Givanni, Givanni, 'tis very strange,In the world to see so sudden a change;
and then gathered up and vanished. This account Sir William Dugdale had from the Bishop of Edinburgh; and this account he hath writ in a book of Miscellanies, which is now reposited, with other books of his, in the Museum at Oxford.
Thus the reader sees what great authorities may be produced to prove that wonderful and true predictions have been delivered by many persons gifted with the second-sight. The most learned men in almost all nations, who are not in all likelihood deceived themselves; the most celebrated and authentic historians, and some divines in England, who, it is not to be thought, have combined together and made it their business to obtrude upon us falsehoods; persons of all ranks, from the highest to the lowest, in Scotland, who, it would be even madness to think would join in a confederacy to impose tricks upon us, and to persuade us to the greatest of impostures as solemn truths delivered from their own mouths; all these, I say, have unanimously, and, as it were, with one voice, asserted, repeated, and confirmed to us, that there have been at all times, and in many different nations, and that still there are persons, who, possessed with the gift of a second sight, predict things that wonderfully come to pass;and seem to merit very little less than the name of prophets for their miraculous discoveries. Now, if any man should come, and without giving the least manner of reason for it (for there is no reason to be given against such assertions), declare his disbelief of all these authentic, though strange accounts, can he with reason imagine that his incredulity shall pass for a token of wisdom? Shall his obstinacy confute the learned? Shall his want of faith be thought justly to give the lie to so many persons of the highest honour and quality, and of the most undoubted integrity? In fine, shall his infidelity, by a reverse kind of power to that which is attributed to the philosopher's stone, be able to change the nature of things, turn and transmute truth into falsehood, and make a downright plain matter of fact to be no more than a chimera, or anens rationis? And shall a manifest experience be so easily exploded?
Taking it, therefore, for granted, that no modest man whatsoever, though never so hard of belief, which is certainly as great a weakness as that of too much credulity, will make bold openly to declare his disbelief of things so well attested; and taking it much more for granted still, that it is impossible for any man of common sense to have the front of declaring his disbelief of them in such a manner as to urge it for an argument and a reason why others should disbelieve them too; taking this, I say, as I think I very well may, for granted, I think there remains nothing farther for me to offer, before I conclude this chapter, except a few remarks as to the similitude there is between those actions which I have related above to have been performed by Mr. Campbell, and these actions which so many learned, ingenious, and noble authors, as I have just now quoted, have asserted to have been performed by persons whom they knew to be gifted with the second-sight.
As to what is said several pages above, concerning Duncan Campbell when a boy at Edinburgh, that he even told his little companions who would have success at their little matches when they played at marbles, and that he informed a great gamester there, whose name I have disguised under that of Count Cog, what times he should choose to play if he would win, as ludicrous as it may have appeared to be, and as much as it may have seemed to my readers to carry with it nothing better than the face of invention and the air offiction, yet if they will be at the pains of comparing that passage of Duncan Campbell's with the account given in this chapter from the mouth of Sir Norman Macleod, concerning a man, who, though he never played at tables in his life, instructed a skilful gamester, when he was at a stand, to place one of his men right, upon which the whole game depended, which the ignorant fellow, when asked how he came to do it, said he was directed to by the spirit Brownie; whoever, I say, will be at the pains of comparing these passages together, will find they bear a very near resemblance, and that the way we may most reasonably account for Duncan Campbell's prediction when he was a boy, must be, that he was at that time directed by his little genius or familiar spirit, which I described in the precedent pages, as this fellow was by the spirit Brownie, according to Sir Norman Macleod's assertion; which spirit Brownie, as Mr. Martin, a very good and credited writer, assures us, in his History of the Western Islands, dedicated to the late Prince George of Denmark, is a spirit usually seen all over that country.
If the reader recollects, he will remember likewise, that in the little discourse which I mentioned to have been held between me and this Duncan Campbell, when a boy, concerning his little genius, I there say, the boy signified to me that he smelt venison, and was sure that some one would come to his mother's house shortly after; accordingly I came thither that morning from the death of a deer, and ordered a part of it to be brought after me to her house. Now Mr. Martin's twelfth observation about the second-sight, in this chapter, clears it plainly up that this knowledge in the boy proceeded from the gift of second-sight. Not to give the reader too often the trouble of looking back in order to judge of the truth of what I say, I will here repeat that observation, which is as follows: Things are also foretold by smelling sometimes: for example, fish or flesh is frequently smelt in the fire, when, at the same time, neither of the two are in the house, or, in any probability, like to be had in it for some weeks or months. This smell several persons have, who are, endued with the second-sight, and it is always accomplished soon after.
But I will here omit any farther remarks by way of accounting how he compassed his predictions when a boy, either by the intervention of his genius, or the gift of asecond-sight; and examine how nearly those things, which I have related to have been done by him in his more advanced years, when he took up the profession of a predictor, in London, correspond with the accounts given us in this chapter about a second-sight, and how near a resemblance the things done by him bear to those things that are so well attested to have been performed by others, through the efficacious power of this wonderful faculty.
First, then, if we have a mind to make a tolerable guess which way Mr. Campbell came acquainted that the death of the beautiful young lady, Miss W—lw—d was so near at hand, and that, though she was so universally admired she would die unmarried, the accounts given of other second-sighted persons in the like cases, will put us in the most probable way of guessing right. This is explained by the seventh observation in this chapter, where it is said from Mr. Martin, that when a shroud is perceived about one, it is a sure prognostic of death; the time is judged according to the height of it, about the person; for if it be not seen above the middle, death is not to be expected for the space of a year or longer, but as it comes nearer to the head it is expected sooner; if to the very head, it is concluded to be at hand within a few days, if not hours. Of this we have an example, of which Mr. Martin was an eye-witness, concerning the death of his own acquaintance; but he did not in the least regard it, till the death of the person, about the time foretold, confirmed to him the certainty of the prediction.
Secondly, as to the ignominious death that Irwin came to, and which he predicted to his mother so long before, when she was in flourishing circumstances, and when there was no appearance that any of her children should be brought to a beggarly condition, and learn among base gangs of company to thieve, and be carried to the gallows; the story told in this chapter of some of the inhabitants of Harris, sailing round the Isle of Skye, and seeing the apparition of two men hanging by the ropes on the mast of their vessel, and when they came to the opposite mainland, finding two criminals just sentenced to death by Sir Donald Macdonald, and seeing their own very mast and ropes made choice of for their execution, clears up the manner how Mr. Campbell might predict this of Irwin likewise, by the force of the second-sight.
Thirdly, as to Mr. Campbell's telling Christallina the belle and chief toast of the court, and Urbana the reigning beauty of the city, that they should shortly be married, and who were to be their husbands, it is a thing he has done almost every day in his life to one woman or other, that comes to consult him about the man she is to be married to; the manner he probably takes in doing this may be likewise explained by the foregoing story in this chapter about the servants, who said they saw three men standing by the left hand of their master's daughter; and that he that was nearest would marry her first, whom they plainly and exactly described, though they had never seen him but in their vision, as appeared afterwards. For within some months after, the very man described did come to the house, and did marry her. Vide the eighth observation of the second-sight.
