The power of the devil, his personal appearance, and the possibility of bartering the soul for temporary gain, must still be numbered among the articles of our popular faith. Repeating the Lord's Prayer backwards is said to be the most effectual plan for "raising the devil;" but when the terms of the bargain are not satisfactory, his exit can only be secured by making the sign of the cross and calling on the name of Christ. In the neighbourhood of Blackburn a story prevails that two threshers once succeeded in raising him through the barn floor; but on their becoming alarmed at their success, he was summarily dismissed by means of a vigorous thrashing on the head with the flails. His partiality for playing at cards has long been proverbial, both in Lancashire and elsewhere. A near relative of the writer firmly believed that the devil had once visited their company when they had prolonged their play into Sunday. How he joined them they never rightly knew, but (as in the Danish legend respecting a similar visit) his presence was first suspected in consequence of his extraordinary "run of good luck;" and a casual detection of his cloven foot completed the dispersion of the players. It is not always, however, that he obtains the advantage; for he has more than once been outwitted by a crafty woman or a cunning priest. In the Lancashire tradition we find the poor tailor of Chatburn stipulating for three wishes, and, on the advice of his wife, consulting the "holy father of Salley" in his extremity. When the fatal day arrived, he freed himself from the bond by expressing as his last wish, that his tormentor "were riding back to his quarters on a dun horse, never to plague him more." The devil, it is said, gave a yell which was heard to Colne, on finding that he had lost his man. Mr. Roby in his Traditions, and the author of the Pictorial History of Lancashire, give humorous engravings of this noted ride; and the sign of "The Dule upo' Dun," over the door of the wayside inn, attests the popular belief in the local tradition. From these and many other instances it is evident that we have derived many of these superstitions from the Saxon and Danish settlers in Northumbria. The essential parts of each are identical, and as regards these particular bargains, it may be added as a curious circumstance, that in no case is the bond held to be binding unless it be signed with the blood of the person contracting.[62]

Offering fowls to evil spirits appears to have been an ancient and wide-spread practice. It was common to sacrifice a cock to the devil. Burns, in his "Address to the Deil," says—"Some cock or cat your rage must stop." Music and dancing are also associated in our popular superstitions with witches, evil spirits, and the devil. The devils, it is said, love music, but dread bells, and have a very delicate sense of smells. In the True and Faithful Relation of what passed between Dr. Dee and some Spirits, we learn that the devil appeared to the doctor "as an angel in a white robe, holding a bloody cross in his right hand, the same hand being also bloody," and in this guise he prayed, and "anabaptistically bewailed the wickedness of the world."[63]

RAISING THE DEVIL.

The boys at the Burnley Grammar-school are said to have succeeded on one occasion in raising the devil. They repeated the Lord's Prayer backwards, and performed some incantations by which, as it is said, Satan was induced to make his appearance through a stone flag on the floor of the school-house. After he had got his head and shoulders well out, the boys became alarmed, and began to hammer him down with the poker and tongs. With much ado they drove him back; but the black mark he had left on the flag was shown in proof of his appearance until the school-house was repaired, a few years ago, when the floor was boarded over, and the flagstone disappeared.

THE DEVIL & THE SCHOOLMASTER AT COCKERHAM.

It is said that the arch Spirit of Evil once took up his abode in Cockerham, and so scared and disturbed the inhabitants of that quiet place, that at length in public meeting, to consider how to free themselves from this fiendish persecution, they appointed the schoolmaster, as the wisest and cleverest man in the place, to do his best to drive the devil away. Using the prescribed incantation at midnight, the pedagogue succeeded in raising Satan; but when he saw his large horns and tail, saucer eyes, and long claws, he became almost speechless. According to the recognised procedure in such cases, the devil granted him the privilege of setting three tasks, which if he (Satan) accomplished, the schoolmaster became his prey; if he failed, it would compel the flight of the demon from Cockerham. The first task, to count the number of dewdrops on certain hedges, was soon accomplished; and so was the second, to count the number of stalks in a field of grain. The third task was then proposed in the following words, according to a doggerel version of the tradition:—

Speedily the rope was twisted of fine sand, but it would not stand washing; so the devil was foiled, and at one stride he stepped over the bridge over Broadfleet, at Pilling Moss. The metrical version of the legend is scarcely worth printing.

