Before I give the reader an account, as I shall do in three distinct discourses, first, concerning the intercourse which familiar spirits, viz., the good and bad genii, have had and continue to have to a great degree with some select parts of mankind; secondly, concerning the wonderful and almost miraculous power of a second-sight, with which many, beyond all controversy, have been extraordinarily but visibly gifted; and, thirdly, concerning the pitch of perfection to which the magic science has been carried and promoted by some adepts in that mysterious art; I will premise a few particulars about the genii which attended our little Duncan Campbell, and about the second-sight which he had when yet a child, and when we may much more easily believe that the wonders he performed and wrote of, must have been rather brought about by the intervention of such genii and the mediation of such a sight, than that he could have invented such fables concerning them, and compa.s.sed such predictions as seem to want their a.s.sistance, by the mere dint of a child's capacity.

One day, I remember, when he was about nine years of age, going early to the house where he and his mother lived, and it being before his mother was stirring, I went into little Duncan Campbell's room to divert myself with him, I found him sitting up in his bed with his eyes broad open, but as motionless as if he had been asleep, or even, if it had not been for a lively beautiful colour which the little pretty fair silver-haired boy always had in his cheeks, as if he had been quite dead; he did not seem so much as to breathe; the eyelids of him were so fixed and immoveable, that the eyelashes did not so much as once shake, which the least motion imaginable must agitate; not to say that he was like a person in an ecstacy, he was at least in what we commonly call a brown study, to the highest degree, and for the largest s.p.a.ce of time I ever knew. I, who had been frequently informed by people who have been present at the operations of second-sighted persons, that at the sight of a vision the eyelids of the person are erected, and the eyes continue staring till the object vanishes; I, I say, sat myself softly down on his bed-side, and with a quiet amazement observed him, avoiding diligently any motion that might give him the least disturbance, or cause in him any avocation or distraction of mind from the business he was so intent upon. I remarked that he held his head sideways, with his mouth wide open, and in a listening posture, and that after so lively a manner, as, at first general thought, made me forget his deafness, and plainly imagine he heard something, till the second thought of reflection brought into my mind the misfortune that shut up all pa.s.sage for any sound through his ears. After a steadfast gaze, which lasted about seven minutes, he smiled, and stretched his arms as one recovering from a fit of indolence, and rubbed his eyes; then turning towards me, he made the sign of a salute, and hinted to me, upon his fingers, his desire for pen, ink, and paper, which I reached him from a little desk that stood at his bed's feet.

Placing the paper upon his knees, he wrote me the following lines, which together with my answers I preserve by me, for their rarity, to this very day, and which I have transcribed word for word, as they form a little series of dialogue.

_Duncan Campbell._ I am sorry I cannot stay with you; but I shall see my pretty youth and my lamb by and by, in the fields, near a little coppice or grove, where I go often to play with them, and I would not lose their company for the whole world; for they and I are mighty familiar together, and the boy tells me everything that gets me my reputation among the ladies and n.o.bility, and you must keep it secret.

_My question._ I will be sure to keep it secret; but how do you know you are to meet them there to-day? Did the little boy appoint you?

_Duncan Campbell._ Yes, he did, and signified that he had several things to predict to me concerning people, that he foreknew would come to me the week following to ask me questions.

_My question._ But what was you staring at when I came in?

_Duncan Campbell._ Why, at that little boy that goes along with the lamb I speak of, and it was then he made me the appointment.

_My question._ How does he do it? Does he write?

_Duncan Campbell._ No, he writes sometimes, but oftener he speaks with his fingers, and mighty swift; no man can do it so quick, or write half so soon; he has a little bell in his hand, like that which my mother makes me a sign to shake when she wants the servants: with that he tickles my brain strangely, and gives me an incredible delight of feeling in the inside of my head; he usually wakes me with it in the morning when he comes to make me an appointment. I fancy it is what you call hearing, which makes me mighty desirous I could hear in your way; it is sweeter to the feeling, methinks, than anything is to the taste; it is just as if my head was tickled to death, as my nurse used to tickle my sides; but it is a different feeling, for it makes things like little strings tremble in my temples and behind my ears. Now I remember, I will tell you what it is like, that makes me believe it is like your hearing, and that strange thing which you that can speak, call sound or noise: because, when I was at church with my mother, who told me the bells could be heard ringing a mile off, as I was kneeling on the bench, and leaning over the top of the pew and gnawing the board, every time the man pulled the rope, I thought all my head beat as if it would come to pieces, but yet it pleased me methought, rather than pained me, and I would be always gnawing the board when the man pulled the rope, and I told my mother the reason: the feeling of that was something like the little bell, but only that made my head throb, as if it would break, and this tickles me, and makes, as it were, little strings on the back of my ears dance and tremble like anything; is not that like your way of hearing? If it be, it is a sweet thing to hear; it is more pleasant than to see the finest colours in the world; it is something like being tickled in the nose with a feather till one sneezes, or like the feeling after one strikes the leg when it has been numb, or asleep, only with this difference, that those two ways give a pain, and the other a pleasure. I remember, too, when I had a great cold, for about two months, I had a feeling something like it, but that was blunt, dull, confused, and troublesome. Is not this like what you call hearing?

