The History of the Life and Adventures of Mr. Duncan Campell

It is said in the ninth book of the Morals of Aristotle, It is better to come at the probable knowledge of some things above us in the heavens, than to be capable of giving many demonstrations relating to things here below. This is no doubt an admirable proposition, and speaks the lofty aims of that sublime mind from whence it proceeded. Among all the disquisitions in this kind, none seem to me more excellent than those which treat concerning the genii that attend upon men, and guide them in the actions of life. A genius, or demon, of the good kind, is a sort of mediate being, between human and divine, which gives the mind of man a pleasant conjunction with angelic and celestial faculties, and brings down to earth a faint participation of the joys of heaven. That there have been such fortunate attendants upon wise men, we have many rare instances. They have been ascribed to Socrates, Aristotle, Plotinus, Porphyrius, Iamblicus, Chicus, Scaliger, and Cardan. The most celebrated of all these ancients, was Socrates; and as for his having a genius, or demon, we have the testimonies of Plato, Xenophon, and Antisthenes, his contemporaries, confirmed by Laertius, Plutarch, Maximus Tyrius, Dion Chrysostomus, Cicero, Apuleius, Ficinus, and others; many of the moderns, besides Tertullian, Origen, Clemens Alexandrinus, Austin, and others; and Socrates himself, in Plato's Theage, says, By some divine lot I have a certain demon which has followed me from my childhood as an oracle; and in the same place intimates that the way he gained his instruction, was by hearing the demon's voice. Nothing is certainly so easy as for men to be able to contradict things, though never so well attested, with such an air of truth as to make the truth of the history doubted by others as well as themselves, where no demonstrative proof can be brought to convince them. This has been the easy task of those who object against the demon of Socrates; but when no demonstrative proof is to be had on either side, does not wisdom incline us to lean to the most probable? Let us then consider whether the evidences are not more credible, and witnesses of such a thing are not persons of more authority than these men are, who vouchsafe to give no reason but their own incredulity, for maintaining the contrary, and whether those, therefore, by the right rule of judging, ought not much sooner than these, to gain over our assent to their assertions?

We will, however, laying aside the histories of those ancient times, the sense whereof, by various readings and interpretations being put upon the words, is rendered obscure and almost unintelligible, descend to more modern relations, the facts whereof shall be placed beyond doubt, by reason of the evidences we will bring to attest them, and shall consequently prove the perception men have of spirits, or genii, by every sense.

SECTION I

We will first begin as to the perception of spirits by the sight.

Mr. Glanvil, in his Collections of Relations, for proving Apparitions, Spirits, &c., tells us of an Irishman that had like to have been carried away by spirits, and of the ghost of a man, who had been seven years dead, that brought a medicine to his bed-side.

The relation is thus: —

A gentleman in Ireland, near to the Earl of Orrery's, sending his butler one afternoon to buy cards, as he passed a field, to his wonder, he espied a company of people sitting round a table, with a deal of good cheer before them, in the midst of the field; and he, going up towards them, they all arose and saluted him, and desired him to sit down with them; but one of them whispered these words in his ear: Do nothing this company invites you to. Hereupon he refused to sit down at the table, and immediately table and all that belonged to it were gone, and the company are now dancing and playing upon musical instruments. And the butler being desired to join himself with them, but he refusing this also, they all fall to work, and he not being to be prevailed with to accompany them in working, any more than in feasting or dancing, they all disappeared, and the butler is now alone; but instead of going forwards, home he returns, as fast as he could drive, in a great consternation; and was no sooner entered his master's door, but he fell down and lay some time senseless, but coming again to himself, he related to his master what had passed.

The night following, there comes one of his company to his bed-side, and tells him, that if he offered to stir out of the doors the next day, he would be carried away. Hereupon he kept within; but towards the evening, having need to make water, he adventured to put one foot over the threshold (several standing by), which he had no sooner done but they espied a rope cast about his middle; and the poor man was hurried away with great swiftness, they following him as fast as they could, but could not overtake him; at length they espied an horseman coming towards him, and made signs to him to stop the man whom he saw coming near him, and both ends of the rope, but nobody drawing; when they met he laid hold of one end of the rope, and immediately had a smart blow given him over his arm with the other end; but by this means the man was stopped, and the horseman brought him back with him.

