campbell at\nMr. Cloysterman's, a painter in Covent-garden, made their application to\nthe magistrate and got him released; he knew his friends the officers,\nthat carried him over, were gone forward to the camp, and that there was\nno hope of finding them at Rotterdam, if he should go thither, and so he\nresolved, since he had had so many days punishment in Williamstadt, to\nhave three or four days pleasure there too, by way of amends, before he\nwould set out on his journey after his friends. But on the third night\nhe got very much in drink; and as he went very boisterously and\ndisorderly along, a sentry challenged him; and the want of the sense of\nhearing had like to have occasioned the loss of his life. The sentry\nfired at him and narrowly missed him; he was taken prisoner, not without\nsome resistance, which was so far innocent, as that he knew not any\nreason why he should be seized; but very troublesome and unwarrantable\nin so orderly a town; so the governor's secretary, after the matter was\nexamined into, judging it better for the unhappy gentleman's future\nsafety, advised him to return home to his own country, and accordingly\nbespoke him a place in a Dutch ship called Yowfrow Catherine, for his\npassage to England.\n\nDuncan Campbell had taken up this humour of rambling, first, of his own\naccord, and the troubles which he had run himself into by it, we may\nreasonably suppose had pretty well cured him of that extravagant itch;\nand there is little doubt to be made but that he rejoiced very heartily\nwhen he was got on board the ship to return to England; and that in his\nnew resolutions he had reconciled himself to the prosecution of his\nformer profession, and intended to set up for a predictor again as soon\nas he could arrive at London. But now fortune had not a mind to let him\ngo off so; he had had his own fancy for rambling, and now she was\nresolved to have hers, and to give him his bellyful of caprice.\nAccordingly, when the Dutch ship, called Yowfrow Catherine, was making\nthe best of her road for London, and each person in the vessel was\nmaking merry, filled with the hopes of a quick and prosperous passage, a\nFrench privateer appeared in sight, crowding all the sails she could,\nand bearing towards them with all haste and diligence. The privateer was\ndouble-manned, and carried thirty guns; the Dutch vessel was defenceless\nin comparison; and the people on board had scarce time to think, and to\ndeplore that they should be made a prey of, before they actually were\nso, and had reason enough given them for their sorrow. All the\npassengers, to a single man, were stripped, and had French seamen's\njackets in exchange for their clothes. Duncan Campbell had now a taste\ngiven him of the fate of war, as well as of the humour of travelling,\nand wished himself again, I warrant him, among his greatest crowd of\nconsulters, as tiresome as he thought business to be, instead of being\nin the middle of a crew of sea savages. The town where the dumb prisoner\nwas at last confined was Denain. There happened to be some English\nfriars there, who were told by the others who he was, and to them he\napplied himself in writing, and received from them a great deal of civil\ntreatment. But a certain man of the order of Recollects, happening to\nsee him there, who had known him in England, and what profession he\nfollowed, caused him to be called to question, as a man that made use of\nill means to tell fortunes. When he was questioned by a whole society of\nthese religious men, he made them such pertinent and satisfactory\nanswers in writing, that he convinced them he had done nothing for which\nhe deserved their reprimand; and they unanimously acquitted him. The\nheads of his defence, as I have been informed, were these:--\n\nFirst, he alleged that the second-sight was inborn and inbred in some\nmen; and that every country had had examples of it more or less; but\nthat the country of Scotland, in which he was educated from an infant,\nabounded the most of any with those sort of people; and from thence he\nsaid he thought he might very naturally draw this conclusion, that a\nfaculty that was inborn and inbred to men, and grown almost a national\nfaculty among a people who were remarkably honest, upright, and\nwell-meaning people, could not, without some impiety, be imputed to the\npossessors of it as a sin; and when one of the fathers rejoined that it\nwas remarked by several writers of the second-sight, that it must be\ntherefore sinful, because it remained no longer among the people when\nthe doctrines of Christianity were fully propagated, and the light of\nthe gospel increased among them; and that afterwards it affected none\nbut persons of vicious lives and an ill character; to this objection Mr.\nCampbell replied, that he knew most (even ingenious) writers had made\nthat remark concerning the second-sight, but begged leave to be excused,\nif he ventured to declare that it was no better than a vulgar and\ncommon error; and the reasons were these, which he alleged in his own\nbehalf; and to confirm his assertion, he told them men of undoubted\nprobity, virtue, and learning, both of their own religion, viz., the\nRoman Catholic, and also of the reformed religion, and in several\nnations, had been affected, and continued all their lives to be\naffected, with this second-sighted power, and that there could be,\ntherefore, no room to fix upon it the odious character of being a sinful\nand vicious, not to say that some called it still worse, a diabolical\ntalent. He said he would content himself with making but two instances,\nbecause he believed those two would be enough to give content to them,\nhis judges too, in that case. In his first instance he told them that\nthey might find somewhat relating to this in Nicolaus Hemingius, who, in\nhis tracts _de Superstitionibus Magicis_, printed at Copenhagen, anno\n1575, informs the world, that Petrus Palladius, a bishop of See-landt,\nand professor of divinity at Copenhagen, could, from a part of his body\naffected, foretell from what part of the heavens tempests would come,\nand was seldom deceived. One of the fathers immediately asked him if he\nunderstood Latin? To this Duncan Campbell replied, No. Oh! said the\nfriar, then, I don't remember that book was ever translated into\nEnglish, that you mention. But, rejoined Duncan Campbell, the passage I\nmentioned to you, I have read in an English book, and word for word,\naccording to the best of my memory, as I have written it down to you. In\nwhat English book? said the friar. I don't remember the name of the\nbook, Duncan Campbell answered, but very well remember the passages, and\nthat it was in a book of authority, and which bore a credit and good\nrepute in the world; and you, being scholars, may, if you please, have\nrecourse to the learned original, and I doubt not but you'll find what I\nsay to be a truth. For the second instance, he told them, that in Spain,\nthere are those they call Saludadores, that have this kind of gift.\nThere was, continued he, in writing, one of your own religion, venerable\nfathers, and of a religious order, nay, a friar too, that had this gift.\nHe was a noted Dominican, said he, and though I forget his name, you\nmay, by writing a letter to England, learn his name. He was a devout\nPortuguese, belonging to Queen Catherine Dowager's chapel, and had the\nsecond-sight to a great degree, and was famous and eminent for it. They\nthen asked him what was the full power he had to do by the\nsecond-sight. He answered, that as they had intimated that they had\nperused some of the skilful writers concerning the second-sight, he did\nnot doubt but they had found, as well as he could tell them, that as to\nthe extent of people's knowledge in that secret way, it reached both\npresent, past, and future events. They foresee murders, drownings,\nweddings, burials, combats, manslaughters, &c., all of which there are\nmany instances to be given. They commonly foresee sad events a little\nwhile before they happen; for instance, if a man's fatal end be hanging,\nthey will see a gibbet, or rope about his neck; if beheading, they will\nsee a man without a head; if drowning, they will see water up to his\nthroat; if stabbing, they will see a dagger in his breast; if unexpected\ndeath in his bed, they will see a windingsheet about his head. They\nforetell not only marriages, but of good children; what kind of life men\nshall lead, and in what condition they shall die; also riches, honours,\npreferments, peace, plenty, and good weather. It is likewise usual with\npersons that have lost anything to go to some of these men, by whom they\nare directed how, with what persons, and in what place they shall find\ntheir goods. It is also to be noted that these gifts bear a latitude, so\nthat some have it in a far more eminent degree than others; and what I\nhave here written down to you, you need not take as a truth from me; but\nas it concerned me so nearly, I remember the passage by heart, and you\nwill find it very near word for word in Dr. Beaumont's book Of Familiar\nSpirits. Aye, said the friars, but you have a genius too that attends\nyou, as we are informed. So, replied Duncan Campbell, have all persons\nthat have the second-sight in any eminent degree; and to prove this I\nwill bring no less a witness than King James, who, in his Demonology,\nbook the third and chapter the second, mentions also a spirit called\nBrownie, that was wont formerly to haunt divers houses, without doing\nany evil, but doing, as it were, necessary turns up and down the house;\nhe appeared like a rough man, nay, some believed that their house was\nall the 'sonsier,' as they called it, that is, the more lucky or\nfortunate, that such spirits resorted there. With these replies the\nfriars began to own they were very well satisfied, and acquiesced in the\naccount he had given of himself as a very good, true, and honest\naccount; but they told him they had still a farther accusation against\nhim, and that was, that he practised magic arts, and that he used, as\nthey had been informed, unlawful incantations. To this he made answer,\nthat there were two kinds of magic, of which he knew they that were men\nof learning could not be ignorant. The art of magic, which is wicked and\nimpious, continued he, is that which is professed, and has been\nprofessed at all times in the world, by witches, magicians, diviners,\nenchanters, and such like notorious profligates; who, by having an\nunnatural commerce with the devil, do many strange, prodigious, and\npreternatural acts, above and beyond all human wisdom; and all the\narguments I ever did, or ever will deduce, continued he, from that black\nart, is a good and shining argument; it is this, O fathers: I draw a\nreason from these prodigious practices of wizards, magicians,\nenchanters, &c, and from all the heathen idolatry and superstition, to\nprove that there is a Deity; for from these acts of theirs, being\npreternatural and above human wisdom, we may consequently infer that\nthey proceed from a supernatural and immaterial cause, such as demons\nare. And this is all the knowledge I ever did or ever will draw from\nthat black hellish art. But, fathers, there is another kind of art\nmagic, called natural magic, which is directly opposite to theirs, and\nthe object of which art is to do spiritual good to mankind, as the\nobject of theirs is to torment them, and induce them to evil. They\nafflict people with torments, and my art relieves them from the torments\nthey cause. The public profession of these magical arts has, as you\nknow, fathers, it is a common distinction, between black and white\nmagic, been tolerated in some of the most famous universities of\nChristendom, though afterwards for a very good reason in politics,\nmaking it a public study to such a degree was very wisely retrenched by\nprohibition. If this, therefore, be a fault in your own opinions, hear\nmy accusers, but if not, you will not only excuse, but commend me.\n\nThe friars were extremely well pleased with his defence, but one of them\nhad a mind to frighten him a little if he could, and asked him what he\nwould say if he could produce some witches lately seized, that would\nswear he had been frequently at their unlawful assemblies, where they\nwere making their waxen images and other odd mischievous inventions in\nblack magic, to torment folks; what if I can produce such evidence\nagainst you, wrote the father to him, by way of strengthening the\nquestion, will you not own that we have convicted you then? And when he\nhad wrote the note, he gave it Duncan Campbell, with a look that seemed\nto express his warmth and eagerness in the expostulation. Duncan\nCampbell took the paper and read it, and far from being startled,\nreturned this answer, with a smile continuing in his face while he wrote\nit. No, said he, fathers, by your leave, they will only prove me a good\nmagician by that oath, and themselves more plainly witches. They will\nprove their love to torment good folks, and only show their hatred to\nme, an innocent man, but wise enough to torment them by hindering them\nfrom tormenting others. The fathers were well pleased with the\nshrewdness of the answer; but Duncan Campbell had a mind to exert his\ngenius a little farther with the good friar, who thought likewise he had\nput him a very shrewd question; so taking up another sheet of paper,\nFathers, said he, shall I entertain you with a story of what passed upon\nthis head, between two religious fathers, as you all of you are, and a\nprince of Germany, in which you will find that mine ought to be reputed\na full answer to the question the last learned father was pleased to\npropose to me? The story is somewhat long, but very much to the purpose\nand entertaining; I remember it perfectly by heart, and if you will have\npatience while I am writing it, I do not doubt but that I shall not only\nsatisfy you, but please you and oblige you with the relation. The author\nI found it in, quotes it from Fromannus, (I think the man's name was so,\nand I am sure my author calls him a very learned man,) in his third book\nof Magical Incantation, and though I do not understand the language the\noriginal is writ in, yet I dare venture to say upon the credit of my\nEnglish author, from whom I got the story by heart, that you will find\nme right whenever you shall be pleased to search.\n\nThe friars were earnest for the story, and expressed a desire that he\nwould write it down for them to read, which he did in the following\nwords. Note--that I have since compared Mr. Duncan Campbell's manuscript\nwith the author's page out of which he took it, and find it word for\nword the same; which shows how incomparable a memory this deaf and dumb\ngentleman has got, besides his other extraordinary qualifications. The\nstory is this:--\n\nA prince of Germany invited two religious fathers, of eminent virtue\nand learning, to a dinner. The prince, at table, said to one of them:\nFather, think you we do right in hanging persons, who are accused by ten\nor twelve witches, to have appeared at their meetings or sabbaths? I\nsomewhat fear we are imposed on by the devil, and that it is not a safe\nway to truth, that we walk in by these accusations; especially since\nmany great and learned men everywhere begin to cry out against it, and\nto charge our consciences with it; tell me, therefore, your opinion. To\nwhom the fathers, being somewhat of an eager spirit, said; What should\nmake us doubtful in this case? Or what should touch our consciences,\nbeing convicted by so many testimonies? Can we make it a scruple,\nwhether God will permit innocent persons should be so traduced? there is\nno cause for a judge to stick at such a number of accusations, but he\nmay proceed with safety. To which, when the prince had replied, and much\nhad been said _pro_ and _con_ on both sides about it, and the father\nseemed wholly to carry the point, the prince at length concluded the\ndispute; saying, I am sorry for you, father, that in a capital cause you\nhave condemned yourself, and you cannot complain if I commit you to\ncustody; for no less than fifteen witches have deposed that they have\nseen you, ay, start not! you your ownself, at their meetings; and to\nshow you that I am not in jest, I will presently cause the public acts\nto be brought for you to read them. The father stood in a maze, and with\na dejected countenance had nothing here to oppose but confusion and\nsilence, for all his learned eloquence.\n\nAs soon as Mr. Campbell had wrote down the story, the fathers perused\nit, and seemed mightily entertained with it. It put an end to all\nfarther questions, and the man whom they had been trying for a conjuror,\nthey joined in desiring, upon distinct pieces of paper, under their\nseveral hands, to come frequently and visit them, as being not only a\nharmless and innocent, but an extraordinary well-meaning, good, and\ndiverting companion. They treated him for some time afterwards during\nhis stay, with the friendship due to a countryman, with the civility\nthat is owing to a gentleman, and with the assistance and support which\nbelonged to a person of merit in distress. Money they had none\nthemselves, it seems, to give him, being Mendicants by their own\nprofession; but they had interest enough to get him quite free from\nbeing prisoner; he participated of their eleemosynary table, had a cell\nallowed him among them in what they call their Dormitory; he had an odd\ncoat and a pair of trowsers made out of some of their brown coarse\nhabits, by the poor unfashionable tailor, or botcher, belonging to the\nconvent, and at last they found means of recommending him to a master of\na French vessel that was ready to set sail, to give him a cast over the\nchannel to England; and to provide him with the necessaries of life till\nhe got to the port. This French vessel was luckier than the Dutch one\nhad been before to our dumb gentleman; it had a quick and prosperous\npassage, and arrived at Portsmouth; and as soon as he landed there, he\nhaving experienced the misfortunes and casualties that a man in his\ncondition, wanting both speech and hearing, was liable to, in places\nwhere he was an utter stranger to everybody, resolved to make no stay,\nbut move on as fast as he could towards London. When he came to Hampton\ntown, considering the indifferent figure he made in those odd kind of\nclothes, which the poor friars had equipped him with, and that his long\nbeard and an uncombed wig added much to the disguise, he was resolved to\nput on the best face he could, in those awkward circumstances, and\nstepped into the first barber's shop he came at to be trimmed and get\nhis wig combed and powdered. This proved a very lucky thought to him;\nfor as soon as he stepped into the first barber's shop, who should prove\nto be the master of it, but one Tobit Yeats, who had served him in the\nsame capacity at London, and was but newly set up in the trade of a\nbarber-surgeon, at Hampton town, and followed likewise the profession of\nschoolmaster. This Tobit Yeats had shaved him quite, before he knew him\nin that disguise; and Mr. Campbell, though he knew him presently, had a\nmind to try if he should be known himself first; at length the barber\nfinding him to be a dumb man, by his ordering everything with motions of\nthe hand and gestures of the body, looked at him very earnestly,\nremembered him, and in a great surprise called for pen, ink, and paper,\nand begged to know how he came to be in that disguise; whether he was\nunder any misfortune, and apprehension of being discovered, that made\nhim go in so poor and so clownish a habit, and tendered him any\nservices, as far as his little capacity would reach, and desired him to\nbe free, and command him; if he was able to assist him in anything.