_My question._--It is the finest kind of hearing, my dear: it is what we call music. But what sort of a boy is that that meets you? and what sort of a lamb?

_Duncan Campbell._ Oh! though they are like other boys and other lambs which you see, they are a thousand times prettier and finer? you never saw such a boy nor such a lamb in your lifetime.

_My question._ How big is he? As big as you are? And what sort of a boy is he?

_Duncan Campbell._ He is a little little pretty boy, about as tall as my knee, his face is as white as snow, and so are his little hands; his cheeks are as red as a cherry, and so are his lips; and when he breathes, it makes the air more perfumed than my mother's sweet bags that she puts among the linen; he has got a crown of roses, cowslips, and other flowers upon his head, such as the maids gather in May; his hair is like fine silver threads, and shine like the beams of the sun; he wears a loose veil down to his feet, that is as blue as the sky in a clear day, and embroidered with spangles, that look like the brightest stars in the night; he carries a silver bell in one hand, and a book and pencil in the other, and he and the little lamb will dance and leap about me in a ring as high as my head; the lamb has got a little silver collar with nine little bells upon it; and every little piece of wool upon its back, that is as white as milk, is tied up all round it in puffs, like a little miss's hair, with ribbons of all colours; and round its head, too, are little roses and violets stuck very thick into the wool that grows upon its forehead, and behind and between its ears, in the shape of a diadem. They first meet me dancing thus; and after they have danced some time, the little boy writes down wonderful things in his book, which I write down in mine; then they dance again, till he rings his bell, and then they are gone all of a sudden, I know not where; but I feel the tinkling in the inside of my head caused by the bell less and less, till I don't feel it at all, and then I go home, read over my lesson in my book, and when I have it by heart, I burn the written leaves, according as the little boy bids me, or he would let me have no more. But I hear the little bell again, the little boy is angry with me, he pulled me twice by the ear, and I would not displease him for anything, so I must get up and go immediately to the joy and delight of my life.

I told him he might, if he would promise me to tell me farther another time; he said he would, if I would keep it secret. I told him I would, and so we parted; though just before he went, he said he smelt some venison, and he was sure they would shortly have some for dinner; and nothing was so sure as that, my man had my orders to bring a side of venison to me the next day to Mrs. Campbell's, for I had been hunting, and came thither from the death of a deer that morning; and intended, as usual, to make a stay there for two or three days.

There are, I know, many men of severe principles, and who are more strict, grave, and formal in their manner of thinking, than they are wise, who will be apt to judge of these relations as things merely fabulous and chimerical, and not contented with being disbelievers by themselves, will labour to insinuate into others this pernicious notion, that it is a sign of infirmity and weakness in the head to yield them credit. But though I could easily argue these Sir Gravities down, though a sentence or two would do their business, put them beyond the power of replying, and strike them dumb, yet do I think it not worth my while; their greatest and most wonted objection against these Eudemons and Kakodemons, being, that it arises all from the work of fancy, in persons of a melancholic blood. If we consider the nature of this child's dialogue with me, will it not be more whimsically strange and miraculous, to say that a child of nine years' old had only a fancy of such things as these, of which it had never heard anybody give an account, and that it could, by the mere strength of imagination, predict such things as really after came to pa.s.s, than it is, when it does so strangely predict things, to believe the child does it in the manner itself owns it does, which is by the intervention of a good demon, or a happy genius. Departing, therefore, from these singular and wise men's opinions, who will believe nothing excellent can happen to others, which it has not been their lot to enjoy a share of, I shall take my farewell hastily of them, without losing my own time or theirs, in the words of the ingenious Monsieur le Clerc: _Acerbos homines non moror, indignos quippe, qui haec studia tractent, aut quorum, judicii ulla ratio habeatur._

