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

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 among the 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 so slovenly 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 by one 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 the beau 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, as would 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.

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 without shrieking 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, and they 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.

First, I will speak of magic in general.

Secondly, Of magic under its several divisions and subdivisions.

Thirdly, Concerning the object of art, as it is good or bad.

Fourthly, Of the persons exercising that art in either capacity, of good or bad, and by what means they become capacitated to exercise it.

In the fifth place, I shall come to the several objections against the art of magic, and the refutation of those objections.

The first objection shall be against the existence of good and bad spirits; the refutation of which will consist in my proving the existence of spirits, both good and bad, by reason and by experience.

The second objection that will be brought, is to contain an allegation that there are no such persons as witches now, and an argument to support that allegation, drawn from the incapacity and impossibility of any thing's making, while itself is incarnate, a contract with a spirit. This objection will be answered by proving the reality of witches from almost universal experience, and by explaining rationally the manner how the devils hold commerce with witches; which explanation is backed and authorised by the opinion of the most eminent divines, and the most learned physicians.

From hence, sixthly and lastly, We shall conclude on the side of the good magic, that as there are witches on the one hand that may afflict and torment persons with demons, so on the other hand there are lawful and good magicians that may cast out demons from people that are possessed with them.

And first as to magic in general. Magic consists in the spirit by faith, for faith is that magnet of the magicians by which they draw spirits to them, and by which spirits they do great things, that appear like miracles.

Secondly, Magic is divided into three sorts, viz., divine, natural, and diabolical. And natural magic is again subdivided into two kinds, simple and compound; and natural compound magic is again likewise divided into two kinds, viz., natural-divine magic, and natural-diabolical magic. Now, to give the reader a clear and a distinct notion of each several species of magic here mentioned, I set down the following definitions: Divine magic is a celestial science, in which all operations that are wonderfully brought about, are performed by the Spirit of God. Natural magic is a science in which all the mysterious acts that are wrought, are compassed by natural spirits. But as this natural magic may be exercised about things either in a manner indifferent in themselves, or mere morally good, and then it is mere natural magic; or else about things theologically good, and transcendently bad; and then it is not merely and natural magic, but mixed and compound. If natural magic be exercised about the most holy operations, it is then mixed with the divine, and may then be called, not improperly, natural-divine magic. But if natural magic troubles itself about compassing the wickedest practices, then is it promiscuous with the demoniacal, and may not improperly be called natural-diabolical magic.

Thirdly, The object of this art is doing wonders out of the ordinary appearing course of nature, which tend either to great good or bad, by the help and mediation of spirits good and bad.

Fourthly, As to the persons exercising that art in either way, whether good or bad, and by what means they become capacitated to act it, the notion of this may be easily deduced from the notions of the art itself, as considered above in its each different species; for as all magic consists in a spirit, every magician acts by a spirit.

Divine magicians, that are of God, are spoke of in the sacred Book, and therefore I shall not mention the passages here, but pass them over, as I ought in a book like this, with a profound and reverential silence, as well as the other passages which speak of natural and demoniacal magicians; and in all I shall speak of them in this place, I shall only speak of them with regard to human reason and experience, and conclude this head with saying, that natural magicians work all things by the natural spirits of the elements; but that witches and demoniacal magicians, as Jannes and Jambres in Egypt were, work their magical performances by the spirit of demons, and it is by the means of these different spirits that these different magicians perform their different operations.

These things thus distinctly settled and explained, it is now we must come and ground the dispute between those who believe there are no such things as magicians of any kind, and those who assert there are of all the kinds above specified.

