laws of her country denied the services of an advocate, baffled by the noisy babble around her in her efforts to speak a word on behalf of her innocence. The very Bishop who examined her was under the influence of the legal superstition that every accused person was the enemy of the King. He had heard, he said, that the father of the boy Robinson had offered, for forty shillings, to withdraw his charge against Frances Dicconson, “but such evidence being, as the lawyers speak, against the King,” he “thought it not meet without further authority to examine.”’
The Bishop, however, like the judge, was dissatisfied with the evidence; and the accused persons were eventually sent up to London, where they were examined by the King’s physicians, the Bishops, the Privy Council, and by King Charles himself. Some medical men and midwives reported that Margaret Johnson was deceived in her idea that she bore on her body a sign or mark that her blood had been sucked. Doubts as to the truth of the boy Robinson’s story being freely entertained, he was separated from his father, and he then revealed the whole invention to the King’s coachman. He had heard stories told of witches and their doings, and out of these had concocted his ghastly fiction to save himself a whipping for having neglected to bring home his mother’s cows. His father, perceiving at once how much might be made out of the tale, took it up and expanded it; manipulated it so as to serve his feelings of revenge or avarice, and then taught the boy how to repeat the enlarged and improved version. It was all a lie—from beginning to end. The day on which he pretended to have been carried to the Witches’ Sabbath at the Hoar-Stones, he was a mile distant, gathering plums in a farmer’s orchard. The accused were then admitted to the King’s presence, and assured that their lives were safe. Further than this Charles seems to have been unable to go; for as late as 1636 these innocent and ill-treated persons were still lying in Lancaster Castle. It is satisfactory to state, however, that both the boy Robinson and his father were thrown into prison.
Fresh cases of witchcraft sprang up in the Pendle district, and early in 1636 four more women were condemned to death at the Lancaster Assizes. Bishop Bridgman, who was again directed to make inquiries, found that two of them had died in gaol, and that of the two others, one had been convicted on a madman’s evidence, and that of a woman of ill fame; while the only proof alleged against the other was that a fleshy excrescence of the size of a hazel-nut grew on her right ear, and the end of it, being bloody, was supposed to have been sucked by a familiar spirit. The two women seem to have been pardoned; but, as in the former case, public opinion set too strongly against them to admit of their being released.
THE WITCHES OF SALMESBURY.
The singular circumstances connected with the supposed outbreak of witchcraft in Pendle Forest have, to a great extent, obscured the strange case of the witches of Salmesbury, though it presents several features worthy of consideration.
Three persons were accused—Jennet Bierley, Ellen Bierley, and Jane Southworth—and their supposed victim was one Grace Sowerbutts. In the language of Mr. Thomas Potts, they were led into error by ‘a subtle practice and conspiracy of a seminary priest, or Jesuit, whereof this county of Lancaster hath good store, who by reason of the general entertainment they find, and great maintenance they have, resort hither, being far from the eye of Justice, and, therefore, procul a fulmine.’ At their trial, which took place before Mr. Justice Bromley at Lancaster, on Wednesday, August 19, the evidence of Grace Sowerbutts was to the following effect:
That for the space of some years past (at the time of the trial she was only fourteen) she had been haunted and vexed by four women, namely, Jennet Bierley, her grandmother, Ellen Bierley, wife to Henry Bierley, Jane Southworth, and a certain Old Dorwife. Lately, these four women drew her by the hair of her head, and laid her on the top of a hay-mow in the said Henry Bierley’s barn. Not long after, Jennet Bierley met her near her house, first appearing in her own likeness, and after that as a black dog, and when she, Grace Sowerbutts, went over a stile, she picked her off. However, she was not hurt, and, springing to her feet, she continued her way to her aunt’s at Osbaldeston. That evening she told her father what had occurred. On Saturday, April 4, going towards Salmesbury Butt to meet her mother, she fell in, at a place called the Two Briggs, with Jennet Bierley, first in her own shape, and afterwards in the likeness of a two-legged black dog; and this dog kept close by her side until they came to a pool of water, when it spake, and endeavoured to persuade her to drown herself therein, saying it was a fair and an easy death. Whereupon, she thought there came to her one in a white sheet, and carried her away from the pool, and in a short space of time both the white thing and the black dog departed; but after Grace had crossed two or three fields, the black dog re-appeared, and conveyed her into Hugh Walshman’s barn close at hand, laid her upon the floor, covered her with straw on her body and hay on her head, and lay down on the top of the straw—for how long a time Grace was unable to determine; because, she said, her speech and senses were taken from her. When she recovered her consciousness, she was lying on a bed in Walshman’s house, having been removed thither by some friends who had found her in the barn within a few hours of her having been taken there. As it was Monday night when she came to her senses, she had been in her trance or swoon, according to her marvellous story, for about forty-eight hours.
On the following day, Tuesday, her parents fetched her home; but at the Two Briggs Jennet and Ellen Bierley appeared in their own shapes, and she fell down in another trance, remaining unable to speak or walk until the following Friday.
All this was remarkable enough, but Grace Sowerbutts—or the person who had tutored her—felt it was not sufficiently grim or gruesome to make much impression on a Lancashire jury, accustomed in witch trials to much more harrowing details. She proceeded, therefore, to recall an incident of a more attractive character. A good while, she said, before the trance business occurred, she accompanied her aunt, Ellen Bierley, and her grandmother, Jennet Bierley, to the house of one Thomas Walshman. It was night, and all the household were asleep, but the doors flew open, and the unexpected visitors entered. Grace and Ellen Bierley remained below, while Jennet made her way to the sleeping-room of Thomas Walshman and his wife, and thence brought a little child, which, as Grace supposed, must have been in bed with its father and mother. Having thrust a nail into its navel, she afterwards inserted a quill, and sucked for a good while(!); then replaced the child with its parents, who, of course, had never roused from their sleep. The child did not cry when it was thus abused, but thenceforth languished, and soon afterwards died. And on the night after its burial, the said Jennet and Ellen Bierley, taking Grace Sowerbutts with them, went to Salmesbury churchyard, took up the body, and carried it to Jennet’s house, where a portion of it was boiled in a pot, and a portion broiled on the coals. Of both portions Jennet and Ellen partook, and would have had Grace join them in the ghoul-like repast, but she refused. Afterwards Jennet and Ellen seethed the bones in a pot, and with the fat that came from them said they would anoint their bodies, so that they might sometimes change themselves into other shapes.
The next story told by this abandoned girl is too foul and coarse for these pages, and we pass on to the conclusion of her evidence. On a certain occasion, she said, Jane Southworth, a widow, met her at the door of her father’s house, carried her to the loft, and laid her upon the floor, where she was found by her father unconscious, and unconscious she remained till the next day. The widow Southworth then visited her again, took her out of bed, and placed her upon the top of a hayrick, three or four yards from the ground. She was discovered in this position by a neighbour’s wife, and laid in her bed again, but remained speechless and senseless as before for two or three days. A week or so after her recovery, Jane Southworth paid her a third visit, took her away from her home, and laid her in a ditch near the house, with her face downwards. The usual process followed: she was discovered and put to bed, but continued unconscious—this time, however, only for a day and a night. And, further, on the Tuesday before the trial, the said Jane Southworth came again to her father’s house, took her and carried her into the barn, and thrust her head amongst ‘a company of boards’ which were standing there, where she was soon afterwards found, and, being again placed in a bed, remained in her old fit until the Thursday night following.
After Grace Sowerbutts had finished her evidence, Thomas Walshman was called, who proved that his child died when about a year old, but of what disease he knew not; and that Grace Sowerbutts had been found in his father’s