The Earl of Orrery hearing of these strange passages, sent to the master to desire him to send this man to his house, which he accordingly did; and the morning following, or quickly after, he told the earl that his spectre had been with him again, and assured him that that day he should most certainly be carried away, and that no endeavours should avail to the saving of him; upon this he was kept in a large room with a considerable number of persons to guard him, among whom was the famous stroaker, Mr. Greatrix, who was a neighbour. There were, besides other persons of quality, two bishops in the house at the same time, who were consulted concerning the making use of a medicine, the spectre or ghost prescribed, of which mention will be made anon, but they determined on the negative.

Till part of the afternoon was spent, all was quiet; but at length he was perceived to rise from the ground, whereupon Mr. Greatrix and another lusty man clapped their arms over his shoulders, one of them before him, and the other behind, and weighed him down with all their strength; but he was forcibly taken up from them, and they were too weak to keep their hold, and for a considerable time he was carried into the air, to and fro over their heads, several of the company still running under him to prevent his receiving hurt if he should fall; at length he fell, and was caught before he came to the ground, and had by that means no hurt.

All being quiet till bed-time, my lord ordered two of his servants to lie with him, and the next morning he told his lordship, that his spectre was again with him, and brought a wooden dish with grey liquor in it, and bid him drink it off; at the first sight of the spectre he said he endeavoured to awake his bed-fellows; but it told him, that that endeavour should be in vain; and that he had no cause to fear him, he being his friend, and he that at first gave him the good advice in the field, which had he not followed, he had been before now perfectly in the power of the company he saw there; he added, that he concluded it was impossible but that he should have been carried away the day before, there being so strong a combination against him; but now he could assure him there would be no more attempts of that nature, but he being troubled with two sorts of sad fits, he had brought that liquor to cure him of them, and bid him drink it; he peremptorily refusing, the spectre was angry, and upbraided him with great disingenuity, but told him, however, he had a kindness for him, and that if he would take plantain juice he should be well of one sort of fits, but he should carry the other to his grave; the poor man having by this somewhat recovered himself, asked the spectre whether by the juice of plantain he meant that of the leaves or roots? It replied, The roots.

Then it asked him whether he did not know him? He answered, No; it replied, I am such a one; the man answered he had been long dead; I have been dead, said the spectre or ghost, seven years, and you know that I lived a loose life, and ever since, I have been hurried up and down in a restless condition with the company you saw, and shall be to the day of judgment; then he proceeded to tell him, that had he acknowledged God in his ways, he had not suffered such severe things by their means; and farther said, you never prayed to God before that day you met with this company in the fields.

This relation was sent to Dr. Henry More by Mr. E. Fowler, who said, Mr. Greatrix told it several persons; the Lord Orrery also owned the truth of it; and Mr. Greatrix told it to Dr. Henry More himself, who particularly inquired of Mr. Greatrix about the man's being carried up into the air, above men's heads, in the room, and he did expressly affirm that he was an eye-witness thereof.

A vision which happened to the ingenious and learned Dr. Donne, may not improperly be here inserted. Mr. Isaac Walton, writing the life of the said doctor, tells us, that the doctor and his wife, living with Sir Robert Drury, who gave them a free entertainment at his house in Drury-lane, it happened that the Lord Haye was by King James sent in an embassy to the French King, Henry IV., whom Sir Robert resolved to accompany, and engaged Dr. Donne to go with them, whose wife was then with child, at Sir Robert's house. Two days after their arrival at Paris, Dr. Donne was left alone in that room in which Sir Robert and he and some other friends had dined together. To this place Sir Robert returned within half an hour; and as he left so he found Dr. Donne alone, but in such an ecstacy, and so altered in his looks, as amazed Sir Robert to behold him, insomuch that he earnestly desired Dr. Donne to declare what had befallen him in the short time of his absence. To which Dr. Donne was not able to make a present answer; but after a long and perplexed pause, did at last say, I have seen a dreadful vision, since I saw you; I have seen my dear wife pass twice by me, through this room, with her hair hanging about her shoulders, and a dead child in her arms; this I have seen since I saw you. To which Sir Robert replied, Sure, sir, you have slept since I saw you, and this is the result of some melancholy dream, which I desire you to forget, for you are now awake. To which Dr. Donne's reply was, I cannot be surer that I now live than that I have not slept since I saw you, and am as sure at her second appearing she stopped and looked me in the face and vanished. Rest and sleep had not altered Dr. Donne's opinion the next day; for he then affirmed this vision with a more deliberate and so confirmed a confidence, that he inclined Sir Robert to a faint belief that the vision was true, who immediately sent a servant to Drury house, with a charge to hasten back and bring him word whether Mrs. Donne were alive; and if alive, what condition she was in as to her health. The twelfth day the messenger returned with this account; that he found and left Mrs. Donne very sad and sick in bed, and that after a long and dangerous labour she had been delivered of a dead child, and upon examination the abortion proved to be the same day, and about the very hour that Dr. Donne affirmed he saw her pass by in his chamber. Mr. Walton adds this, as a relation which will beget some wonder, and well it may, for most of our world are at present possessed with an opinion that visions and miracles are ceased, and though it is most certain that two lutes both being strung and tuned to an equal pitch, and then one played upon, the other, that is not touched, being laid upon the table at a fit distance, will, like an echo to a trumpet, warble a faint, audible harmony in answer to the same tune, yet many will not believe that there is any such thing as a sympathy with souls, &c.