Those who contend there are, have recourse to experience, and relate many well-witnessed narratives, to prove that there have been in all times, and that there are still, magicians of all these kinds. But those who contend that there are no such persons, will give no ear to what the others call plain experience; they call the stories, let whatever witnesses appear to justify them, either fabulous legends invented by the authors, or else tricks of intellectual legerdemain imposed by the actors, upon the relators of those actions. Since, therefore, they say, though the believers in magic brag of experience never so much, it may be but a fallible experience; they reasonably desire to know whether these gentlemen that stand for magic can answer the objections which they propose, to prove that the practice of magic, according to the system laid down, is inconsistent with reason, before they will yield their assent. Let the stories be never so numerous, appear never so credible, these unbelieving gentlemen desire to be tried by reason, and aver till that reason is given they will not be convinced by the number of stories, because, though numerous, they are stories still; neither will they believe them because they appear credible, because seeming so is not being so, and appearances, though never so fair, when they contradict reason, are not to be swallowed down with an implicit faith as so many realities. And thus far, no doubt, the gentlemen who are on the unbelieving side are very much in the right of it. The learned gentlemen, on the other hand, who are persuaded of this mighty mysterious power being lodged in the hands of magicians, answer, that they will take upon them to refute the most subtle objections brought by the learned unbelievers, and to reconcile the practicability of magical mysteries by the capacity of men who study that art, to right rules and laws of reasoning, and to show that some stories, though never so prodigious, which are told of magicians, demand the belief of wise men on two accounts; because as experience backs reason on the one hand, reason backs experience on the other, and so the issue of the whole argument, whether there are magicians or not, is thrown upon both experience and reason. These arguments on each side, I shall draw up fairly pro and con; for I do not pretend to be the inventor of them myself, they belong to other authors many years ago; be it enough for me to boast of, if I can draw them up in a better and closer form together than they have yet appeared in. In that I take upon myself a very great task; I erect myself as it were into a kind of a judge; I will sum up the evidences on both sides, and I shall, wherever I see occasion, intimate which side of the argument bears the most weight with me; but when I have enforced my opinion as far as I think needful, my readers, like a jury, are still at liberty to bring in their verdict just as they themselves shall see fit; and this naturally leads me where I promised to come to in the fifth part of this discourse, to the several objections against the power of art magic, and the refutation of those objections.

The First Objections being against the Existence of Spirits, and the Refutations thereof

The first objection which they who reject magic make use of, is, denying that there are any such things as spirits, about which, since those who defend the art say it entirely exerciseth itself, the objectors contend, that if they can make out that there are no such beings as spirits, all pretensions to the art must be entirely groundless, and for the future exploded.

To make this part out, that there are no spirits, the first man they produce on their side is undoubtedly one of very great credit and authority, inasmuch as he has justly borne for many centuries the title of a prince of philosophers. They say that Aristotle in his book de Mundo, reasons thus against the existence of spirits, viz., That since God can do all things of himself, he doth not stand in need of ministering angels and demons. A multitude of servants showing the weakness of a prince.

The gentlemen who defend the science make this reply, they allow the credit and authority of Aristotle as much as the objectors; but as the objectors themselves deny all the authorities for the spirits, and desire that reason may be the only ground they go upon, so the refuters, on their parts desire, that Aristotle's ipse dixit may not be absolutely passed upon them for argument; but that his words may be brought to the same touchstone of reason, and proved if they are standard. If this argument, say they, will hold good, Aristotle should not suppose intelligences moving the celestial spheres; for God sufficeth to move all without ministering spirits; nor would there be need of a sun in the world, for God can enlighten all things by himself, and so all second causes were to be taken away; therefore, there are angels and ministering spirits in the world, for the majesty of God, not for his want of them, and for order, not for his omnipotency. And here if the objectors return and say, who told you that there are spirits; Is not yours a precarious hypothesis? May not we have leave to recriminate in this place? Pray, who told Aristotle that there were intelligences that moved the celestial spheres? Is not this hypothesis as precarious as any man may pretend that of spirits to be? And we believe there are few philosophers at present who agree with Aristotle in that opinion; and we dare pronounce this to be ours, that Aristotle took his intelligences from the Hebrews, who went according to the same whimsical, though pretty notion, which first gave rise to the fiction of the nine muses. But more than all this, it is a very great doubt among learned men, whether this book de Mundo be Aristotle's or no.