I shall rather see how far these things have lain open to the eyes of, and been explained by the ancient sages; I will relate who among them were happy in their genii, and who among the moderns, whose examples may be authorities for our belief; I will set down as clearly as I can what perception men have had of genii or spirits by the sense of seeing; what by the sense of hearing; what by the sense of feeling, touching, or tasting; and in fine, what perception others have had of these genii by all the senses, what by dreams, and what by magic, a thing rarely to be met with at once in any single man, and which seems particular to the child, who was the subject of our last little historical account. When I have brought examples and the opinions of wise philosophers, and the evidence of undeniable witnesses, which one would think sufficient to evince persons of the commerce men have with spirits, if they were not past all sense of conviction; I shall, not so much to corroborate what I say, as to shame some wiseacres, who would by their frail reason scan all things, and pretend to solve the mysteries ascribed to spirits, as facts merely natural, and who would banish from the thoughts of men all belief of spirits whatsoever, I shall, I say, in order to put to shame these wiseacres, if they have any shame left, produce the opinions of the Fathers as divines, show the doctrines of spirits in general to be consistent with Christianity, that they are delivered in the Scripture and by Christian tradition, in which, if they will not acquiesce, I shall leave them to the labyrinth of their own wild opinions, which in the end will so perplex their judgments of things, that they will be never able to extricate themselves; and these different heads will be the subject of the chapter ensuing; and will, or I am greatly mistaken, form both an instructive, edifying, and entertaining discourse, for a reader really and truly intelligent, and that has a good taste and relish for sublime things.

CHAPTER V.

AN ARGUMENT PROVING THE PERCEPTION WHICH MEN HAVE, AND HAVE HAD, BY ALL THE SENSES, AS SEEING, HEARING, ETC., OF DEMONS, GENII, OR FAMILIAR SPIRITS.

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

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

SECTION I.

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

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

The relation is thus:--

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

The night following, there comes one of his company to his bed-side, and tells him, that if he offered to stir out of the doors the next day, he would be carried away. Hereupon he kept within; but towards the evening, having need to make water, he adventured to put one foot over the threshold (several standing by), which he had no sooner done but they espied a rope cast about his middle; and the poor man was hurried away with great swiftness, they following him as fast as they could, but could not overtake him; at length they espied an horseman coming towards him, and made signs to him to stop the man whom he saw coming near him, and both ends of the rope, but n.o.body drawing; when they met he laid hold of one end of the rope, and immediately had a smart blow given him over his arm with the other end; but by this means the man was stopped, and the horseman brought him back with him.

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

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

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

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

This relation was sent to Dr. Henry More by Mr. E. Fowler, who said, Mr.

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

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

Walton adds this, as a relation which will beget some wonder, and well it may, for most of our world are at present possessed with an opinion that visions and miracles are ceased, and though it is most certain that two lutes both being strung and tuned to an equal pitch, and then one played upon, the other, that is not touched, being laid upon the table at a fit distance, will, like an echo to a trumpet, warble a faint, audible harmony in answer to the same tune, yet many will not believe that there is any such thing as a sympathy with souls, &c.

SECTION II.

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

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

It happened in Prussia, that as a certain boy was born, there presently came to him a genius, or what you please to call it, for I leave it to men's judgments, who had so faithful a care of the infant, that there was no need either of mother or servant; and, as he grew up, he had a like care of him; he went to school with him, but so, that he could never be seen either by himself, or any others in all his life.

Afterwards he travelled into Italy, he accompanied him, and whensoever any evil was like to happen to him, either on the road or in the inn, he was perceived to foretell it by some touch or stroke; he drew off his boots as a servant; if he turned his journey another way, he continued with him, having the same care of him in foretelling evil; at length he was made a canon; and as, on a time, he was sitting and feasting with his friends in much jollity, a vehement stroke was struck on a sudden on the table, so that they were all terrified; presently the canon said to his friends, be not afraid, some great evil hangs over my head. The next day he fell into a great fever, and the fit continued on him for three whole days, till he died, miserably.

Captain Henry Bell, in his narrative prefixed to Luther's Table, printed in English, anno 1652, having acquainted us how the German copy printed of it had been discovered under ground, where it had lain hid fifty-two years, that edition having been suppressed by an edict of the Emperor Rudolphus the second, so that it was death for any person to keep a copy thereof; and having told us that Casparus van Spar, a German gentleman, with whom he was familiarly acquainted, while he negotiated affairs in Germany for King James the first, was the person that discovered it, anno 1626, and transmitted it into England to him, and earnestly desired him to translate the said book into English, says, he accordingly set upon the translation of it many times, but was always hindered from proceeding in it by some intervening business. About six weeks after he had received the copy, being in bed with his wife, one night, between twelve and one of the clock, she being asleep, but himself awake, there appeared to him an ancient man standing at his bed-side, arrayed all in white, having a long and broad white beard hanging down to his girdle, who taking him by his right ear, said thus to him: Sirrah! will you not take time to translate that book which is sent unto you out of Germany?