Fourthly, as to the predictions delivered by Mr. Campbell to the merchant, which are set down at length in the foregoing chapter, I know no better way at guessing the manner how the second-sight operated in him at that time, than by comparing them to these two instances, which I briefly repeat because they are set down at length before, in this chapter. And first it may be asked, how did the second-sight operate in Mr. Campbell, when it gave him to know that the merchant's ships, which repeated intelligences had in appearance confirmed to be lost, were at that time safe, and would return securely home into the harbour designed? The best way of accounting for it, that I know, is by the story that Sir Norman Macleod is above affirmed to have told with his own mouth, concerning a servant of his, who rightly foretold his returning home and landing on the Isle of Bernera one night, where his residence is, when there was very little or no likelihood of it, because of the darkness of the night, and the danger of coming through the rocks that lie round the isle. When Sir Norman examined him about it, he answered that he knew it by a vision of the spirit Brownie; and hence it may be the most probably conjectured that Mr. Campbell's knowledge of the merchant's ships being safe came from a vision of his particular genius, or familiar spirit, which we spoke of before. What I have already instanced in, is, I think, sufficient with regard to the wonderful things which Mr. Campbell has performed, either by the intervention of a genius, or the power of a second-sight. But as hehas frequently done a great many amazing performances, which seem to be of such a nature that they can't be well and clearly explained to have been done either by the intervention of his familiar spirit and genius, or by the power of the second-sighted faculty, we must have recourse to the third means by which only such predictions and practises can be compassed, before we expound these new mysteries, which appear like incredible riddles, and enigmas at the first; and this third means which we must have recourse to for expounding these strange acts of his, is a due consideration of the force and power of natural magic, which, together with a narrative of the acts, which he seems magically to bring about, will be the subject of the following chapter.
But before we proceed to our disquisitions concerning the power and efficacy of natural magic, and examine what mysterious operations may be brought about and compassed by magical practises, and before we take a farther survey of what Mr. Campbell has performed in this kind, that relates to his profession and the public part of his life, which concerns other people as well as himself; I shall here relate some singular adventures that he passed through in his private life, and which regard only his own person. In order to this, I must return back to the year 1702, about which time some unaccountable turns of fortune attended him in his own private capacity, which must be very surprising and entertaining to my readers, when they find a man, whose foresight was always so great a help and assistance to others, who consulted him in their own future affairs, helpless, as it has been an observation concerning all such men in the account of the second-sight, and blind in his own future affairs, tossed up and down by inevitable and spiteful accidents of fortune, and made the may-game of chance and hazard, as if that wayward and inconstant goddess, was resolved to punish him, when she catched him on the blind side, for having such a quick insight and penetrating faculty in other people's matters, and scrutinizing too narrowly into her mysteries, and so sometimes preventing those fatal intentions of hers, into which she would fain lead many mortals hood-winked, and before they knew where they were. In this light, these mighty and famous seers seem to be born for the benefit and felicity of others, but at the same time to be born to unhappiness themselves. And certainly, inasmuch as we consider them as useful and beneficial often, but always satisfactory to persons who are curious in their enquiries about their fortunes, it will be natural to those of us who have the least share of generosity in our minds, to yield our pity and compassion to them, when they are remarkably unfortunate themselves; especially when that calamity seems more particularly to light upon them for their ability, and endeavour to consult the good fortune of other folks.
About the above-mentioned year, 1702, Duncan Campbell grew a little tired of his profession; such a multitude of followers troubled him, several of whom were wild youths, and came to banter him, and many more too inquisitive females to tease him with endless impertinences, and who, the more he told them, had still the more to ask, and whose curiosity was never to be satisfied: and besides this, he was so much envied, and had so many malicious artifices daily practised against him, that he resolved to leave off his profession. He had, I know, followed it pretty closely from the time I first saw him in London, which was, I think, in the beginning of the year 1698, till the year 1702, with very good success; and in those few years he had got together a pretty round sum of money. Our young seer was now at man's estate, and had learned the notion that he was to be his own governor, so far as to be his own counsellor too in what road of life he was to take, and this consideration no doubt worked with a deeper impression on his mind, than it usually does on others that are in the same blossom and pride of manhood, because it might appear more natural for him to believe that he had a sufficient ability to be his own proper adviser, who had given so many others, and some more aged than himself, counsel, with very good success. Now every experienced person knows, that when manhood is yet green, it is still in the same dangerous condition as a young plant, which is liable to be warped by a thousand cross fortuitous accidents, if good measures be not taken to support it against all the contingent shocks it may meet with from the weather or otherwise. Now, it was his misfortune to be made averse to business, which he loved before, byhaving too much of it, and to be so soured by meeting with numerous perplexities and malicious rubs laid in his way by invidious people, (who are the useless and injurious busy-bodies that always repine at the good of others, and rejoice to do harm to the diligent and assiduous, though they reap no profit by it themselves), that he was disgusted and deterred entirely from the prosecution of a profession by which he got not only a competent but a copious and plentiful subsistence. Nay, indeed, this was another mischief arising to him from his having so much business, that he had got money enough to leave it off, when the perplexities of it had made him willing to do so, and to live very comfortably and handsomely, like a gentleman, without it, for a time; and we know the youngest men are not wont to look the farthest before them, in matters that concern their own welfare. Now, inasmuch as he had thus taken a disgust to business and application, and was surfeited, as I may say, with the perplexities of it, it must be as natural for him, we know, to search for repose in the contrary extreme, viz., recreation and idleness, as it is for a man to seek rest after toil, to sleep after a day's labour, or to sit down after a long and tiresome walk. But there are two very distinct sorts of idleness, and two very different kinds of recreation; there is a shameful idleness which is no better than downright sloth; and there is a splendid kind of indolence, where a man having taken an aversion to the wearisomeness of a business which properly belongs to him, neglects not however to employ his thoughts, when they are vacant from what they ought more chiefly to be about, in other matters not entirely unprofitable in life, the exercise of which he finds he can follow with more abundant ease and satisfaction. There are some sorts of recreations, too, that are mean, sordid, and base; others that are very innocent, though very diverting, and that will give one the very next most valuable qualifications of a gentleman, after those which are obtained by a more serious application of the mind. The idea which I have already given my readers of our Duncan Campbell, will easily make them judge, before I tell them, which way, in these two ways, his genius would naturally lead him; and that, when he grew an idle man, he would rather indulge himself with applying his mind to the shining trifles of life, than be wholly slothful and inactive; and that when he diverted himself he wouldnot do it after a sordid, base manner, as having a better taste and a relish for good company; but that his recreations would still be the recreations of a gentleman. And just, accordingly, as my readers would naturally judge beforehand in his case, so it really happened. The moment he shook off business, and dismissed the thoughts of it, his genius led him to a very gallant way of life; in his lodgings, in his entertainments, in paying and receiving visits, in coffee-houses, in taverns, in fencing-schools, in balls, and other public assemblies, in all ways, in fine, both at home and abroad, Duncan Campbell was a well-comported and civil fine gentleman; he was a man of pleasure, and nothing of the man of business appeared about him. But a gentleman's life, without a gentleman's estate, however shining and pleasant it may be for a time, will certainly end in sorrow, if not in infamy; and comparing life, as moralists do, to a day, one may safely pronounce this truth to all the splendid idlers I have mentioned, that if they have sunshiny weather till noon, yet the afternoon of their life will be very stormy, rainy and uncomfortable, and perhaps just at the end of their journey, to carry on the metaphor throughout, close in the darkest kind of night. Of this, as I was a man of years and more experienced in the world than he, I took upon me to forewarn Mr. Campbell, as soon as I perceived the first dangerous fit of this elegant idleness had seized him. But when will young men, by so much the more headstrong as they have less of the beard, be guided and brought to learn! and when shall we see that happy age, in which the grey heads of old men shall be clapped upon the shoulders of youth! I told him, that in this one thing he ought to consult me, and acknowledge me to be a true prophet, if I told him the end of the seeming merry steps in life he was now taking, would infallibly bring him to a labyrinth of difficulties, out of which if he extricated himself at all, he would at least find it a laborious piece of work. His taste had been already vitiated with