\nThese were the most comfortable words that Duncan Campbell had read a\ngreat while. He took the pen and paper in his turn; related to him his\nwhole story, gave the poor barber thanks for his good natured offer, and\nsaid he would make so much use of it, as to be indebted to him for so\nmuch money as would pay the stage-coach, and bear him in his travelling\nexpenses up to London, from whence he would speedily return the favour\nwith interest. The poor honest fellow, out of gratitude to a master\nwhose liberality he had formerly experienced, immediately furnished Mr.\nDuncan Campbell with that little supply, expressing the gladness of his\nheart that it lay in his power; and the stage-coach being to set out\nwithin but a few hours, he ran instantly to the inn to see if he could\nget him a place. By good luck, there was room, and but just room for one\nmore, which pleased Duncan Campbell mightily, when he was acquainted\nwith it by his true and trusty servant the barber; for he was as\nimpatient to see London again, it seems, as he had been before to quit\nit. Well, he had his wish; and when he came to London, he had one wish\nmore for Fortune to bestow upon him, which appeared to begin to grow\nkind again, after her fickle fit of cruelty was over; and this wish was,\nthat he might find his former lodgings empty, and live in the same house\nas he did when he followed his profession. This too succeeded according\nto his desire, and he was happily fixed once more to his heart's content\nin his old residence, with the same people of the house round about him,\nwho bore him all that respect and affection, and showed all that\nreadiness and willingness to serve him on every occasion and at every\nturn, which could be expected from persons that let lodgings in town to\na gentleman, whom they esteemed the best tenant they ever had in their\nlives, or ever could have.\n\nImmediately the tidings of the dumb gentleman's being returned home from\nbeyond sea, spread throughout all the neighbourhood; and it was noised\nabout from one neighbourhood to another, till it went through all ranks\nand conditions, and was known as well in a day or two's time, all the\ntown over, as if he had been some great man belonging to the state, and\nhis arrival had been notified to the public in the gazette, as a person\nof the last importance. And such a person he appeared indeed to be taken\nfor, especially among the fair sex, who thronged to his doors, crowd\nafter crowd, to consult with him about their future occurrences in life.\n\nThese curious tribes of people were as various in their persons, sex,\nage, quality, profession, art, trade, as they were in the curiosity of\ntheir minds, and the questions they had intended to propound to this\ndumb predictor of strange events, that lay yet as embryos in the womb of\ntime, and were not to come, some of them, to a maturity for birth, for\nvery many years after; just as porcelain clay is stored up in the earth\nby good artificers, which their heirs make china of, half a century, and\nsometimes more than an age, afterwards.\n\nThese shoals of customers, who were to fee him well for his advice, as\nwe may suppose, now he stood in need of raising a fresh stock, were\nunquestionably as welcome and acceptable to him as they appeared too\ntroublesome to him before, when he was in a state of more wealth and\nplenty.\n\nFortune, that does nothing moderately, seemed now resolved, as she had\nbeen extremely cruel before, to be extremely kind to him. He had nothing\nto do from early in the morning till late at night, but to read\nquestions, and resolve them as fast as much-frequented doctors write\ntheir prescriptions and recipes, and like them also to receive fees as\nfast. Fortune was indeed mightily indulgent to the wants she had so\nsuddenly reduced him to, and relieved him as suddenly by these knots of\ncuriosos, who brought him a glut of money. But one single fair lady,\nthat was one of his very first consulters after his return, and who had\nreceived satisfactory answers from him in other points, before he went\nabroad, proved, so good fortune would have it, worth all the rest of his\ncustomers together, as numerous as they were, and as I have accordingly\nrepresented them.\n\nThis lady was the relict or widow of a gentleman of a good estate, and\nof a very good family, whose name was Digby, and a handsome jointure she\nhad out of the estate. This lady, it seems, having been with him in\nformer days, and seen him in a more shining way of life, (for he had\ntaken a humour to appear before all his company in that coarse odd dress\nmade out of the friar's habit, and would not be persuaded by the people\nof the house to put on a nightgown till he could provide himself with a\nnew suit,) was so curious, among other questions, as to ask him whether\nhe had met with any misfortunes, and how he came to be in so slovenly\nand wretched a habit? Here Mr. Campbell related the whole story of his\ntravels to her, and the crosses and disappointments he had met with\nabroad. The tears, he observed, would start every now and then into her\neyes when she came to any doleful passage, and she appeared to have a\nmighty compassionate kind of feeling, when she read of any hardship more\nthan ordinarily melancholy that had befallen him. Mr. Campbell, it is\ncertain, had then a very good presence, and was a handsome and portly\nyoung man; and as a great many young gentlemen derive the seeming\nagreeableness of their persons from the tailor and peruke-maker, the\nshoemaker and hosier, so Mr. Campbell's person, on the other hand, gave\na good air and a good look to the awkward garb he had on; and I believe\nit was from seeing him in this odd trim, as they called it, the ladies\nfirst took up the humour of calling him 'the handsome sloven:' add to\nthis that he looked his misfortune in the face with a jolly countenance,\nand smiled even while he was penning the relation of his calamities; all\nwhich are certainly circumstances that first sooth a generous mind into\na state of compassion, and afterwards heighten it in the breast wherein\nit is conceived. Hence it came that this pretty and good natured widow,\nMrs. Digby, when she had expressed her commiseration of him by her\nlooks, began to take the pen and express it in very tender terms.\nNeither did she think that expression in words a sufficient testimony of\nthe compassion she bore to him; the generosity of her mind did lead her\nto express it in a more substantial manner still, and that was to show\nit plainly by a very benevolous action. She laid a purse of twenty\nguineas before the table, and at the same time smiling, pointed to the\ntable, as signifying her desire that he would accept it, and running to\nthe door, dropped a curtsy, and skuttled away; and by the same civil act\nas she obliged him, she put it out of his power to refuse being so\nobliged; so that, though the present was very handsome, the manner of\ngiving it was still handsomer. If being a handsome young man of merit in\ndistress, and bearing his misfortunes with an equal mind, are powerful\nmotives to excite compassion in the mind of a generous lady, so the\ngenerosity of a young agreeable widow, expressed in so kind and so\nbenevolous a way, to a young gentleman, when he had been tasting nothing\nbut the bitter draughts of fortune before, must stir up an affection in\na mind that had any sense of gratitude; and truly just such was the\neffect that this lady's civility had upon Mr. Duncan Campbell. He\nconceived from that moment a very great affection for her; and resolved\nto try whether he could gain her, which he had no small grounds to hope,\nfrom the esteem which she appeared to bear towards him already. I\nremember Mr. Dryden makes a very beautiful observation of the near\nalliance there is between the two passions of pity and love in a woman's\nbreast, in one of his plays. His words are these; For pity still\nforeruns approaching love, as lightning does the thunder. Mr. Bruyere, a\nmost ingenious member of the French Academy, has made another remark,\nwhich comes home to our present purpose. He says, That many women love\ntheir money better than their friends; but yet value their lovers more\nthan their money. According to the two reflections of these fine writers\nupon the tempers of the fair, Mr. Campbell had hopes enough to ground\nhis courtship upon; and it appeared so in the end, by his proving\nsuccessful; she from being a very liberal and friendly client, became at\nlast a most affectionate wife. He then began to be a housekeeper, and\naccordingly took a little neat one, and very commodious for his\nprofession, in Monmouth-court. Here I must take leave to make this\nobservation; that if Mr. Campbell inherited the talents of his\nsecond-sighted mother, he seemed likewise to be an heir to his father,\nMr. Archibald Campbell, both in his strange and accidental sufferings by\nsea, and likewise in his being relieved from them after as accidental\nand strange a manner, by an unexpected marriage, just like his father's.\nAnd here we return again to take a new survey of him in the course of\nhis public practice as a predictor. The accounts I shall give of his\nactions here, will be very various in their nature from any I have yet\npresented to the reader; they are more mysterious in themselves, and yet\nI shall endeavour to make the manner of his operating in this kind as\nplain as I think I have the foregoing ones, and then I flatter myself\nthey must afford a fresh entertainment for every reader that has any\ncuriosity and a good taste for things of so extraordinary a kind. For\nwhat I have all along propounded to myself from the beginning and in the\nprogress to the end of this history, is to interweave entertaining and\nsurprising narratives of what Mr. Campbell has done, with curious and\ninstructive inquiries into the nature of those actions, for which he has\nrendered himself so singularly famous. It was not, therefore, suitable\nto my purpose, to clog the reader with numerous adventures, almost all\nof the same kind, but out of a vast number of them to single some few of\nthose that were most remarkable, and that were mysteries, but mysteries\nof very different sorts. I leave that method of swelling distorted and\ncommented trifles into volumes, to the writers of fable and romance; if\nI was to tell his adventures, with regard, for example, to women, that\ncame to consult him, I might perhaps have not only written the stories\nof eleven thousand virgins that died maids, but have had relations to\ngive of as many married women and widows, and the work would have been\nendless. All that I shall do therefore is to pick out one particular,\neach of a different kind, that there may be variety in the\nentertainment. Upon application to this dumb man, one is told in the\nmiddle of her health, that she shall die at such a time; another, that\nshe shall sicken, and upon the moment of her recovery, have a suitor and\na husband; a third, who is a celebrated beauty with a multitude of\nadmirers round about her, that she shall never become a wife; a fourth,\nthat is married, when she shall get rid of an uneasy husband; a fifth,\nthat hath lost her goods, who stole them, where and when they shall be\nrestored; a sixth, that is a merchant, when he shall be undone, and how\nand when he shall recover his losses, and be as great on the Exchange as\never; a seventh, that is a gamester, which will be his winning, and\nwhich his losing hour; an eighth, how he shall be involved in a\nlaw-suit, and whether the suit will have an adverse or a prosperous\nissue; a ninth, that is a woman, with choice of lovers, which she shall\nbe most happy with for life; and so on to many others, where every\nprediction is perfectly new and surprising, and differs from the other\nin almost every circumstance. When a man has so extensive a genius as\nthis at foretelling the future occurrences of life, one narrative of a\nsort is enough in conscience to present the reader with, and several of\neach kind would not methinks be entertaining, but tiresome; for he that\ncan do one thing in these kinds by the power of prediction, can do ten\nthousand; and those who are obstinate in extenuating his talents, and\ncalling his capacity in question, and that will not be convinced by one\ninstance of his judgment, would not own the conviction if ten thousand\ninstances were given them. The best passages I can recommend to their\nperusal are those where persons who came purposely to banter him under\nthe colour of consulting him, and covered over their sly intentions with\nborrowed disguises, and came in masquerades, found all the jest turned\nupon themselves in the end, which they meant to our famous predictor,\nand had the discouragement of seeing their most concealed and deepest\nlaid plots discovered, and all their most witty fetches and wily\ncontrivances defeated, till they were compelled universally to\nacknowledge, that endeavouring to impose upon the judgment of our seer\nby any hidden artifice and cunning whatsoever, was effectually imposing\nupon their own. His unusual talent in this kind was so openly known, and\nso generally confessed, that his knowledge was celebrated in some of the\nmost witty weekly papers that ever appeared in public. Isaac\nBickerstaff, who diverted all the _beau monde_, for a long space of time\nwith his lucubrations, takes occasion in several of his papers to\napplaud the speculations of this dumb gentleman in an admirable vein of\npleasantry and humour, peculiar to the writer, and to the subject he\nwrit upon. And when that bright author, who joined the uttermost\nfacetiousness with the most solid improvements of morality and learning\nin his works, laid aside the title of a Tatler, and assumed the name of\na Spectator and censor of men's actions, he still, every now and then,\nthought our Duncan Campbell a subject worthy enough to employ his\nfarther considerations upon. I must take notice of one letter sent\nconcerning him to the Spectator, in the year 1712, which was at a time\nwhen a lady wanted him, after he had removed from Monmouth-street to\nDrury-lane.\n\n MR. SPECTATOR,--\n\n About two years ago I was called upon by the younger part of a\n country family, by my mother's side related to me, to visit Mr.\n Campbell, the dumb man; for they told me that was chiefly what\n brought them to town, having heard wonders of him in Essex. I,\n who always wanted faith in such matters, was not easily prevailed\n on to go; but lest they should take it ill, I went with them,\n when, to my own surprise, Mr. Campbell related all their past\n life; in short, had he not been prevented, such a discovery would\n have come out, as would have ruined their next design of coming\n to town, viz., buying wedding clothes. Our names, though he had\n never heard of us before, and we endeavoured to conceal, were as\n familiar to him as to ourselves. To be sure, Mr. Spectator, he is\n a very learned and wise man. Being impatient to know my fortune,\n having paid my respects in a family Jacobus, he told me, after\n his manner, among several other things, that in a year and nine\n months I should fall ill of a new fever, be given over by my\n physicians, but should with much difficulty recover; that the\n first time I took the air afterwards, I should be addressed to by\n a young gentleman of a plentiful fortune, good sense, and a\n generous spirit. Mr. Spectator, he is the purest man in the\n world, for all he said is come to pass, and I am the happiest she\n in Kent. I have been in quest of Mr. Campbell these three months,\n and cannot find him out; now hearing you are a dumb man too, I\n thought you might correspond and be able to tell me something;\n for I think myself highly obliged to make his fortune, as he has\n mine. It is very possible your worship, who has spies all over\n this town, can inform me how to send to him; if you can, I\n beseech you be as speedy as possible, and you will highly oblige\n your constant reader and admirer,\n\n DULCIBELLA THANKLEY.\n\n\n THE SPECTATOR'S ANSWER.\n\n Ordered, that the inspector I employ about wonders, inquire at\n the Golden-lion opposite to the Half-moon tavern, in Drury-lane,\n into the merit of this silent sage, and report accordingly. Vide\n the 7th volume of Spectators, No. 474, being on Wednesday,\n September the 3rd, 1712.\n\nBut now let us come to those passages of his life the most surprising of\nall, during the time that he enjoyed this reputation, and when he proved\nthat he deserved the fame he enjoyed. Let us take a survey of him while\nhe is wonderfully curing persons labouring under the misfortune of\nwitchcraft, of which the following story will be an eminent instance,\nand likewise clear up how he came by his reputation in Essex, as\nmentioned in the above-mentioned letter to the Spectator.