Relation IV.
A true account, how Alice, the daughter of William Medcalfe, Yeoman, in the parish of Lessingham in Lincolnshire, was disturbed by an Apparition, with other feats of witchcraft practised upon that family, sent from Mr William Wyche, dwelling in the same parish, to the Revd. Mr J. Richardson, Fellow of Emanuel-College in Cambridge.
In the year 1678, on the Sunday after Twelfth-day [6th of January], William Medcalfe and his wife went to church, leaving their only daughter Alice at home, and whilst they were there, the said Alice heard a noise in the yard, and looking out at the window, she saw a man of a middle stature, with light flaxen hair, standing at the stable door, upon which, she called out at the window, and demanded of him what he did there? He returned, that he came for a horse which he borrowed of her father. She made him answer again, that she knew nothing of it, and that he should have none till her father came home. He received the answer, and went away for that day.
The next day, her father and mother being gone to Sleeford Market, she saw him again at the stable door, and demanded of him as before. He told her, she might go look. Then he asked her where the horses were. She answered him again as short, told him, he might go look. Upon this, he began to soothe and flatter her, and gave her many softening words, going towards the door as he spoke, as if he intended to go in to her; which she observing, she hasted and bolted the door fast. Upon which he threatened her (what his threats were, she cannot recall), but somebody knocking at the door on the other side of the house, and she understanding it was a neighbour, opened the door, and told her neighbour all that had passed, and upon it, they both ran together into the yard, to see if he were there, but they could not find him, neither knew they which way he went.
After this, she was quiet for some time, only about two weeks before Shrove-tide, one Follet, a cobbler, and suspected to be the occasion of all that happened, came to the house, and they did set him to work, moved thereto, I suppose, by fear, for he had threatened the daughter, but for what I cannot learn. Whilst he was working, he began to discourse to the mother to this effect. That her daughter should die that year, that he had examined some books which he had, and that he understood so much by them. And when he had done his work, he bid them farewell, telling them, he was sure they would think of Follet when they did not see him. Soon after this, Alice fell sick, and her mother was somewhat doubtful of her recovery, but as it pleased God she was restored again to her former health, and continued undisturbed until May, the week before Whitsuntide.
And then as she was drawing water at the well in the yard, she saw the same person again, which I first described, at the house door, with a great club, endeavouring as she thought, to break the door open. Upon this, she called to him, and asked him what he did there. Upon the speaking, he flung down the club among a great many earthen milk-pans, or panchins, as they call them, and with so great violence, that she could not conceive but that he had broken many of them, but afterwards upon examination, she found them all whole. As soon as he had done this he went away, and she leaving her pail at the well, followed him, saw him go down the street, but at the turning of the lane, lost the sight of him, and could not recover it. This was on Monday, and she saw him every day that week, but nothing passed between them, and several times she called her father out that he might see him, but he never could.
On Saturday he appeared to her in a more dreadful manner at the hall window. When she saw him,she asked him what his business was there? He told her he would speak with her. She asked him what he had to say, and desired him to speak it, but he said, he would not yet tell her. Then he showed her a knife, and told her it was for her. She asked him then, whether he had a mind to be hanged, and this was all that passed between them then. On the Sunday she saw him again run by the window with a knife in his hand as before, and she told her father and mother of it, and they both ran out, but could not see him. On the Monday, whilst she was milking, she saw him with his knife as before; and thus he often afterwards appeared to her, especially at the parlour-window, having opened it (which had not, they think, been opened for many years before), and holding a knife, only sometimes it was a shorter, and sometimes longer, but always bloody, and so was the hand that held it.
In the week also before Whitsuntide, one Richard Cosins, a youth about 18 or 19 years old, and then living with Good-man Medcalfe, and now most commonly working for Sir William York, having heard Alice describe this man which she so often saw, as he was walking towards Roksome, a little place belonging to Lessingham parish, he met a man which he thought to be very like the man which she described. He went home and told his master, upon which he and his daughter walked out that way, to see if they could meet him. They were not gone far, but the daughter saw him, and told her father, and pointed which way he went, that he might see him, but still, as he went one way to see him, the daughter presently saw him go the contrary way, so that he never could obtain the sight of him.