the sweets which lay at the top of the bitter draught of fortune, and my honest rugged counsel came too late to prevail, when his fancy had decoyed and debauched his judgment, and carried it over into another interest. I remember I writ down to him the moral story, where vicious Pleasure and Virtue are pictured by the philosopher to appear before Hercules, to court him into two several paths. I told himmore particularly, since he had not an estate to go through with the gentlemanly life, as he called it, that, if he followed the alluring pleasures which endeavoured to tempt Hercules, he would involve himself at last in a whole heap of miseries, out of which it would be more than an Herculean labour for him to disentangle himself again. If he had been a man that could have ever heard with either, I would have told the reader in a very familiar idiom, that he turned the deaf ear to me; for he did not mind one syllable or tittle of the prescriptions I set down for him, no more than if he had never read them; but, varying the phrase a little, I may say at least, when he should have looked upon my counsel with all the eyes he had, he turned the blind side upon it. I was resolved to make use of the revenge natural to a man of years, and therefore applied that reproachful proverb to him, which we ancients delight much in making use of to youths that follow their own false and hot imaginations, and will not heed the cooler dictates of age, experience, and wisdom. Accordingly, I wrote down to him these words, and left him in a seeming passion: I am very well assured, young man, you think me that am old, to be a fool; but I that am old, absolutely know you, who are a young fellow, to be a downright fool, and so I leave you to follow your own ways, till sad and woful experience teaches you to know it your own self, and makes you come to me to own it of your own accord. As I was going away, after this tart admonition and severe reprimand, I had a mind to observe his countenance, and I saw him smile, which I rightly construed to be done in contempt of the advice of age, and in the gaiety and fulness of conceit, which youth entertains of its own fond opinions and hair-brained rash resolves. He was got into the company of a very pretty set of gentlemen, whose fortunes were far superior to his; but he followed the same genteel exercises, as fencing, &c., and made one at all their public entertainments; and so being at an equal expense with those who could well afford to spend what they did out of their estates, he went on very pleasantly for a time, still spending and never getting, without ever considering that it must, by inevitable consequence, fall to his lot at last to be entirely reduced to a state of indigence and want. And what commonly heightens the misfortune of such men, and so of all gentlemen's younger brothers, who live upon the ready money that is given themfor their portions, is, that the prosperity they live in for a time gains them credit enough just to bring them in debt, and render them more miserable than those very wretches who never had either any money or credit at all. They run themselves into debt out of shame, and to put off the evil day of appearing ruined men as long as they can, and then, when their tempers are soured by adversity, they grow tired of their own lives; and then, in a quarrel, they or some other gentleman, may be, is run through, or else being hunted by bailiffs, they exercise their swords upon those pursuers. Thus, where gentlemen will not consider their circumstances, their very prosperity is a cause of, and aggravates their misery; their very pride, which was a decent pride at first, in keeping up and maintaining their credit, subjects them too often to the lowest and the meanest acts, and their courage, which was of a laudable kind, turns into a brutish and savage rage; and all the fine, esteemed, flourishing, and happy gentleman ends, and is lost in the contemned, poor and miserable desperado, whose portion at last is confinement and a gaol, and sometimes even worse, and what I shall not so much as name here. Into many of these calamities Mr. Campbell had brought himself before it was long, by his heedlessness, and running, according to the wild dictates of youth, counter to all sound and wholesome advice. He had, it seems, run himself into debt, and one day as he was at a coffee-house, the sign of the Three Crowns, in Great Queen-street, in rushed four bailiffs upon him, who being directed by the creditor's wife, had watched him into that house, and told him they had a warrant against him, and upon his not answering, they being unacquainted with his being deaf and dumb, offered to seize his sword. He startled at their offering of violence, and taking them for ruffians, which he had often met with, repelled the assaulters, and drawing his sword, as one man, more bold than the rest, closed in with him, he shortened his blade, and in the fall pinned the fellow through the shoulder, and himself through the leg, to the floor. After that he stood at bay with all the four officers, when the most mischievous assailant of them all, the creditor's wife, ventured to step into the fray, and very barbarously took hold of that nameless part of the man, for which, as she was a married woman, nature methinks should have taught her to have a greater tenderness, and almost squeezed and crushedthose vitals to death. But at last he got free from them all, and was going away as fast as he could, not knowing what consequences might ensue. But the woman who aimed herself at committing murder, in the most savage and inhuman manner, ran out after him, crying out, Murder! murder! as loud as she could, and alarmed the whole street. The bailiffs following the woman, and being bloody from head to foot, by means of the wound he received, gave credit to the outcry. The late Earl Rivers's footmen happening to be at the door, ran immediately to stop the supposed murderer, and they indeed did take him at last, but perceived their mistake, and discovered that instead of being assistants in taking a man whom they thought to be a murderer endeavouring to make his escape from the hands of justice, they had only been tricked in by that false cry to be adjutants to a bailiff in retaking a gentleman, who, by so gallant a defence, had rescued himself from the dangers of a prison; and when they had discovered this their mistake they were mighty sorry for what they had done. The most active and busy among the earl's footmen was a Dutchman, and the earl happening to be in a room next the street, and hearing the outcry of murder, stepped to the window, and seeing his own servants in the midst of the bustle, examined the Dutchman how the matter was, and, being told it, he chid the man for being concerned in stopping a gentleman that was getting free from such troublesome companions. But the Dutchman excused himself, like a Dutchman, by making a very merry blunder for a reply;Sacramente, said he, to his lord, if I had thought they were bailiffs, I would have fought for the poor dumb gentlemen, but then why had he not told me they were bailiffs, my lord?
In short, Duncan Campbell was carried off as their prisoner; but the bailiff that was wounded was led back to the coffee-house, where he pretended the wound was mortal, and that he despaired of living an hour. The proverb, however, was of the fellow's side, and he recovered sooner than other people expected he could. As soon as all danger was over, an action for damages and smart money, as their term is, was brought against Mr. Campbell; the damages were exaggerated and the demand was so extravagant, that Duncan Campbell was neither able, just at that time, nor willing, had he been able, to pay so much, as he thought, inhis own wrong, and having no bail, and being ashamed to make his case known to his better sort of friends, who were both able and willing to help him at a dead lift, he was hurried away to gaol by the bailiffs, who showed such a malignant and insolent pleasure, as commonly attends powerful revenge, when they put him into the Marshalsea. There he lay in confinement six weeks, till at last four or five of his chief friends came by mere chance to hear of it; immediately they consulted about his deliverance, and unanimously resolved to contribute for his enlargement, and they accordingly went across the water together, and procured it out of hand.
Two of his benefactors were officers, and were just then going over to Flanders. Duncan Campbell, to whom they communicated their design, was resolved to try his fortune in a military way, out of a roving kind of humour, raised in him partly by his having taken a sort of aversion to his own profession in town, and partly by his finding that he could not live, without following a profession, as he had done, any longer. He, over a bottle, frankly imparted his mind to them at large; he signified to them that he hoped, since they had lately done him so great a favour in freeing him from one captivity, they would not think him too urgent if he pressed for one favour farther, upon natures so generous as theirs, by whom he took as great a pleasure in being obliged, as he could receive in being capable of obliging others. He wrote to them that the favour he meant was to redeem him from another captivity, almost as irksome to him as that out of which they had lately ransomed him. This captivity, continued he, is being either forced to follow my old profession, which I have taken an entire disgust to, for a maintenance, or being forced to live in a narrower way than suits with my genius, and the better taste I have of higher life. Such a state, gentlemen, you know, is more unpalatable than half-pay; it is like either being forced to go upon the forlorn hope, or else like a man's being an entirely cashiered and broken officer, that had no younger brother's fortune, and no other support but his commission. Thus, though you have set my body at liberty, my soul is still under an imprisonment, and will be till I leave England, and can find means of visiting Flanders, which I can do no otherwise than by the advantage of having you for my convoy. I have amighty longing to experience some part of a military life, and I fancy, if you will grant me your interest, and introduce me to the valiant young Lord Lorne, and be spokesmen for a dumb man, I shall meet with a favourable reception; and as for you, gentlemen, after having named that great patron and pattern of courage and conduct in the field, I can't doubt but the very name I bear, if you had not known me, would have made you take me for a person of a military genius, and that I should do nothing but what would become a British soldier, and a gentleman; nothing, in fine, that should make you repent the recommendation.