The next thing the objectors bring against the existence of spirits, is, that it is nonsense for men to say that there are such beings of which it is impossible for a man to have any notion, and they insist upon it that it is impossible for any man to form an idea of a spiritual substance. As to this part, the defendants rejoin, that they think our late most judicious Mr. Locke, in his elaborate and finished Essay on the Human Understanding, has fairly made out, that men have as clear a notion of a spiritual substance as they have of any corporeal substance, matter, or body; and that there is as much reason for admitting the existence of the one, as of the other; for that if they admit the latter, it is but humour in them to deny the former. It is in book the 2nd, chap. 29, where he reasons thus: "If a man will examine himself concerning his notion of pure substance in general he will find he has no other idea of it, but only a supposition of he knows not what support of such quality which are capable of producing simple ideas in us, which qualities are commonly called accidents. Thus, if we talk or think of any particular sort of corporeal substance, as horse, stone, &c., though the idea we have of either of them be but the complication or collection of those several simple ideas, or sensible qualities which we use to find united in the thing called horse, or stone; yet because we cannot conceive how they should subsist alone, not one in another, we suppose them to exist in, and be supported by some common subject; which support we denote by the name of substance, though it be certain we have no clear or distinct idea of that thing we suppose a support. The same happens concerning the operations of our mind, viz., thinking, reasoning, and fearing, &c., which we concluding not to subsist of themselves, and not apprehending how they can belong to body, we are apt to think these the actions of some substance which we call spirit; whereby it is evident, that having no other notion of matter, but something wherein those many sensible qualities which affect our senses do subsist, by supposing a substance wherein thinking, knowing, doubting, and a power of moving, &c., do subsist, we have as clear a notion of the nature or substance of spirit, as we have of body: the one being supposed to be, without knowing what is, the substratum to those simple ideas which we have from without; and the other supposed, with a like ignorance of what it is, to be the substratum of these operations which we experiment in ourselves within. It is plain, then, that the idea of corporeal substance in matter, is as remote from our conceptions and apprehensions as that of spiritual substance, and therefore from our not having any notion of the substance of spirit, we can no more conclude its not existence, than we can for the same reason deny the existence of body; it being as rational to affirm there is no body, because we cannot know its essence, as it is called, or have the idea of the substance of matter, as to say, there is no spirit, because we know not its essence, or have no idea of a spiritual substance." Mr. Locke also, comparing our idea of spirit with our idea of body, thinks there may seem rather less obscurity in the former than the latter. Our idea of body he takes to be an extended solid substance, capable of communicating motion by impulse; and our idea of soul is a substance that thinks, and has a power of exciting motion in body by will or thought. Now, some perhaps will say they comprehend a thinking thing, which perhaps is true; but, he says, if they consider it well, they can no more comprehend an extended thing; and if they say, they know not what it is thinks in them, they mean they know not what the substance is of that thinking thing; no more, says he, do they know what the substance is of that solid thing; and if they say they know how not how they think, he says, neither do they know how they are extended, how the solid parts are united, or where to make extension, &c.

The learned Monsieur le Clerc, who generally knows how far human reason can bear, argues consonantly to what is before delivered by Mr. Locke, in his Coronis, added to the end of the fourth volume of his Philosophical Works, in the third edition of them, where he writes as followeth: —

"When we contemplate the corporeal nature, we can see nothing in it but extension, divisibility, solidity, mobility, and various determinations of quantity, or figures; which being so, it were a rash thing, and contrary to the laws of right reasoning, to affirm other things of bodies; and consequently from mere body nothing can be deduced by us, which is not joined in a necessary connection with the said properties; therefore those who have thought the properties of perceiving by sense, of understanding, willing, imagining, remembering, and others the like, which have no affinity with corporeal things, to have risen from the body, have greatly transgressed in the method of right reasoning and philosophising, which hath been done by Epicurus, and those who have thought as he did, having affirmed our minds to be composed of corporeal atoms: but whence shall we say they have had their rise? truly, they do not owe their rise to matter, which is wholly destitute of sense and thought, nor are they spontaneously sprung up from nothing, it being an ontological maxim of most evident truth, that nothing springs from nothing."

Having thus given the reader the first objections made against the existence of spirits, and the refutations thereof, I must now frankly own on which side my opinion leans; and for my part, it seems manifest to me that there are two beings; we conceive very plainly and distinctly, viz., body and spirit, and that it would be as absurd and ridiculous to deny the existence of the one as of the other; and really, if the refuters have got the better in their way of reasoning, they have still a much greater advantage over the objectors, when they come to back these reasons with fresh arguments drawn from experience. Of this, there having been many undoubted narratives given in the foregoing pages, concerning the apparitions of spirits, I shall refer the reader back again to them, and only subjoin here one or two instances, which may, if required, be proved upon oath, of spirits seen by two persons of our Duncan Campbell's own acquaintance. In the year 1711, one Mrs. Stephens and her daughter were together with Mr. Campbell, at the house of Mr Ramell, a very great and noted weaver at Haggerstone, where the rainy weather detained them till late at night. Just after the clock struck twelve, they all of them went to the door to see if the rain had ceased, being extremely desirous to get home. As soon as ever they had opened the door and where all got together, there appeared before them a thing all in white, the face seemed of a dismal palid hue, but the eyes thereof fiery and flaming, like beacons, and of a saucer size. It made its approaches to them till it came up within the space of about three yards of them, there it fixed and stood like a figure agaze, for some minutes; and they all stood likewise stiff, like the figure, frozen with fear, motionless, and speechless; when all of a sudden it vanished from their eyes, and that apparition to the sight was succeeded by a noise, or the appearance of a noise, like that which is occasioned by the fighting of twenty mastiff dogs.