OLD NICK.

According to Scandinavian mythology, the supreme god Odin assumes the name of Nick, Neck, Nikkar, Nikur, or Hnikar, when he acts as the evil or destructive principle. In the character of Nikur, or Hnikudur, a Protean water-sprite, he inhabits the lakes and rivers of Scandinavia, where he raises sudden storms and tempests, and leads mankind into destruction. Nick, or Nickar, being an object of dread to the Scandinavians, propitiatory worship was offered to him; and hence it has been imagined that the Scandinavian spirit of the waters became, in the middle ages, St. Nicholas, the patron of sailors, who invoke his aid in storms and tempests. This supposition (which has a degree of probability almost amounting to certainty) receives countenance from the great devotion still felt by the Gothic nations towards St. Nicholas, to whom many churches on the sea-shore are dedicated. The church of St. Nicholas, in this situation at Liverpool, was consecrated in 1361; and, says Mr. Baines,[64] "in the vicinity there formerly stood a statue of St. Nicholas; and when the faith in the intercession of saints was more operative than at present, the mariners were wont to present a peace-offering for a prosperous voyage on their going out to sea, and a wave-offering on their return; but the saint, having lost his votaries, has long since disappeared." The Danish Vikings called the Scandinavian sea-god Hold Nickar, which in time degenerated into the ludicrous expression, "Old Nick."[65]

Another writer on this subject says:—We derive the familiar epithet of "Old Nick" from the Norwegian NÖk, the Norse Nikr, or the Swedish Neck; and no further proof of their identity is required than a comparison between the attributes possessed in common by all these supernatural beings. The NÖk is said to require a human sacrifice once a year, and some one is therefore annually missing in the vicinity of the pond or river where this sprite has taken up its abode. The males are said to be very partial to young maidens, whom they seize and drag under the water; whilst those of the opposite sex are quite as attractive and dangerous to the young fishermen who frequent the rivers. The German Nixes possess the same attributes. Both sexes have large green teeth; and the male wears a green hat, which is frequently mistaken by his victims for a tuft of beautiful vegetation. He is said to kill without mercy whenever he drags a person down; and a fountain of blood, which shoots up from the surface of the water, announces the completion of the deed. A perfect identification of this with our own popular belief is now easy. Nothing is more common at present than for children who reside in the country to be cautioned against venturing too near the water's brink, lest "Green Teeth" or "Bloody Bones" should pull them in. "Old Nick" is said to lurk under the shady willows which overhang the deep water; and the bubbles of gas which may be observed escaping from the bottoms of quiet pools are attributed to the movements of the water-sprites which lurk beneath.

DEMONOLOGY.