Once coming from milking she had a good club in her hand, and he met her, and asked her what she did with that club. She being more than ordinary courageous, told him, she had a good mind to lay it about his pate. He made her no answer but went away.
Another time in July, as near as they can remember, Alice made her a mess of frumenty for her breakfast; it was made, as she tells me, of new milk, which I take notice of because of what follows. As soon as she had begun to eat it, the forementioned Follet came to the door, and asked whether they had any shoes to mend; she told him she thought they had (though indeed she knew of none, but spoke it out of fear), but that her father and mother being gone out, she knew not where they were. So he went away, and she returned, designing to fall again to her breakfast, but found it turned to a hard curd. At which she was much surprised, and resolved to set it by to show her father and mother; but she had no sooner turned her back, but the dish danced about on the table, till it fell on the ground, and spilt all in the floor, which a neighbour’s dog as they thought, coming in, lickedup. The same day, as she was raking hay, she was taken lame, and continued so a quarter of a year.
After this she was quiet again for a while, and the next time she saw him was, when going behind the barn upon some occasion, she espyed him standing at some distance from her, and a sudden blast of wind took her hat from off her head, and carried to his feet; but she was not much daunted at it, but ran to him and took it up, and then he disappeared.
One Sunday in the middle of all her troubles, as she was stooping to take up a pin, he appeared to her and told her, that Follet was the cause of all her troubles, and so left her.
Hitherto I have given you as exact an account as I could get from them as to the time. That which follows, I set down without observing the circumstance of time or order of action, because I can learn no certainty of it from them, but the matter of fact is truth.
Often when they were gone to bed, the inner doors were flung open, as also the doors of a cupboard which stood in the hall, and this with a great deal of violence and noise. And one night the chairs, which when they went to bed, stood all in the chimney corner, were removed and placed in the middle of the room in very good order, and a meal-sieve hung upon one, cut full of holes, and a key of an inner door upon another. And in the day time, as they sat in the house, spinning, they could see the barn doors often flung open, but not by whom. once, as Alice sat spinning, the rock or distaff leapt several times out of the wheel into the middle of the room. Upon which she said she thought Follet was in it. She had no sooner said the words, but she saw Follet ride by to Sir William York’s house, about some business with him relating to him as a Justice.
Another time Alice had her petticoat taken away, and a good while after brought again, and several times other of her clothes were taken away, and after some time brought again, and laid in some place where they should be sure to see them. As two pinners which had been lost some time were brought and put in a panchin, which Goodwife Medcalf had but newly poured the milk out of. An apron was taken away, cut in pieces and brought again, as also a spigot which they searched carefully for was brought at last and placed upon five eggs which Goodwife Medcalfe had laid in the milk-house but the night before; and the next night this spigot was changed, put into the barrel, and that which was in the barrel laid where the other was.
About the latter end of the summer in the night, the daughter had her clothes pulled off, and her hair snarled and matted together in that manner, that the next day her mother could very hardly get a pair of scissors into it to cut it off; and she does believe she was near two hours about it.
Another time she felt and saw something like a cat sitting upon her, and till it removed she was in pain, and could not stir to help herself. Another time going into the parlour she saw again, as she thought, a cat which did fly at her, and struck her down several times with great violence, of which her face, which was much swelled and black, was no small indication.
Once she found a ote wrapped up in a handkerchief with these words written in it. ‘I would have you go from -‘ After she had read it, she locked it up in her trunk, designing to show it to her father and mother when they came home (for they were gone to church) but when she went to look for it again, it was gone out of her trunk, and she never saw it any more.
The last thing that happened was this, one Saturday night Alice going to bed, laid a clean shift into her bed, intending to put it on the next morning; but in the morning looking for it, she could not find it. The next night she borrowed one of her mother, and laid that also in her bed as before. In the morning, when she went to put it on, it did not please her, whereupon she gave it to her mother, desiring her to change it, the mother took it to change, and opening it, found it cut and slashed in many places, and they are both very certain that it was whole before. And the same morning when they came into the hall, they found the other, which was first taken away, laid upon the table.