\n\nIn the year 1709, Susanna Johnson, daughter to one Captain Johnson, who\nlived at a place adjacent to Rumford, in Essex, going one morning to\nthat town to buy butter at the market, was met there by an old miserable\nlooking woman, just as she had taken some of her change of the\nmarketwoman, in copper, and this old woman rather demanded than begged\nthe gentlewoman to give her a penny. Miss Johnson reputing her to be one\nof those hateful people that are called sturdy beggars, refused it her,\nas thinking it to be no act of charity, and that it would be rather\ngratifying and indulging her impudence, than supplying or satisfying her\nindigence. Upon the refusal, the old hag, with a face more wrinkled\nstill, if possible, by anger, than it was by age, took upon her to storm\nat young Miss Johnson very loudly, and to threaten and menace her; but\nwhen she found her common threats and menaces were of no avail, she\nswore she would be revenged of the young creature in so signal a manner,\nthat she should repent the denial of that penny from her heart before\nshe got home, and that it should cost her many pounds to get rid of the\nconsequences of that denial and her anger. The poor innocent girl\ndespised these last words likewise, and, getting up on horseback,\nreturned homewards; but just as she got about half way, her horse\nstopped, and no means that she could use would make him advance one\nsingle step; but she stayed awhile, to see if that would humour him to\ngo on. At last the beast began to grow unruly, and snorted and trembled\nas if he had seen or smelt something that frightened him, and so fell a\nkicking desperately, till he threw the girl from the saddle, not being\nable to cling to it any longer, though a pretty good horsewoman of her\nyears; so much were the horse's motions and plungings more than\nordinarily violent.\n\nAs Providence would have it, she got not much harm by the fall,\nreceiving only a little bruise in the right shoulder; but she was\ndreadfully frightened. This fear added wings to her feet, and brought\nher home as speedily of herself as she usually came on horseback. She\nimmediately, without any other sign of illness than the palid colour\nwith which fear had disordered the complexion of her face, alarmed all\nthe family at home with the story, took her bed upon it, complained of\ninward rackings of the belly, and was never at ease unless she lay\ndoubled up together, her head to her knees, and her heels to her rump,\njust like a figure of 8. She could not be a single moment out of that\nposture without shrieking out with the violence of anxious torments and\nracking pains.\n\nIn this condition of misery, amidst this agony of suffering, and in this\ndouble posture, was the poor wretched young gentlewoman brought to town;\nphysicians were consulted about her, but in vain; she was carried to\ndifferent hospitals for assistance, but their endeavours likewise proved\nineffectual; at last she was conducted to the College of Physicians; and\neven the collective wisdom of the greatest sages and adepts in the\nscience of physic was posed to give her any prescription that would do\nher service, and relieve her from the inexplicable malady she laboured\nunder. The poor incurable creature was one constant subject of her\ncomplaining mother's discourse in every company she came into. It\nhappened at last, and very providentially truly, that the mother was\nthus condoling the misfortune of her child among five or six ladies, and\ntelling them, among other things, that by the most skilful persons she\nwas looked upon to be bewitched, and that it was not within the power of\nphysic to compass her recovery. They all having been acquainted with our\nMr. Duncan Campbell, unanimously advised her to carry her daughter to\nhis house, and consult with him about her. The mother was overjoyed at\nthese tidings, and purposed to let no time slip where her child's health\nwas so deeply concerned. She got the ladies to go with her and her\nchild, to be eye-witnesses of so extraordinary a piece of practice, and\nso eminent a trial of skill.\n\nAs soon as this dismal object was brought into his room, Mr. Duncan\nCampbell lifted up her head and looked earnestly in her face, and in\nless than a minute's time signified to the company, that she was not\nonly bewitched, but in as dreadful a condition almost as the man that\nhad a legion of fiends within him.\n\nAt the reading of these words the unhappy creature raised up her head,\nturned her eyes upwards, and a smile, a thing she had been a stranger to\nfor many months, overspread her whole face, and such a kind of colour as\nis the flushing of joy and gladness, and with an innocent tone of voice\nshe said, she now had a firm belief she should shortly be delivered. The\nmother and the rest of the company were all in tears, but Mr. Campbell\nwrote to them that they should be of good heart, be easy and quiet for a\nfew moments, and they should be convinced that it was witchcraft, but\nhappily convinced by seeing her so suddenly well again. This brought the\ncompany into pretty good temper; and a little after, Mr. Campbell\ndesired she might be led up stairs into his chamber and left there alone\nwith him for a little while; this occasioned some small female\nspeculation, and as much mirth as their late sorrow, alleviated with the\nhopes of her cure, would permit.\n\nThis you may be sure was but a snatch of mirth, just as the nature of\nthe thing would allow of; and all sorts of waggery being laid instantly\naside, and removed almost as soon as conceived, the poor young thing was\ncarried in that double posture up stairs. She had not been much above\nhalf an hour there, when by the help only of Mr. Campbell's arm she was\nled down stairs, and descended into that roomful of company as a miracle\nappearing in a machine from above; she was led backward and forward in\nthe room, while all gazed at her for awhile with joyful astonishment,\nfor no arrow was ever more straight than she. Mr. Campbell then\nprevailed with her to drink a glass of wine, and immediately after she\nevacuated wind, which she had not done for some months before, and found\nherself still more amended and easy; and then the mother making Mr.\nCampbell some small acknowledgment at that time, with the promise of\nmore, and her daughter giving thanks, and all the company commending his\nskill, took their leaves and departed, with great demonstrations of joy.\nI shall here, to cut the story short, signify, that she came frequently\nafterwards to make her testimonials of gratitude to him, and continues\nto enjoy her health to this very day, at Greenwich, where she now lives,\nand will at any time, if called upon, make oath of the truth of this\nlittle history, as she told me herself with her own mouth.\n\nThe next thing, therefore, it behoves me to do in this chapter, is, to\ngive some satisfactory account of magic, by which such seeming\nmysterious cures and operations are brought about.\n\nThis task I would perform in the most perspicuous and most convincing\nmanner I can; for magic, I know, is held to be a very hard and difficult\nstudy by those learned, and universally unlawful and diabolical by those\nunlearned, who believe there is such a science attainable by human\ngenius. On the other hand, by some learned men, who believe there is no\nsuch science, it is represented as an inconsistent system of\nsuperstitions and chimeras; and again laughed at as such by the\nunlearned, who are of an incredulous temper; what I would therefore\nundertake to do in this place is to show the learned men, who believe\nthere is such an art, that the attainment to a tolerable knowledge of\nthe manner how magical practices may be brought about, is no such\ndifficult matter as they have represented it to themselves; and by doing\nthis I shall make the system of it so plain, that while the learned\napprove of it, the unlearned too, who are not of an unbelieving kind,\nmay understand clearly what I say; and the learned men who have rejected\nthis science as chimerical, may be clearly convinced it is real; and\nthen there is nothing left but obstinate unbelieving ignorance, which I\nshall not here pretend by arguments to lead into sense, but leave it to\nthe work of time. In fine, I will endeavour to induce men of sense to\nsay, that what has been accounted mysterious, is delivered in a plain,\neasy, and convincing manner, and to own that they approve, while men of\nthe lower class of understanding shall confess and acknowledge that they\nthemselves understand it; and that what has hitherto been represented as\narduous and difficult to a great genius, is adapted and rendered not\nonly clear, but familiar to persons of middling talents. In this work,\ntherefore, I shall follow the strictest order I can, which of all things\nrender a discourse upon any subject the most clear; and that it may be\nplain to the commonest capacity, I will first set down what order I\nintend to follow.\n\nFirst, I will speak of magic in general.\n\nSecondly, Of magic under its several divisions and subdivisions.\n\nThirdly, Concerning the object of art, as it is good or bad.\n\nFourthly, Of the persons exercising that art in either capacity, of good\nor bad, and by what means they become capacitated to exercise it.\n\nIn the fifth place, I shall come to the several objections against the\nart of magic, and the refutation of those objections.\n\nThe first objection shall be against the existence of good and bad\nspirits; the refutation of which will consist in my proving the\nexistence of spirits, both good and bad, by reason and by experience.\n\nThe second objection that will be brought, is to contain an allegation\nthat there are no such persons as witches now, and an argument to\nsupport that allegation, drawn from the incapacity and impossibility of\nany thing's making, while itself is incarnate, a contract with a spirit.\nThis objection will be answered by proving the reality of witches from\nalmost universal experience, and by explaining rationally the manner how\nthe devils hold commerce with witches; which explanation is backed and\nauthorised by the opinion of the most eminent divines, and the most\nlearned physicians.\n\nFrom hence, sixthly and lastly, We shall conclude on the side of the\ngood magic, that as there are witches on the one hand that may afflict\nand torment persons with demons, so on the other hand there are lawful\nand good magicians that may cast out demons from people that are\npossessed with them.\n\nAnd first as to magic in general. Magic consists in the spirit by faith,\nfor faith is that magnet of the magicians by which they draw spirits to\nthem, and by which spirits they do great things, that appear like\nmiracles.\n\nSecondly, Magic is divided into three sorts, viz., divine, natural, and\ndiabolical. And natural magic is again subdivided into two kinds, simple\nand compound; and natural compound magic is again likewise divided into\ntwo kinds, viz., natural-divine magic, and natural-diabolical magic.\nNow, to give the reader a clear and a distinct notion of each several\nspecies of magic here mentioned, I set down the following definitions:\nDivine magic is a celestial science, in which all operations that are\nwonderfully brought about, are performed by the Spirit of God. Natural\nmagic is a science in which all the mysterious acts that are wrought,\nare compassed by natural spirits. But as this natural magic may be\nexercised about things either in a manner indifferent in themselves, or\nmere morally good, and then it is mere natural magic; or else about\nthings theologically good, and transcendently bad; and then it is not\nmerely and natural magic, but mixed and compound. If natural magic be\nexercised about the most holy operations, it is then mixed with the\ndivine, and may then be called, not improperly, natural-divine magic.\nBut if natural magic troubles itself about compassing the wickedest\npractices, then is it promiscuous with the demoniacal, and may not\nimproperly be called natural-diabolical magic.\n\nThirdly, The object of this art is doing wonders out of the ordinary\nappearing course of nature, which tend either to great good or bad, by\nthe help and mediation of spirits good and bad.\n\nFourthly, As to the persons exercising that art in either way, whether\ngood or bad, and by what means they become capacitated to act it, the\nnotion of this may be easily deduced from the notions of the art itself,\nas considered above in its each different species; for as all magic\nconsists in a spirit, every magician acts by a spirit.\n\nDivine magicians, that are of God, are spoke of in the sacred Book, and\ntherefore I shall not mention the passages here, but pass them over, as\nI ought in a book like this, with a profound and reverential silence, as\nwell as the other passages which speak of natural and demoniacal\nmagicians; and in all I shall speak of them in this place, I shall only\nspeak of them with regard to human reason and experience, and conclude\nthis head with saying, that natural magicians work all things by the\nnatural spirits of the elements; but that witches and demoniacal\nmagicians, as Jannes and Jambres in Egypt were, work their magical\nperformances by the spirit of demons, and it is by the means of these\ndifferent spirits that these different magicians perform their different\noperations.\n\nThese things thus distinctly settled and explained, it is now we must\ncome and ground the dispute between those who believe there are no such\nthings as magicians of any kind, and those who assert there are of all\nthe kinds above specified.\n\nThose who contend there are, have recourse to experience, and relate\nmany well-witnessed narratives, to prove that there have been in all\ntimes, and that there are still, magicians of all these kinds. But those\nwho contend that there are no such persons, will give no ear to what the\nothers call plain experience; they call the stories, let whatever\nwitnesses appear to justify them, either fabulous legends invented by\nthe authors, or else tricks of intellectual legerdemain imposed by the\nactors, upon the relators of those actions. Since, therefore, they say,\nthough the believers in magic brag of experience never so much, it may\nbe but a fallible experience; they reasonably desire to know whether\nthese gentlemen that stand for magic can answer the objections which\nthey propose, to prove that the practice of magic, according to the\nsystem laid down, is inconsistent with reason, before they will yield\ntheir assent. Let the stories be never so numerous, appear never so\ncredible, these unbelieving gentlemen desire to be tried by reason, and\naver till that reason is given they will not be convinced by the number\nof stories, because, though numerous, they are stories still; neither\nwill they believe them because they appear credible, because seeming so\nis not being so, and appearances, though never so fair, when they\ncontradict reason, are not to be swallowed down with an implicit faith\nas so many realities. And thus far, no doubt, the gentlemen who are on\nthe unbelieving side are very much in the right of it. The learned\ngentlemen, on the other hand, who are persuaded of this mighty\nmysterious power being lodged in the hands of magicians, answer, that\nthey will take upon them to refute the most subtle objections brought by\nthe learned unbelievers, and to reconcile the practicability of magical\nmysteries by the capacity of men who study that art, to right rules and\nlaws of reasoning, and to show that some stories, though never so\nprodigious, which are told of magicians, demand the belief of wise men\non two accounts; because as experience backs reason on the one hand,\nreason backs experience on the other, and so the issue of the whole\nargument, whether there are magicians or not, is thrown upon both\nexperience and reason. These arguments on each side, I shall draw up\nfairly _pro_ and _con_; for I do not pretend to be the inventor of them\nmyself, they belong to other authors many years ago; be it enough for me\nto boast of, if I can draw them up in a better and closer form together\nthan they have yet appeared in. In that I take upon myself a very great\ntask; I erect myself as it were into a kind of a judge; I will sum up\nthe evidences on both sides, and I shall, wherever I see occasion,\nintimate which side of the argument bears the most weight with me; but\nwhen I have enforced my opinion as far as I think needful, my readers,\nlike a jury, are still at liberty to bring in their verdict just as they\nthemselves shall see fit; and this naturally leads me where I promised\nto come to in the fifth part of this discourse, to the several\nobjections against the power of art magic, and the refutation of those\nobjections.\n\n_The First Objections being against the Existence of Spirits, and the\nRefutations thereof._\n\nThe first objection which they who reject magic make use of, is, denying\nthat there are any such things as spirits, about which, since those who\ndefend the art say it entirely exerciseth itself, the objectors contend,\nthat if they can make out that there are no such beings as spirits, all\npretensions to the art must be entirely groundless, and for the future\nexploded.\n\nTo make this part out, that there are no spirits, the first man they\nproduce on their side is undoubtedly one of very great credit and\nauthority, inasmuch as he has justly borne for many centuries the title\nof a prince of philosophers. They say that Aristotle in his book _de\nMundo_, reasons thus against the existence of spirits, viz., That since\nGod can do all things of himself, he doth not stand in need of\nministering angels and demons. A multitude of servants showing the\nweakness of a prince.\n\nThe gentlemen who defend the science make this reply, they allow the\ncredit and authority of Aristotle as much as the objectors; but as the\nobjectors themselves deny all the authorities for the spirits, and\ndesire that reason may be the only ground they go upon, so the refuters,\non their parts desire, that Aristotle's _ipse dixit_ may not be\nabsolutely passed upon them for argument; but that his words may be\nbrought to the same touchstone of reason, and proved if they are\nstandard. If this argument, say they, will hold good, Aristotle should\nnot suppose intelligences moving the celestial spheres; for God\nsufficeth to move all without ministering spirits; nor would there be\nneed of a sun in the world, for God can enlighten all things by himself,\nand so all second causes were to be taken away; therefore, there are\nangels and ministering spirits in the world, for the majesty of God, not\nfor his want of them, and for order, not for his omnipotency. And here\nif the objectors return and say, who told you that there are spirits; Is\nnot yours a precarious hypothesis? May not we have leave to recriminate\nin this place? Pray, who told Aristotle that there were intelligences\nthat moved the celestial spheres? Is not this hypothesis as precarious\nas any man may pretend that of spirits to be? And we believe there are\nfew philosophers at present who agree with Aristotle in that opinion;\nand we dare pronounce this to be ours, that Aristotle took his\nintelligences from the Hebrews, who went according to the same\nwhimsical, though pretty notion, which first gave rise to the fiction of\nthe nine muses. But more than all this, it is a very great doubt among\nlearned men, whether this book _de Mundo_ be Aristotle's or no.