A recent writer in Blackwood's Magazine asks if Demonology "was not a vague spirit-worship, the ancient religion of the bulk of mankind?" "This Demonology" (he continues) "may be said to have been imported into Christianity in its early days. It was the universal belief of the Pagan world, and not easily to be eradicated; as the early Church accepted things pretty much as it found them, and turned them to account; teaching that these objects of heathen awe and reverence were fallen angels, whose power for evil had been permitted to exist uncontrolled till the advent of our Saviour. The early Roman Church elaborately imitated, if it did not exceed, the Greeks and Romans in their demonology. Every class of men had their guardians, who practically represented the Dii minores or minorum gentium; the hills and dales and woods had their patrons, the successors of the Orcades, NapÆÆ, and the Dryades; every kind of disease, from the toothache to the gout, had its special healer, and even birds and beasts their spiritual protectors." No one who has paid the most passing attention to the folk-lore of this country can have failed to note amongst us, even yet, the remnants of this curious superstition. In 1531, John Cousell, of Cambridge, and John Clarke, of Oxford, two learned clerks, applied for and obtained from Henry VIII. a formal license to practise sorcery, and to build churches, a quaint combination of evil and antidote. They professed power to summon "the sprytes of the ayre," and to make use of them generally, and particularly in the discovery of treasure and stolen property. Their seventh petition is to build churches, bridges, and chapels, and to have cognizance of all sciences. One of their petitions refers to a certain "noyntment" to see the sprytes, and to speak with them dayly. Strange that Henry VIII. should have granted this license, seeing that a statute was passed in his reign, making "witchcraft and sorcery felony, without benefit of clergy."[66] Bishop Jewell, preaching before Queen Anne, on the marvellous increase of witches and sorcerers, after describing how the victims pined away, even unto death, loyally concluded his sermon thus, "I pray God they never practise further than upon the subject." The following charm or spell against St. Vitus's Dance was, and very likely is still, in use in Devonshire. It was written on parchment, and carried about by an old woman so afflicted:—

Some of our laws against sorcery remained unrepealed a little more than forty years ago. The Irish law against sorcery was only repealed in 1831. So late as August, 1863, an old man of eighty was flung into a mill-stream in the parish of Little Hedingham, being what is called "swimming for a wizard," and he died of his maltreatment. One curious book on Demonology is entitled "An Account of Demoniacs, and the power of casting out Demons, both in the New Testament, and the four first Centuries," by William Whiston, M.A. (London, 1737, 8vo). He observes that "The symptoms of these demoniacal distresses were very different from the symptoms of other diseases, and even included wild raving, irregular convulsions of the body, unnatural contortions of the limbs, or dismal malady of the mind, and came upon the unhappy patients by terrible fits of paroxysms, to the amazement of the spectators, and the horrible affection of the possessed, and included the sorest illness and madness in the world." The same symptoms revived in the extraordinary epidemic called the hystero-demonopathy, which visited Morzine, in Savoy, in 1857. The persons afflicted were violently and unnaturally convulsed; now rushed phrenetically into the woods, or to the river, now were subject to fits of coma; were insensible to pain; believed themselves to be haunted by evil spirits; were violent, but in their violence injured no one; and exhibited generally symptoms not observed in any known disorder.[67] The people of Morzine believed themselves possessed by spirits of dead persons, a peculiarity which appears to have occurred in many cases during the prevalence of the epidemic.

DEMON AND GOBLIN SUPERSTITIONS.

Among the more prominent of the demon superstitions prevalent in Lancashire, we may instance that of the Spectre Huntsman, which occupies so conspicuous a place in the folk-lore of Germany and the North. This superstition is still extant in the Gorge of Cliviger, where he is believed to hunt a milk-white doe round the Eagle's Crag in the Vale of Todmorden, on All-Hallows' Eve. His hounds are said to fly yelping through the air on many other occasions, and under the local name of "Gabriel Ratchets," are supposed to predict death or misfortune to all who hear the sounds.[68] The "Lubber Fiend," or stupid demon, still stretches his hairy length across the hearth-stones of the farm-houses in the same district, and the feats of the "Goblin Builders" form a portion of the popular literature of almost every locality. They are said to have removed the foundations of Rochdale Church from the banks of the river Roach, up to their present elevated position. Samlesbury Church, near Preston, possesses a similar tradition. The "Demon Pig" not only determined the site of St. Oswald's Church, at Warwick, but gave a name to the parish. The parochial church at Burnley, it is said, was originally intended to be built on the site occupied by the old Saxon Cross in Godly Lane; but, however much the masons might have built during the day, both the stones and the scaffolding were invariably found where the church now stands, on their coming to work next morning. The local legend states that on this occasion, also, the goblins took the form of pigs, and a rude sculpture of such an animal, on the south side of the steeple, lends its aid to confirm and perpetuate the story.