Not long after, Mrs. Anne Stephens, who lived in Spitalfields, a woman well known by her great dealings with mercers upon Ludgate-hill, sitting in her house alone, and musing upon business, happened by accident to look behind her, and saw a dead corpse, to her thinking, lie extended upon the floor, just as a dead corpse should be, excepting that the foot of one leg was fixed on the ground, as it is in a bed when one lies with one knee up; she looked at it a long while, and by degrees at last stole her eyes from so unpleasing and unexpected an object. However, a strange kind of a curiosity overcame her fears, and she ventured a second time to turn her head that way, and saw it, as before, fixed for a considerable time longer, but durst not stir from her seat; she again withdrew her eyes from the horrible and melancholy spectacle, and resumed the courage, after a little reflection, of viewing it again, and resolved to ascertain herself if the vision was real, by getting up from her seat and going to it, but upon this third retrospection she found it vanished. This relation she writ down to Mr. Duncan Campbell, and has told before Mrs. Ramell, her own sister, and many other very creditable persons. Now as to these arguments from experience, I shall also deliver my opinion; I dispute not but that learned men, who have obstinate prepossessions, may produce plausible arguments why all things should be thought to be done by imposture which seem strange to them, and interfere with their belief; and truly thus far their humour may be indulged, that if only one person relates a very strange and surprising story, a man may be more apt to think it is possible for that person to lie, than that so strange a relation should be true; but if a considerable number of persons, of several countries, several religious, several professions, several ages, and those persons looked upon to be of as great sagacity as any the country afford, agree in relations of the same kind, thought very strange and are ready to vouch the truth of them upon oath, after having well considered circumstances, I think it a violation of the law of nature to reject all these relations as fabulous, merely upon a self-presuming conceit, unless a man can fairly show the things to be impossible, or can demonstrate wherein those persons were imposed on; for from hence I form the following conclusive argument. What is possible according to reason, grows probable according to belief; where the possibility is attested to have reduced itself into action by persons of known credit and integrity. Now, not only the possibility of the existence of spirits, but the actual existence thereof is proved above by logical demonstration; therefore are we to believe both by the course of logical reason and moral faith, that those existences have appeared to men of credit, who have attested the reality thereof upon oath.

Second Objection against the Existence of Witches

These objectors go on to say, that provided they should allow there is an existence of spirits, yet that would be still no argument how magic should subsist, because they deny that it is impossible for a man in his body to have a commerce, much less make a contract, with spirits; but here again the refuters allege they have both experience and reason on their sides. As a joint argument of reason and experience, they tell you, that the numerous witches which have in all countries been arraigned and condemned upon this occasion, are evident testimonies of this commerce and contract being held and made with spirits. They pretend to say, that these objectors call not their, the refuters, judgment so much in question, who contend that there is a magic art, as they call in question the judgment of all the wisest legislative powers in Christendom, who have universally agreed in enacting penal laws against such capital offenders.

But here the objectors return and say, that it being impossible for us to show the manner how such a contract should be made, we can never, but without reason, believe a thing to be, of which we can form no perfect idea. The refuters, on the other hand, reply with the learned Father le Brune, it is manifest that we can see but two sorts of beings, spirits and bodies; and that since we can reason but according to our ideas, we ought to ascribe to spirits what cannot be produced by bodies. Indeed the author of the Republic of Learning, in the month of August, anno 1686, has given us a rough draught for writing a good tract of witchcraft, which he looks upon as a desideratum; where among other things, he writes thus: Since this age is the true time of systems, one should be contrived concerning the commerce that may be betwixt demons and men.