These generous and gallant friends of his, it seems, complied with his request, and promised they would make application for him to the Lord Lorne, and Duncan Campbell had nothing to do but to get his bag and baggage ready, and provide himself with a pass. His baggage was not very long a getting together, and he had it in tolerable good order, and as for his pass, a brother of the Lord Forbes was so kind as to procure him one upon the first application Duncan made to him.
Accordingly, in a few days afterwards, they went on board, and having a speedy and an easy passage, arrived soon at Rotterdam. Duncan met with some of his English acquaintance in that town, and his mind being pretty much bent upon rambling, and seeing all the curiosities, customs, and humours he could, in all the foreign places he was to pass through, he went, out of a frolic, with some gentlemen, next day, in a boat to an adjacent village, to make merry over a homely Dutch entertainment, the intended repast being to consist of what the boors there count a great delicacy, brown bread and white beer. He walked out of sight from his company, and they lost one another; and strolling about by himself at an unseasonable hour, as they call it there after the bell has tolled, Duncan Campbell, who neither knew their laws, nor if he had, was capable of being guided by the notice which their laws ordain, was taken into custody in the village, for that night, and carried away the next day to Williamstadt, where he was taken for a spy, and put into a close imprisonment for three or four days.
But some Scotch gentlemen, who had been in company with Mr. Campbell at Mr. Cloysterman's, a painter in Covent-garden, made their application to the magistrate andgot him released; he knew his friends the officers, that carried him over, were gone forward to the camp, and that there was no hope of finding them at Rotterdam, if he should go thither, and so he resolved, since he had had so many days punishment in Williamstadt, to have three or four days pleasure there too, by way of amends, before he would set out on his journey after his friends. But on the third night he got very much in drink; and as he went very boisterously and disorderly along, a sentry challenged him; and the want of the sense of hearing had like to have occasioned the loss of his life. The sentry fired at him and narrowly missed him; he was taken prisoner, not without some resistance, which was so far innocent, as that he knew not any reason why he should be seized; but very troublesome and unwarrantable in so orderly a town; so the governor's secretary, after the matter was examined into, judging it better for the unhappy gentleman's future safety, advised him to return home to his own country, and accordingly bespoke him a place in a Dutch ship called Yowfrow Catherine, for his passage to England.
Duncan Campbell had taken up this humour of rambling, first, of his own accord, and the troubles which he had run himself into by it, we may reasonably suppose had pretty well cured him of that extravagant itch; and there is little doubt to be made but that he rejoiced very heartily when he was got on board the ship to return to England; and that in his new resolutions he had reconciled himself to the prosecution of his former profession, and intended to set up for a predictor again as soon as he could arrive at London. But now fortune had not a mind to let him go off so; he had had his own fancy for rambling, and now she was resolved to have hers, and to give him his bellyful of caprice. Accordingly, when the Dutch ship, called Yowfrow Catherine, was making the best of her road for London, and each person in the vessel was making merry, filled with the hopes of a quick and prosperous passage, a French privateer appeared in sight, crowding all the sails she could, and bearing towards them with all haste and diligence. The privateer was double-manned, and carried thirty guns; the Dutch vessel was defenceless in comparison; and the people on board had scarce time to think, and to deplore that they should be made a prey of, before they actually were so, andhad reason enough given them for their sorrow. All the passengers, to a single man, were stripped, and had French seamen's jackets in exchange for their clothes. Duncan Campbell had now a taste given him of the fate of war, as well as of the humour of travelling, and wished himself again, I warrant him, among his greatest crowd of consulters, as tiresome as he thought business to be, instead of being in the middle of a crew of sea savages. The town where the dumb prisoner was at last confined was Denain. There happened to be some English friars there, who were told by the others who he was, and to them he applied himself in writing, and received from them a great deal of civil treatment. But a certain man of the order of Recollects, happening to see him there, who had known him in England, and what profession he followed, caused him to be called to question, as a man that made use of ill means to tell fortunes. When he was questioned by a whole society of these religious men, he made them such pertinent and satisfactory answers in writing, that he convinced them he had done nothing for which he deserved their reprimand; and they unanimously acquitted him. The heads of his defence, as I have been informed, were these:—
First, he alleged that the second-sight was inborn and inbred in some men; and that every country had had examples of it more or less; but that the country of Scotland, in which he was educated from an infant, abounded the most of any with those sort of people; and from thence he said he thought he might very naturally draw this conclusion, that a faculty that was inborn and inbred to men, and grown almost a national faculty among a people who were remarkably honest, upright, and well-meaning people, could not, without some impiety, be imputed to the possessors of it as a sin; and when one of the fathers rejoined that it was remarked by several writers of the second-sight, that it must be therefore sinful, because it remained no longer among the people when the doctrines of Christianity were fully propagated, and the light of the gospel increased among them; and that afterwards it affected none but persons of vicious lives and an ill character; to this objection Mr. Campbell replied, that he knew most (even ingenious) writers had made that remark concerning the second-sight, but begged leave to be excused, if he ventured to declare that it was no better than a vulgar andcommon error; and the reasons were these, which he alleged in his own behalf; and to confirm his assertion, he told them men of undoubted probity, virtue, and learning, both of their own religion, viz., the Roman Catholic, and also of the reformed religion, and in several nations, had been affected, and continued all their lives to be affected, with this second-sighted power, and that there could be, therefore, no room to fix upon it the odious character of being a sinful and vicious, not to say that some called it still worse, a diabolical talent. He said he would content himself with making but two instances, because he believed those two would be enough to give content to them, his judges too, in that case. In his first instance he told them that they might find somewhat relating to this in Nicolaus Hemingius, who, in his tractsde Superstitionibus Magicis, printed at Copenhagen, anno 1575, informs the world, that Petrus Palladius, a bishop of See-landt, and professor of divinity at Copenhagen, could, from a part of his body affected, foretell from what part of the heavens tempests would come, and was seldom deceived. One of the fathers immediately asked him if he understood Latin? To this Duncan Campbell replied, No. Oh! said the friar, then, I don't remember that book was ever translated into English, that you mention. But, rejoined Duncan Campbell, the passage I mentioned to you, I have read in an English book, and word for word, according to the best of my memory, as I have written it down to you. In what English book? said the friar. I don't remember the name of the book, Duncan Campbell answered, but very well remember the passages, and that it was in a book of authority, and which bore a credit and good repute in the world; and you, being scholars, may, if you please, have recourse to the learned original, and I doubt not but you'll find what I say to be a truth. For the second instance, he told them, that in Spain, there are those they call Saludadores, that have this kind of gift. There was, continued he, in writing, one of your own religion, venerable fathers, and of a religious order, nay, a friar too, that had this gift. He was a noted Dominican, said he, and though I forget his name, you may, by writing a letter to England, learn his name. He was a devout Portuguese, belonging to Queen Catherine Dowager's chapel, and had the second-sight to a great degree, and was famous and