Our peasantry retain the notion so prevalent in North Germany, that the Night-mare is a demon, which sometimes takes the form of a cat or a dog, and they seek to counteract its influence by placing their shoes under the bed with the toes outwards, on retiring to rest.

The Water Sprites, believed in by our ancestors in the north of England, still form a portion of the folk-lore of Lancashire and Yorkshire. There is scarcely a stream of any magnitude in either county which does not possess a presiding spirit in some part of its course. The stepping-stones at Bungerley, near Clitheroe, are said to be haunted by a malevolent sprite, who assumes almost as many shapes as Proteus of old. He is not known by any particular designation, nor are there any traditions to account for his first appearance; but at least one life in every seven years is required to appease the anger of the spirit of the Ribble at this place. It was at these stepping-stones that King Henry VI. was treacherously betrayed by a Talbot of Bashall and others; whence may have arisen a tradition of a malevolent spirit at that place.

Our local literature possesses Roby's traditions of "The Mermaid of Martin Mere," which has given permanence to the popular notions respecting mermen and mermaids. The Schrat, or Schritel, of the German nations, is identical with the more ancient Skrat of the Scandinavians. He is noted for making game of persons who are out late at night. Occasionally he places himself on a cart, or other vehicle, which then becomes so heavy that the horses are unable to move the load. They begin to tremble and perspire, as if sensible of the presence of something diabolical; but after a short time "Old Scrat" slips off behind, and disappears with a malicious laugh. In Lancashire we are no strangers to Old Scrat and his doings. With many the name is merely a synonyme for that of the devil; but our city carters are able to mark the distinction, and have besides a goodly store of anecdotes respecting the heavy loads which their horses have sometimes been compelled to draw, when nothing could be seen except the empty cart. One of them assured me that on such occasions his horses reared, and became almost frantic; their manes stood erect; and he himself could see the wicked imp actually dancing with delight between their ears. Another very respectable person affirms that, not many years ago, as a funeral was proceeding to church, the coffin became so heavy that it could not be carried. On this being made known to a clergyman, who was present, he offered up a short prayer, and commanded Old Scrat to take his own. This was no sooner done than the excessive weight was felt no more, and the corpse was carried forward to the place of interment. Similar superstitions prevail in the more northern cities with but slight variations; and hence sufficiently indicate their common origin. The Barguest, or Barn-ghaist of the Teutons, is also reported to be a frequent visitor in Lancashire. The appearance of this sprite is considered as a certain death-sign, and has obtained the local names of "Trash" and "Skriker." He generally appears to one of the family from whom Death is about to select his victim, and is more or less visible, according to the distance of the event. I have met with persons to whom the barguest [bar-ghaist, i.e., gate-ghost] has assumed the form of a white cow, or a horse; but on most occasions "Trash" is described as having the appearance of a very large dog, with very broad feet, shaggy hair, drooping ears, and eyes "as large as saucers." When walking, his feet make a loud splashing noise, like old shoes in a miry road, and hence the name of "Trash." The appellation "Skriker" has reference to the screams uttered by the sprite, which are frequently heard when the animal is invisible. When followed by any individual he begins to walk backwards with his eyes fixed full on his pursuer, and vanishes on the slightest momentary inattention. Occasionally he plunges into a pool of water, and at times he sinks at the feet of the persons to whom he appears with a loud splashing noise, as if a heavy stone were thrown into the miry road. Some are reported to have attempted to strike him with any weapon they had at hand, but there was no substance to receive the blows, although the Skriker kept his ground. He is said to frequent the neighbourhood of Burnley at present, and is mostly seen in Godly Lane, and about the parish church. But he by no means confines his visits to the churchyard, as similar sprites are said to do in other parts of England and Wales.[69]

DISPOSSESSING A DEMONIAC.