\n\nThe next thing the objectors bring against the existence of spirits, is,\nthat it is nonsense for men to say that there are such beings of which\nit is impossible for a man to have any notion, and they insist upon it\nthat it is impossible for any man to form an idea of a spiritual\nsubstance. As to this part, the defendants rejoin, that they think our\nlate most judicious Mr. Locke, in his elaborate and finished Essay on\nthe Human Understanding, has fairly made out, that men have as clear a\nnotion of a spiritual substance as they have of any corporeal substance,\nmatter, or body; and that there is as much reason for admitting the\nexistence of the one, as of the other; for that if they admit the\nlatter, it is but humour in them to deny the former. It is in book the\n2nd, chap. 29, where he reasons thus: \"If a man will examine himself\nconcerning his notion of pure substance in general he will find he has\nno other idea of it, but only a supposition of he knows not what support\nof such quality which are capable of producing simple ideas in us, which\nqualities are commonly called accidents. Thus, if we talk or think of\nany particular sort of corporeal substance, as horse, stone, &c., though\nthe idea we have of either of them be but the complication or collection\nof those several simple ideas, or sensible qualities which we use to\nfind united in the thing called horse, or stone; yet because we cannot\nconceive how they should subsist alone, not one in another, we suppose\nthem to exist in, and be supported by some common subject; which support\nwe denote by the name of substance, though it be certain we have no\nclear or distinct idea of that thing we suppose a support. The same\nhappens concerning the operations of our mind, viz., thinking,\nreasoning, and fearing, &c., which we concluding not to subsist of\nthemselves, and not apprehending how they can belong to body, we are apt\nto think these the actions of some substance which we call spirit;\nwhereby it is evident, that having no other notion of matter, but\nsomething wherein those many sensible qualities which affect our senses\ndo subsist, by supposing a substance wherein thinking, knowing,\ndoubting, and a power of moving, &c., do subsist, we have as clear a\nnotion of the nature or substance of spirit, as we have of body: the one\nbeing supposed to be, without knowing what is, the substratum to those\nsimple ideas which we have from without; and the other supposed, with a\nlike ignorance of what it is, to be the substratum of these operations\nwhich we experiment in ourselves within. It is plain, then, that the\nidea of corporeal substance in matter, is as remote from our conceptions\nand apprehensions as that of spiritual substance, and therefore from our\nnot having any notion of the substance of spirit, we can no more\nconclude its not existence, than we can for the same reason deny the\nexistence of body; it being as rational to affirm there is no body,\nbecause we cannot know its essence, as it is called, or have the idea of\nthe substance of matter, as to say, there is no spirit, because we know\nnot its essence, or have no idea of a spiritual substance.\" Mr. Locke\nalso, comparing our idea of spirit with our idea of body, thinks there\nmay seem rather less obscurity in the former than the latter. Our idea\nof body he takes to be an extended solid substance, capable of\ncommunicating motion by impulse; and our idea of soul is a substance\nthat thinks, and has a power of exciting motion in body by will or\nthought. Now, some perhaps will say they comprehend a thinking thing,\nwhich perhaps is true; but, he says, if they consider it well, they can\nno more comprehend an extended thing; and if they say, they know not\nwhat it is thinks in them, they mean they know not what the substance is\nof that thinking thing; no more, says he, do they know what the\nsubstance is of that solid thing; and if they say they know how not how\nthey think, he says, neither do they know how they are extended, how the\nsolid parts are united, or where to make extension, &c.\n\nThe learned Monsieur le Clerc, who generally knows how far human reason\ncan bear, argues consonantly to what is before delivered by Mr. Locke,\nin his _Coronis_, added to the end of the fourth volume of his\nPhilosophical Works, in the third edition of them, where he writes as\nfolloweth:--\n\n\"When we contemplate the corporeal nature, we can see nothing in it but\nextension, divisibility, solidity, mobility, and various determinations\nof quantity, or figures; which being so, it were a rash thing, and\ncontrary to the laws of right reasoning, to affirm other things of\nbodies; and consequently from mere body nothing can be deduced by us,\nwhich is not joined in a necessary connection with the said properties;\ntherefore those who have thought the properties of perceiving by sense,\nof understanding, willing, imagining, remembering, and others the like,\nwhich have no affinity with corporeal things, to have risen from the\nbody, have greatly transgressed in the method of right reasoning and\nphilosophising, which hath been done by Epicurus, and those who have\nthought as he did, having affirmed our minds to be composed of corporeal\natoms: but whence shall we say they have had their rise? truly, they do\nnot owe their rise to matter, which is wholly destitute of sense and\nthought, nor are they spontaneously sprung up from nothing, it being an\nontological maxim of most evident truth, that nothing springs from\nnothing.\"\n\nHaving thus given the reader the first objections made against the\nexistence of spirits, and the refutations thereof, I must now frankly\nown on which side my opinion leans; and for my part, it seems manifest\nto me that there are two beings; we conceive very plainly and\ndistinctly, viz., body and spirit, and that it would be as absurd and\nridiculous to deny the existence of the one as of the other; and really,\nif the refuters have got the better in their way of reasoning, they have\nstill a much greater advantage over the objectors, when they come to\nback these reasons with fresh arguments drawn from experience. Of this,\nthere having been many undoubted narratives given in the foregoing\npages, concerning the apparitions of spirits, I shall refer the reader\nback again to them, and only subjoin here one or two instances, which\nmay, if required, be proved upon oath, of spirits seen by two persons of\nour Duncan Campbell's own acquaintance. In the year 1711, one Mrs.\nStephens and her daughter were together with Mr. Campbell, at the house\nof Mr Ramell, a very great and noted weaver at Haggerstone, where the\nrainy weather detained them till late at night. Just after the clock\nstruck twelve, they all of them went to the door to see if the rain had\nceased, being extremely desirous to get home. As soon as ever they had\nopened the door and where all got together, there appeared before them a\nthing all in white, the face seemed of a dismal palid hue, but the eyes\nthereof fiery and flaming, like beacons, and of a saucer size. It made\nits approaches to them till it came up within the space of about three\nyards of them, there it fixed and stood like a figure agaze, for some\nminutes; and they all stood likewise stiff, like the figure, frozen with\nfear, motionless, and speechless; when all of a sudden it vanished from\ntheir eyes, and that apparition to the sight was succeeded by a noise,\nor the appearance of a noise, like that which is occasioned by the\nfighting of twenty mastiff dogs.\n\nNot long after, Mrs. Anne Stephens, who lived in Spitalfields, a woman\nwell known by her great dealings with mercers upon Ludgate-hill, sitting\nin her house alone, and musing upon business, happened by accident to\nlook behind her, and saw a dead corpse, to her thinking, lie extended\nupon the floor, just as a dead corpse should be, excepting that the foot\nof one leg was fixed on the ground, as it is in a bed when one lies with\none knee up; she looked at it a long while, and by degrees at last stole\nher eyes from so unpleasing and unexpected an object. However, a strange\nkind of a curiosity overcame her fears, and she ventured a second time\nto turn her head that way, and saw it, as before, fixed for a\nconsiderable time longer, but durst not stir from her seat; she again\nwithdrew her eyes from the horrible and melancholy spectacle, and\nresumed the courage, after a little reflection, of viewing it again, and\nresolved to ascertain herself if the vision was real, by getting up from\nher seat and going to it, but upon this third retrospection she found it\nvanished. This relation she writ down to Mr. Duncan Campbell, and has\ntold before Mrs. Ramell, her own sister, and many other very creditable\npersons. Now as to these arguments from experience, I shall also deliver\nmy opinion; I dispute not but that learned men, who have obstinate\nprepossessions, may produce plausible arguments why all things should be\nthought to be done by imposture which seem strange to them, and\ninterfere with their belief; and truly thus far their humour may be\nindulged, that if only one person relates a very strange and surprising\nstory, a man may be more apt to think it is possible for that person to\nlie, than that so strange a relation should be true; but if a\nconsiderable number of persons, of several countries, several religious,\nseveral professions, several ages, and those persons looked upon to be\nof as great sagacity as any the country afford, agree in relations of\nthe same kind, thought very strange and are ready to vouch the truth of\nthem upon oath, after having well considered circumstances, I think it a\nviolation of the law of nature to reject all these relations as\nfabulous, merely upon a self-presuming conceit, unless a man can fairly\nshow the things to be impossible, or can demonstrate wherein those\npersons were imposed on; for from hence I form the following conclusive\nargument. What is possible according to reason, grows probable according\nto belief; where the possibility is attested to have reduced itself into\naction by persons of known credit and integrity. Now, not only the\npossibility of the existence of spirits, but the actual existence\nthereof is proved above by logical demonstration; therefore are we to\nbelieve both by the course of logical reason and moral faith, that those\nexistences have appeared to men of credit, who have attested the reality\nthereof upon oath.\n\n\n_Second Objection against the Existence of Witches._\n\nThese objectors go on to say, that provided they should allow there is\nan existence of spirits, yet that would be still no argument how magic\nshould subsist, because they deny that it is impossible for a man in his\nbody to have a commerce, much less make a contract, with spirits; but\nhere again the refuters allege they have both experience and reason on\ntheir sides. As a joint argument of reason and experience, they tell\nyou, that the numerous witches which have in all countries been\narraigned and condemned upon this occasion, are evident testimonies of\nthis commerce and contract being held and made with spirits. They\npretend to say, that these objectors call not their, the refuters,\njudgment so much in question, who contend that there is a magic art, as\nthey call in question the judgment of all the wisest legislative powers\nin Christendom, who have universally agreed in enacting penal laws\nagainst such capital offenders.\n\nBut here the objectors return and say, that it being impossible for us\nto show the manner how such a contract should be made, we can never, but\nwithout reason, believe a thing to be, of which we can form no perfect\nidea. The refuters, on the other hand, reply with the learned Father le\nBrune, it is manifest that we can see but two sorts of beings, spirits\nand bodies; and that since we can reason but according to our ideas, we\nought to ascribe to spirits what cannot be produced by bodies. Indeed\nthe author of the Republic of Learning, in the month of August, anno\n1686, has given us a rough draught for writing a good tract of\nwitchcraft, which he looks upon as a desideratum; where among other\nthings, he writes thus: Since this age is the true time of systems, one\nshould be contrived concerning the commerce that may be betwixt demons\nand men.\n\nOn this passage Father le Brune writes thus: \"Doubtless here the author\ncomplies with the language of a great many persons, who, for want of\nattention and light, would have us put all religion in systems. Whatever\nregard I ought to have for many of those persons, I must not be afraid\nto say, that there is no system to be made of those truths, which we\nought to learn distinctly by faith, because we must advance nothing\nhere, but what we receive from the oracle. We must make a system to\nexplain the effects of the loadstone, the ebbing and flowing of the sea,\nthe motion of the planets; for that the cause of these effects is not\nevidently signified to us, and many may be conceived by us; and to\ndetermine us, we have need of a great number of observations, which by\nan exact induction may lead us to a cause that may satisfy all the\nphenomena. It is not the same in the truths of religion, we come not at\nthem by groping, it were to be wished men spoke not of them, but after a\ndecisive and infallible authority. It is thus we should speak of the\npower of demons, and of the commerce they have with men; it is of faith,\nthat they have power, and that they attack men, and try to seduce them\ndivers ways. It is true, indeed, they are sometimes permitted to have it\nover the just, though they have it not ordinarily, but over those that\nwant faith, or fear not to partake of their works; and that to the last\nparticularly, the disordered intelligences try to make exactly succeed\nwhat they wish; inspiring them to have recourse to certain practices by\nwhich those seducing spirits enter into commerce with men.\" Thus far\nFather le Brune. But still these objectors demand to know by what means\nthis commerce may be held between demons and men, and urge us to\ndescribe the manner; or pretend that they have still reason to refuse\ncoming into the belief of a thing which we would impose upon them,\nthough wholly ignorant of it ourselves; to that the refuters answer\nthus; that both Christian divines and physicians agree as to the manner\nhow, which they are so curious in inquiring after, that demons stir up\nraptures and ecstacies in men, binding or loosing the exterior senses,\nand that either by stopping the pores of the brain, so that the spirits\ncannot pass forth, as it is done naturally by sleep, or by recalling the\nsensitive spirits from the outward senses to the inward organs, which he\nthere retains; so the Devil renders women witches ecstatical and\nmagicians, who while they lie fast asleep in one place, think they have\nbeen in divers places, and done many things. This the learned objectors\nsay proceeds from no demon, but from the disease called an epilepsy;\nbut, on the other hand, the more learned refuters insist upon it, that\nthese ecstacies are not epileptic seizures; this, say they, appears from\nBodin, in his Theatre of Universal Nature, where he says, That those who\nare wrapped by the Devil, feel neither stripes nor cuttings, nor no\nwresting of their limbs, nor burning tortures, nor the application of a\nred hot iron; nay, nor is the beat of the pulse, nor the motion of the\nheart perceived in them; but afterwards, returning to themselves, they\nfeel most bitter pains of the wounds received, and tell of things done\nat six hundred miles' distance, and affirm themselves to have seen them\ndone. The ingenious Dr. Ader, makes an admirable physical distinction\nbetween this kind of ecstacy and a syncope, or stupor caused by narcotic\nmedicines. Sennertus, in his Institutio Medica, writes of the demoniacal\nsopor of witches, who think they are carried through the air, dance,\nfeast, and have copulation with the devil, and do other things in their\nsleep, and afterwards believe the same things waking. Now, he says,\nwhether they are really so carried in the air, &c., or being in a\nprofound sleep, or only dream they are so carried, and persist in that\nopinion after they are awake, these facts or dreams cannot be natural;\nfor it cannot be that there should be so great an agreement in dreams,\nof persons differing in place, temperament, age, sex, and studies, that\nin one night, and at the same hour, they should, in concert, dream of\none and the same such meeting, and should agree as to the place, number,\nand quality of the persons, and the like circumstances; but such dreams\nare suggested from a preternatural cause, viz., from the devil to his\nconfederate, by the divine permission of an Almighty power, where\npunishments are to be permitted to be inflicted upon reprobate sinners.\n\nWhence also, to those witches, sincerely converted, and refusing to be\nany more present at those diabolical meetings, those dreams no longer\nhappen, which is a proof that they proceeded not before from a natural\ncause.\n\nHere begins the great point of the dispute as to that branch of magic\nwhich we call natural magic. The objectors may tell us, that they will\nfreely own that there may be an existence of spirits, that there may be\nan existence of witches, that by a divine power men may be influenced so\nfar as to have a communication with good spirits, and that from thence\nthey may become spiritual-divine magicians, they will likewise, perhaps,\nas freely grant, that by the intervention of a demon, things\npreternatural may be brought about by persons who have studied the\ndemoniacal magic; but then what they principally insist upon is, that it\nmust be contradictory to all human reason to imagine that there can be\nsuch a thing as natural magicians; and thus far they may form their\nargument. They say, that the persons, who contend for the magic art,\nown, that all that is brought about by magic, is by the assistance and\nhelp of a spirit, and that consequently what is effected by it must be\npreternatural; now, they say, it is a thing inconsistent, by a natural\npower, to bring about a preternatural effect; therefore, there can be no\nsuch thing as natural magic, which has within itself the efficacy of\ndestroying those acts done by magicians in the diabolical.