SECTION II

I shall next relate some little histories to show what perception men have had of spirits by the sense of hearing. For, as Wierus says, spirits appear sometimes invisibly, so that only a sound, voice, or noise, is perceived by men, viz., a stroke, knocking, whistling, sneezing, groaning, lamenting, or clapping of the hands, to make men attent to inquire or answer.

In Luther's Colloquia Mensalia, &c., set forth in Latin, at Frankfort, anno 1557, it being a different collection from that of Aurifaber, which is translated from high Dutch into English. We have the following relation: —

It happened in Prussia, that as a certain boy was born, there presently came to him a genius, or what you please to call it, for I leave it to men's judgments, who had so faithful a care of the infant, that there was no need either of mother or servant; and, as he grew up, he had a like care of him; he went to school with him, but so, that he could never be seen either by himself, or any others in all his life. Afterwards he travelled into Italy, he accompanied him, and whensoever any evil was like to happen to him, either on the road or in the inn, he was perceived to foretell it by some touch or stroke; he drew off his boots as a servant; if he turned his journey another way, he continued with him, having the same care of him in foretelling evil; at length he was made a canon; and as, on a time, he was sitting and feasting with his friends in much jollity, a vehement stroke was struck on a sudden on the table, so that they were all terrified; presently the canon said to his friends, be not afraid, some great evil hangs over my head. The next day he fell into a great fever, and the fit continued on him for three whole days, till he died, miserably.

Captain Henry Bell, in his narrative prefixed to Luther's Table, printed in English, anno 1652, having acquainted us how the German copy printed of it had been discovered under ground, where it had lain hid fifty-two years, that edition having been suppressed by an edict of the Emperor Rudolphus the second, so that it was death for any person to keep a copy thereof; and having told us that Casparus van Spar, a German gentleman, with whom he was familiarly acquainted, while he negotiated affairs in Germany for King James the first, was the person that discovered it, anno 1626, and transmitted it into England to him, and earnestly desired him to translate the said book into English, says, he accordingly set upon the translation of it many times, but was always hindered from proceeding in it by some intervening business. About six weeks after he had received the copy, being in bed with his wife, one night, between twelve and one of the clock, she being asleep, but himself awake, there appeared to him an ancient man standing at his bed-side, arrayed all in white, having a long and broad white beard hanging down to his girdle, who taking him by his right ear, said thus to him: Sirrah! will you not take time to translate that book which is sent unto you out of Germany? I will shortly provide for you both place and time to do it; and then he vanished. Hereupon, being much affrighted, he fell into an extreme sweat, so that his wife awaking and finding him all over wet, she asked him what he ailed? He told her what he had seen and heard; but he never regarded visions nor dreams, and so the same fell out of his mind. But a fortnight after, being on a Sunday; at his lodging in King-street, Westminster, at dinner with his wife, two messengers were sent from the whole council-board, with a warrant to carry him to the Gate-house, Westminster, there to be kept till farther order from the lords of the council; upon which warrant he was kept there ten whole years close prisoner, where he spent five years of it in translating the said book, having good cause to be mindful of the old man's saying: I will shortly provide for you both place and time to translate it.

Though the perception of spirits chiefly affects the hearing and seeing faculties, yet are not the other senses without some participation of these genial objects, whether good or evil; for, as St. Austin says, The evil work of the devil creeps through all the passages of the senses; he presents himself in figures, applies himself to colours, adheres to sounds, introduces odours, infuses himself in savours, and fills all the passages of intelligence; sometimes cruelly tormenting with grief and fear, sometimes sportingly diverting man or taunting with mocks; and on the other hand, as the learned Walter Hilton, a great master of contemplative life, in his Scale of Perfection sets forth, that appearances or representations to the corporeal senses may be both good and evil.

