“In the proper season of the year, when the herb is at its full growth,
and, consequently, its juices in their whole vigor, gather at the
fittest time of the day a sufficient quantity of balm, wipe it clean,
and pick it; then put it in a stone mortar, and, by laborious beating,
reduce it into a thin pap.
“Take this glutinous and odoriferous substance and put it into a
bolt-head, which is to be hermetically sealed, and then place it in a
dunghill, or some gentle heat equivalent thereto, where it must digest
for forty days.
“When it is taken out, the matter will appear clearer than ever, and
have a quicker scent. Then separate the grosser parts, which, however,
are, not to be thrown away. Put this liquid into a gentle bath, that
the remaining gross particles may perfectly subside. In the meantime,
dry calcine, and extract the fixed salt of the grosser parts, separated
as before mentioned, which fixed salt is to be joined to the liquor
when filtrated.
“Next take sea salt, well purified, melt it, and, by setting it in a
cold place, it will run, and become clear and limpid. Take equal parts
of both liquors, mix thoroughly, and having hermetically sealed them
in a proper glass, let them be carefully exposed to the sun, in the
warmest season of the year, for about six weeks. At the end of this
space, the prim muens of the balm will appear swimming on the top like
a bright green oil, which is to be carefully separated and preserved.
Of this oil, a few drops taken in a glass of wine for several days
together, will bring to pass those wonders that are reported of the
Countess of Desmond and others; for it will entirely change the juices
of the human body, reviving the decaying frame of life, and restoring
the spirits of long lost youth.”
The author who records this curious and wonderful discovery, remarks,
“If after the medicine is thus prepared, any doubt be had of its
efficacy, or of its manner of operation, let a few drops be given every
day on raw meat to any old dog or cat, and in less than a fortnight, by
the changing of their coats and other incontestable changes, the virtue
of this preparation will sufficiently appear.”
This is the preparation of balm which Mr. Boyle (the celebrated
chemist) mentions in his works; and in which he tells us that “Dr.
Le Fevre” gave him an account of it, “in the presence of a famous
physician, and another virtuoso, to whom he applied, as knowing the
truth of what he said, that an intimate friend of his, whom,” says Mr.
Boyle, “he named to me, having prepared the primums ens of balm, to
satisfy himself the better of its effects, made a trial upon himself,
and took of it according to the prescription, for above a fortnight;
long before which, his nails, both of his hands and feet, began to
loosen themselves from the skin, (but without pain,) which, at length,
falling off of their own accord, this gentleman keeps yet by him in a
box for a rarity; but would not pursue the trial any farther, being
satisfied with what he had found, and being in no need of such physic;
but having given of the same medicated wine, for ten or twelve days,
to a woman that served in his house, and who was near seventy years of
age, without letting her know what he expected, the peculiar signs of
youth in females became so apparent that she was alarmed, and he did
not prosecute the experiment any farther. And when I asked,” says Mr.
Boyle, “why he made no trial on beasts, it was answered, that though
he had but little of the medicine, yet he put apart an old hen, and
moistening her food with some drops of it for a week, about the sixth
day she began to moult her feathers by degrees till she became naked;
but before a fortnight was passed, she began to regain others, which,
when they were come to their full growth, appeared fair and better
colored than at first.”
And he added, “that besides that her crest was raised she also laid
more eggs than she was wont to do before.”
In our childhood, our mothers’ maids have so terrified us with an ugly
devil having horns on his head, fire in his mouth, and a tail at his
breech; eyes like a basin, fangs like a dog, claws like a bear, a skin
like a negro, and a voice roaring like a lion, whereby we start and
are afraid when we hear one cry Boh! and they have so frayed us with
bull-beggars, spirits, witches, unchins, elves, hags, faries, satyrs,
pans, fauhes, sylvans, kitt-with-the-candlestick, tritrons, centaurs,
dwarfs, giants, imps, calcars, conjureres, nymphs, changelings,
incubus, Robin Goodfellow, the spoorn, the man-in-the-oak, the
hellwain, the firedrake, the puckle, Tom Thum, Hobgoblin, Tom Tumbler,
Boneless, and such other bugbears, that we are afrad of our own
shadows, insomuch that some never fear the devil but on a dark night;
and then a polled sheep is a perilous beast, and many times is taken
for our father’s soul, especially in a churchyard, where a right hardy
man hitherto durst not to have passed by night but his hair would stand
upright.