eminent for it. They then asked him what wasthe full power he had to do by the second-sight. He answered, that as they had intimated that they had perused some of the skilful writers concerning the second-sight, he did not doubt but they had found, as well as he could tell them, that as to the extent of people's knowledge in that secret way, it reached both present, past, and future events. They foresee murders, drownings, weddings, burials, combats, manslaughters, &c., all of which there are many instances to be given. They commonly foresee sad events a little while before they happen; for instance, if a man's fatal end be hanging, they will see a gibbet, or rope about his neck; if beheading, they will see a man without a head; if drowning, they will see water up to his throat; if stabbing, they will see a dagger in his breast; if unexpected death in his bed, they will see a windingsheet about his head. They foretell not only marriages, but of good children; what kind of life men shall lead, and in what condition they shall die; also riches, honours, preferments, peace, plenty, and good weather. It is likewise usual with persons that have lost anything to go to some of these men, by whom they are directed how, with what persons, and in what place they shall find their goods. It is also to be noted that these gifts bear a latitude, so that some have it in a far more eminent degree than others; and what I have here written down to you, you need not take as a truth from me; but as it concerned me so nearly, I remember the passage by heart, and you will find it very near word for word in Dr. Beaumont's book Of Familiar Spirits. Aye, said the friars, but you have a genius too that attends you, as we are informed. So, replied Duncan Campbell, have all persons that have the second-sight in any eminent degree; and to prove this I will bring no less a witness than King James, who, in his Demonology, book the third and chapter the second, mentions also a spirit called Brownie, that was wont formerly to haunt divers houses, without doing any evil, but doing, as it were, necessary turns up and down the house; he appeared like a rough man, nay, some believed that their house was all the 'sonsier,' as they called it, that is, the more lucky or fortunate, that such spirits resorted there. With these replies the friars began to own they were very well satisfied, and acquiesced in the account he had given of himself as a very good, true, and honest account; but they told him they had still a farther accusation againsthim, and that was, that he practised magic arts, and that he used, as they had been informed, unlawful incantations. To this he made answer, that there were two kinds of magic, of which he knew they that were men of learning could not be ignorant. The art of magic, which is wicked and impious, continued he, is that which is professed, and has been professed at all times in the world, by witches, magicians, diviners, enchanters, and such like notorious profligates; who, by having an unnatural commerce with the devil, do many strange, prodigious, and preternatural acts, above and beyond all human wisdom; and all the arguments I ever did, or ever will deduce, continued he, from that black art, is a good and shining argument; it is this, O fathers: I draw a reason from these prodigious practices of wizards, magicians, enchanters, &c., and from all the heathen idolatry and superstition, to prove that there is a Deity; for from these acts of theirs, being preternatural and above human wisdom, we may consequently infer that they proceed from a supernatural and immaterial cause, such as demons are. And this is all the knowledge I ever did or ever will draw from that black hellish art. But, fathers, there is another kind of art magic, called natural magic, which is directly opposite to theirs, and the object of which art is to do spiritual good to mankind, as the object of theirs is to torment them, and induce them to evil. They afflict people with torments, and my art relieves them from the torments they cause. The public profession of these magical arts has, as you know, fathers, it is a common distinction, between black and white magic, been tolerated in some of the most famous universities of Christendom, though afterwards for a very good reason in politics, making it a public study to such a degree was very wisely retrenched by prohibition. If this, therefore, be a fault in your own opinions, hear my accusers, but if not, you will not only excuse, but commend me.
The friars were extremely well pleased with his defence, but one of them had a mind to frighten him a little if he could, and asked him what he would say if he could produce some witches lately seized, that would swear he had been frequently at their unlawful assemblies, where they were making their waxen images and other odd mischievous inventions in black magic, to torment folks; what if I can produce such evidence against you, wrote the father to him, by way of strengthening the question, will you not own that we have convicted you then? And when he had wrote the note, he gave it Duncan Campbell, with a look that seemed to express his warmth and eagerness in the expostulation. Duncan Campbell took the paper and read it, and far from being startled, returned this answer, with a smile continuing in his face while he wrote it. No, said he, fathers, by your leave, they will only prove me a good magician by that oath, and themselves more plainly witches. They will prove their love to torment good folks, and only show their hatred to me, an innocent man, but wise enough to torment them by hindering them from tormenting others. The fathers were well pleased with the shrewdness of the answer; but Duncan Campbell had a mind to exert his genius a little farther with the good friar, who thought likewise he had put him a very shrewd question; so taking up another sheet of paper, Fathers, said he, shall I entertain you with a story of what passed upon this head, between two religious fathers, as you all of you are, and a prince of Germany, in which you will find that mine ought to be reputed a full answer to the question the last learned father was pleased to propose to me? The story is somewhat long, but very much to the purpose and entertaining; I remember it perfectly by heart, and if you will have patience while I am writing it, I do not doubt but that I shall not only satisfy you, but please you and oblige you with the relation. The author I found it in, quotes it from Fromannus, (I think the man's name was so, and I am sure my author calls him a very learned man,) in his third book of Magical Incantation, and though I do not understand the language the original is writ in, yet I dare venture to say upon the credit of my English author, from whom I got the story by heart, that you will find me right whenever you shall be pleased to search.
The friars were earnest for the story, and expressed a desire that he would write it down for them to read, which he did in the following words. Note—that I have since compared Mr. Duncan Campbell's manuscript with the author's page out of which he took it, and find it word for word the same; which shows how incomparable a memory this deaf and dumb gentleman has got, besides his other extraordinary qualifications. The story is this:—
A prince of Germany invited two religious fathers, ofeminent virtue and learning, to a dinner. The prince, at table, said to one of them: Father, think you we do right in hanging persons, who are accused by ten or twelve witches, to have appeared at their meetings or sabbaths? I somewhat fear we are imposed on by the devil, and that it is not a safe way to truth, that we walk in by these accusations; especially since many great and learned men everywhere begin to cry out against it, and to charge our consciences with it; tell me, therefore, your opinion. To whom the fathers, being somewhat of an eager spirit, said; What should make us doubtful in this case? Or what should touch our consciences, being convicted by so many testimonies? Can we make it a scruple, whether God will permit innocent persons should be so traduced? there is no cause for a judge to stick at such a number of accusations, but he may proceed with safety. To which, when the prince had replied, and much had been saidproandconon both sides about it, and the father seemed wholly to carry the point, the prince at length concluded the dispute; saying, I am sorry for you, father, that in a capital cause you have condemned yourself, and you cannot complain if I commit you to custody; for no less than fifteen witches have deposed that they have seen you, ay, start not! you your ownself, at their meetings; and to show you that I am not in jest, I will presently cause the public acts to be brought for you to read them. The father stood in a maze, and with a dejected countenance had nothing here to oppose but confusion and silence, for all his learned eloquence.