But before I conclude upon this head, to give still more weight and authority to the perception men have had of these genii, both by the senses of hearing and seeing, I will relate two very remarkable fragments of history of this kind, told us by persons who demand our credit, and done within the memory of our grandfathers and fathers.

The first is concerning that Duke of Buckingham who was stabbed by Felton, August the twenty-third, 1628.

Mr. Lilly, the astrologer, in his book entituled Monarchy or No Monarchy, in England, printed in quarto, 1651; having mentioned the Duke of Buckingham, writes as follows: Since I am upon the death of Buckingham, I shall relate a true story, of his being admonished often of the death he should die, in this manner: —

An aged gentlemen, one Parker, as I now remember, having formerly belonged unto the duke, or of great acquaintance with the duke's father, and now retired, had a demon appeared several times to him in the shape of Sir George Villiers, the duke's father: this demon walked many times in Parker's bedchamber, without any action of terror, noise, hurt, or speech; but at last, one night, broke out in these words: Mr. Parker, I know you loved me formerly, and my son George at this time very well, I would have you go from me, you know me very well to be his father, old Sir George Villiers of Leicestershire, and acquaint him with these and these particulars, &c.; and that he above all refrain the council and company of such and such, whom he then nominated, or else he will come to destruction, and that suddenly. Parker, though a very discreet man, partly imagined himself in a dream all this time; and being unwilling to proceed upon no better grounds, forbode addressing himself to the duke; for he conceived, if he should acquaint the duke with the words of his father, and the manner of his appearance to him, such apparitions being not usual, he should be laughed at and thought to dote, in regard he was aged. Some few nights past without farther trouble to the old man, but not very many nights after, old Sir George Villiers appeared again, walked quick and furiously in the room, seemed angry with Parker, and at last said, Mr. Parker, I thought you had been my friend so much, and loved my son George so well, that you would have acquainted him with what I desired, but I know you have not done it; by all the friendship that ever was betwixt you and me, and the great respect you bear my son, I desire you to deliver what I formerly commanded you to my son. The old man seeing himself thus solicited, promised the demon he would, but first argued it thus, that the duke was not easy to be spoken withal, and that he would account him a vain man to come with such a message from the dead: nor did he conceive the duke would give any credit to him; to which the demon thus answered: If he will not believe you have this discourse from me, tell him of such a secret and named it, which he knows none in the world ever knew but myself and him. Mr. Parker being now well satisfied that he was not asleep, and that the apparition was not a vain delusion, took a fit opportunity, and seriously acquainted the duke with his father's words and the manner of his apparition. The duke laughed heartily at the relation, which put old Parker to a stand, but at last he assumed courage, and told the duke that he acquainted his father's ghost with what he found now to be true, viz., scorn and derision. But, my lord, says he, your father bid me acquaint you by this token, and he said it was such as none in the world but your two selves did yet know. Hereat the duke was amazed and much astonished, but took no warning or notice thereof, keeping the same company still, advising with such counsellors and performing such actions as his father by Parker countermanded. Shortly after, old Sir George Villiers, in a very quiet but sorrowful posture, appears again to Parker, and said, Mr. Parker, I know you delivered my words to George, my son, I thank you for so doing, but he slighted them, and now I only request this more at your hands, that once again you repair to my son, and tell him that if he will not amend, and follow the counsel I have given him, this knife or dagger, and with that he pulled a knife or dagger from under his gown, shall end him; and do you, Mr. Parker, set your house in order, for you shall die at such a time. Mr. Parker once more engaged, though very unwillingly, to acquaint the duke with the last message, and so did; but the duke told him to trouble him no farther with such messages and dreams, and told him he perceived he was now an old man and doted; and within a month after, meeting Mr. Parker on Lambeth bridge, said, Now, Mr. Parker, what say you of your dream? Who only returned; Sir, I wish it may never have success, &c. But within six weeks after, he was stabbed with a knife, according to his father's admonition beforehand, and Mr. Parker died soon after he had seen the dream or vision performed.