Some odd freaks were played also with the father, as well as with his daughter. For Good-man Medcalfe having received eight pounds at Sleeford for beasts and when he came home put it in a purse by itself, and locked it up in his chest; and a day or two after, taking some money out of another purse, to buy more beasts; when he returned, having some money left, he went to his chest to put it into the purse he took it out of, and afterwards began to tell that money which he received at Sleeford, and had put in a purse by itself, and found that there was seventeen shillings wanting; and some days after he found sixteen shillings and sixpence of it in his pocket. So that there was only sixpence lost.
And another such like feat was it touching his knife. One Friday having occasion to use his knife, he felt in his pockets for it, but could not find it, and searched carefully everywhere for it. On Sunday night he dreamed his kn ife was in his pocket, and in the morning told his wife of it, and they both, immediately searched his pockets, but found none. Afterwards he being to go to Sleeford that day, he was feeling in his pocket to see hwat money he had, or upon some other account, and then he found his knife in his pocket.
N.B. This story, though there is not much in it which makes any extraordinary show or noise, yet it is considerable in it that is so notable an instance, and so freshly happened, touching the little silly sportings and triflings of some kind of daemons, and will serve to conjure that vulgar mistake, that whosoever is called Spirit or Devil, is so great and august a being that no small matters can be the object of his activity, whenas I must confess comparing story with the system of the invisible world, such as a sagacious and deliberate reason would conclude it, I have this long time both thought it, and not a few times spoke it. That there are as arrant fools out of the body, as in the body: and I with ther were not as arrant devils in the body as out of it.
And therefore I hold this narrative though it be concerning meaner persons and things not at all despicable, especially Mr Wyche, who took an account of it from the parties upon the very spot, avouching in his letters to Mr Richardson, that there is nothing contained therein but what is certainly true. And therefore I think it not amiss to bestow some few short notes on several of the paragraphs in order as they lie.
Sect. 1. This man in the light flaxen hair seems to have been taken for a real man by Alice, to whom he appeared, for a good while but in process of the story, it will be plain that it was no man, but an apparition. This appearing to her in an alluring human shape, seems to be a trick to familiarise his converse to her, that he might get her into a farther snare.
Sect. 3. Whether Follet’s threatening the daughter was not from his displeasure against her uncompliableness with the man in the light flaxen hair, the tenth section will give more light to consider, compared with this present section. But in the mean time it may not be unseasonable here to note, what danger there may be in listening to astrologers or fortune-tellers (for so this Follet is called by an able physician in Lincolnshire, in his letter to me). For a man may easily suffer hurt if they predict ill, by the activity of evil spirits with whom they are somehow in confederacy, and with whom it is a thousand times more easy to do mischief than good, and therefore they will not stick to do it, to gain credit to their client, viz. the astrologer or fortune-teller.
Sect. 4. The flaxen haired man flinging down his club with that violence amongst the panchins, and yet breaking none of them, nor it making any noise when it seemed to hit amongst them (as it was answered to my query made touching this passage) is an indication, that this was to the sight what that monstrous thumping against the door in the following story, sect. 9 was to the hearing. That the senses in both were in a great measure imposed upon by the operation of these Daemons. And that therefore here is the first hint of this flaxen haired man’s being an apparition.
And another is also contained in this same section. In that her father being several times called out by her to see this man he never could see him, though he appeared so conveniently placed as that her father might as well see him as herself, as she answered to Mr Wyche upon that passage.
Sect. 5. His so frequently appearing to the maid, as is manifest out of this section and the former, and with such an horrid intention signified by his bloody knife and hand, though the maid by her answer here seems not yet to be aware of it that it was an apparition; yet ’tis no contemptible argument that it was. For what man in his wits would venture himself so oft in view to act this part. And it is hugely incredible but that he would have been seen by several others as well as her, if it had been a man, when he was seen of none besides her, saving one Richard Cosins, who belonged to William Medcalf’s family, as is set down, Sect. 6. Which seems done on purpose to put a trick upon both the daughter and father whom he dogged when he came out from home to see him, as that section declares.