As soon as Mr. Campbell had wrote down the story, the fathers perused it, and seemed mightily entertained with it. It put an end to all farther questions, and the man whom they had been trying for a conjuror, they joined in desiring, upon distinct pieces of paper, under their several hands, to come frequently and visit them, as being not only a harmless and innocent, but an extraordinary well-meaning, good, and diverting companion. They treated him for some time afterwards during his stay, with the friendship due to a countryman, with the civility that is owing to a gentleman, and with the assistance and support which belonged to a person of merit in distress. Money they had none themselves, it seems, to give him, being Mendicants by their own profession; but they had interest enough to get him quite free from being prisoner;he participated of their eleemosynary table, had a cell allowed him among them in what they call their Dormitory; he had an odd coat and a pair of trowsers made out of some of their brown coarse habits, by the poor unfashionable tailor, or botcher, belonging to the convent, and at last they found means of recommending him to a master of a French vessel that was ready to set sail, to give him a cast over the channel to England; and to provide him with the necessaries of life till he got to the port. This French vessel was luckier than the Dutch one had been before to our dumb gentleman; it had a quick and prosperous passage, and arrived at Portsmouth; and as soon as he landed there, he having experienced the misfortunes and casualties that a man in his condition, wanting both speech and hearing, was liable to, in places where he was an utter stranger to everybody, resolved to make no stay, but move on as fast as he could towards London. When he came to Hampton town, considering the indifferent figure he made in those odd kind of clothes, which the poor friars had equipped him with, and that his long beard and an uncombed wig added much to the disguise, he was resolved to put on the best face he could, in those awkward circumstances, and stepped into the first barber's shop he came at to be trimmed and get his wig combed and powdered. This proved a very lucky thought to him; for as soon as he stepped into the first barber's shop, who should prove to be the master of it, but one Tobit Yeats, who had served him in the same capacity at London, and was but newly set up in the trade of a barber-surgeon, at Hampton town, and followed likewise the profession of schoolmaster. This Tobit Yeats had shaved him quite, before he knew him in that disguise; and Mr. Campbell, though he knew him presently, had a mind to try if he should be known himself first; at length the barber finding him to be a dumb man, by his ordering everything with motions of the hand and gestures of the body, looked at him very earnestly, remembered him, and in a great surprise called for pen, ink, and paper, and begged to know how he came to be in that disguise; whether he was under any misfortune, and apprehension of being discovered, that made him go in so poor and so clownish a habit, and tendered him any services, as far as his little capacity would reach, and desired him to be free, and command him; if he was able to assist him in anything. These were the most comfortable words that Duncan Campbell had read a great while. He took the pen and paper in his turn; related to him his whole story, gave the poor barber thanks for his good natured offer, and said he would make so much use of it, as to be indebted to him for so much money as would pay the stage-coach, and bear him in his travelling expenses up to London, from whence he would speedily return the favour with interest. The poor honest fellow, out of gratitude to a master whose liberality he had formerly experienced, immediately furnished Mr. Duncan Campbell with that little supply, expressing the gladness of his heart that it lay in his power; and the stage-coach being to set out within but a few hours, he ran instantly to the inn to see if he could get him a place. By good luck, there was room, and but just room for one more, which pleased Duncan Campbell mightily, when he was acquainted with it by his true and trusty servant the barber; for he was as impatient to see London again, it seems, as he had been before to quit it. Well, he had his wish; and when he came to London, he had one wish more for Fortune to bestow upon him, which appeared to begin to grow kind again, after her fickle fit of cruelty was over; and this wish was, that he might find his former lodgings empty, and live in the same house as he did when he followed his profession. This too succeeded according to his desire, and he was happily fixed once more to his heart's content in his old residence, with the same people of the house round about him, who bore him all that respect and affection, and showed all that readiness and willingness to serve him on every occasion and at every turn, which could be expected from persons that let lodgings in town to a gentleman, whom they esteemed the best tenant they ever had in their lives, or ever could have.
Immediately the tidings of the dumb gentleman's being returned home from beyond sea, spread throughout all the neighbourhood; and it was noised about from one neighbourhood to another, till it went through all ranks and conditions, and was known as well in a day or two's time, all the town over, as if he had been some great man belonging to the state, and his arrival had been notified to the public in the gazette, as a person of the last importance. And such a person he appeared indeed to be taken for, especially amongthe fair sex, who thronged to his doors, crowd after crowd, to consult with him about their future occurrences in life.
These curious tribes of people were as various in their persons, sex, age, quality, profession, art, trade, as they were in the curiosity of their minds, and the questions they had intended to propound to this dumb predictor of strange events, that lay yet as embryos in the womb of time, and were not to come, some of them, to a maturity for birth, for very many years after; just as porcelain clay is stored up in the earth by good artificers, which their heirs make china of, half a century, and sometimes more than an age, afterwards.
These shoals of customers, who were to fee him well for his advice, as we may suppose, now he stood in need of raising a fresh stock, were unquestionably as welcome and acceptable to him as they appeared too troublesome to him before, when he was in a state of more wealth and plenty.
Fortune, that does nothing moderately, seemed now resolved, as she had been extremely cruel before, to be extremely kind to him. He had nothing to do from early in the morning till late at night, but to read questions, and resolve them as fast as much-frequented doctors write their prescriptions and recipes, and like them also to receive fees as fast. Fortune was indeed mightily indulgent to the wants she had so suddenly reduced him to, and relieved him as suddenly by these knots of curiosos, who brought him a glut of money. But one single fair lady, that was one of his very first consulters after his return, and who had received satisfactory answers from him in other points, before he went abroad, proved, so good fortune would have it, worth all the rest of his customers together, as numerous as they were, and as I have accordingly represented them.
This lady was the relict or widow of a gentleman of a good estate, and of a very good family, whose name was Digby, and a handsome jointure she had out of the estate. This lady, it seems, having been with him in former days, and seen him in a more shining way of life, (for he had taken a humour to appear before all his company in that coarse odd dress made out of the friar's habit, and would not be persuaded by the people of the house to put on a nightgown till he could provide himself with a new suit,) was so curious, among other questions, as to ask him whether he had met with any misfortunes, and how he came to be in soslovenly and wretched a habit? Here Mr. Campbell related the whole story of his travels to her, and the crosses and disappointments he had met with abroad. The tears, he observed, would start every now and then into her eyes when she came to any doleful passage, and she appeared to have a mighty compassionate kind of feeling, when she read of any hardship more than ordinarily melancholy that had befallen him. Mr. Campbell, it is certain, had then a very good presence, and was a handsome and portly young man; and as a great many young gentlemen derive the seeming agreeableness of their persons from the tailor and peruke-maker, the shoemaker and hosier, so Mr. Campbell's person, on the other hand, gave a good air and a good look to the awkward garb he had on; and I believe it was from seeing him in this odd trim, as they called it, the ladies first took up the humour of calling him 'the handsome sloven:' add to this that he looked his misfortune in the face with a jolly countenance, and smiled even while he was penning the relation of his calamities; all which are certainly circumstances that first sooth a generous mind into a state of compassion, and afterwards heighten it in the breast wherein it is conceived. Hence it came that this pretty and good natured widow, Mrs. Digby, when she had expressed her commiseration of him by her looks, began to take the pen and express it in very tender terms. Neither did she think that expression in words a sufficient testimony of the compassion she bore to him; the generosity of her mind did lead her to express it in a more substantial manner still, and that was to show it plainly by a very benevolous action. She laid a purse of twenty guineas before the table, and at the same time smiling, pointed to the table, as signifying her desire that he would accept it, and running to the door, dropped a curtsy, and skuttled away; and by the same civil act as she obliged him, she put it out of his power to refuse being so obliged; so that, though the present was very handsome, the manner of giving it was still handsomer. If being a handsome young man of merit in distress, and bearing his misfortunes with an equal mind, are powerful motives to excite compassion in the mind of a generous lady, so the generosity of a young agreeable widow, expressed in so kind and so benevolous a way, to a young gentleman, when he had been