Richard Rothwell, a native of Bolton-le-Moors, born about 1563, a minister of the Gospel, ordained by Dr. Whitgift, Archbishop of Canterbury, who was called by his biographer, the Rev. Stanley Gower, minister of Dorchester—"Orbis terrarum Anglicarum oculus" (the eye of our English world), is said to have dispossessed one John Fox, near Nottingham, of a devil; with whom he had a discourse, by way of question and answer, a good while. Such dialogues are said to be frequent amongst the Popish exorcists, but being rare amongst Protestants, is the more to be observed, and not disbelieved, because vouched by so good a man. Mr. Rothwell died at Mansfield, Notts, in 1627, aged sixty-four.[70]

[There is a long account of this contest with the devil in Rothwell's Life, by Gower, pp. 178-183. After the devil had been driven out of him, John Fox was dumb for three years, but afterwards had speech restored to him, and wrote a book about the temptations the devil haunted him with.]

DEMONIACAL POSSESSION IN 1594.

Towards the close of the sixteenth century, seven persons in Lancashire were alleged to be "possessed by evil spirits." According to the narrative of the Rev. John Darrell, himself a principal actor in the scene, there lived in 1594 at Cleworth (now called Clayworth), in the parish of Leigh, one Nicholas Starkie, who had only two children, John and Ann; the former ten and the latter nine years of age. These children, according to Mr. Darrell, became possessed with an evil spirit; and John Hartlay, a reputed conjuror, was applied to, at the end of from two to three months, to give them relief, which he effected by various charms, and the use of a magical circle with four crosses, drawn near Mr. Starkie's seat, at Huntroyd, in the parish of Whalley. Hartlay was conjuror enough to discover the difference between Mr. Starkie's table and his own, and he contrived to fix himself as a constant inmate in his benefactor's family for two or three years. Being considered so essential to their peace, he advanced in his demands, till Mr. Starkie demurred, and a separation took place; but not till five other persons, three of them the female wards of Mr. Starkie, and two other females, had become "possessed," through the agency of Hartlay, "and it was judged in the house that whomsoever he kissed, on them he breathed the devil." According to the narrative, all the seven demoniacs sent forth a strange and supernatural voice of loud shouting. In this extremity Dr. Dee, the Warden of Manchester College, was applied to, to exorcise the evil spirits; but he refused to interfere, advising that they should call in some godly preachers, with whom he would, if they thought proper, consult concerning a public or private fast; at the same time he sharply reproved Hartlay for his fraudulent practices. Some remission of violence followed, but the evil spirits soon returned, and Mr. Starkie's house became a perfect bedlam. John Starkie, the son, was "as fierce as a madman, or a mad dog;" his sister Anne was little better; Margaret Hardman, a gay, sprightly girl, was also troubled, and aspired after all the splendid attire of fashionable life, calling for one gay thing after another, and repeatedly telling her "lad," as she called her unseen familiar, that she would be finer than him. Ellinor, her younger sister, and Ellen Holland, another of Mr. Starkie's wards, were also "troubled;" and Margaret Byrom, of Salford, a woman of thirty-three, who was on a visit at Cleworth, became giddy, and partook of the general malady. The young ladies fell down, as if dead, while they were dancing and singing, and "playing the minstrel," and talked at such a rate that nobody could be heard but themselves. The preachers being called in, according to the advice of Dr. Dee, they inquired how the demoniacs were handled. The "possessed" replied that an angel, like a dove, came from God, and said that they must follow him to heaven, which way soever he would lead them. Margaret Hardman then ran under a bed, and began to make a hole, as she said, that her "lad" (or familiar) might get through the wall to her; and, amongst other of her feats, she would have leaped out of the window. The others were equally extravagant in their proceedings, but when they had the use of their feet, the use of their tongues was taken away. The girls were so sagacious that they foretold when their fits would come on. When they were about any game or sport, they seemed quite happy; but any godly exercise was a trouble to them. Margaret Byrom was grievously troubled. She thought in her fits that something rolled in her inside like a calf, and lay ever on her left side; and when it rose up towards her heart, she thought the head and nose thereof had been full of nails, wherewith being pricked, she was compelled to shriek aloud, with very pain and fear; sometimes she barked and howled, and at others she so much quaked that her teeth chattered in her head. At the sight of Hartlay she fell down speechless, and saw a great black dog, with a monstrous tail and a long chain, running at her open-mouthed. Six times within six weeks the spirit would not suffer her to eat or drink, and afterwards her senses were taken away, and she was as stiff as iron. Two nights before the day of her examination against Hartlay, who was committed to Lancaster Castle, the devil appeared to her in his likeness, and told her to speak the truth! On the 16th of March, Maister George More, pastor of Cawlke, in Derbyshire, and Maister