This relation is inserted also in the great Lord Clarendon's History, and in Sir R. Baker's Chronicle. The Lord Clarendon, in his History, vol. i. lib. i., having given some relations, says, that amongst others, there was one, meaning this of Parker, which was upon a better foundation of credit than usually such discourses are founded upon. And he tells us that Parker was an officer in the king's wardrobe in Windsor Castle, of a good reputation for honesty and discretion, and then about the age of fifty years or more. This man had, in his youth, been bred in a school in the parish where Sir George Villiers, the father of the duke lived, and had been much cherished and obliged in that season of his age by the said Sir George, whom afterwards he never saw. About six months before the miserable end of the Duke of Buckingham the apparition was seen. After the third appearance, he made a journey to London, where the court then was; he was very well known to Sir Ralph Freeman, one of the masters of the requests, who had married a lady that was nearly allied to the duke, and was himself well received by him. He informed the duke with the reputation and honesty of the man, and Sir Ralph Freeman carried the man the next morning, by five of the clock, to Lambeth, according to the duke's appointment, and there presented him to the duke, who received him courteously at his landing, and walked in conference near an hour with him, and Sir Ralph's and the duke's servants at such a distance that they heard not a word; but Sir Ralph always fixed his eyes on the duke, who sometimes spoke with great commotion and disorder; and the man told Sir Ralph in their return over the water, that when he mentioned those particulars that were to gain him credit, the duke's colour changed, and he swore he could come to that knowledge only by the devil; for that those particulars were known only to himself and to one person more, who, he was sure, would never speak of them. So far the Lord Clarendon.

I will now subjoin an authentic relation, which Mr. Beaumont tells us at the end of his book of Genii, or Familiar Spirits, printed in the year 1705, he had just before received from the mouth of the then Bishop of Gloucester himself. It is as follows, word for word: —

Sir Charles Lee, by his first lady, had only one daughter, of which she died in childbirth; and when she died, her sister, the Lady Everard, desired to have the education of the child; and she was by her very well educated till she was marriageable; and a match was concluded for her with Sir William Perkins, but was then prevented in an extraordinary manner. Upon a Thursday night, she thinking she saw a light in her chamber after she was in bed, knocked for her maid, who presently came to her; and she asked why she left a candle burning in her chamber? The maid said she left none, and there was none, but what she brought with her at that time. Then she said it was the fire; but that the maid told her was quite out, and said she believed it was only a dream: whereupon she said it might be so, and composed herself again to sleep; but about two of the clock she was awakened again, and saw the apparition of a little woman between her curtain and her pillow, who told her she was her mother, and that she was happy, and that by twelve of the clock that day she should be with her; whereupon she knocked again for her maid, called for her clothes, and when she was dressed, went into her closet, and came not out again till nine; and then brought out with her a letter, sealed, to her father, brought it to her aunt, the Lady Everard, told her what had happened, and desired that, as soon as she was dead, it might be sent to him; but the lady thought she was suddenly fallen mad; and thereupon sent presently away to Chelmsford for a physician and surgeon, who both came immediately, but the physician could discern no indication of what the lady imagined, or of any indisposition of her body; notwithstanding, the lady would needs have her let blood, which was done accordingly; and when the young woman had patiently let them do what they would with her, she desired that the chaplain might be called to read prayers, and when prayers were ended, she took her guitar and psalm book, and sat down upon a chair without arms, and played and sung so melodiously and admirably, that her music master, who was then there, admired at it; and near the stroke of twelve, she rose and sat herself down in a great chair with arms, and presently fetching a strong breathing or two, immediately expired, and was so suddenly cold as was much wondered at by the physician and surgeon. She died at Waltham, in Essex, three miles from Chelmsford; and the letter was sent to Sir Charles, at his house in Warwickshire; but he was so afflicted with the death of his daughter, that he came not till she was buried: but when he came he caused her to be taken up, and to be buried by her mother at Edmonton, as she desired in her letter. This was about the year one thousand six hundred and sixty-two or sixty-three; and this relation the Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of Gloucester had from Sir Charles Lee himself; and Mr. Beaumont printed it in his book above mentioned, from the bishop's own mouth.

The relations which I have given above, are not like the trifling accounts too often given of these things, and therefore causing grave ones to be ridiculed in common with them. They are of that nature, that, whoever attempts to ridicule them, will, instead of turning them into jest, become the object of ridicule himself.