tasting nothing but the bitter draughts of fortune before,must stir up an affection in a mind that had any sense of gratitude; and truly just such was the effect that this lady's civility had upon Mr. Duncan Campbell. He conceived from that moment a very great affection for her; and resolved to try whether he could gain her, which he had no small grounds to hope, from the esteem which she appeared to bear towards him already. I remember Mr. Dryden makes a very beautiful observation of the near alliance there is between the two passions of pity and love in a woman's breast, in one of his plays. His words are these; For pity still foreruns approaching love, as lightning does the thunder. Mr. Bruyere, a most ingenious member of the French Academy, has made another remark, which comes home to our present purpose. He says, That many women love their money better than their friends; but yet value their lovers more than their money. According to the two reflections of these fine writers upon the tempers of the fair, Mr. Campbell had hopes enough to ground his courtship upon; and it appeared so in the end, by his proving successful; she from being a very liberal and friendly client, became at last a most affectionate wife. He then began to be a housekeeper, and accordingly took a little neat one, and very commodious for his profession, in Monmouth-court. Here I must take leave to make this observation; that if Mr. Campbell inherited the talents of his second-sighted mother, he seemed likewise to be an heir to his father, Mr. Archibald Campbell, both in his strange and accidental sufferings by sea, and likewise in his being relieved from them after as accidental and strange a manner, by an unexpected marriage, just like his father's. And here we return again to take a new survey of him in the course of his public practice as a predictor. The accounts I shall give of his actions here, will be very various in their nature from any I have yet presented to the reader; they are more mysterious in themselves, and yet I shall endeavour to make the manner of his operating in this kind as plain as I think I have the foregoing ones, and then I flatter myself they must afford a fresh entertainment for every reader that has any curiosity and a good taste for things of so extraordinary a kind. For what I have all along propounded to myself from the beginning and in the progress to the end of this history, is to interweave entertaining and surprising narratives of what Mr.Campbell has done, with curious and instructive inquiries into the nature of those actions, for which he has rendered himself so singularly famous. It was not, therefore, suitable to my purpose, to clog the reader with numerous adventures, almost all of the same kind, but out of a vast number of them to single some few of those that were most remarkable, and that were mysteries, but mysteries of very different sorts. I leave that method of swelling distorted and commented trifles into volumes, to the writers of fable and romance; if I was to tell his adventures, with regard, for example, to women, that came to consult him, I might perhaps have not only written the stories of eleven thousand virgins that died maids, but have had relations to give of as many married women and widows, and the work would have been endless. All that I shall do therefore is to pick out one particular, each of a different kind, that there may be variety in the entertainment. Upon application to this dumb man, one is told in the middle of her health, that she shall die at such a time; another, that she shall sicken, and upon the moment of her recovery, have a suitor and a husband; a third, who is a celebrated beauty with a multitude of admirers round about her, that she shall never become a wife; a fourth, that is married, when she shall get rid of an uneasy husband; a fifth, that hath lost her goods, who stole them, where and when they shall be restored; a sixth, that is a merchant, when he shall be undone, and how and when he shall recover his losses, and be as great on the Exchange as ever; a seventh, that is a gamester, which will be his winning, and which his losing hour; an eighth, how he shall be involved in a law-suit, and whether the suit will have an adverse or a prosperous issue; a ninth, that is a woman, with choice of lovers, which she shall be most happy with for life; and so on to many others, where every prediction is perfectly new and surprising, and differs from the other in almost every circumstance. When a man has so extensive a genius as this at foretelling the future occurrences of life, one narrative of a sort is enough in conscience to present the reader with, and several of each kind would not methinks be entertaining, but tiresome; for he that can do one thing in these kinds by the power of prediction, can do ten thousand; and those who are obstinate in extenuating his talents, and calling his capacity in question, and that will not be convinced byone instance of his judgment, would not own the conviction if ten thousand instances were given them. The best passages I can recommend to their perusal are those where persons who came purposely to banter him under the colour of consulting him, and covered over their sly intentions with borrowed disguises, and came in masquerades, found all the jest turned upon themselves in the end, which they meant to our famous predictor, and had the discouragement of seeing their most concealed and deepest laid plots discovered, and all their most witty fetches and wily contrivances defeated, till they were compelled universally to acknowledge, that endeavouring to impose upon the judgment of our seer by any hidden artifice and cunning whatsoever, was effectually imposing upon their own. His unusual talent in this kind was so openly known, and so generally confessed, that his knowledge was celebrated in some of the most witty weekly papers that ever appeared in public. Isaac Bickerstaff, who diverted all thebeau monde, for a long space of time with his lucubrations, takes occasion in several of his papers to applaud the speculations of this dumb gentleman in an admirable vein of pleasantry and humour, peculiar to the writer, and to the subject he writ upon. And when that bright author, who joined the uttermost facetiousness with the most solid improvements of morality and learning in his works, laid aside the title of a Tatler, and assumed the name of a Spectator and censor of men's actions, he still, every now and then, thought our Duncan Campbell a subject worthy enough to employ his farther considerations upon. I must take notice of one letter sent concerning him to the Spectator, in the year 1712, which was at a time when a lady wanted him, after he had removed from Monmouth-street to Drury-lane.
Mr. Spectator,—About two years ago I was called upon by the younger part of a country family, by my mother's side related to me, to visit Mr. Campbell, the dumb man; for they told me that was chiefly what brought them to town, having heard wonders of him in Essex. I, who always wanted faith in such matters, was not easily prevailed on to go; but lest they should take it ill, I went with them, when, to my own surprise, Mr. Campbell related all their past life; in short, had he not been prevented, such a discovery would have come out, aswould have ruined their next design of coming to town, viz., buying wedding clothes. Our names, though he had never heard of us before, and we endeavoured to conceal, were as familiar to him as to ourselves. To be sure, Mr. Spectator, he is a very learned and wise man. Being impatient to know my fortune, having paid my respects in a family Jacobus, he told me, after his manner, among several other things, that in a year and nine months I should fall ill of a new fever, be given over by my physicians, but should with much difficulty recover; that the first time I took the air afterwards, I should be addressed to by a young gentleman of a plentiful fortune, good sense, and a generous spirit. Mr. Spectator, he is the purest man in the world, for all he said is come to pass, and I am the happiest she in Kent. I have been in quest of Mr. Campbell these three months, and cannot find him out; now hearing you are a dumb man too, I thought you might correspond and be able to tell me something; for I think myself highly obliged to make his fortune, as he has mine. It is very possible your worship, who has spies all over this town, can inform me how to send to him; if you can, I beseech you be as speedy as possible, and you will highly oblige your constant reader and admirer,Dulcibella Thankley.
Mr. Spectator,—
About two years ago I was called upon by the younger part of a country family, by my mother's side related to me, to visit Mr. Campbell, the dumb man; for they told me that was chiefly what brought them to town, having heard wonders of him in Essex. I, who always wanted faith in such matters, was not easily prevailed on to go; but lest they should take it ill, I went with them, when, to my own surprise, Mr. Campbell related all their past life; in short, had he not been prevented, such a discovery would have come out, aswould have ruined their next design of coming to town, viz., buying wedding clothes. Our names, though he had never heard of us before, and we endeavoured to conceal, were as familiar to him as to ourselves. To be sure, Mr. Spectator, he is a very learned and wise man. Being impatient to know my fortune, having paid my respects in a family Jacobus, he told me, after his manner, among several other things, that in a year and nine months I should fall ill of a new fever, be given over by my physicians, but should with much difficulty recover; that the first time I took the air afterwards, I should be addressed to by a young gentleman of a plentiful fortune, good sense, and a generous spirit. Mr. Spectator, he is the purest man in the world, for all he said is come to pass, and I am the happiest she in Kent. I have been in quest of Mr. Campbell these three months, and cannot find him out; now hearing you are a dumb man too, I thought you might correspond and be able to tell me something; for I think myself highly obliged to make his fortune, as he has mine. It is very possible your worship, who has spies all over this town, can inform me how to send to him; if you can, I beseech you be as speedy as possible, and you will highly oblige your constant reader and admirer,
Dulcibella Thankley.