John Darrell, afterwards preacher at St. Mary's, in Nottingham, came to Cleworth, when they saw the girls grievously tormented. Jane Ashton, the servant of Mr. Starkie, howled in a supernatural manner—Hartlay had given her kisses, and promised her marriage. The ministers having got all the seven into one chamber, gave them spiritual advice; but, on the Bible being brought up to them, three or four of them began to scoff, and called it—"Bib-le, Bab-le; Bible, Bable." The next morning they were got into a large parlour, and laid on couches, when Maister More and Maister Dickens, a preacher (and their pastor), along with Maister Darrell and thirty other persons, spent the day with them in prayer and fasting, and hearing the word of God. All the parties afflicted remained in their fits the whole of the day. Towards evening every one of them, with voice and hands lifted up, cried to God for mercy, and He was pleased to hear them, so that six of them were shortly dispossessed, and Jane Ashton in the course of the next day experienced the same deliverance. At the moment of dispossession, some of them were miserably rent, and the blood gushed out both at the nose and mouth. Margaret Byrom said that she felt the spirit come up her throat, when it gave her "a sore lug" at the time of quitting her, and went out of the window with a flash of fire, she only seeing it. John Starkie said his spirit left him, in appearance like a man with a hunch on his back, very ill-favoured; Ellinor Hardman's was like an urchin; Margaret Byrom's like an ugly black man, with shoulders higher than his head. Two or three days afterwards the unclean spirits returned, and would have re-entered had they not been resisted. When they could not succeed either by bribes or entreaties, they threw some of them [the dispossessed] violently down, and deprived others of the use of their legs and other members; but the victory was finally obtained by the preachers, and all the devils banished from Mr. Starkie's household. Meanwhile Hartlay the conjuror, who seems to have been a designing knave, after undergoing an examination before two magistrates, was committed to Lancaster Castle, where, on the evidence of Mr. Starkie and his family, he was convicted of witchcraft, and sentenced to death, principally, as it is stated, for drawing the magic circle, which seems to have been the least part of his offence, though the most obnoxious to the law. In this trial spectral evidence was adduced against the prisoner, and the experiment was tried of saying the Lord's Prayer. When it no longer served his purpose he endeavoured to divest himself of the character of a conjuror, and declared that he was not guilty of the crime for which he was doomed to suffer; the law, however, was inexorable, and he was brought to execution. On the scaffold he persisted in declaring his innocence, but to no purpose; the executioner did his duty, and the criminal was suspended. While hanging, the rope broke, when Hartlay confessed his guilt; being again tied up, he died, the victim of his own craft, and of the infatuation of the age in which he lived. On the appearance of Mr. Darrell's book, the Narrative of these remarkable events, a long controversy arose on the doctrine of Demonology, and it was charged upon him by the Rev. Samuel Harsnet, afterwards Bishop of Chichester and Norwich, and Archbishop of York, that he made a trade of casting out devils, and that he instructed the "possessed" how to conduct themselves, in order to aid him in carrying on the imposition. Mr. Darrell was afterwards examined by the Queen's Commissioners; and by the full agreement of the whole court, he was condemned as a counterfeit, deposed from the ministry, and committed to close confinement, there to remain for further punishment. The clergy, in order to prevent the scandal brought upon the Church by false pretensions to the power of dispossessing demons, soon afterwards introduced a new canon into the ecclesiastical law, in these terms:—"That no minister or ministers, without license and direction of the bishop, under his hand and seal obtained, attempt, upon any pretence whatever, either of possession or obsession, by fasting and prayer, to cast out any devil or devils, under pain of the imputation of imposture, or cozenage, and deposition from the ministry." Some light is cast upon the case of Mr. Starkie's household by "A Discourse Concerning the Possession and Dispossession of Seven Persons in one Family in Lancashire," written by George More, a puritanical minister, who had engaged in exorcising devils. This discourse agrees substantially with Darrell's narrative, but adds some noteworthy facts: amongst others, that he (Mr. More) was a prisoner in the Clinke for nearly two years, for justifying and bearing witness to the facts stated by Darrell. He also states that Mr. Nicholas Starkie having married a gentlewoman that was an inheritrix [Ann, widow of Thurstan Barton, Esq., of Smithells, and daughter and sole heiress of John Parr, Esq., of Kempnough, and Cleworth, Lancashire], and of whose kindred some were Papists; these—partly for religion, and partly because the estate descended but to heirs male—prayed for the perishing of her issue, and that four sons pined away in a strange manner; but that Mrs. Starkie, learning this circumstance, estated her lands on her husband, and his heirs, failing issue of her own body; after which a son and daughter were born, who prospered well till they became "possessed."[71]