It is asserted by several authorities that no less than three thousand
persons were executed for Witchcraft during that dark period of
heretical pravity, the Great Rebellion. Now, as “Rebellion,” according
to the express assurance of the Prophet Samuel (1 Sam. xv. 23) “is as
the sin of Witchcraft,” no hearty believer in God’s revelation can
be at all surprised to find that both Witchcraft and Rebellion in an
atmosphere of heresy flourished together, under that odious tyrant and
hypocritical fanatic, Oliver Cromwell: when the altar was thrown down
and both King and Archbishop were murdered.
In 1488, the country four leagues around Constance was laid waste by
lightning and tempest; and two women being, by fair means or foul, made
to confess themselves guilty as the cause of the devastation, suffered
death.
About 1515, five hundred persons were executed at Geneva, under the
character of “Protestant witches;” from which we may suppose many
suffered for heresy. Forty-eight witches were burnt at Ravensburgh
within four years, as Hutchison reports, on the authority of Mengho,
the author of the Malleus Maleficarum. In Lorraine, the learned
inquisitor, Remigius, boasts that he put to death nine hundred people
in fifteen years. As many were banished from that country; so that
whole towns were on the point of becoming desolate. In 1524, a thousand
persons were put to death in one year at Coma, in Italy, and about one
hundred every year for several years.
In the beginning of the next century, the persecution of witches broke
out in France with a fury which was hardly conceivable, and multitudes
were burnt amid that gay and lively people.
The dream of the so-called “Swaffham Tinker” is singular, and may well
be here reproduced, because it represents an example of the practical
results of dreaming, which is quite worthy of consideration:―
“This Tinker, a hard-working, industrious man, one night dreamed that
if he took a journey to London, and placed himself at a certain spot
on London Bridge, he should meet one who would tell him something of
great importance to his future prospects. The Tinker, on whom the dream
made a deep impression, related it fully to his wife in the morning;
who, however, half-laughed at him and half-scolded him for his folly
in heeding such idle fancies. Next night he is said to have re-dreamed
the dream; and again on the third night, when the impression was so
powerful on his mind that he determined, in spite of the remonstrances
of his wife and the ridicule of his neighbors, to go to London and see
the upshot of it. Accordingly he set off for the metropolis on foot,
reached it late on the third day (the distance was ninety miles), and
after the refreshment of a night’s rest, took his station next day
on a part of the Bridge answering to the description in his dream.
There he stood all day, and all the next, and all the third, without
any communication as to the purpose of his journey; so that towards
night, on the third day he began to lose patience and confidence in his
dream, inwardly cursed his folly in disregarding his wife’s counsel,
and resolved next day to make the best of his way home. He still kept
his station, till late in the evening, when just as he was about to
depart, a stranger who had noticed him standing steadfastly and with
anxious look on the same spot for some days, accosted him, and asked
him what he waited there for. After a little hesitation, the Tinker
told him his errand, though without acquainting him with the name
of the place whence he came. The stranger enjoyed a smile at the
rustic’s simplicity, and advised him to go home and for the future
pay no attention to dreams. ‘I myself,’ said he, ‘if I were disposed
to put faith in such things, might now go a hundred miles into the
country upon a similar errand. I dreamed three nights this week that
if I went to a place called Swaffham in Norfolk, and dug under an
apple tree in a certain garden on the north side of the town I should
find a box of money; but I have something else to do than run after
such idle fancies! No, no, my friend; go home, and work well at your
calling, and you will find there the riches you are seeking here.’ The
astonished Tinker did not doubt that this was the communication he had
been sent to London to receive, but he merely thanked the stranger for
his advice, and went away avowing his intention to follow it up. Next
day he set for home, and on his arrival there said little to his wife
touching his journey; but next morning he rose betimes and began to dig
on the spot he supposed to be pointed out by the stranger. When he had
got a few feet down, the spade struck upon something hard, which turned
out to be an iron chest. This he quickly carried to his house, and when
he had with difficuly wrenched open the lid, found it, to his great
joy, to be full of money. After securing his treasure, he observed on
the lid of the box an inscription, which, unlearned as he was, he could
not decipher. But by a stratagem he got the incription read without any
suspicion on the part of his neighbors by some of the Grammar School
lads, and found it to be―
‘Where this stood
Is another twice as good.’