The Spectator's Answer.Ordered, that the inspector I employ about wonders, inquire at the Golden-lion opposite to the Half-moon tavern, in Drury-lane, into the merit of this silent sage, and report accordingly. Vide the 7th volume of Spectators, No. 474, being on Wednesday, September the 3rd, 1712.
The Spectator's Answer.
Ordered, that the inspector I employ about wonders, inquire at the Golden-lion opposite to the Half-moon tavern, in Drury-lane, into the merit of this silent sage, and report accordingly. Vide the 7th volume of Spectators, No. 474, being on Wednesday, September the 3rd, 1712.
But now let us come to those passages of his life the most surprising of all, during the time that he enjoyed this reputation, and when he proved that he deserved the fame he enjoyed. Let us take a survey of him while he is wonderfully curing persons labouring under the misfortune of witchcraft, of which the following story will be an eminent instance, and likewise clear up how he came by his reputation in Essex, as mentioned in the above-mentioned letter to the Spectator.
In the year 1709, Susanna Johnson, daughter to one Captain Johnson, who lived at a place adjacent to Rumford,in Essex, going one morning to that town to buy butter at the market, was met there by an old miserable looking woman, just as she had taken some of her change of the marketwoman, in copper, and this old woman rather demanded than begged the gentlewoman to give her a penny. Miss Johnson reputing her to be one of those hateful people that are called sturdy beggars, refused it her, as thinking it to be no act of charity, and that it would be rather gratifying and indulging her impudence, than supplying or satisfying her indigence. Upon the refusal, the old hag, with a face more wrinkled still, if possible, by anger, than it was by age, took upon her to storm at young Miss Johnson very loudly, and to threaten and menace her; but when she found her common threats and menaces were of no avail, she swore she would be revenged of the young creature in so signal a manner, that she should repent the denial of that penny from her heart before she got home, and that it should cost her many pounds to get rid of the consequences of that denial and her anger. The poor innocent girl despised these last words likewise, and, getting up on horseback, returned homewards; but just as she got about half way, her horse stopped, and no means that she could use would make him advance one single step; but she stayed awhile, to see if that would humour him to go on. At last the beast began to grow unruly, and snorted and trembled as if he had seen or smelt something that frightened him, and so fell a kicking desperately, till he threw the girl from the saddle, not being able to cling to it any longer, though a pretty good horsewoman of her years; so much were the horse's motions and plungings more than ordinarily violent.
As Providence would have it, she got not much harm by the fall, receiving only a little bruise in the right shoulder; but she was dreadfully frightened. This fear added wings to her feet, and brought her home as speedily of herself as she usually came on horseback. She immediately, without any other sign of illness than the palid colour with which fear had disordered the complexion of her face, alarmed all the family at home with the story, took her bed upon it, complained of inward rackings of the belly, and was never at ease unless she lay doubled up together, her head to her knees, and her heels to her rump, just like a figure of 8. She could not be a single moment out of that posture withoutshrieking out with the violence of anxious torments and racking pains.
In this condition of misery, amidst this agony of suffering, and in this double posture, was the poor wretched young gentlewoman brought to town; physicians were consulted about her, but in vain; she was carried to different hospitals for assistance, but their endeavours likewise proved ineffectual; at last she was conducted to the College of Physicians; and even the collective wisdom of the greatest sages and adepts in the science of physic was posed to give her any prescription that would do her service, and relieve her from the inexplicable malady she laboured under. The poor incurable creature was one constant subject of her complaining mother's discourse in every company she came into. It happened at last, and very providentially truly, that the mother was thus condoling the misfortune of her child among five or six ladies, and telling them, among other things, that by the most skilful persons she was looked upon to be bewitched, and that it was not within the power of physic to compass her recovery. They all having been acquainted with our Mr. Duncan Campbell, unanimously advised her to carry her daughter to his house, and consult with him about her. The mother was overjoyed at these tidings, and purposed to let no time slip where her child's health was so deeply concerned. She got the ladies to go with her and her child, to be eye-witnesses of so extraordinary a piece of practice, and so eminent a trial of skill.
As soon as this dismal object was brought into his room, Mr. Duncan Campbell lifted up her head and looked earnestly in her face, and in less than a minute's time signified to the company, that she was not only bewitched, but in as dreadful a condition almost as the man that had a legion of fiends within him.
At the reading of these words the unhappy creature raised up her head, turned her eyes upwards, and a smile, a thing she had been a stranger to for many months, overspread her whole face, and such a kind of colour as is the flushing of joy and gladness, and with an innocent tone of voice she said, she now had a firm belief she should shortly be delivered. The mother and the rest of the company were all in tears, but Mr. Campbell wrote to them that they should be of good heart, be easy and quiet for a few moments, andthey should be convinced that it was witchcraft, but happily convinced by seeing her so suddenly well again. This brought the company into pretty good temper; and a little after, Mr. Campbell desired she might be led up stairs into his chamber and left there alone with him for a little while; this occasioned some small female speculation, and as much mirth as their late sorrow, alleviated with the hopes of her cure, would permit.
This you may be sure was but a snatch of mirth, just as the nature of the thing would allow of; and all sorts of waggery being laid instantly aside, and removed almost as soon as conceived, the poor young thing was carried in that double posture up stairs. She had not been much above half an hour there, when by the help only of Mr. Campbell's arm she was led down stairs, and descended into that roomful of company as a miracle appearing in a machine from above; she was led backward and forward in the room, while all gazed at her for awhile with joyful astonishment, for no arrow was ever more straight than she. Mr. Campbell then prevailed with her to drink a glass of wine, and immediately after she evacuated wind, which she had not done for some months before, and found herself still more amended and easy; and then the mother making Mr. Campbell some small acknowledgment at that time, with the promise of more, and her daughter giving thanks, and all the company commending his skill, took their leaves and departed, with great demonstrations of joy. I shall here, to cut the story short, signify, that she came frequently afterwards to make her testimonials of gratitude to him, and continues to enjoy her health to this very day, at Greenwich, where she now lives, and will at any time, if called upon, make oath of the truth of this little history, as she told me herself with her own mouth.
The next thing, therefore, it behoves me to do in this chapter, is, to give some satisfactory account of magic, by which such seeming mysterious cures and operations are brought about.
This task I would perform in the most perspicuous and most convincing manner I can; for magic, I know, is held to be a very hard and difficult study by those learned, and universally unlawful and diabolical by those unlearned, who believe there is such a science attainable by human genius.On the other hand, by some learned men, who believe there is no such science, it is represented as an inconsistent system of superstitions and chimeras; and again laughed at as such by the unlearned, who are of an incredulous temper; what I would therefore undertake to do in this place is to show the learned men, who believe there is such an art, that the attainment to a tolerable knowledge of the manner how magical practices may be brought about, is no such difficult matter as they have represented it to themselves; and by doing this I shall make the system of it so plain, that while the learned approve of it, the unlearned too, who are not of an unbelieving kind, may understand clearly what I say; and the learned men who have rejected this science as chimerical, may be clearly convinced it is real; and then there is nothing left but obstinate unbelieving ignorance, which I shall not here pretend by arguments to lead into sense, but leave it to the work of time. In fine, I will endeavour to induce men of sense to say, that what has been accounted mysterious, is delivered in a plain, easy, and convincing manner, and to own that they approve, while men of the lower class of understanding shall confess and acknowledge that they themselves understand it; and that what has hitherto been represented as arduous and difficult to a great genius, is adapted and rendered not only clear, but familiar to persons of middling talents. In this work, therefore, I shall follow the strictest order I can, which of all things render a discourse upon any subject the most clear; and that it may be plain to the commonest capacity, I will first set down what order I intend to follow.