DEMONIACAL POSSESSION IN 1689.

Richard Dugdale, called "The Surey Demoniac," was a youth just rising into manhood, a gardener, living with his parents at Surey, in the parish of Whalley, addicted to posture, and distinguished even at school as a posture-master and ventriloquist. During his "possession" he was attended by six Dissenting ministers—the Revs. Thomas Jolly, Charles Sagar, Nicholas Kershaw, Robert Waddington, Thomas Whalley, and John Carrington, who were occasionally assisted at the meetings held to exorcise the demon by the Rev. Messrs. Frankland, Pendlebury, and Oliver Heywood. According to the narrative, under their sanction, entitled An Account of Satan's entering in and about the Body of Richard Dugdale, and of Satan's removal thence through the Lord's blessing of the within-mentioned Ministers and People, when Dugdale was about nineteen years of age he was seized with an affliction early in 1689; and from the strange fits which violently seized him, he was supposed to be possessed by the devil. When the fit was upon him "he shewed great despite [says the narrative], against the ordinary of God, and raged as if he had been nothing but a devil in Richard's bodily shape; though when he was not in his fits he manifested great inclination to the word of God and prayer; for the exercise of which in his behalf he desired that a day of fasting might be set apart, as the only means from which he could expect help, seeing that he had tried all other means, lawful and unlawful." Meetings were accordingly appointed of the ministers, to which the people crowded in vast numbers. These meetings began on the 8th May, 1689, and were continued about twice a month till the February following. At the first meeting the parents of the demoniac were examined by the ministers, and they represented that "at Whalley rush-bearing, on the James's tide, in July, 1688, there was a great dancing and drinking, when Richard offered himself to the devil, on condition that he would make him the best dancer in Lancashire." After becoming extremely drunk he went home, where several apparitions appeared to him, and presented to him all kinds of dainties and fine clothing, with gold and precious things, inviting him at the same time to "take his fill of pleasure." In the course of the day some compact, or bond, was entered into between him and the devil, after which his fits grew frequent and violent. While in these fits his body was often hurled about very desperately, and he abused the minister and blasphemed his Maker. Sometimes he would fall into dreadful fits; at others he would talk Greek and Latin, though untaught; sometimes his voice was small and shrill, at others hollow and hideous. Now he was as light as a bag of feathers, then as heavy as lead. At one time he upbraided the ministers for their neglect, at others he said they had saved him from hell. He was weather-wise and money-wise by turns; he could tell when there would be rain, and when he should receive presents. Sometimes he would vomit stones an inch and a half square, and in others of his trances there was a noise in his throat, as if he was singing psalms inwardly. But the strongest mark of demoniacal possession consisted in a lump, which rose from the thick of his leg, about the size of a mole, and did work up like such a creature towards the chest of his body, till it reached his breast, when it was as big as a man's fist, and uttered strange voices. He opened his mouth at the beginning of his fits so often, that it was thought spirits went in and out of him. In agility he was unequalled, "especially in dancing, wherein he excelled all that the spectators had seen, and all that mere mortals could perform. The demoniac would for six or seven times together leap up, so as that part of his legs might be seen shaking and