The first story, which has in it such amazing circumstances, and such uncommon and dreadful incidents concerning the butler in Ireland, is, as the reader sees, attested by no less a personage than an Earl of Orrery, two bishops, and many other noblemen and gentlemen being present and eye-witnesses of what the earl said. What greater testimony would the most incredulous have? They say such things are told for interest. What interest could an earl and many noblemen have in promoting such an imposture? The incredulous say, likewise, great and learned men delight sometimes in putting frauds upon the world, and after laugh at their credulity. Would a number of noble laymen choose two prelates to carry on such a fraud; and would two pious bishops probably combine with several, and some servants there present, in spreading such a deceit? It is past believing, and it demands the strictest of moral faith that can be given to the most unquestioned history that the pen of man ever wrote.

The second story is founded, first, upon the experience of one of the most ingenious men of that age, Dr. Donne, and then upon the proof made by his friend Sir Robert Drury, who could at first scarce believe it; and shall we doubt the credit of men, whose company, for their credit be it spoken, a British ambassador was proud of gaining.

The third story is told by Luther himself, who began the great work of the Reformation.

The fourth is told by one that was a king's public minister and told from his own trial of the matter, where he could have no interest in the telling it.

The fifth is related by those great historians, the Lord Clarendon and Sir Richard Baker, as a truth relied upon by themselves, and fit to be credited by their readers.

The sixth and last was related to Mr. Beaumont, by the Lord Bishop of Gloucester, who received the account from Sir Charles Lee himself, to whose granddaughter the matter happened.

Men who will not believe such things as these, so well attested to us, and given us by such authorities, because they did not see them themselves, nor anything of the like nature, ought not only to deny the demon of Socrates, but that there was such a man as Socrates himself; they should not dispute the genii of Cæsar, Cicero, Brutus, Marc Antony, but avow that there were never any such men existing upon earth, and overthrow all credible history whatsoever. Meanwhile, all men, but those who run such lengths in their fantastical incredulity, will, from the facts above mentioned, rest satisfied, that there are such things as evil and good genii, and that men have sometimes a commerce with them by all their senses, particularly those of seeing and hearing, and will not therefore be startled at the strange fragments of histories which I am going to relate of our young Duncan Campbell, and look upon some wonderful adventures which he performed by the intervention of his familiar demon or genius, as falsehoods, only because they are uncommon and surprising, more especially since they were not done in a corner, but by an open way of profession of a predictor of things, in the face of the metropolis of London, where he settled young, as will appear in the progress of his life. However, some people, notwithstanding all this, may allege, that though a man may have a genius appear to him, so as to convey into his mind, through his senses, the knowledge of things that are to come to pass, yet this happens but on very eminent and extraordinary occasions. The murder, for example, of a prime minister, and the favourite of a monarch, in such a manner as it was performed on the great Duke of Buckingham, by Felton, was a thing so uncommon, that it might perhaps deserve, by the permission of Heaven, an uncommon prediction; the others likewise are instances eminent in their way, particularly that of the lady Everard's niece; for that young lady being then marriageable, and a treaty for that end being on foot with Sir William Perkins, the Divine Providence foreseeing that such a state might call away her thoughts, hitherto bent on him and spiritual affairs, and fix them on the trifles of this world, might perhaps permit her to be called by a holy mother to the state of happiness she before her enjoyed, lest her daughter's mind should change, and she go into the ways of a sinner. But if these supereminent, these scarce and rare examples, may be admitted of man's holding a conversation with the spiritualized beings of another world; it will, however, be far below the dignity of human reason, methinks, to make such large concessions to people who pretend to converse that wonderful way, as to allow them the credit of being able to do it upon every slight occasion, and every indifferent occurrence of human life.

I cannot help acknowledging, that a man of wisdom may at first thought, make such an objection; but reflection will presently retract it, and the same good sense that taught him to make an objection so well upon the first thought, will teach him, upon second thoughts, to acquiesce in the answer.