On this passage Father le Brune writes thus: "Doubtless here the author complies with the language of a great many persons, who, for want of attention and light, would have us put all religion in systems. Whatever regard I ought to have for many of those persons, I must not be afraid to say, that there is no system to be made of those truths, which we ought to learn distinctly by faith, because we must advance nothing here, but what we receive from the oracle. We must make a system to explain the effects of the loadstone, the ebbing and flowing of the sea, the motion of the planets; for that the cause of these effects is not evidently signified to us, and many may be conceived by us; and to determine us, we have need of a great number of observations, which by an exact induction may lead us to a cause that may satisfy all the phenomena. It is not the same in the truths of religion, we come not at them by groping, it were to be wished men spoke not of them, but after a decisive and infallible authority. It is thus we should speak of the power of demons, and of the commerce they have with men; it is of faith, that they have power, and that they attack men, and try to seduce them divers ways. It is true, indeed, they are sometimes permitted to have it over the just, though they have it not ordinarily, but over those that want faith, or fear not to partake of their works; and that to the last particularly, the disordered intelligences try to make exactly succeed what they wish; inspiring them to have recourse to certain practices by which those seducing spirits enter into commerce with men." Thus far Father le Brune. But still these objectors demand to know by what means this commerce may be held between demons and men, and urge us to describe the manner; or pretend that they have still reason to refuse coming into the belief of a thing which we would impose upon them, though wholly ignorant of it ourselves; to that the refuters answer thus; that both Christian divines and physicians agree as to the manner how, which they are so curious in inquiring after, that demons stir up raptures and ecstacies in men, binding or loosing the exterior senses, and that either by stopping the pores of the brain, so that the spirits cannot pass forth, as it is done naturally by sleep, or by recalling the sensitive spirits from the outward senses to the inward organs, which he there retains; so the Devil renders women witches ecstatical and magicians, who while they lie fast asleep in one place, think they have been in divers places, and done many things. This the learned objectors say proceeds from no demon, but from the disease called an epilepsy; but, on the other hand, the more learned refuters insist upon it, that these ecstacies are not epileptic seizures; this, say they, appears from Bodin, in his Theatre of Universal Nature, where he says, That those who are wrapped by the Devil, feel neither stripes nor cuttings, nor no wresting of their limbs, nor burning tortures, nor the application of a red hot iron; nay, nor is the beat of the pulse, nor the motion of the heart perceived in them; but afterwards, returning to themselves, they feel most bitter pains of the wounds received, and tell of things done at six hundred miles' distance, and affirm themselves to have seen them done. The ingenious Dr. Ader, makes an admirable physical distinction between this kind of ecstacy and a syncope, or stupor caused by narcotic medicines. Sennertus, in his Institutio Medica, writes of the demoniacal sopor of witches, who think they are carried through the air, dance, feast, and have copulation with the devil, and do other things in their sleep, and afterwards believe the same things waking. Now, he says, whether they are really so carried in the air, &c., or being in a profound sleep, or only dream they are so carried, and persist in that opinion after they are awake, these facts or dreams cannot be natural; for it cannot be that there should be so great an agreement in dreams, of persons differing in place, temperament, age, sex, and studies, that in one night, and at the same hour, they should, in concert, dream of one and the same such meeting, and should agree as to the place, number, and quality of the persons, and the like circumstances; but such dreams are suggested from a preternatural cause, viz., from the devil to his confederate, by the divine permission of an Almighty power, where punishments are to be permitted to be inflicted upon reprobate sinners.

Whence also, to those witches, sincerely converted, and refusing to be any more present at those diabolical meetings, those dreams no longer happen, which is a proof that they proceeded not before from a natural cause.

Here begins the great point of the dispute as to that branch of magic which we call natural magic. The objectors may tell us, that they will freely own that there may be an existence of spirits, that there may be an existence of witches, that by a divine power men may be influenced so far as to have a communication with good spirits, and that from thence they may become spiritual-divine magicians, they will likewise, perhaps, as freely grant, that by the intervention of a demon, things preternatural may be brought about by persons who have studied the demoniacal magic; but then what they principally insist upon is, that it must be contradictory to all human reason to imagine that there can be such a thing as natural magicians; and thus far they may form their argument. They say, that the persons, who contend for the magic art, own, that all that is brought about by magic, is by the assistance and help of a spirit, and that consequently what is effected by it must be preternatural; now, they say, it is a thing inconsistent, by a natural power, to bring about a preternatural effect; therefore, there can be no such thing as natural magic, which has within itself the efficacy of destroying those acts done by magicians in the diabolical.