at the time it is used.’
But this was not the belief of the Roman Catholic Church of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, as we may read in Boguet13: ‘But it was a frightful thing to hear the Demon cry and yell when the priest had pronounced the holy name of Jesus, and when he invoked the assistance of the holy Virgin Mary, or when he approached the Demoniac with the Cross, or when he sprinkled him with holy-water, or made him drink some. For he said sometimes that they were burning him, and at others, that they had given him enough holy-water, and that if they persisted in throwing any more over him, he would not go out, and would torment Roland’s body still further.’
But, before the Church took up this good work, it would seem that there were more or less effective agents for the purpose in existence, for Reginald Scot tells us, in ‘A Discourse upon Diuels and Spirits,’ chap. xv.: ‘But when Saule was releeued with the sound of the harpe, they say that the departure of the diuell was by meanes of the signe of the Crosse imprinted in Dauid’s veines. Whereby we maie see how absurd the imaginations and deuises of men are, when they speake according to their own fansies, without warrant of the word of God. But methinks it is verie absurd that Josephus affirmeth: to wit, that the diuell should be thrust out of anie man by virtue of a root. And as vaine it is that Ælianus writeth of the magicall herbe Cynospastus, otherwise called Aglaphotis; which is all one with Salomon’s root, named Baaros, as hauing force to driue out anie diuell from a man possessed.’
Nowadays we put some of those possessed with devils into prison, and we endeavour to purify them by work, diet, good counsel, and the absence of temptations—a course which is sometimes, but not always, effective; but, then, the character of devils has certainly changed during the last four or five centuries.
The reading of cases of possession is somewhat dreary work, and some are evidently catch-pennies, extremely goody-goody, consisting of long-winded theological discussions between the possessed and the Devil, in which the former invariably gets the best of the argument, so that I shall not tarry long on this branch of my subject, giving only three or four cases in illustration.
‘A TRUE NARRATION OF THE STRANGE AND GRIEVOUS VEXATION BY THE DEVIL OF 7 PERSONS IN LANCASHIRE, BY JOHN DARRELL, MINISTER OF THE WORD OF GOD. 1600.
‘At Cleworth in Lancashire, within the parish of Leigh, there dweleth one Nicholas Starchie, gentleman, who, having only two children, it went thus with them, in the beginning of februari, 1594: first, Anne, his daughter, being 9 Yeares olde, was taken with a dumpish and heauie countenaunce, and with a certaine fearefull starting and pulling together of her body; about a weeke after, Iohn Starchie, his sonne, of the age of 10 yeares, as he was going to the schoole, was compelled to shout, neither was able to staie himself. After, they waxed worse and worse, falling often into extreame fits, M. Starchie seeking for remedy, after 9 or 10 weekes, heard of one, Edmund Hartlay, a coniurer, to whom he repaired, made knowne his greife, and with large profers craued his helpe. Hartlay comes, and, after he had used certaine popish charmes and hearbs, by degrees the children were at quiet, and so continued, seeming to be well almost a yeare and halfe, all which time Hartlay came often to visit them. At length, he fained as though he would have gone into another country, but wether, M. Starchie might not know. When he begane to goe his way, Iohn fell of bleedinge; then, presently, he was sent for again, who affirmed that if he had bene 40 rodes off, no man could have stanched him, and thus it fell out at other times.
‘M. Starchie hereupon fearing lest his children would be troubled in his absence, and he uncertaine where to find him, offered to giue him his table to tarie with them, and so he did for a certain space; but, after couenaunted with him to giue him an annuel pension of 40s. for his assistance in time of neede; which pension was assured him in writing, and began at Michael’s day 1598; wherewith Hartlay not being satisfied, desiered more, an house and ground: whereunto, because M. Starchie would not accord, he threatned in a fume (M. Starchie being absent, but in the hearing of diuers), that, if he would not fulfil his minde, he would make such a shout as never was at Cleworth; and so ther was indeed, not only upon the day, and at the instant of their dispossession, but also the day before: when 7 of them, both in the afternoone and in the evening, sent forth such a strange, supernaturall, and fearfull noyse, or loud whupping,14 as the like, undoubtedly, was neuer hard at Cleworth, nor it, I think, in England. This he said in September 1596, and on the 17 day of Nouember folowing, they both began to be troubled againe after so long rest.
‘On a certaine time Hartlay went with M. Starchie to his father’s house in Whally parishe, where he was tormented sore all night. The next day, beinge recouered, he went into a little wood, not farr from the house, where he maide a circle about a yarde and halfe wyde, deviding it into 4 partes, making a crosse at euery Diuision; and when he had finished his worke, he came to M. Starchie, and desiered him to go and tread out the circle, saying I may not treade it out my selfe; and further, I will meete with them that went about my death. When M. Starchie saw this wreched dealing of his, and his children still molested, he waxed wearie of him, howbeit he sought other helpe for his children.
‘Then he tooke his sonnes water to a phisitian in Manchester, who sawe no signe of sicknes; after, he went to Doctor Dee, the warden of Manchester, whose helpe he requested, but he utterly refused, sayinge he would not meddle, and aduised him that, settinge aside all other helpe, he should call for some godlye preachers, with whom he should consult concerning a Publicke or Privat fast. He also procured Hartlay to come before him, whom he so sharply reproved, and straitly examined, that the children had more ease for 3 weekes space after; and this was upon the 8 of December.
‘About Newyeare’s Day, the children (being in good case, as it seemed) went to Manchester, invited to a kinsman’s house, whom Hartlay accompanied as their overseer, and in their returne homewardes, they were desirous to see Doctor Dee, according to their promise, and his request. But Hartlay withstood them, and, because they went to his house, notwithstanding his prohibition, he told them, with an angri loke, that it had bene better for them not to haue chaunged an old frend for a new, with other menacinge speaches, and so went before them in a rage, and neuer came neare them all the way home.
‘Upon the Tuseday after newyeares day Ianuarie 4. Iohn Starchie was readinge, somethinge gave him such a blowe on the necke, that he was soddenlye stricken downe with an horrible scryke,15 saying that Satan had broken his necke and laye tormented pitifully for the space of two howres. The same day, at night, being in bed, he lept out on the sudden, with a terrible outcry, that amased all the familye. Then was he tossed and tumbled a long tyme, was very feirce like a mad-man, or a mad dogge, snacted at and bite euery one that he layde hold on, with his teethe, not spareing his mother, smiting the next, and hurling Bed-staues, Pillowes, or whatsoeuer at them, and into the fire. From this day forwarde he had no great ease until the day of his deliuerance.
‘His sister Anne likewise began againe to be troubled, and 3 other yong children in the house, of whom M. Starchie had the education and tuition, with there portiones committed unto him by ther parentes. The first was Margaret Hardman, of the age of 14 yeares, the 2. Elizabeth her sister of 10 yeares age, and the 3. Ellinor Holland of 12 yeares. The same day, at night, Hartlay himself, was also tormented, and the next day in like manner, where many held him, among whom one Margaret Byrom of Salford, by Manchester 33 yeares olde, a poore kinswoman of Mistris Starchies, was one; who beinge come thither to make merrie, was requested to sit downe behind Hartlay to hold him, and did so; but, when he was out of his fit, she endeuored to arise, was so benumb and giddi, that shee could not stand, yet, being lifted up shee stroue to goe, but being unable, fell downe, and was sencelesse, and very unruly.
‘Which, Hartlay seeinge, saide, I feare I haue done her harme. Then she nicknamed and taunted all that were present, though she