\n\nTo this the refuters take leave to reply, that the foundation upon which\nthe argument is built is wrong grounded; they have admitted that, in\ndiabolical art magic, there may be a commerce held between men and\nspirits, by which several preternatural effects may be brought about;\nand the reason they assign for it there is, because there is a\npreternatural agent concerned therein, the devil; but then, say they, in\nnatural magic you can pretend to no such agent, and therefore to no such\npreternatural effect. This argument contains within it two fallacies;\nfirst, as to the commerce held between a man and a demon, there is\nnothing preternatural in getting the acquaintance; the will of the man\nis entirely natural, either naturally good, or naturally corrupted; the\nblack spirit that converseth with him, it is acknowledged is not so, but\nit is from the will of the man, not from the power vested in the devil,\nthat the acquaintance first grows, therefore the acquaintance itself is\nnatural, though it arises from the last corruption and depravations of\nnature; but being made with a preternatural existence, though the cause\nof the acquaintance be corruptedly natural, yet the intermediate cause\nor means after that acquaintance is not so, and therefore the effect of\nthat intermediate cause may be wonderful, and seem to be out of the\nordinary course of nature. Now, since it is generally allowed that there\nare natural spirits of the elements, as well as divine and infernal,\nwhat we have to prove is only this, that man by natural magic may have a\ncommerce with natural spirits of their elements, as witches may have\nwith the spirits or demons. Now, as we said before, the commerce itself\ndepends upon the will of the person, and is therefore natural, and\nconsequently may as well subsist between the one as the other; for the\ndevil cannot force a man to hold a commerce with him whether he will or\nno. The second fallacy is calling the effect preternatural, no otherwise\nthan as it connotates the agent that brought it about, which is a\nspiritual agent; for the effect is, in itself considered, natural, and\nbrought about by second causes that are natural, by the devil's\npenetration, who is subtle enough to make use of them for such and such\nends. Now men, by natural spirits, which are of a faculty thoroughly\nsubtle, may as well with natural second causes compass the remedy of an\nevil spirit, as the devil is able to infect men with it. From these\nspeculations a farther plain consequence may be deduced, how a man may,\nby the pure force of natural magic, cure a person that is infested with\nevils by a demon; for how is it that a demon infests anybody with his\nevil motions? It is true, he is a preternatural agent, but the evil\neffect he does is brought about by natural causes. For how does a demon\nstir up raptures or ecstacies in men? Why he does it, as we are told\nabove, by binding or loosing the exterior senses, by stopping the pores\nof the brain, so that the spirits cannot pass forth; and this the art of\nphysic can compass by its drugs, and sleep causes the same thing very\nnaturally of itself; therefore, as the evil itself is natural, the\nremedy, that is natural, will certainly overcome it. But then, say you,\nwhy cannot those persons be cured by physicians? I answer, not because\ntheir remedies are not in themselves sufficient to cure the evils\nthemselves, but because generally physicians do not administer their\ndrugs as Christians, but as physicians; and when they prescribe them to\nthe sick they generally prescribe to them only purely considered as\npatients, not as Christians, and therein they come to fail; because the\nagent, the devil, is a subtle spirit, that brings the evil, and alters\nits situation before the remedy, which would master it otherwise, can\ntake any effect; which agent, the devil, is employed by the horrible and\nimpious faith of the antiphysician, viz., the black magician; but if the\nphysician would act the Christian at the same time, so far as to have a\nfaith that things ordained in the course of nature for the good of man,\nwould have its effects in spite of a devil, if taken with a good faith\nby the patient; that all good things ordained to be for the natural\nrecovery of men, if they took it with thankfulness to the sender, would\nhave due effect; why then the natural spirits of the elements would\nresist the farther agency of the demoniacal spirit, and then nothing but\nthe natural evil, caused at first by the demon, remaining in the person,\nwithout the farther superintendency of the demon, might demonstratively\nbe taken away by the mere natural remedy or medicine. And thus good and\npious physicians, making use of such proper remedies as their skill\nteaches them, and having an honest faith, that the goods of nature\nintended for the use and benefit of man, if received by the patient with\nthe same good faith, is above the power of the devil to frustrate, may\nnot improperly be called natural magicians. These arguments of mine I\nshall now take leave to back by experience.\n\nBesides, what we have urged from reason, concerning the power of natural\nmagic, we shall only subjoin, that divines themselves hold that natural\nmagic, and also natural divinations and prophecies, are proved by\nquotations from that venerable writ which is their guide; and bring\nproofs from the same also, that by natural magic demons are also cast\nforth, but not all kinds of demons, and so many works of efficacy are\nwrought by natural magic: they tell you, such was the Pythonissa that\nraised the apparition to Saul, which appeared in a body of wind and air.\nThus, if a person by natural magic should cast out demons, it does not\nfollow that this was also from divine magic; and if demons are cast out\nby natural magic, by one that is in the fear of God, it does not follow\nthat he is a true magician of God; but if it exorbitates to demoniacal,\nthen it is condemned: and when natural magic keeps within its bounds,\nthe divines tell us it is not condemned in the venerable book, which is\nthe Christian's sure guide. But, inasmuch as the lawfulness even of\nnatural magic has been called in question by others, I shall, in an\nAppendix joined to this treatise, examine that matter, both according to\nthe reasons of our English laws, and according to the best stated rules\nof casuistry that I am a master of; still submitting my judgment to the\nsuperior judgment of those who are professed divines and lawyers; and if\nmy opinions prove erroneous, I am willing to retract them; and\ntherefore, in this place, there remains nothing farther for me to do,\nbut only, as I have shown, on the one hand, how natural magic, and its\npowerful operations, are proved by reason, to show, on the other hand,\nhow far reason in these cases is likewise backed and supported by\nwell-evidenced practice, and notorious experience. And to do this, after\nhaving mentioned one memorable instance, which I refer the reader to in\nthe body of the book, concerning the performances of Mr. Greatrix, to\nwhich a Lord Orrery was a witness, in Ireland; I shall, to avoid\nprolixity, bring the other testimonials of practice, from the success\nwhich our Duncan Campbell himself has had in this way on other\noccasions.\n\nIn the year 1713, lived in Fenchurch-street, one Mr. Coates, a\ntobacco-merchant, who had been for many years sorely tormented in his\nbody, and had had recourse for a cure to all the most eminent physicians\nof the age, even up to the great Dr. Ratcliff himself; but all this\nmighty application for relief was still in vain; each doctor owned him a\nwonder and a mystery to physic, and left him as much a wonder as they\nfound him. Neither could the professors of surgery guess at his ailment,\nor resolve the riddle of his distemper; and after having spent, from\nfirst to last, above a thousand pounds in search of proper remedies,\nthey found the search ineffectual; the learned all agreed that it could\nproceed from nothing else than witchcraft; they had now indeed guessed\nthe source of his illness, but it was an illness of such a kind that,\nwhen they had found it out, they thought themselves not the proper\npersons to prescribe to him any remedies. That task was reserved, it\nseems, for our Duncan Campbell, who, upon somebody's information or\nother, was sent for to the bewitched patient Mr. Coates, who found him\nthe wonder that the others had left him, but did wonders in undertaking\nand compassing his cure. I remember, one of the ingredients made use of\nwas boiling his own water, but I cannot tell how it was used; and, upon\nturning over the books of some great physicians since, I have found,\nthat they themselves have formerly delivered that as one part of the\nprescriptions for the cure of patients in like cases. But as there are\nother things which Mr. Campbell performs, that seem to require a mixture\nof the second-sight, and of this natural magic, before they can be\nbrought about, I will entertain the reader with one or two passages of\nthat sort likewise, and so conclude the history of this so singular a\nman's life and adventures.\n\nIn the year 1710, a gentlewoman lost about six pounds' worth of Flanders\nlace, and inasmuch as it was a present made to her husband, she was\nconcerned as much as if it had been of twenty times the value; and a\nlady of her acquaintance coming to visit her, to whom she unfolded,\namong other things in discourse, this little disaster, the lady,\nsmiling, replied with this question, Did you never hear, madam, of Mr.\nDuncan Campbell? It is but making your application to him, things that\nare lost are immediately found; the power of his knowledge exceeds even\nthe power of laws; they but restrain, and frighten, and punish robbers,\nbut he makes thieves expiate their guilt by the more virtuous way of\nturning restorers of the goods they have stolen. Madam, rejoined the\nlosing gentlewoman, you smile when you tell me this; but really, as much\na trifle as it is, since it was a present to my husband, I cannot help\nbeing sensibly concerned at it, a moment's disappointment to him in the\nleast thing in nature, creates in me a greater uneasiness than the\ngreatest disappointment to my single self could do in things of moment\nand importance. What makes me smile, said the lady, when I speak of it,\nor think of it, is the oddness and peculiarity of this man's talent in\nhelping one to such things; but, without the least jest, I assure you,\nthat I know, by experience, these things come within the compass of his\nknowledge; and I must seriously tell you, for your farther satisfaction,\nthat he has helped me, and several of my friends, to the finding again\nthings lost, which were of great value. And is this, without laughing,\ntrue? said the losing fair, very gravely and demurely, like a person\nhalf believing, and desirous to be fully confirmed in such a belief. The\nlady she advised with did then ascertain her of the truth of the matter,\nalleging that, for a single half-guinea, he would inform her of her\nthings, and describe the person that conveyed them away. No sooner was\nthis gentlewoman convinced, but she was eager for the trial; solicited\nher friend to conduct her to Mr. Campbell, and, upon the first word of\nconsent, she was hooded and scarfed immediately, and they coached it\naway in a trice to Mr. Campbell's house, whom they luckily found within.\n\nThe ladies had not been long seated before he wrote down the name of\nthis new client of his, exactly as it was, viz., Mrs. Saxon. Then she\nwas in good hopes, and with much confidence propounded to him the\nquestion about the lace. He paused but a very little while upon the\nmatter, before he described the person that took it, and satisfied her\nthat in two or three days she would be mistress of her lace again, and\nfind it in some book, or corner of her room. She presented him a\nhalf-guinea, and was very contentedly going away, but Mr. Campbell very\nkindly stopped her, and signified to her, that, if she had no more to\noffer to him, he had something of more importance to reveal to her. She\nsat full of expectation while he wrote this new matter; and the paper he\ndelivered to her contained the following account: As for the loss of a\nlittle bit of lace, it is a mere trifle; you have lost a great many\nhundreds of pounds, which your aunt (naming her name) left you, but you\nare bubbled out of that large sum. For while you was artfully required\ndown stairs about some pretended business or other, one Mr. H--tt--n,\nconveyed your aunt's Will out of the desk, and several other things of\nvalue; and writing down the names of all the persons concerned, which\nput Mrs. Saxon in a great consternation, he concluded this paper, with\nbidding her go home with a contented mind, she should find her lace in a\nfew days; and as she found that prediction proved true, she should\nafterwards come and consult about the rest.\n\nWhen she came home, it seems, big at first with the thoughts of what she\nhad been told, she rifled and ransacked every corner, but no lace was to\nbe met with; all the next day she hunted in the like manner, but\nfrightened the whole time as if she thought the devil was the only\nperson could bring it, but all to no purpose; the third day her\ncuriosity abated, she gave over the hopes of it, and took the prediction\nas a vain delusion, and that what she gave for it was only more money\nthrown away after what had been lost before. That very day, as it\ncommonly happens in such cases, when she least dreamt of it, she lighted\non it by accident and surprise. She ran with it in her hand immediately\nto her husband, and now she had recovered it again, told him of the loss\nof it, and the whole story of her having been at Mr. Campbell's about\nit; and then, amplifying the discourse about what he had told her\nbesides, as to more considerable affairs, she said she resolved to go\nand consult him a little farther about them, and begged her husband to\naccompany her. He would fain have laughed her out of that opinion and\nintent, but the end was, she persuaded him into it, and prevailed upon\nhim to seem at least very serious about the matter, and go with her to\nthe oracle, assuring him there was no room for doubting the same\nsuccess.\n\nWell, to Mr. Campbell's they accordingly came; and after Mr. Saxon, in\ndeference to his wife's desire, had paid our predictor a handsome\ncomplement of gold, Mr. Duncan Campbell saluted him in as grateful a\nmanner, with the assurance that there was in Kent a little country\nhouse, with some lands appertaining to it, that was his in right of his\nwife; that he had the house, as it were, before his eyes, that though he\nhad never substantially seen it, nor been near the place where it stood,\nhe had seen it figuratively as if in exact painting and sculpture; that\nparticularly it had four green trees before the door, from whence he was\npositive, that if Mr. Saxon went with him in quest of it, he should find\nit out, and know it as well the moment he come near it, as if he had\nbeen an inhabitant in it all his life.\n\nMr. Saxon, though somewhat of an unbeliever, yet must naturally wish to\nfind it true, you may be sure, and yet partly doubting the event, and\npartly pleased with the visionary promise of a fortune he never\nexpected, laughed very heartily at the oddness of the adventure, and\nsaid he would consider whether it would not savour too much of\nQuixotism, to be at the expense of a journey on such frolics, and on\nsuch a chimerical foundation of airy hopes, and that then he would call\nagain and let Mr. Campbell know his mind upon that point.\n\nIn every company he came into, it served for laughter and diversion;\nthey all, however, agreed it was worth his while, since the journey\nwould not be very expensive, to go it by way of frolic. His wife, one\nmorning, saying that she did remember some talk of a house, and such\nthings as Mr. Campbell had described, put him forward upon the\nadventure; and upon Mr. Saxon's proposing it to his brother Barnard, Mr.\nBarnard favoured the proposal as a joke, and agreed upon the country\nramble. They came on horseback to Mr. Campbell's with a third horse, on\nwhich the dumb predictor was mounted, and so on they jogged into Kent,\ntowards Sevenoaks, being the place which he described. The first day\nthey set out was on a Saturday morning in June, and about five that\nafternoon they arrived at the Black Bull, at Sevenoaks, in Kent. It\nbeing a delicate evening, they took an agreeable walk up a fine hill,\ngracefully adorned with woods, to an old seat of the Earl of Dorset.\nMeeting by the way with an old servant of the earl, one Perkin, he\noffered Mr. Barnard, who it seems was his old acquaintance, to give them\nall a sight of the fine ancient seat.\n\nAfter they had pleased themselves with viewing the antique nobility of\nthat stately structure, this Perkin went back with them to their inn,\nthe Bull, at Sevenoaks. They that could talk, were very merry in chat;\nand the dumb gentleman, who saw them laugh and wear all the signs of\nalacrity in their countenances, was resolved not to be behind with their\ntongues, and by dint of pen, ink, and paper, that he made signs should\nbe brought in, was resolved, if one might be said to crack without\nnoise, to crack his jest as well as the best of them; for it may be\ntruly said of him, that he seldom comes into any, even diverting\ncompany, where he is not the most diverting man there, and the head,\nthough we cannot call him the mouth, of the cheerful society. After\nhaving eyed this Perkin a little, and being grown, by his art, as we may\nsuppose, as familiar with the man's humour as if he had known him as\nmany years as Mr. Barnard, Pray, Mr. Barnard, quoth he, in writing, how\ncomes it, you, that are so stanch and so stiff a whig, should be so\nacquainted and so particularly familiar with such an old Papist, and so\nviolent a Jacobite, as I know that Mr. Perkin (whom I never saw nor had\nany notice of in my life) to be? And pray, replied Mr. Barnard, what\nreason have you beyond a pun to take him for a Jacobite? Must he be so\nbecause his name is Perkin? I do assure you, in this you show yourself\nbut little of a conjurer; if you can tell no more of houses than you do\nof men, we may give over the search after the house you spoke of. (Here\nthe reader must understand they discoursed on their fingers, and wrote\nby turns.) Mr. Campbell replied, seriously, Laying a wager is no\nargument in other things, I own, but in this I know it is, because I am\nsure, after we have laid the wager, he will fairly confess it among\nfriends, since it will go no farther; and I, said Mr. Campbell, will lay\nwhat wager you will apiece with you all round. Hereupon, Mr. Barnard,\nwho had known him a great many years, was the first that laid, and many\nmore, to the number of five or six, followed his example; the decision\nof the matter was deferred till next day at the return of the old man to\nthe inn, they being about to break up that night and go to bed.