Sect. 7. This passage also intimates that the daughter took this apparition to be a real man still. But that there was witchcraft in the business, the story in Sect. 8 does manifestly discover. For I making a query upon that passage (that she had no sooner turned her back but the dish danced about on the table) how she could see it her back being turned, she did answer, she turned about (hearing, suppose, the noise of its motion on the table) and there saw it turn about and fall. The turning her frumenty also into an hard curd, is another indication of witchery in the business, and that this spectre of a flaxen haired man was sent to her by that art. But (sect. 9) she seems to be well convinced it was an apparition, herself declaring, it disappeared (though commonly, she said, in answer to a query of mine, he went behind some house, barn, wall, or hedge) and he seems (sect. 10) to have appeared on a sudden when she stooped for a pin. And if Follet was the cause of all her trouble, this Daemon did as other Daemons often have done, that is betrayed their clients. But the law can proceed upon no such evidence, nor is it fit it should, for fear injury be done to the innocent.
But that William Medcalf’s house was haunted or infested by witchcraft, the pranks set down in the following sections of the narrative do plainly enough evince. And that of the daughter’s lockard hair is such an argument as no one can possibly evade it. But to entangle things thus is an usual feat of these ludicrous spirits. And this reminds me of a story told me by W.M. many years ago, of an house haunted somewhere in Lincolnshire, where it was usual with these Goblins in a room unfurnished, unless with the lumber of broken chairs and stools, and old bedsteads (in which room they hung up their hanks of yarn against the wall) to wind all these yarn on those old pieces of lumber, so perplexedly and entagledly that they could not, without spoiling it, endeavour to disentangle it, but letting it be as they found it, the next night these Goblins of themselves would take it off clear without hurt, and make it up in hanks an hang it up orderly as before.
This magical matting of the daughter’s hair into a witch-lock, and the leaping of her distaff, Sect. 11 out of her wheel several times into the floor, in the sight of her mother also, besides what happened to her father, sect. 19, 20, show plainly that it was no deluded fancy of the daughter, but the real effects of witchery. Which will be abundantly more confirmed out of the following story of the stirs in Sir William York’s house, especially if that be true which is bruited in the country, that they came from the same hand, that the troubles in William Medcalfe’s family did. But be that how it will, the ensuing narrative is so palpable an evidence of things done by Daemons or Spirits, that having got into my hands an authentic copy of some of the most remarkable passages of those disturbances, by my worthy friend Mr Richardson, though I have heard from more hands than one how unwilling Sir William was to have the thing made public; yet I will presume so much upon his goodness, and love of truth, and useful instruction of the world, as to adventure to displease his natural humour whilst haply I may, upon his better consideration, gratify some more noble principle in him. For I know nothing in the thing that can turn to his dishonour.
For the best of men have been assaulted by the Devil in extraordinary ways, and it has been their glory that by their faith and courage, and humble confidence in the arm of God they have overcome him. Wherefore without any farther scruple I shall take the boldness to set down the above-said narrative, as follows.
Relation V.
A true and faithful narrative of the disturbance which was in the house of Sir William York, in the parish of Lessingham in Lincolnshire, sent by the former hand to the same party.
In May, 1679, Sir William York being from home, there was a great noise made by the lifting up of the latch of the outmost door, which continued with great quickness and noise for the space of two or three hours, till betwixt ten and eleven of clock in the night. His lady then being at home, with few servants, apprehended it to be thieves, and thereupon they went to the door, and spoke to them, and afterwards winded a horn, and raised the town, and upon the coming in of the town, the noise ceased, adn they heard no more of it till May following.
And then Sir William being at London, the same noise was made at the door, as before, for two or three nights together, and then they began to believe it to be occasioned by some extraordinary means. This was heard alike by twenty several persons then in the family, who looking out at the windows over the door heard the noise, but saw nothing. About a month after, when Sir William had returned from London, he being in bed, and his lady ready to go in, he heard the same noise again; which held about half a quarter of an hour and ceased, and began again several times that night, the same persons being then in the house also, and taking the same care to discover it: at the end of this knocking there was as if it were a thrusting with a knee, only more violent.