Infants may have, no doubt, the benefit of such an attending genius, as well as people more advanced in years; as may be seen in one of the instances, which is a very famous one, relating to the boy born in Prussia, who was attended by one constantly, from the time of his birth to his death. Besides, it is a mistake in the understanding to imagine, that death, which is the determination and end of life, is of more consequence to be known than the manner of regulating that life; for in reality, according to the right way of considering death, or the determination of a man's life, derives its importance from the steps which he took in the due regulation of it; and therefore, every, the least step proper to be taken for the due regulation of life, is of more consequence to be known than the death of a person, though this at first sight carries the face of significance, and the other nothing better than the look of a trifle. Marriage, for example, is a step in life of the utmost importance, whether we consider that estate with regard to this, or the next world. Death is but the finishing of one person, but marriage may be the introducing of many into the world with happiness; it is therefore a thing of more importance to be known beforehand, and consequently more worthy of the communication of a genius, to the man with whom he conversed. Posidonius tells us, that a certain Rhodian dying, nominated six of his equals, and said who should die first, who next, and so on, and the event answered the prediction; why, then, though some people are apt to make a jest of it, may not a man, by the intervention of his good genius, tell a woman that is to have six husbands, who she shall have first, who next, and so on, and the event answer the prediction? If men of learning may acquire such knowledge as to attain to extraordinary things by their ordinary faculties, why may not ordinary things be taught others in this extraordinary way? For will anybody say that it is easier for a man to accommodate himself to the knowledge of a demon or genius than for a demon or genius to accommodate himself to the knowledge of a man? Certain it is, indeed, that if this good genius, that induces a man with a prophetic kind of science, be anything resembling a good angel, the primary end of his being permitted to direct mankind must consist in things relating more to their welfare hereafter: yet I know not why they may not sometimes inspire, or openly direct them in human knowledge, and in things relating to human life, so they are of a good tendency; more especially since such a good inspiration may be a counterbalance to the bad knowledge which some have been inspired with by evil spirits. I would not be thought to go too far in a point of this nature, and have, therefore, though perhaps I could say much more if I followed entirely my own private opinion, and would venture to introduce it here, in order to communicate it to others, and make it a public one, said no more on this head than what divines generally teach.

But the most unexceptionable mistress, that teaches these things to be in nature, is experience. If we had very many people gifted this way, the extraordinary thing would have been become ordinary, and therefore I cannot help wondering that it should be so ordinary a thing for wise men themselves to wonder too much at things because they are extraordinary, and suspect them as frauds because they are uncommon.

There has scarce been any period of time in which some person of this prophetic class has not existed, and has not been consulted by the greatest of men, and their predictions found at the long run to come true; ignorant men always rise to their belief of them by experience, and the most learned men submit their great opinions to experience, but your men of middling talents, who make up their want of reason with bustling obstinacy and noisy contradiction, have been and still continue to be their own opposers, and without discovering the reason for what they say, they content themselves with having the laugh on their sides, and barely affirming without proving, that it is a kind of ideal juggle and intellectual legerdemain, by which these modern predictors impose things upon the eye of reason, as the corporeal eye is imposed upon by sleight of hand; but it is a strange thing that men of such quick reason cannot give us a sample of the frauds. Thus, I remember to have read, I cannot tell where, the story of some courtiers, who, when a great artist of legerdemain was to act before the King, pretended to be so quick-sighted, that nothing he did should escape their discovery, were left by his nimble fingers in the dark, and forced at last with blushes to own they had no better eyes than other people. In a word, if people will be led by suspicions and remote possibilities of fraud and contrivance of such men, all historical truth shall be ended, when it consists not with a man's private humour or prejudice to admit it. Now, therefore, to prove by experience and undeniable testimonies, that these kind of genii will submit to little offices, in order to bring men to greater good, I will give three or four curious passages that will set the reasonable reader at ease, and prepare him for reading the passages of Mr. Campbell's life with pleasure, and as a fine history of wonderful facts, that, though they seem to surpass belief, yet ought to have his credit.

What in nature can be more trivial than for a spirit to employ himself in knocking on a morning at a wainscot by the bed's-head of a man who got drunk over-night, according to the way that such things are ordinarily explained? And yet I shall give you such a relation of this, that not even the most devout and precise Presbyterian will offer to call in question. For Mr. Baxter, in his Historical Discourse of Apparitions, writes thus: —

There is now in London an understanding, sober, pious man, oft one of my hearers, who has an elder brother, a gentleman of considerable rank, who, having formerly seemed pious, of late years does often fall into the sin of drunkenness, he often lodges long together here in his brother's house; and whensoever he is drunk and has slept himself sober, something knocks at his bed's-head, as if one knocked on a wainscot; when they remove his bed it follows him; besides other loud noises, on other parts where he is, that all the house hears; they have often watched him, and kept his hands lest he should do it himself. His brother has often told it me, and brought his wife, a discreet woman, to attest it; who avers, moreover, that as she watched him, she has seen his shoes under the bed taken up, and nothing visible to touch them. They brought the man himself to me, and when we asked him how he dare sin again after such a warning, he had no excuse: but being persons of quality, for some special reason of worldly interest, I must not name him.