\n\nThe next day being Sunday, the landlord carried his guests to see the\ncountry, and after a handsome walk, they came through the churchyard.\nThey were poring upon the tombs; no delight can be greater to Mr.\nCampbell than that; and really, by the frequent walks he usually takes\nin Westminster abbey, and the churchyards adjacent to this metropolis,\none would imagine he takes delight to stalk along by himself on that\ndumb silent ground, where the characters of the persons are only to be\nknown, as his own meaning is, by writings and inscriptions on the\nmarble. When they had sufficiently surveyed the churchyard, it grew near\ndinner-time, and they went homewards; but before they had got many yards\nout of the churchyard, Mr. Campbell makes a full stop, pointing up to a\nhouse, and stopping his friends a little, he pulls out of his pocket a\npencil and paper, and notes down the following words: That, that is the\nhouse my vision presented to me; I could swear it to be the same, I know\nit to be the same, I am certain of it. The gentlemen with him remarked\nit, would not take any farther notice at that time intending to inquire\ninto it with secrecy, and so went on to the inn to dinner.\n\nAs merry as they had been the night before after supper, they were\nstill more innocently cheerful this day after dinner, till the time of\nservice begun. When the duty of the day was performed and over, they\nreturned to divert and unbend their minds with pleasant but harmless\nconversation. I suppose nobody but a set of very great formalists will\nbe offended with scandal or scruples, that to travellers just ready to\ndepart the town, Mr. Perkin came on that good day and decided the\nwagers, by owning to all the company, secrecy being first enjoined, that\nhe was a Roman Catholic, though nobody of the family knew it in so many\nyears as he had lived there, which was before Mr. Campbell was born.\nThis and other innocent speeches afforded as much cheerfulness as the\nLord's-day would allow of.\n\nOn the next day, being Monday, they sent for one Mr. Toland Toler, an\nattorney of the place, to find out to whom that house belonged, but by\nall the inquiry that could possibly be made with convenient secrecy,\nnobody could find it out for a long time; but at last it came to light\nand appeared to be justly to a tittle as Mr. Campbell had predicted.\n\nBeing now satisfied, the next day our three travellers returned for\nLondon; and the two vocal men were very jocular upon their adventure,\nand by their outward gesticulations gave the prophetical mute his share\nof diversion. Mr. Barnard, as they passed into a farmhouse-yard,\nremarked that all the hogs fell a grunting and squeaking more and more\nas Mr. Campbell came nearer, (who, poor man! could know nothing of the\njest, nor the cause of it, till they alighted and told it him by signs\nand writing,) said to Mr. Saxon, laughing, Now we have found out our\nhouse, we shall have only Mr. Campbell home again by himself--we have no\nfarther need of the devil that accompanied him to the country, up to\ntown with us, there are other devils enow to be met with there he knows;\nand so this, according to the fashion of his predecessor devils, is\nentered into the herd of swine.\n\nHowever, the event of this journey, to cut the story short, procured Mr.\nSaxon a great insight, upon inquiry, into several affairs belonging to\nhim, of which he would otherwise have had no knowledge; and he is now\nengaged in a chancery suit to do himself justice, and in a fair way of\nrecovering great sums of money, which, without the consultation he had\nwith this dumb gentleman, he had in all likelihood never dreamt of.\n\nIn the year 1711, a gentleman, whose name shall be, in this place,\nAmandus, famed for his exquisite talents in all arts and sciences, but\nparticularly for his gentlemanlike and entertaining manner of\nconversation, whose company was affected by all men of wit, who grew his\nfriends, and courted by all ladies of an elegant taste, who grew his\nadmirers; this accomplished gentleman, I say, came to Mr. Campbell, in\norder to propound a question to him, which was so very intricate, and so\ndifficult to answer, that, if he did answer it, it might administer to\nhimself and the ladies he brought with him, the pleasure of admiration\nin seeing a thing so wonderful in itself performed; or, on the other\nhand, if he did not make a satisfactory reply to it, then it might\nafford him and the ladies a very great delight, in being the first that\npuzzled a man who had had the reputation for so many years of being\ncapable of baffling all the wittiest devices and shrewd stratagems that\nhad been from time to time invented to baffle his skill and explode his\npenetration in the second-sight, and the arts which he pretended to. The\npersons whom Amandus brought with him, were the illustrious Lady\nDelphina, distinguished for her great quality, but still more celebrated\nfor her beauty, his own lady, the admired Amabella, and a young blooming\npretty virgin whom we will call by the name of Adeodata, about which\nlast lady, the question was to be put to Mr. Campbell. Adeodata, it\nseems, was the natural daughter of this very fine gentleman, who had\nnever let her into the knowledge of her own birth, but had bred her up\nfrom her infancy under a borrowed name, in the notion that she was a\nrelation's daughter, and recommended to his care in her infancy. Now the\nman that had the second-sight was to be tried; it was now to be put to\nthe proof if he could tell names or no? Amandus was so much an\nunbeliever as to be willing to hazard the discovery. Amabella and\nDelphina were strangers to her real name, and asked Duncan Campbell, not\ndoubting but he would set down that which she ordinarily went by.\nAmabella had indeed been told by Amandus, that Adeodata was the natural\ndaughter of a near friend of his; but who this near friend was remained\na secret: that was the point which lay upon our Duncan Campbell to\ndiscover. When the question was proposed to him, what her name was, he\nlooked at her very steadfastly, and shook his head, and after some time\nhe wrote down that it would be a very difficult name for him to fix\nupon. And truly so it proved; he toiled for every letter till he\nsweated; and the ladies laughed incontinently, imagining that he was in\nan agony of shame and confusion at finding himself posed. He desired\nAmandus to withdraw a little, for that he could not so well take a full\nand proper survey of ladies' faces when a gentleman was by. This\ndisturbance and perplexity of his afforded them still more subject of\nmirth; and that excuse was taken as a pretence, and a put-off to cover\nhis shame the better, and hide from one at least, that he was but a\ndownright bungler in what he pretended to be so wonderful an artist.\nHowever, after two hours hard sweat and labour, and viewing the face in\ndifferent shades and lights, (for I must observe to the reader that\nthere is a vast deal of difference, some he can tell in a minute or two\nwith ease, some not in less than four or five hours, and that with great\ntrouble) he undeceived them with regard to his capacity. He wrote down\nthat Adeodata's real name was Amanda, as being the natural daughter of\nAmandus. Delphina and Amabella were surprised at the discovery; and\nAmandus, when he was called in, owning it a truth, his wife Amabella\napplauded the curious way of her coming by such a discovery, when\nAdeodata was just marriageable, took a liking to her as if her own\ndaughter, and everything ended with profit, mirth, and cheerfulness. I\ncould add a thousand more adventures of Mr. Campbell's life, but that\nwould prove tedious; and as the town has made a great demand for the\nbook, it was thought more proper to conclude it here. The most diverting\nof all, are to be found best to the life in original letters that passed\nbetween Mr. Campbell and his correspondents, some select ones of which\nwill be shortly published in a little pocket volume, for the farther\nentertainment of such readers as shall relish this treatise; in which\nthe author hopes he shall be esteemed to have endeavoured at the\nintermingling of some curious disquisitions of learning, with\nentertaining passages, and to have ended all the merriest passages with\na sober, instructive, and edifying moral, which even to those who are\nnot willing to believe the stories, is reckoned sufficient to recommend\neven fables themselves.\n\n\n\n\n APPENDIX.\n\n\nIt is not that Mr. Duncan Campbell stands in need of my arguments, to\nprove that he is in no respect liable to the Acts of Parliament made\nagainst fortuntellers, &c., that I undertake the writing of this\nAppendix, the true reason thereof being, the more completely to finish\nthis undertaking; for having, in the body of the book itself, fully\nproved a second-sight, and that the same frequently happens to persons,\nsome of them eminently remarkable for piety and learning, and have from\nthence accounted for the manner of Mr. Campbell's performing those\nthings he professes, to the great surprise, and no less satisfaction of\nall the curious who are pleased to consult him; and at the same time\nproved the lawfulness of such his performances from the opinions of some\nof the most learned in holy science; I thought it not improper to add\nthe following short Appendix, being a summary of several acts of\nparliament made against fortune-tellers, conjurers, Egyptians,\nsorcerers, pretenders to prophecy, &c., with some proper remarks, suited\nto our present purpose, as well to satisfy them who are fantastically\nwise, and obstinately shut their eyes against the most refulgent reason,\nand are wilfully deaf to the most convincing and persuasive arguments,\nand thereupon cry out, that Mr. Campbell is either an impostor and a\ncheat, or at least a person who acts by the assistance of unlawful\npowers; as also to put to silence the no less waspish curs, who are\nalways snarling at such whom providence has distinguished by more\nexcellent talents than their neighbours. True merit is always the mark\nagainst which traducers level their keenest darts; and wit and invention\noftentimes join hands with ignorance and malice to foil those who excel.\nArt has no greater enemy than ignorance; and were there no such thing as\nvice, virtue would not shine with half its lustre. Did Mr. Campbell\nperform those wonderful things he is so deservedly famous for, as these\ncavillers say, by holding intelligence with infernal powers, or by any\nunjustifiable means, I am of opinion he would find very few, in this\natheistical age, who would open their mouths against him, since none\nlove to act counter to the interest of that master they industriously\nserve. And did he, on the other hand, put the cheat upon the world, as\nthey maliciously assert, I fancy he would then be more generally\nadmired, especially in a country where the game is so universally,\nartfully, and no less profitably played, and that with applause since\nthose pretenders to wisdom merrily divide the whole species of mankind\ninto the two classes of knaves and fools, fixing the appellation of\nfolly only upon those whom they think not wise, that is, wicked enough\nto have a share with them in the profitable guilt.\n\nOur laws are as well intended by their wise makers to screen the\ninnocent, as to punish the guilty; and where their penalties are\nremarkably severe, the guilt they punish is of a proportionable size.\nArt, which is a man's property, when acquired, claims a protection from\nthose very laws which false pretenders thereto are to be tried and\npunished by, or else all science would soon have an end; for no man\nwould dare make use of any talent providence had lent him, and his own\nindustrious application had improved, should he be immediately tried and\ncondemned by those statutes, which are made to suppress villains, by\nevery conceited and half-learned pedant.\n\nIt is true, indeed, those excellent statutes, which are made against a\nsort of people, who pretend to fortune-telling and the like, are such as\nare well warranted, as being built upon the best foundation, viz.,\nreligion and policy; and were Mr. Campbell guilty of any such practice\nas those are made to punish, I openly declare, that I should be so far\nfrom endeavouring to defend his cause, that I would be one of the first\nthat should aggravate his crime, thereby to enforce the speedier\nexecution of those laws upon him, which are made against such offenders.\nBut when he is so far from acting, that he doth not even pretend to any\nsuch practice, or for countenancing the same in others, as is manifest\nfrom the many detections he has made of that sort of villany, which the\nbook furnishes us with, I think myself sufficiently justified for thus\npleading in his defence.\n\nI cannot but take notice, in reading the statutes made against such\noffenders, our wise legislature hath not in any part of them seemed so\nmuch as to imply that there are in reality any such wicked persons as\nthey are made against, to wit, conjurors, &c., but that they are only\npretenders to those infernal arts, as may reasonably be inferred from\nthe nature of the penalties they inflict; for our first laws of that\nsort only inflicted a penalty which affected the goods and liberty of\nthe guilty, and not their lives, though indeed they were afterwards\nforced to heighten the punishment with a halter; not that they were\nbetter convinced, as I humbly conceive, but because the criminals were\nmost commonly persons who had no goods to forfeit, and to whom their\nliberty was no otherwise valuable but as it gave them the opportunity of\ndoing mischief. Indeed our law-books do furnish us with many instances\nof persons who have been tried and executed for witchcraft and sorcery,\nbut then the wiser part of mankind have taken the liberty to condemn the\nmagistrate, at that time of day, of too much inconsideration, and the\njuries of an equal share of credulity; and those who have suffered for\nsuch crimes, have been commonly persons of the lowest rank, whose\npoverty might occasion a dislike of them in their fellow-creatures, and\ntheir too artless defence subject them to their mistaken justice; so\nthat, upon the whole, I take the liberty to conclude, and I hope not\nwithout good grounds, that those laws were made to deter men from an\nidle pretence to mysterious and unjustifiable arts, which, if too\nclosely pursued, commonly lead them into the darkest villany, not only\nthat of deceiving others, but, as far as in them lie, making themselves\nslaves to the devil; and not to prevent and hinder men from useful\ninquiries, and from the practice of such arts, which though they are in\nthemselves mysterious, yet are, and may be lawful.\n\nI would not, however, be thought, in contradiction to my former\narguments, to assert that there never were, or that there now are no\npersons such as wizards, sorcerers, &c., for by so doing I should be as\nliable to be censured for my incredulity, as those who defame Mr.\nCampbell on that account are for their want of reason and common\nhonesty. Holy and profane writ, I confess, furnishes us with many\ninstances of such persons; but we must not from thence hastily infer,\nthat all those men are such who are spitefully branded with the odious\nguilt; for were it in the devil's power to make every wicked man a\nwizard, and woman a witch, he soon would have agents enough to shake\nthis lower world to atoms but the Almighty, who restrains him, likewise\nrestrains those.\n\nHaving premised thus much, I shall now proceed to consider some of the\nActs of Parliament themselves; the persons against whom they were made,\nand the necessity of making the same. And some of the first Acts we meet\nwith, were those which were made against a sort of people called\nEgyptians; persons who, if in reality such, might, if any, be suspected\nof practising what we call the black art, the same having been for many\nages encouraged in their country; nay, so much has it been by them\nfavoured, that it was introduced into their superstitious religion, if I\nmay without an absurdity call it so, and made an essential part thereof;\nand, I believe, Mahometanism has not much mended the matter, since it\nhas imperiously reigned there, or in any respect reformed that\nidolatrous nation. Now the mischief these persons might do, being so\nmuch in the devil's power, among the unwary, was thought too\nconsiderable not to be provided against; and therefore our wise\nlegislature, the more effectually to prevent the same, by striking at\nthe very foundation, made an act in 22 Henry VIII. 8: That if any,\ncalling themselves Egyptians, do come into this realm, they shall\nforfeit all their goods; and being demanded, shall depart the realm\nwithin fifteen days, upon pain of imprisonment; and the importers of\nthem, by another act, were made liable to a heavy penalty. This act was\ncontinued by the 1 Philip and Mary. Conjuration, witchcraft,\nenchantment, and sorcery, to get money, or consume any person in his\nbody, members, or goods, or to provoke any person to unlawful love, was\nby the 33 Henry VIII. 14. and the 5 Elizabeth 16. and the 1 James I. 12.\nmade felony; and by the same 33 Henry VIII. 14. it was made felony to\ndeclare to another any false prophecies upon arms, &c., but this act was\nrepealed by the 1 Edward VI. 12., but by another act of the 3 and 4 of\nEdward VI. 15. it was again enacted, That all such persons who should\npretend to prophecies, &c., should, upon conviction, for the first\noffence forfeit ten pounds, and one year's imprisonment; and for the\nsecond offence, all his goods, and imprisonment for life. And by the 7\nEdward VI. 11. the same was made to continue but till the then next\nsessions of parliament. And by the 5 Elizabeth 15. the same act was\nagain renewed against fantastical prophesiers, &c., but both those acts\nwere repealed by the 1 James I. 12.