I will shortly provide for you both place and time to do it; and then he vanished. Hereupon, being much affrighted, he fell into an extreme sweat, so that his wife awaking and finding him all over wet, she asked him what he ailed? He told her what he had seen and heard; but he never regarded visions nor dreams, and so the same fell out of his mind. But a fortnight after, being on a Sunday; at his lodging in King-street, Westminster, at dinner with his wife, two messengers were sent from the whole council-board, with a warrant to carry him to the Gate-house, Westminster, there to be kept till farther order from the lords of the council; upon which warrant he was kept there ten whole years close prisoner, where he spent five years of it in translating the said book, having good cause to be mindful of the old man's saying: I will shortly provide for you both place and time to translate it.

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

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

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

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

An aged gentlemen, one Parker, as I now remember, having formerly belonged unto the duke, or of great acquaintance with the duke's father, and now retired, had a demon appeared several times to him in the shape of Sir George Villiers, the duke's father: this demon walked many times in Parker's bedchamber, without any action of terror, noise, hurt, or speech; but at last, one night, broke out in these words: Mr. Parker, I know you loved me formerly, and my son George at this time very well, I would have you go from me, you know me very well to be his father, old Sir George Villiers of Leicestershire, and acquaint him with these and these particulars, &c.; and that he above all refrain the council and company of such and such, whom he then nominated, or else he will come to destruction, and that suddenly. Parker, though a very discreet man, partly imagined himself in a dream all this time; and being unwilling to proceed upon no better grounds, forbode addressing himself to the duke; for he conceived, if he should acquaint the duke with the words of his father, and the manner of his appearance to him, such apparitions being not usual, he should be laughed at and thought to dote, in regard he was aged. Some few nights past without farther trouble to the old man, but not very many nights after, old Sir George Villiers appeared again, walked quick and furiously in the room, seemed angry with Parker, and at last said, Mr. Parker, I thought you had been my friend so much, and loved my son George so well, that you would have acquainted him with what I desired, but I know you have not done it; by all the friendship that ever was betwixt you and me, and the great respect you bear my son, I desire you to deliver what I formerly commanded you to my son. The old man seeing himself thus solicited, promised the demon he would, but first argued it thus, that the duke was not easy to be spoken withal, and that he would account him a vain man to come with such a message from the dead: nor did he conceive the duke would give any credit to him; to which the demon thus answered: If he will not believe you have this discourse from me, tell him of such a secret and named it, which he knows none in the world ever knew but myself and him. Mr. Parker being now well satisfied that he was not asleep, and that the apparition was not a vain delusion, took a fit opportunity, and seriously acquainted the duke with his father's words and the manner of his apparition. The duke laughed heartily at the relation, which put old Parker to a stand, but at last he a.s.sumed courage, and told the duke that he acquainted his father's ghost with what he found now to be true, viz., scorn and derision. But, my lord, says he, your father bid me acquaint you by this token, and he said it was such as none in the world but your two selves did yet know. Hereat the duke was amazed and much astonished, but took no warning or notice thereof, keeping the same company still, advising with such counsellors and performing such actions as his father by Parker countermanded. Shortly after, old Sir George Villiers, in a very quiet but sorrowful posture, appears again to Parker, and said, Mr.

Parker, I know you delivered my words to George, my son, I thank you for so doing, but he slighted them, and now I only request this more at your hands, that once again you repair to my son, and tell him that if he will not amend, and follow the counsel I have given him, this knife or dagger, and with that he pulled a knife or dagger from under his gown, shall end him; and do you, Mr. Parker, set your house in order, for you shall die at such a time. Mr. Parker once more engaged, though very unwillingly, to acquaint the duke with the last message, and so did; but the duke told him to trouble him no farther with such messages and dreams, and told him he perceived he was now an old man and doted; and within a month after, meeting Mr. Parker on Lambeth bridge, said, Now, Mr. Parker, what say you of your dream? Who only returned; Sir, I wish it may never have success, &c. But within six weeks after, he was stabbed with a knife, according to his father's admonition beforehand, and Mr. Parker died soon after he had seen the dream or vision performed.

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