And in truth on digging again the lucky Tinker disinterred, below the
place where the first chest had lain, a second twice as large, also
full of gold and silver coin. It is stated that, become thus a wealthy
man, the Tinker showed his thankfulness to Providence by building a new
chancel to the church, the old one being out of repair. And whatever
fiction the marvellous taste of those ages may have mixed up with the
tale, certain it is that there is shown to this day a monument in
Swaffham Church, having an effigy in marble, said to be that of the
Tinker with his Dog at his side and his tools and implements of trade
lying about him.”
* * * * *
Among the various histories of singular dreams and corresponding
events, the following, which occurred in the early part of the
eighteenth century, seems to merit being here placed on record. Its
authenticity will appear from the relation; and it may surely be
maintained that a more extraordinary concurrence of fortuitous and
accidental circumstances can scarcely be produced or paralleld:―
Cassius of Parma, who had espoused the cause of Marc Anthony, fled to
Athens after the battle of Actium. While sleeping in his apartments
there, he saw a man enter his chamber, an individual with dark
complexion and dishevelled hair, very tall and stout. Cassius demanded
who he was; to which the phantom replied, “I am your evil genius.”
The dreamer arose in a fright, and seeing no one present, summoned
his slaves, inquiring if any among them had seen a stranger enter the
appartment. An examination showed the doors of the house to have been
firmly closed, so that it was impossible for any one to enter. Cassius
persuaded that he had been the victim of some chemical illusion, again
went to sleep, but the same vision presented itself a second time,
addressing him with the same words. Cassius, troubled, arose from his
couch and summoned lights. At early day-break he was assassinated by
order of the Emperor Augustus.
* * * * *
Two Arcedian friends, journeying together, arrived at Megara, at
which place the one took lodgings at the house of a friend, while
his companion put up at a public tavern. The traveler lodging at his
friend’s, was visited in a dream by his comrade, who supplicated him
to come and extricate him from a trap set for him by the innkeeper.
He awoke suddenly, arose, dressed and hastened himself towards the
tavern, when an afterthought impelled him to return, and he again
undressed and went to sleep. Again his comrade presented himself, but
this time covered with blood, and beseeching him to avenge his murder.
The phantom informed his fellow traveler that he had been treacherously
assassinated by the tavern keeper, and his body concealed beneath a
dunghill outside the city gates. Terrified at this second appiration,
the Arcadian hesitated no longer, but going to the place designated, he
discovered his friend’s corpse, and was therefore enabled to bring the
murderer to justice.
* * * * *
A tradesman of Paris, sleeping in bed with his wife, dreamed that he
heard the voice exclaiming to him: “I have now finished forty years,
seven months, and twenty-nine days of labor, and I am happy.” The wife,
sleeping by her husband’s side, had the same dream and upon awakening
in the morning went forth, and without mentioning the occurrence,
procured a lottery-ticket bearing the numbers 40-7-29. The same day the
numbers came out, and the tradesman lamented his indiscretion in not
taking the advice of his nocturnal visitor. His sorrow was turned into
joy when he learned that his wife, profiting by her dream, had drawn
the grand prize in the Royal Lottery.
* * * * *
An old lady of Paris was in the habit of encouraging her niece by
promises of wealth, which she never fulfilled; extenuating her
procrastination from year to year, by recourse of ingenious expedients,
and she finally died. Shortly afer her decease, the aunt appeared
during the night-time and instructed her niece to remove the centre
tile of their hearth, where she would discover the oft promised
treasure. The young girl obeyed the injunction, but discovered in the
cavity nothing save a heap of cinders. In vexation of spirit, the
niece railled vehemently against the duplicity of a relative deceiving
her after death. On the following night, however, the phantom again
appeared, and without saying a word, designated four numbers apparently
on the wall. Although placing little reliance upon the injunction
which she conceived to relate to a lottery (then the town talk), the
niece resolved to try her luck, especially as the ticket offered
for her purchase by the dealer bore the same numbers designated by
the apparition. Subsequently, these numbers came out in the order
indicated, and the girl came into possession of four hundred thousand
francs.