\n\nThus far we find, that for reasons of state, and for the punishment of\nparticular persons, those acts were made and repealed, as occasion\nrequired, and not kept on foot, nor indeed were they ever made use of,\nas I can remember in my reading, against any persons whose studies led\nthem into a useful inquiry into the nature of things, or a lawful search\ninto the workings of nature itself, by which means many things are\nforetold long before they come to pass, as eclipses and the like, which\nastrologers successfully do, whose art has been in all ages held in so\ngreat esteem that the first monarchs of the East made it their peculiar\nstudy, by which means they deservedly acquired to themselves the name of\nMagi, or wise men; but, on the contrary, were provided against persons\nprofligate and loose, who, under a pretence and mask of science, commit\nvile and roguish cheats; and this will the more plainly appear, if we\nconsider the letter and express meaning of the following Acts, wherein\nthe persons I am speaking of, are described by such characters, which\nsufficiently prove the assertion; for in the 39 of Elizabeth 4. it was\nenacted, That all persons calling themselves scholars, going about\nbegging, seafaring men pretending losses of their ships and goods at\nsea, and going about the country begging, or using any subtle craft,\nfeigning themselves to have knowledge in physiognomy, palmistry, or any\nother the like crafty science, or pretending that they can tell\ndestinies, fortunes, or such like fantastical imaginations, shall be\ntaken and deemed rogues, vagabonds, sturdy beggars, and shall be\nstripped naked from the middle upwards, and whipped till his or her body\nbe bloody. And by the 1 James I. 12. for the better restraining of the\nsaid offences, and for the farther punishing the same, it was farther\nenacted, That any person or persons using witchcraft, sorcery, &c., and\nall their aiders, abettors, and counsellors, being convicted, and\nattainted of the same offences, shall suffer pain of death, as felons,\nwithout the benefit of clergy; or to tell and declare in what place any\ntreasure of gold and silver should or might be found in the earth, or\nother secret places; or where goods or things lost or stolen should be\nfound or become; or to provoke any person to unlawful love, such\noffender to suffer imprisonment for one whole year without bail or\nmainprise, and once in every quarter of the said year shall in some\nmarket-town, or upon the market-day, or at any such time as any fair\nshall be kept there, stand openly in the pillory by the space of six\nhours, and there shall openly confess his or their offence; and for the\nsecond offence shall suffer death as felons, without the benefit of\nclergy.\n\nThat these laws were made against a set of villains, whose natural\nantipathy to honesty and labour furnished them with pretensions to an\nuncommon skill, thereby the more easily to gull and cheat the\nsuperstitiously credulous, and by that means discover from them some\nsuch secrets that might farther them in perpetrating the more consummate\nvillany, is plain from the very words and expressions of the very Acts\nthemselves, and the description of the persons they are made against;\nand not, as I before observed, to prevent and hinder men from the lawful\ninquiry after useful, delightful, and profitable knowledge.\n\nMr. Campbell, who has been long a settled and reputable inhabitant in\nmany eminent parts of the city of London, cannot, I am sure, be looked\nupon as one of those these Acts of Parliament were made against, unless\nwe first strip the Acts themselves of their own natural, express, and\nplain meaning, and clothe them with that which is more obscure,\nunnatural, forced, and constrained a practise; which, if allowed, would\nmake them wound the innocent and clear the guilty, and render them not\nour defence but our greatest evil; they would, by that means, become a\nperfect enigma, and be so far from being admired for their plainness,\nthat they would be even exploded like the oracles of the heathen for\ntheir double meaning.\n\nIf Mr. Campbell has the second-sight, as is unquestionable, from the\nallowed maxim, that what has been may be again, and by that means can\ntake a view of contingences and future events; so long as he confines\nthese notices of approaching occurrences to a good purpose, and makes\nuse of them only innocently and charitably to warn persons from doing\nsuch things, that according to his conceptions would lead them into\nmisfortune, or else in putting them upon such arts that may be of use\nand benefit to themselves and posterity, always having a strict regard\nto morality and religion, to which he truly adheres; certainly, I think,\nhe ought so much the more to be admired for the same, by how much the\nmore this his excellent knowledge is surpassing that of other men, and\nnot be therefore unjustly upbraided with the injurious character of a\ncheat, or an ill man: however, this I will presume to affirm, and I\ndoubt not but to have my opinion confirmed by the learned sages of the\nlaw, that this his innocent practice, and I venture to add, honest one\ntoo, doth by no means entitle him to the penalties of the\nbefore-mentioned laws made against fortune-tellers, and such sort of\nprofligate wretches; which it is as great an absurdity to decry, as it\nwould be to call him, who is a settled and reputable inhabitant, a\nstroller or wandering beggar.\n\nAgain; it is true that Mr. Campbell has relieved many that have been\nsupposed to have been bewitched, as is related and well attested in the\nbook of his life; but will any one from thence argue that he himself is\na real conjurer, or wizard, because he breaks the chains by which those\nunhappy wretches were bound? No, surely; for if that were the case, we\nmight then as well indict the physician who drives away a malignant\ndistemper, and roots out its latent cause by his mysterious skill in\nplants and drugs; or conclude that the judge, who condemns a criminal,\nis for the same reason guilty of the self-same crime for which the\noffender is so by him condemned. Persons who delight in such unnatural\nconclusions, must certainly be in love with the greatest absurdities,\nand must entirely abandon their natural reason before they can be\nbrought to conclude that the Prince of Darkness would assist men in\ndestroying his own power.\n\nThe best answer I can afford those men is silence; for if they will not\nargue upon the principles of reason, or be guided by her dictates, I\nthink them no more fit to be contended with in a rational and decent\nmanner than bedlamites, and such who are bereft of all understanding. A\nrod is the best argument for the back of a fool, and contempt the best\nusage that ought to be shown to every headstrong and ignorant opponent.\n\nIn a word, I know of no branch of Mr. Campbell's practice that bears the\nleast resemblance to those crimes mentioned in the foregoing Acts. That\nhe can and doth tell people's names at first sight, though perfect\nstrangers to him, is confessed by all who have made the curious inquiry\nat his hands; but what part of the Acts, I would fain know, is that\nagainst? Knowledge, and a clear sight into things not common, is not\nonly an allowable, but a commendable qualification; and whether this\nknowledge in him be inherent, accidental, or the result of a long study,\nthe case is still the same; since we are assured he doth it by no\nunlawful intelligence, or makes use of the same to any ill purpose, and\ntherefore is undoubtedly as lawful as to draw natural conclusions from\nright premises. Hard is the fate of any man to be ignorant, but much\nharder would his lot be if he were to be punished for being wise; and,\nlike Mr. Campbell, excelling others in this kind of knowledge.\n\nMuch more might be said in defence of Mr. Campbell and the art he\nprofesseth, but as the arguments which are brought against him by his\nenemies on the one hand, are trivial and ill-grounded, I therefore think\nthey deserve no farther refutation; so on the other, his innocency is\ntoo clear to require it.\n\nAfter having thus taken a survey of Mr. Campbell's acts, with regard to\ntheir legality according to the statutes and the laws of the nation\nwherein he lives, we will consider next, whether, according to the\nstated rules of casuistry, among the great divines eminent for their\nauthority, it may be lawful for Mr. Campbell to predict, or for good\nChristian persons to visit his house, and consult him about his\npredictions. I have upon this head examined all the learned casuists I\ncould meet with in ancient times, for I cannot meet, in my reading, with\nany moderns that treat thoroughly upon this case, or I should rather\nhave chosen them, because, perhaps, the second-sight was less known in\nthose ancient days than it has been since, and so might escape their\nnotice.\n\nMy design is first to give the reader a distinct summary of all that has\nbeen said of this matter, and to do it as succinctly and briefly as\npossible, and then to argue myself from what they agree upon as to this\nman's particular case.\n\nThat the reader may have recourse to the authors themselves, if they\nhave a curiosity, and find that I do not go about to impose upon their\njudgments, I will here tell the reader where he may find the whole\ncontents of the following little abstract of divinity and casuistry,\nbecause it would be a tedious piece of work to set down the words of\neach of them distinctly, and quote them every one round at the end of\ntheir several different sentences, which tend to the same meaning, but I\nwill strictly keep to the sense of them all; and I here give the reader\ntheir names, and the places, that he may consult them himself, if his\ninclination leads him to be so curious: Thomas Aquinas, iv. _Distin._\n34. _Quaestio._ 1. _Art. 3_; Bona, ii. _Dist. 7. Art. 2. Quaest._ 1;\nJoannes Major, iv. _Dist. 34. Quaest. 2_; Sylvester, _Verbo Malefico.\nQuaest. 8_; Rosella, _Verb Impedimentum_, xv. cap. 18; Tabiena, _Verb.\nImpedimentum_, 12 vers.; Cajetan, tom. ii. _Opusc. 12. de Malefic_;\nAlphonsus, _a Cast._ lib. x. _de Justa Haereticorum Punitione_, cap. 15;\nCosmus Philiarchus, _de Offic. Sacerdot_, p. 2. lib. iii. cap. 11;\nToletus, _in Summa._ lib. iv., cap. 16; Spineus, _in Tract. de\nStrigibus_; Petrus Binsfield, _in Tract. de Confessionibus Maleficorum_.\n\nThese divines have generally written upon impious arts of magic, which\nthey call by the name of divination; and this divination, as they term\nit, they divide into two kinds; the one, in which the devil is expressly\ninvoked, to teach hidden and occult things; the other, in which he is\ntacitly called upon to do the same. An express invocation is made by\nword or deed, by which a real pact is actually made with the devil, and\nthat is a sin that affects the death of the soul, according to the laws\nof theology, and ought to affect the death of the body, according to\ncivil and political laws. The tacit invocation of demons is then only,\nwhen a man busies himself so far with such persons, that it is meet and\njust that the devil should be permitted to have to do with him, though\nit was opposite to the intention of the man.\n\nBut then this express invocation is again subdivided into several\nspecies, according to the divers manners by which the devil instructs\nthese men.\n\nThe first is enchantment, which I need not describe, and of which I will\nspeak no more, because it is what everybody knows to be detestable, and\nnobody ought to know the art thereof.\n\nThe second is divination by dreams, when any instructions are expected\nfrom the devil by way of dream, which is a capital crime.\n\nThe third is called necromancy, which is, when by the use of blood and\nwriting, or speaking certain verses, the dead seem to rise again, and\nspeak and teach future things. For though the devil cannot recall a soul\ndeparted, yet he can, as some have thought, take the shape of the dead\ncorpse, himself actuate it by his subtlety, as if it was informed with a\nsoul. And some affirm, that by the divine permission the devil can do\nthis, and spake so in the case of Samuel and Saul. But divines of a more\nsolid genius attribute that power only to the Deity, and say, with\nreason, that it is beyond the devil's capacity. But it is certain this\nwas a divination done in dead animals by the use of their blood, and\ntherefore the word is derived from the Greek [Greek: nekron], which\nsignifies dead, and [Greek: Manthea], which signifies divination.\n\nThe fourth species is called divination by the Pythians, which was taken\nfrom Apollo, the first diviner, as Thomas Aquinas says in his _Secunda\nSecundae, Quaest. 95. Art. 3_.\n\nThe fifth is called geomancy, which is when the devil teaches anything\nby certain signs appearing in the earthly bodies, as in wood, iron, or\npolished stones, beryls, or glass.\n\nThe sixth is named hydromancy, as when a demon teaches anything by\nappearances in the water.\n\nThe seventh is styled aeromancy; and it is when he informs people of such\nthings by figures in the air.\n\nThe eighth is entituled pyromancy; that is, when it instructs people by\nforms appearing in the fire.\n\nThe ninth is termed aruspicy; which is when by signs appearing in the\nbowels of sacrificed animals the demon predicts at altars.\n\nThus far as to express divination, or invocation of the devil, which is\ndetestable; and the very consulting of persons that use such unlawful\nmeans is, according to the judgment of all casuists, the high road to\neternal damnation.\n\nNow as to tacit divination, or invocation of the devil, that is divided\ninto two subaltern kinds. The first kind is, when for the sake of\nknowing hidden things, they make use of a vain and superstitious\ndisposition existing in things to judge from; which disposition is not\nof a sufficient virtue to lead them to any real judgment. The second\nkind of tacit divination is, when that knowledge is sought by the\ndisposition of those things which men effect on purpose and of their own\naccord, in order to come by and acquire that knowledge.\n\nBoth these kinds of tacit divination are again subdivided into several\nspecies, as are particularly mentioned by St. Thomas, _Secunda Secundae,\nQuaest. 95, Art. 3_; Gregory de Valentine, tom. iii. _Disput. 6. Quaest.\n12. Puncto 2_; Toletus, _in Summa._ lib. iv. cap. 15; and Michael\nMedina, lib. ii. _de Recta in Deum fide: post Sanctum Augustinum_. lib.\nii. _de Doct. Christ._ cap. 19. _et seq_.\n\nThe first of these kinds of tacit divination contains under it the\nfollowing several species:--\n\nThe first species is called Genethliacal, which is when from the\nmovement or situation of the stars, men's nativities are calculated and\ninquired into so far, as that from such a search they pretend to deduce\nthe knowledge of human effects, and the contingent events that are to\nattend them. This Thomas Aquinas and Sixtus Quintus condemns; but I\nshall, with humility and submission to greater judgments, inquire\nhereafter into their reasons, and give my opinion why I think this no\nevil art; but I submit my opinion, if, after it is given, it is thought\nerroneous.\n\nThe second is augury, when anything is predicted from the chattering of\nbirds, or the voice of animals, and this may be either lawful or\nunlawful. If it comes from natural instinct, for brutes having only a\nsensitive soul, have their organs subject to the disposition of the\ngreater bodies in which they are contained, and principally of all to\nthe celestial bodies, his augury is not amiss. For if when crows are\nremarked to caw, as the vulgar phrase is, more than ordinary, it is,\njudging according to the instinct of their nature, if we expect rain,\nand we may reasonably depend upon it, we shall be right if we foretell\nrain to be at hand. But sometimes the devils actuate those brute animals\nto excite vain ideas in men, contrary to what the instinct of their\nnature compels them to. This is superstitious and unlawful, and forbid\nin holy writ.\n\nThe third is aruspicy, when from the flight of birds, or any other\nmotion of any animals whatsoever, persons pretend to have an insight and\na penetrative knowledge into occult and hidden matters.\n\nThe fourth consists in omens, when, for example, a man from any words\nwhich others may have spoken on purpose, or by accident, pretends to\ngather a way of looking into and knowing anything of futurity.\n\nThe fifth is chiromancy, which consists in making a pretence to the\nknowledge of future things by the figures and the lines of the hands;\nand if it be by consulting the shoulder-bones of any beast, it goes by\nthe name of spatulamancy.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAs the first kind of divination, by a tacit invocation of the devil is\ndivided into the five species above mentioned; so also is the second\nkind of tacit divination, or invocation of the devil, divided into two\nspecies by St. Thomas of Aquin.\n\n_Secunda Secundae, questione nonagesima quinta articulo tertio_, and too\ntedious to insert here.\n\nNow all these ways are by these divines counted wicked, and I set them\ndown that people may avoid them. For how many gipsies and pretenders to\nchiromancy have we in London and in the country? How many that are for\nhydromancy, that pretend in water to show men mighty mysteries? And how\nmany in geomancy, with their beryls and their glasses, that, if they are\nnot under the instigation of the devil, propagate the scandal at least\nby being cheats, and who ought to be punished to the utmost severity, as\nour English laws enact? Mr. Campbell, who hates, contemns, and abhores\nthese ways, ought, methinks, to be encouraged by their being restrained;\nand people of curious tempers, who always receive from him moral and\ngood instructions, which make them happy in the conduct of life, should\nbe animated in a public manner to consult him, in order to divert the\ncurious itch of their humours from consulting such wicked impostors, or\ndiabolical practisers, as too frequently abound in this nation, by\nreason of the inquisitive vulgar, who are more numerous in our climate,\nthan any I ever read of.