uncommon for one to meet the village postman walking with one hand
extended holding a kerchief that was sent to the White Witch to be
blessed. The rag must touch no other human being till it reached her.
Moreover, at my own village inn, people from a distance frequently
lodged so as to be able to consult the White Witch, and my tenant, the
landlady of the inn, was absolutely convinced of the efficacy of the
cures wrought.
The rector’s son went to call on Marianne, and she brought out for
him a filthy glass with poppy wine she had made, thick and muddy, and
offered it to him. “I am almost a teetotaler,” said he; “and so can
do no more than just sip this to your health and happiness,” and he
put his lips to the glass.
“Ah! Mr. Edward, dear,” said she, “I’ve offered thickey glass o’ wine
to some, and they’m so proud and haughty as they wouldn’t titch it; but
you’m no so--and now my blessing shall be wi’ you night and day--and
gude fortune shall ever attend you--that I promise you.”
[Illustration: A VILLAGE “WISE MAN”]
A writer in _Devon Notes and Queries_, October, 1906, writes:--
“Fifty-nine years ago, two years after breaking my arm, I evidently
chilled it by violent exercise and perspiring in a lengthened snowball
battle on Northernhay (Exeter). This caused a large surface wound which
neither doctor nor chemist could heal for months, but I had to renew
on all opportunities daily the application of bandages wetted with
Goulard’s Extract (acetate of lead and water). Months went by, still
no cure, and at last, in sheer despair, my mother, who had not long
left the country to live in Exeter, resolved to take me to a Seventh
Son whose fame was current in Exeter. He was at the time the carrier to
and from Moretonhampstead. He saw my arm as he stood by his wagon, and
bade my mother bring me the following Friday, when something was said
over the wound, and I was invested with a small velvet amulet, which I
believe contained the leg of a toad.
“The wet bandages were continued, and from that day to this I have
never been able to tell which effected the ultimate cure, the wet
bandages or the toad.
“About thirty years later I had of my own a seventh daughter, born
in succession. The news got about, and within a fortnight we had two
applications from troubled mothers. Would we let our dear baby lay her
hand on their child’s arm or leg, as may be, for it would not harm
mine and might cure theirs of King’s Evil?
“During the early years that I have named, there were several notable
white witches in Exeter who took lots of good fees for pretended good
services. Superstition dies slowly, for within the last seven years a
friend of mine with the same surname as the White Witch of 1840-50,
but a comparative new-comer to Exeter, was startled by an application
of which he, knowing nothing of old wives’ stories of Devon, could not
fathom the meaning until asking the writer if he could explain. About
1880 my wife was met at the door by a man who might by appearance have
been a small farmer. ‘Missus, be I gwain right?’ ‘Where do you want to
go?’ (A little hesitation.) ‘I waant to vind thickey wuman that tells
things. My cows be wished and I waant to vind out who dood it.’ So he
was told to go to a cottage behind Friars’ Green, where old Mrs.----
had a crop of fools for clients every Friday, and told them their
fortunes by tea-grounds and cards, much to her and their satisfaction;
but I certainly was amused to hear my wife say, ‘Oh, Jenny So-and-so,
Polly What’s-her-name, and various others, and I, have gone there lots
of times, and had our fortunes told for twopence.’”
At the beginning of this article I mentioned a farmer, a tenant of
mine, who professed to have been cured by “Old Snow,” of Tiverton.
Nine years after this I wrote the article on our Devonshire White
Witches in the _Daily Graphic_. This was transferred to one or two
Plymouth papers. Shortly after that, at our harvest festival, the
farmer turned up. He had left my farm and taken another elsewhere;
but he had a hankering after Lew Trenchard, and at our festival he
appeared, robust and hearty. He came to me and said, “Why, sir, you
have been putting me in the papers.” “Well, old friend,” said I, “I
said in it nothing but what was true.” “True, aye, aye, sir, true as
gospel. The doctors in Plymouth and Mr. Budd, of North Tawton, gave
me up, but Old Snow cured me. I met him on the platform of Tiverton
station, and told him my case. He looked me hard in the eye, and said
some words, and bade me go home and I was cured. Well, sir, from that
day I mended. You see now what I am.”