About the middle of July Sir William and his lady being both from home, and the servants sitting up expecting their return that night, they heard a noise in the hall, being the next room to them, like the clapping of the door at the feet of the stairs, and going in, they found the chairs all set in the middle of the hall, which they did set in their usual places again, and returned into the kitchen, and in a little time hearing the like noise again, they went into the hall, and found the said chairs removed into a passage between the said kitchen and hall.
In August, about nine or ten of the clock, most of the family being in bed, and Sir William near upon it, he heard a knocking at the door under the stairs, as if it were with the end of a good thick stick; at which being a little surprised, and going down, the said noise began again, but afterwards he heard no more of it that night.
About a fortnight after that, and about ten of the clock, Sir William being in his closet, in the hall over against the said door, heard a very violent knocking at the said door, and being surprised, could not find the key very quickly, but after he had, he went into the said room or hole under the stairs, which the noise left, and nothing being there, he sat down in the hall with half a score of the family with him about half an hour, and all continued quiet. And then he went into his chamber, but took the key of the said room under the stairs in his pocket, being very hard to believe any such extraordinary thing. And immediately the same noise began again in the same place, and he immediately going down, and into the same room again, found all things as before. And the like noise was heard four or five times the same night in the same place, Sir William still using the same diligence to discover it as before. Note here, that as any one came near to that, or any other door where the knocking was, it always ceased, except the first time when it knocked at the outmost door.
About three or four nights after this, about eight of the clock, at which time the noise usually began, and at the same place and door likewise where it usually began, there was a knocking heard as if it were with a stick with the broken end. Sir William used his former diligence to discover it. This noise was repeated about three or four times, and left off about eleven of the clock. After this Sir William and his family being after this manner so much disturbed, he resolved to do what he could to find it out. This noise therefore which was heard sometimes every other night, sometimes every night, as soon as it began Sir William took all the family into one room, that he might be secured that there was no cheat in it. Which the seravnts gladly yielded to, being all mightily affrighted.
About September, the noise began to be greater, and to be in a room unfurnished, designed for a great parlour, and was like to a man walking up and down, and sometimes running, sometimes like a man walking up and down, and sometimes running, sometimes like a man walking on stilts, and sometimes knocking at the ceiling, or top of the room, but not above half a score strokes at a time, yet sometimes fewer, and sometimes more, still as he went towards it.
Afterwards the said noise began to be more dreadful and greater yet, and in more places, which mightily disordered Sir William’s ancient father; and his lady and children very much. Upon which they were thinking upon leaving the house. Sir William was willing they should, but unwilling to leave it himself, and thereupon they all continued. At this time Sir William had a plumber putting up lead about the house, to convey the rain that fell into a cistern, and this knocking was often against the lead, and often against the iron that bore it, in imitation of the plumber’s knocking in the day-time. He had likewise carpenters at the same time, and sometimes this noise was like their chopping at the wood in the yard, insomuch, that the head carpenter said, that if he had not known his servants to be in the house, he should have thought they had been chopping. Sometimes it was like the servants chopping of coals in the coal-yard; sometimes knocking at the doors of outhouses, at the wash-house, brew-house, and stable doors; and as they followed it from place to place, it still immediately, and in one instant removed. These were the usual noises that were every night when it came, which was three or four times a week.
But sometimes it was a great deal more terrible, particularly when Mr Brown, a relation of Sir William’s brother Brown, was here. The noise began about the usual time of the night, and at the usual place. Which said noise in one place or another held all night, sometimes at the door under the stairs, sometimes running up and down the parlour, sometimes knocking violently at the wood of the windows, sometimes against the spouts, and sometimes against the forementioned cistern, and sometimes against the oumost doors, as if it had been some great piece of timber thrown against them, insomuch that the carpenters which were in the house, said it was impossible for all the art and strength of man to make such a noise without battering the doors in pieces; and yet examining, they found the door firm and whole, not the least battered or strained: Sometimes this noise was like the tumbling of tiles from the side of a house.