quivering above the heads of the people, from which heights he oft fell down on his knees, which he long shivered and traversed on the ground, at least as nimbly as other men can twinkle or sparkle their fingers; thence springing up into his high leaps again, and then falling on his feet, which seemed to reach the earth but with the gentlest and scarce perceivable touches when he made his highest leaps." And yet the divines by whom he was attended most unjustly rallied the devil for the want of skill in his pupil. The Rev. Mr. Carrington, addressing himself to the devil, says, "Cease dancing, Satan, and begone from him. Canst thou dance no better, Satan? Ransack the old record of all past times and places in thy memory: canst thou not there find out some other way of finer trampling? Pump thine invention dry! Cannot that universal seed-plot of subtle wiles and stratagems spring up one new method of cutting capers? Is this the top of skill and pride, to shuffle feet and brandish knees thus, and to trip like a doe, and skip like a squirrel? And wherein differs thy leapings from the hoppings of a frog, or bounces of a goat, or friskings of a dog, or gesticulations of a monkey? And cannot a palsy shake such a loose leg as that? Dost thou not twirl like a calf that has the turn, and twitch up thy houghs just like a spring-hault [? spring-galled] tit?" In some of his last fits he announced that he must be either killed or cured before the 25th March. This, says the deposition of his father and mother, and two of his sisters, proved true; for on the 24th of that month he had his last fit, the devil being no longer able to withstand the means used with so much vigour and perseverance to expel him; one of the most effectual of which was a medicine, prescribed, in the way of his profession, by Dr. Chew, a medical practitioner in the neighbourhood. Mr. Zachary Taylor asserts that the preachers, disappointed and mortified at their ill success in Dugdale's case, gave it out that some of his connexions were witches, and in contract with the devil, and that, they supposed, was the cause why they had not been able to relieve him. Under this impression they procured some of the family to be searched, that they might see if they had not teats, or the devil's mark; and they tried them by the test of saying the Lord's Prayer. Some remains of the evil spirit, however, seem still to have possessed Richard; for, though after this he had no fits, yet once, when he had got too much drink, he was after another manner than drunken persons usually are. In confirmation of which feats, not only the eight ministers, but twenty respectable inhabitants, affixed their attestations to a document prepared for the purpose; and three of the magistrates of the district—Hugh, Lord Willoughby [of Parham], Ralph Egerton, Esq., and Thos. Braddyll, Esq.—received depositions from the attesting parties. This monstrous mass of absurdity, superstition, and fraud—for it was beyond doubt a compound of them all—was exposed with success by the Rev. Zachary Taylor, the Bishop of Chester's curate at Wigan, one of the King's preachers in Lancashire; but the reverend divine mixed with his censures too much party asperity, insisting that the whole was an artifice of the Nonconformist ministers, in imitation of the pretended miracles of the Roman Catholic priests, and likening it to the fictions of John Darrell, B.A., which had been practised a century before upon the family of Mr. Starkie, in the same county. Of the resemblance in many of its parts there can be no doubt; but the names of the venerable Oliver Heywood and Thomas Jolly form a sufficient guarantee against imposition on their part; and the probability is that the ministers were the dupes of a popular superstition in the hands of a dissolute and artful family.[72]