Two things are remarkable in this instance, says Mr. Baxter. First, what a powerful thing temptation and fleshly concupiscence is, and what a hardened heart sin brings men to; if one rose from the dead to warn such sinners, it would not of itself persuade them.

Secondly, says Mr. Baxter, it poses me to think what kind of spirit this is that has such a care of this man's soul, which makes me hope he will recover. Do good spirits dwell so near us, or are they sent on such messages? or is it his guardian angel? or is it the soul of some dead friend that suffers? and yet, retaining love to him, as Dives to his brethren, would have him saved? God yet keeps such things from us in the dark.

So far we have the authority of the renowned and famous Mr. Baxter, who makes this knocking of the spirit at the bed's-head, though what we commonly call frivolous, an important errand.

Another relation of this kind was sent to Mr. John Beaumont, whom I myself personally know, and which he has inserted in his Account of Genii, or Familiar Spirits, in a letter by an ingenious and learned clergyman of Wiltshire, who had given him the relation likewise before, by word of mouth. It is as follows: —

Near eighty years since, in the parish of Wilcot, which is by Devizes, in the vicar's house, there was heard for a considerable time the sound of a bell constantly tolling every night. The occasion was this: A debauched person who lived in the parish came one night very late and demanded the keys of the church of the vicar, that he might ring a peal, which the vicar refused to let him have, alleging the unseasonableness of the time, and that he should, by granting his desires, give a disturbance to Sir George Wroughton and his family, whose house adjoined the churchyard. Upon this refusal, the fellow went away in a rage, threatening to be revenged of the vicar, and going some time after to Devizes, met with one Cantle or Cantlow, a person noted in those days for a wizard, and he tells him how the vicar had served him, and begs his help to be even with him. The reply Cantle made him was this; Does he not love ringing? he shall have enough of it: and from that time a bell began to toll in his house, and continued so to do till Cantle's death, who confessed at Fisherton gaol, in Sarum, where he was confined by King James during his life, that he caused that sound, and that it should be heard in that place during life. The thing was so notorious that persons came from all parts to hear it; and King James sent a gentleman from London on purpose to give him satisfaction concerning the truth of the report. Mr. Beaumont had likewise this story, as he tells, from the mouth of Sir George Wroughton's own son; with this remarkable circumstance, that if any in the house put their heads out of the window they could not hear the sound, but heard it immediately again as soon as they stood in the room.

The reader here sees that good and bad genii exercise themselves upon very little functions, knocking at bed's-heads, and ringing of bells. For proof of this we have the testimonies of two divines, of a man of quality and probity, and the same satisfaction that a learned king had, who sent to inquire into the matter; and after this there can be, I think, no room for doubt.

But to carry the point still nearer home; inasmuch as I know some will leave no stone unturned to make the extraordinary actions which the person whose life I write has performed, appear impostures, and inasmuch as for this end they may say, that though many people may have been gifted in this extraordinary manner, yet not so as to make a profession of it, and therefore, from thence they take their suspicions, I shall in this place, to remove every nicest scruple they can have touching this affair, give the reader one instance of this kind likewise, before I proceed with my history.

There lived not many years since a very aged gentlewoman in London, in Water-lane, by Fleet-street, whose name was Pight, who was endowed with a prophetic spirit; and the ingenious Mr. Beaumont, whom I personally knew, and who had a familiar genius himself, gives the world this account of her. She was very well known, says he, to many persons of my acquaintance now living in London. Among others, a gentleman, whose candour I can no way suspect, has told me, that he often resorted to her as to an oracle; and that as soon as he came into her presence, she would usually tell him, that she knew what he was coming for, for that she had seen his spirit for some time before; and without his saying anything to her, she would commonly tell him what the business was which he came to consult her about, and what the event of it would be; which he always found to fall out as she said, and many other persons now living can testify the like experience of her as to themselves.

Before I conclude this chapter, I am willing to give the public one farther little history of the like kind with the foregoing ones, with this only difference, that if it be valued according to the worth the world has always attributed to the very ingenious person whom it concerns, it will be far the most famous of them all, and therefore fittest to finish this chapter, and to crown this part of the work, in which we are showing that persons have had a perception of genii or spirits, not visible at the same time to others.