This noise growing worse and worse, Sir William followed it, demanding in the Name of God what was the occasion of it, but received no answer; but it still removed to another place: Particularly one night it being very extraordinary in the great Parlour, Sir William kept the family in another room, and with a candle in his hand, walked in the same parlour, but heard nothing. Afterwards considering the same God could protect him in the dark as well as in the light, he put out the candle, and shut the door, and walked there a quarter of an hour, hoping some discovery might be made to a single person, which was not made to more. After he had walked a quarter of an hour in the dark, the noise began at the wood of the window in the same room, only on the outside. At which he demanded as formerly, In the Name of God, what was the meaning of it? Upon which it immediately ceased in that place, and removed to a dial that stood about ten or twenty yards from the house, and knocked violently there, and took the rounds as formerly again.
This night Sir William likewise opened a Bible, and laid it in the room under the stairs where it began; but nevertheless, the noise was there afterwards, and the Bible not altered. After which, he went into the chamber with the family, and having been a little time there, there began a very great Drumming at a pair of wainscot-doors, between the hall and the great parlour, imitating drummers in their several ways of beating, and varying it as they usually do, but it was, as if it was done with hands against the wainscot.
About three or four nights after this, this noise of knocking began as at former times, and Sir William lighted a candle, and set it in a high candlestick, in the middle of the hall, and went up into his chamber with all his family; and whilst they were above, this drumming noise began at the door again, in a very dreadful manner. They were at their devotions, which when they had finished, Sir William went out first himself, and went down stairs, and found the chairs rmoved, and the candle put out, the snuff hanging bent down, and the candlestick removed into the passage, between the kitchen and the hall.
This was about the beginning of October, and the sitting of the Parliament drawing nigh, which required Sir William’s attendance, and he being much concerned upon the leaving his family in such disturbances, and intending to set forward on Monday before the sitting of the Parliament, which was October 16, his brother Brown and his wife, Sir William’s only sister, and several other friends coming to take their leave of him; the noise was heard at the door under the stairs that night, but very little to what usually. And accordingly Sir William went to London, intending that if the noise continued, his lady and his children should follow him, and that his father should go to Mr Brown’s at Horblin; but by God’s blessing, from that time to this it was never heard any more.
N.B. This is a very true and assured diary of the chief passages in those stirs made in Sir William York’s house, but withal a very brief one. Which made me get Mr Richardson to send certain queries touching several passages which were answered from a very sure and authentic hand; and in virtue of which answers, I shall be able to give a stop to all the tergiversations of the incredulous, and their evasorious pretences, as if things might be resolved into waggish combination. As first on,
Sect. I. I was certified (so that no man can pretend that the party that made that noise with the latch, did upon the blowing of the horn, slink away before the town could come in) that the noise continued till the people of the town came to the gate; and that it was impossible but that if any person had been within the yard, they must have discovered him, because there is a wall about ten foot high round the yard, so that he could no way escape. And besides, that it happened in that time of the year, when it isi in a manner all night long twilight, sufficient to discover any person, if any were there to be discovered; it is not probable, if there had been need, but that some of the company would come with lanthorns or other lights.
Sect. 2. Those persons that looked out of the window to the place where the noise was made, could not but see if there were any man there to make that noise, it being done by moonshine, (as is answered to my query on this passage) sufficient to discover if any person had been there, if not who it were. And this diligence being repeated for some nights together, and nothing discerned, it is manifest, that the noise was made by some Daemon or Spirit, not by any man.
Sect. 5. Note, That the noise at the door of the room under the stairs, it could not be discerned, whether it was on the inside of the door, or on the outside, as was answered to one of my queries. And therefore Sir William seeing nobody at the outside to cause that noise, which he might easily have done by the light of his candle, if there had been any body, he went into the room to see if he could discover any one there. But finding nobody, locked the door, and yet the noise began again in the same room, but upon a second search, nobody found therein. And this noise, and this diligence in searching the same place several times repeated in one night, by one naturally incredulous of any such extraordinary things, and receiving full satisfaction therefrom, methinks should shake the most obdurate Saducee, and make him ashamed of his fond incredulity.