\n\nBut now to argue the case of conscience with regard to his particular\npractice by way of the second-sight, whether, _in foro conscientiae_, it\nis lawful for him to follow it, or others to consult him? The divines\nabove mentioned having never had any notice of that faculty in all\nlikelihood, or if they had, never mentioned it, makes it a point more\ndifficult for me to discuss; but I think they have stated some cases, by\nthe making of which my premises, I can deduce from all the learned men I\nhave above quoted, a conclusion in favour of our Mr. Duncan Campbell,\nand of those who consult him; but my opinion shall be always corrected\nby those who are wiser than myself, and to whom I owe entire submission.\nI take leave to fix these premises from them first, and to form my\nargument from them afterwards in the following manner:--\n\nFirst, It is allowed by all these divines, that a knowledge which one\nmay have of future things within the order of nature, is and may be\nlawful.\n\nSecondly, They imply, that where justice is not violated, it is lawful\nboth to predict and to consult.\n\nThirdly, Many of them, but particularly Aureolus, puts this question:\nIs it lawful to go to one that deals in the black art, to persuade them\nto cure any innocent body that another necromancer or dealer in the\nblack art may have maliciously afflicted and tormented with pains? And\nsome of these casuists, particularly Aureolus, say, it is lawful on such\nan occasion to go to such a conjurer, because the end is not\nconjuration, but freeing a person from it.\n\nBut I take leave to dissent from these great men, and think they are in\na double mistake; first, in stating the question, and then in making\nsuch an answer, provided the question had been stated right.\n\nThe question is founded upon this supposition, which is passed by as\ngranted, viz., that one necromancer could release a person bewitched by\nanother, which is absolutely false; for it is against the nature of the\ndevil to be made an instrument to undo his own works of impiety. But\nadmitting and not granting this to be possible, and the question to be\nrightly stated, why still these casuists are out in their answer. It is\nlawful, reply they, because the end of going to the conjurers, is not\nconjuration, but freeing a good person from it; but the end is not the\npoint here to be considered, it is the medium, which is bad, that is to\nbe considered. It is by conjuration, according to their hypothesis, the\nother conjuration is to be dissolved; and does not the common rule, that\na man must not do evil that good may come of it, forbid this practice?\nAnd to speak my opinion plainly in that case, the friend that should\nconsult a conjurer for that end, would be only so kind to put his own\nsoul in danger of being guilty of hell torments, to relieve his\nafflicted friend from some bodily pains, which it would be a virtue in\nhim to suffer with patience and resignation.\n\nOthers, almost all divines, indeed, agree, that it is and may be lawful\nto go to a conjurer that torments another, and give him money not to\nafflict the patient any longer; because that is only feeing him to\ndesist from acting after his conjuring manner.\n\nThese premises thus settled, if we allow the second-sight to be inborn\nand inbred, and natural and common to some families, which is proved in\nthe book; and if all that Mr. Campbell has predicted in that\nsecond-sighted way terminates with moral advice, and the profit of the\nconsulter, and without the violation of justice to others, as the book\nshows all throughout; if he can relieve from witchcraft, as it seems\noath is to be had he can, which no one that deals in black art can do,\nwhy then I need not draw the conclusion, every reader will do it\nnaturally; they will avow all the strictest laws of casuistry and\nmorality to be in favour of Mr. Campbell and his consulters.\n\n\n\n\n VERSES\n\n TO MR. CAMPBELL,\n\n ON THE\n\n HISTORY OF HIS LIFE AND ADVENTURES.\n\n\n I court no muse amidst the tuneful throng,\n Thy genii, Campbell, shall inspire my song;\n The gentle summons every thought obeys,\n Wakens my soul, and tunes it all to lays.\n Among the thousand wonders thou hast shown,\n I, in a moment, am a poet grown;\n The rising images each other meet;\n Fall into verse, and dance away with feet:\n Now with thy Cupid and thy lamb I rove[A],\n Through ev'ry bloomy mead and fragrant grove.\n A thousand things I can myself divine,\n Thy little genii whispers them to mine;\n Beyond the grave I see thy deathless fame,\n The fair and young all singing Campbell's name;\n And Love himself--for Love and thou art friends,\n He joins the chorus, and his dart defends.\n What noisy talker can thy magic boast?\n Let those dull wretches try who scorn thee most.\n O, sacred silence! let me ever dwell,\n With the sweet muses, in thy lonely cell!\n Or else bind up, in thy eternal chain,\n Scandal and noise, and all that talk in vain.\n\n M. FOWKE.\n\n\n\n\n TO MRS. FOWKE,\n\n OCCASIONED BY THE FOREGOING VERSES\n\n Sweet nightingale! whose artful numbers show,\n Expressive eloquence to silent woe,\n Sing on, and in thy sex's power presume,\n By praising Campbell, to strike nations dumb.\n\n Whene'er you sing, silent, as he, they'll stand,\n Speak by their eyes, grow eloquent by hand:\n Tongues are confusion, but as learnt by you,\n All but Pythagoras's doctrine's true;\n Campbell and he taught silence--had he heard\n How much thy lays to silence were preferr'd,\n He had recanted from thy powerful song,\n And justly wish'd each organ had a tongue.\n\n But could he see, what you, in every line,\n Prophetic tell of Campbell's sight divine,\n Like Croesus's sons his loosened nerves must break,\n And ask the cause--or make his Campbell speak.\n\n G. S.\n\n * * * * *\n\n TO MR. CAMPBELL.\n\n Milton's immortal wish[B] you sure must feel,\n To point those fates which you to all reveal;\n If second-sight so much alarms mankind,\n What transports must it give to know thy mind?\n Thy book is but the shadow of thy worth,\n Like distant lights, which set some picture forth.\n But if the artist's skill we nearer trace,\n And strictly view each feature of the face,\n We find the charm that animates the whole,\n And leave the body to adore the soul.\n Milton's immortal wish you sure must feel,\n To point those fates which you to all reveal.\n\n I. PHILIPS.\n\n\n * * * * *\n\n THE PARALLEL\n\n TO MR. CAMPBELL.\n\n As Denham sings, mysterious 'twas, the same\n Should be the prophet's and the poet's name[C];\n But while the sons of genius join to praise,\n What thine presaging dictates to their lays,\n The things they sweetly sing, and you foreshow,\n Open the Sampson riddle to our view;\n Strong are thy prophecies, their numbers sweet,\n And with the lion combs of honey meet.\n\n Late on fantastic cabalistic schemes,\n Of waking whimsies, or of feverish dreams,\n New cobweb threads of poetry were spun,\n In gaudy snares, like flies, were witlings won,\n Their brains entangled, and our art undone.\n\n Pope, first, descended from a monkish race,\n Cheapens the charms of art, and daubs her face;\n From Gabalis[D] his mushroom fictions rise,\n Lop off his sylphs--and his Belinda[E] dies;\n The attending insects hover in the air,\n No longer than they're present is she fair;\n Some dart those eyebeams, which the youths beguile,\n And some sit conquering in a dimpling smile.\n Some pinch the tucker, and some smooth the smock.\n Some guard an upper, some a lower lock;\n But if these truant body-guards escape,\n In whip the gnomes and strait commit a rape;\n The curling honours of her head they seize,\n Hairs less in sight, or any hairs they please;\n But if to angry frowns her brow she bends,\n Upon her front some sullen gnome descends,\n Whisks through the furrows with its airy form,\n Bristles her eyebrows and 'directs the storm.'\n\n As wide from these are Addisonian themes,\n As angels' thoughts are from distempered dreams;\n Spenser and he, to image nature, knew,\n Like living persons, vice and virtue drew:\n At once instructed and well pleas'd we read,\n While in sweet morals these two poets lead,\n No less to wisdom than to wit pretence,\n They led by music, but they led to sense.\n\n But Pope scarce ever force to fancy joins,\n With dancing-master's feet equips his lines,\n Plumes empty fancy, and in tinsel shines.\n Or if by chance his judgment seems to lead,\n Where one poor moral faintly shows its head,\n 'Tis like a judge, that reverently drest,\n Peeps through the pageants at a lord may'r's feast;\n By starts he reasons, and seems wise by fits,\n Such wit's call'd wisdom, that has lost its wits.\n\n Unnam'd by me this witling bard had been,\n Had not the writer's caused the reader's sin;\n But less by comedies and lewd romances,\n Are ruin'd, less by French lascivious dances,\n Than by such rhymers' masqueraded fancies.\n\n From such the root of superstition grew,\n Whose old charms fertile, daily branch'd in new;\n From such chimeras first inspired, the fair\n The conj'rer's ring approach'd, and Jesuit's chair;\n Throng'd to the doors where magic rogues divin'd,\n And sold out _ignes fatui_ to the mind.\n\n Wizards and Jesuits differ but in name,\n Both demon's envoys, and their trade the same;\n Weak wills they lead, and vapour'd minds command,\n And play the game into each others' hand;\n Like spiritual jugglers at the cup and ball,\n Rising by foolish maids, that long to fall.\n Some into love they damn, and some they pray,\n For greensick minds are caught a different way;\n To the same end, tho' several paths, they run,\n Priests to undo and maids to be undone;\n Some blacker charms, some whiter spells cajole,\n As some lick wall and some devour a coal.\n Here ladies, strong in vapours, see men's faces\n Imprinted in the conjurer's dazzling glasses,\n There, when, in spring time, the too praying priest,\n Toasts, and does something better,--to the best\n A spouse is promised on next Baptist's[F] feast.\n First some young contrite rake's enjoined to marry,\n Lest--madam's forc'd to squeak for't--or, miscarry:\n In June, the lass does to the fields repair,\n Where good sir Domine just took the air.\n When, O strange wonder! near a plaintain root,\n She finds a coal--and so a spouse to boot.\n She longs to dream and to secure the sport\n That very day the youth design'd--must court,\n He does--she struck with rapture and delight.\n Bespeaks her fancy--strongly--dreams at night.\n The yielding fair, the ravish'd youth obtains,\n A maid she passes--so his child's free gains,\n He has the pleasure, yet is sav'd the pains.\n Thus when priest's wench--to cure the growing evil\n Poor St. John Baptist must forerun the devil.\n\n But if the ladies fall, at fall of leaf,\n Or in the winter--still there's fresh relief;\n Let her lace close four months, and if she can,\n St. Agnes[G] heals the breach and brings the man.\n Thus a lewd priest to vapour'd virgins cants,\n And into pimps reverts his vestal saints.\n\n O! dire effects of mask'd impiety!\n And shall they, Christian muse! have aids from thee;\n Wilt thou, like witty heathens, lewdly given,\n To a Gehenna metamorphose Heaven?\n Wilt thou?--O no--forbid th' unhallow'd song,\n Such profanations to Rome's bard belong.\n Let one, who gods and goddesses adores,\n Paint them like rakes and bullies, bawds, and whores.\n\n Our genii, Campbell, shall be all divine,\n Shall high o'er theirs as much distinguish'd shine,\n As o'er such priests or chiromancers, thine.\n Thine, which does future time's events command\n To leap to sight, and in thy presence stand;\n Thine, whose eyes glowing with a gifted ray,\n New roads of life o'er wisdom's Alps survey,\n And guide benighted travellers to day.\n Let me, for once, a daring prophet be,\n Mark from this hour--and poetry thoul't see\n Date a new era from thy book and thee;\n Thy book, where, thro' the stories, thou hast laid,\n All moral wisdom's to the mind convey'd;\n And thus far prophecies each page, that all\n Must rise by virtues, or by vices fall.\n\n Poets shall blush to see their wit outdone,\n Resume their reason and assert its throne,\n Shall fables still for virtue's sake commend;\n And wit the means, shall wisdom make its end.\n\n Who hopes to please, shall strive to please by pains,\n Shall gaining fame, earn hard whate'er he gains\n And Denham's morals join to Denham's strains.\n Here paint the Thames[H] 'when running to the sea\n Like mortal life to meet eternity.'\n There show both kings and subjects 'one excess,\n Makes both, by striving, to be greater, less.'\n Shall climb and sweat, and falling, climb up still,\n Before he gains the height of Cooper's Hill.\n\n In Windsor Forest, if some trifling grace\n Gives, at first blush, the whole a pleasing face,\n 'Tis wit, 'tis true; but then 'tis common-place.\n The landscape-writer branches out a wood,\n Then digging hard for't finds a silver flood.\n Here paints the woodcock quiv'ring in the air,\n And there, the bounding stag and quaking hare.\n Describes the pheasant's scarlet-circled eye,\n And next the slaught'ring gun that makes him die.\n From common epithets that fame derives,\n By which his most uncommon merit lives.\n 'Tis true! if finest notes alone could show,\n (Tun'd justly high or regularly low,)\n That we should fame to these mere vocals give,\n Pope more, than we can offer, should receive.\n For, when some gliding river is his theme,\n His lines run smoother than the smoothest stream;\n Not so when thro' the trees fierce Boreas blows,\n The period blust'ring with the tempest grows.\n But what fools periods read for periods' sake?\n Such chimes improve not heads, but make 'em ache;\n Tho' strict in cadence on the numbers rub,\n Their frothy substance is whip-syllabub;\n With most seraphic emptiness they roll,\n Sound without sense, and body without soul.\n\n Not such the bards that give you just applause,\n Each, from intrinsic worth, thy praises draws,\n Morals, in ev'ry page, where'er they look,\n They find divinely scatter'd thro' thy book:\n They find thee studious with praiseworthy strife,\n To smooth the future roads of human life,\n To help the weak, and to confirm the strong,\n Make our griefs vanish, and our bliss prolong,\n With Phineus' equal find thy large desert,\n And in thy praise would equal Milton's art.\n\n Some fools, we know, in spite of nature born,\n Would make thee theirs, as they are mankind's scorn,\n For still 'tis one of truth's unerring rules,\n No sage can rise without a host of fools.\n Coxcombs, by whose eternal din o'ercome,\n The wise in just revenge, might wish them dumb,\n Say on the world your dumbness you impose,\n And give you organs they deserve to lose.\n Impose, indeed, on all the world you would,\n If you but held your tongue, because you could;\n 'Tis hard to say, if keeping silence still,\n In one, who, could he speak, would speak with skill,\n Is worse, or talk in these, who talk so ill.\n Why on that tongue should purposed silence dwell,\n Whence every word would drop an oracle?\n More fools of thy known foresight make a jest,\n For all bate greatest gifts who share the least,\n (As Pope calls Dryden the often to the test[I])\n Such from thy pen, should Irwin's sentence[J] wait,\n And at the gallows own the judge of fate.\n Or, while with feeble impotence they rail,\n Write wonders on, and with the wise prevail.\n\n Sooner shall Denham cease to be renown'd,\n Or Pope for Denham's sense quit empty sound,\n To Addison's immortal heights shall rise,\n Or the dwarf reach him in his native skies.\n Sooner shall real gipsies grow most fair,\n Or false ones mighty truths like thine declare,\n Than these poor scandal-mongers hit their aim,\n And blemish thine or Curll's acknowledg'd fame.\n\n Great Nostradamus thus, his age advis'd,\n The mob his counsels jeer'd, some bards[K] despis'd\n Him still, neglecting these his genius fir'd,\n A king encourag'd, and the world admir'd;\n Greater (as times great tide increas'd) he grew,\n When distant ages proved what truths he knew;\n Thy nobler book a greater king received,\n Whence I predict, and claim to be believ'd,\n That by posterity, less fame shall be\n To Nostradamus granted, than to thee;\n Thee! whom the best of Kings does so defend,\n And (myself barring) the best bards commend.\n\n H. STANHOPE.\n\n Whitehall,\n June 6th, 1720.\n\n\n [A] See Mr. Campbell's Life, p. 43.\n\n\n [B] To see and tell\n Of things invisible to mortal sight,\n PARADISE LOST.\n\n [C] (Vates) See the Progress of Learning.\n\n [D] See the History of the Count de Gabalis, from whence he has taken\n the machinery of his Rape of the Lock.\n\n [E] Mrs. F--m--r.\n\n [F] See the Dedication of Mr. Campbell's Life.\n\n [G] See Mr. Campbell's Dedication.\n\n [H] See Cooper's Hill.\n\n [I] See many places of his notes on Homer.\n\n [J] See Mr. Campbell's Life, page 80.\n\n [K] Alluding to this verse, \"sed cum falsa Damus, nil nisi Nostra\n Damus.\"\n\n\n THE END OF DUNCAN CAMPBELL.\n\n * * * * *\n\n TRANSCRIBER NOTES:\n\n Punctuation corrected without note.\n\n Archaic spellings have been retained.\n\n The following corrections have been made:\n\n page iv: \"two\" changed to \"too\" (too long to dwell upon).\n\n page 8: \"dedelighted\" changed to \"delighted\" (however, delighted\n extremely in this way).\n\n page 13: \"off\" changed to \"of\" (night not be despaired of.).\n\n page 14: \"a\" added for continuity (for she that can dally with a\n heart).\n\n page 15: \"governer\" changed to \"governor\" (who is the governor of\n Uma).\n\n page 25: \"Willis\" changed to \"Wallis\" (An Extract from Dr.\n Wallis).\n\n page 36: \"hiting\" changed to \"hitting\" (that he seldom missed\n hitting).\n\n page 44: \"vension\" changed to \"venison\" (to bring a side of\n venison to me).\n\n page 47: \"be\" added for continuity (no demonstrative proof is to\n be had on either side).\n\n page 143: \"their\" changed to \"there\" (and left there alone).\n\n page 153: \"know\" changed to \"known\" (by persons of known credit).\n\n page 180: \"inbord\" changed to \"inborn\" (if we allow the\n second-sight to be inborn).\n\n page 180: \"onger\" changed to \"longer\" (not to afflict the patient\n any longer).\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n
","title":"The history of the life and adventures of Mr. Duncan Campbell : $b a gentleman, who, tho' deaf and dumb, writes down any stranger's name at first sight, with their future contingencies of fortune","tradition":"ritual-magic","translated_text":null,"word_count":81622}