But now for the ceasing of the knocking when any one came near to any door where the knocking was; this was no impediment to the certain experience of that under the stairs, because they by the light of a candle plainly, though at some distance, seeing there was nobody at the outside of the door, and finding nobody within the room or hole, which was locked; notwithstanding the ceasing of the knocking, they might be sure that the knocking was not made by the hand of any mortal. Nay, I will farther add from certain information, that there were scarce any of the house but have seen the door at the same time the noise was made there, and nobody at it; and that Sir William himself particularly has seen the door from the top of the stairs with a light in his hand several times, while the noise was there, which sometimes continued till he came down several steps, and once till he came over-against the door, within a yard of it, or thereabout, but saw nobody; so certain an experiment is this of Daemoniacal operations.
Sect. 6. This taking the whole family into one room, was of very good consequence; for thereby it was plain that none of the family played these freaks, nor augmented them by any humoursome imitation. And it is incredible any stranger should venture, as I understand by the answer to my fifth query. Which assures me, that on the first night the house was searched every where, and the door were always locked, and Sir William had the keys given to him. What stranger therefore in his wits, would adventure upon such freakish exploits, wherein he did himself so little good, when he was in such apparent danger to be taken in such a numerous family.
Sect. 7. My sixth query was upon this seventh section which was this: Was Sir William in the Room where something seemed to walk, to run, to go on stilts, etc. and whether it was not so dark, but that he might see if there had been a man there. To which is answered. He sometimes went in with a candle, and sometiems without, yet could discover nothing; and if any person had been there, it was impossible for him to escape out of the room undiscovered, the door being locked. And I may add farther, the outward doors being locked, that would have sufficiently made him liable to be taken, if it had been a man.
Sect. 8. This apish imitation of the noise of workmen, shows it to be some trifling Daemon, as also that sudden removal from one place to another, and its being heard in so many places at once, plainly argues it could be no man, unless there were more than one, which would make them still the more obnoxious to be taken.
Sect. 9. The continuance of the stirs also all night, argues it not to be probable it was any man. For who would disquiet himself a whole night, merely to amuse others for nothing. But that battering noise at the door, demonstrates it was not the feat of any mortal. And beisdes this noise, as Mr Edward Brown the elder, who was there that very night, writes to Mr Richardson; the iron latch of the great door of the room, which was just under that in which he lay, seemed to him to move with such wonderful swiftness up and down, and with such very great noise, as he could not think any humane Art or Dexterity could effect. But he describes also the battering noise he heard at that door. There seemed, says he, sometimes to be such extraordinary thumping and knocking against the said door with such wonderful loud noise, as if some had managed an extraordinary great piece of timber with the greatest art, to give it the greatest advantage to force the door open, or break it in pieces; and in deliberate thoughts, I could not conceive how the strongest doors or walls could stand before such force as was threatened by such a very great and loud noise.
These two kinds of noises, says he, continued in my hearing till about break of day, with frequent little intermissions; and yet in the morning both the iron latch and door were found unaltered in the very same state they were left when we went to bed. And very intelligent persons, says he, in the family said, that when they went to the door, or went out in the time of such disturbances, they could see no body, nor perceive any motion in any thing on which the invisible agent did seem to operate. Which is the very same which I heard from the above-mentioned Doctor of Physick, in his letter to me.
Mr Brown in his discourse to Mr Richardson in the country, touching this thumping noise at the door, told him he could not compare it to any thing better, as to the force thereof, than to the Roman Ram, which the Romans battered down walls with. But it being experienced of all hands, that the noise seemed to come from a force against the door, that would if it had been real, break the door all in pieces, and yet the door suffering nothing from it, it is a plain demonstration that it was no feat of any man, but a prestigious frolic of some Daemon. And lastly, what one man or many could make such a noise on the top of the house, as if most of the tles were falling, and how could he get down so suddenly as not to be discovered?
Sect. 10. My seventh query was upon this section, viz. Whether when Sir William went into the great parlour with a candle in his hand to walk there, did the noise cease at his approach or before. To which it is answered, It ceased upon his going in, and as soon as he was gone out, it would often begin again. Whence it is plain, if the noise had been caused by any visible person, that person would ahve been discovered by the light. But that which caused it did not so much as remove out of the room in all likelihood, it beginning again as soon as Sir William’s back was turned.
Sect. 11. My eighth query belongs to this section, and to some part of the former, namely, Whether when the drumming was, and the candle put out, and the chairs removed, the outdoors of the house were locked, so that none might escape out. To which it is answered, They were locked, and Sir William kept the keys. Which indeed was every night done, as was noted in the sixth section. And therefore it is incredible that any man would adventure to make such a thundering noise on the wainscot doors, imitating the various beating of drums, or do any other discoverable feats in so numerous a family where there were so many to find him and apprehend him, and the doors shut upon him, and that he could make no escape. To which you may add, that the dogs were never observed to bark at any of these disturbances as most of the family affirm, all of them that never above one (which is a thing observed also in the Story of the Devil of Machon) and yet the noise was external, all the family, and other watchers, hearing it alike.
These were my main queries upon this narrative, and I must profess that I am abundantly satisfied in the answers to them. Nor will I omit what will reach farther than to these queries. For I am assured from the same hand, that Sir William being a person naturally incredulous of such things, and impatient of being imposed upon, used all possible care and diligence to detect the imposture, if there had been any, and this will reach to more particulars than I could propose by way of Query. Which hitherto has been only touching matter of Fact. But I was also so curious as to ask what witnesses there were besides those of Sir William’s family, which amount to about twenty, and I was informed that most of his tenants by turns watching there, could witness to the same matters. And there were at least forty persons that were eye-witnesses, or rather ear-witnesses, the disturbance being by noises, not apparitions properly so called, and most of the servants are still in Sir William’s family, that were there in the time of the disturbance. So that if any one have the curiosity to enquire of the truth of the business, he may easily get full satisfaction in the parish of Lessingham.
My last query was, Whether any one was suspected to be the cause of these disturbances, and upon what occasion. But the answer was prudent and Christian, That there might be some person suspected, but the proof being not full, he was unwilling to lay so heavy a charge on any one. Nor is that much to my purpose, unless the party suspected should prove the cobbler, that Alice Medcalfe’s flaxen haired visitant affirmed to her to be the author of her troubles. For then the certainty of these disturbances in Sir William’s house, of which there is so full and ample testimony, would be a farther confirmation of those things that are said to have happened at William Medcalfe’s, they both being as well from one hand as in one parish.
But in the mean time these disturbances at Sir William York’s having such clear and unexceptionable evidence, that they were not the feats of any man, but the freaks of some invisible daemon, my communicating this narrative to the world, as it cannot but deserve thanks of the reader, so I hope it will obtain pardon of Sir William, that I have not concealed his name, no more than suppressed the story itself, which would have been maim without it, but have exhibited it in its due fulness for the conviction of this incredulous age, and confounding of Saducism and Infidelity, without the least blemish to so worthy a person, who was so much under the protection of the Almighty that this Daemoniacal Power was notably limited and curbed, forasmuch as it was observed that, unless it was in the Hall (and there was only a few chairs) the disturbance was never in any room that was furnished. And it was also confined as to time; for unless it began at eight, nine, or ten of the clock, it came not all that night, and usually left off about eleven or twelve, there is only that night excepted, when Mr Brown was there.
And lastly, when Sir William was in the greatest straits of all, Sect 12. and intended to have his wife and children come up to London to him, and to dispose of his father at Mr Brown’s at Horblin, to prevent that trouble, the disturbance quite ceased. But Sir William’s Christian faith and courage in the midst of those disturbances, while they continued, was very eminent and conspicuous, and I know no injury done to him or any else in my transmitting the memory thereof to future ages.
Sadducismus Triumphatus, or, a full and plain evidence concerning witches and apparitions. Fourth edition, with additions. A supplementary collection of remarkable stories of apparitions and witchcraft, by Dr Henry More.
actually the previous account is also set in Lessingham and is full of noises and all sorts too, and is sort of related