A friend wrote to me: “In 1891, my head man had an attack of influenza,
and this fell on his nerves, and convinced that he had been ill-wished,
he consulted a White Witch at Callington, who informed him that he had
been ‘overlooked’ by one of his own profession, and that he had applied
too late for a cure to be effected.”
Now the person who exhorted him to have recourse to the White Witch was
his daughter, who was mistress at the school of the parish.
The man eventually recovered, but not through the aid of the White
Witch.
I know a farmer, a God-fearing, sensible man, and thriving in his farm
and piling up money, to whom recourse is continually had to stanch
wounds, and to cure abscesses, by striking the place and reciting
certain mystic sentences.
A witch, white or black, must communicate the secret of power to one of
an opposite sex before he or she can die--that is well known.
That in many cases the imagination acting on the nervous system acts
curatively “goes without saying.” It is that which really operates in
the faith cures and in the Lourdes miracles. What a bad time witches,
white or black, must have had when the short way with any one
suspected was to throw her into a pond! If she sank, why she sank and
was drowned, but had the satisfaction of being aware that her character
was cleared, whereas if she floated, she was a convicted witch and was
burnt.
I am not, however, sure that we are not too lenient with the
professional White Witch nowadays, as the following incident will show.
I do not name the locality, certainly not the persons, for nothing was
proved.
A certain cattle-dealer three years ago was much troubled because his
daughter who had had influenza did not rally, but was rather strange
in her head. He went to the county capital to consult the White Witch.
The latter showed him a glass of water, and said that the person who
had overlooked his child was fair-haired and stout. Further, that she
had never been inside his doors, but that she would enter them on the
following Saturday.
The cattle-jobber looking into the glass of water thought he saw a
face--it was that of a woman who lived not far from him. What he really
saw was, of course, his own reflected, but with the words of the witch
ringing in his ears and guided by his imagination he conceived that he
saw a neighbour.
He returned home full of conviction and wrath. Next night the husband
of the fair-haired, stout woman woke after midnight, and heard a
strange crackling sound. He hastily dressed, and went outside his door,
when he saw that the thatch of his house was in flames. He hastened
to rouse his wife and family, there were six who slept in the house,
and he had barely drawn them outside, before the roof fell in and the
cottage was converted into one great bonfire. By the merest accident
it was that six persons were not burned in their beds. Next morning
the police, who investigated the matter, found evidence that the house
had been wilfully and deliberately set fire to. Some one had stepped
on to a hedge, and had lighted three lucifer matches, and in drawing
them from his pocket had drawn out and dropped at the same time two
halfpenny stamps. The first two matches had failed. The third took
effect. Who had been the incendiary was not discovered.
Of course the circumstance first mentioned may be entirely unconnected
with the second. But there can be no doubt that bitter animosities are
bred by the charges of “ill-wishing” and “overlooking” which are made
by the White Witches. They are far too shrewd to name names, but they
contrive to kindle and direct suspicions in their dupes which may lead
to serious results.
It is very difficult to bring these cases home, and on this immunity
they trade. But it is devoutly to be hoped that some day certain of
these gentry will be tripped up, and then, though magistrates can no
more send them to the stake, they will send them to cool their heels in
gaol, and richly they will deserve the punishment.
MANLY PEEKE
The pirates of Algiers had for some years been very troublesome, not
in the Mediterranean only, but also along the European coasts of the
Atlantic. Several English vessels trading to Smyrna had been plundered,
and the corsairs had even made descents on the coasts of England and
Ireland and had swept away people into slavery. James I proposed that
the different Christian powers should unite to destroy Algiers, the
principal port of these pirates. Spain, whose subjects suffered most,
engaged to co-operate, but withdrew at the last moment. Sir Robert
Mansell was placed in command of the English fleet, but provided with
an inefficient force, and given strict orders from the timid and
parsimonious James not on any account to endanger his vessels.
On 24 May, 1621, Sir Thomas sailed into the harbour of Algiers
and set fire to the Moorish ships and galleys; but had scarcely
retired--unwilling to follow up the advantage--when “a great cataract
of rain” hindered the spread of the fire; and the Algerines succeeded
in recovering all their ships with the exception of two, which burnt
to the water’s edge. The enemy brought their artillery to bear on the
English fleet, mounted batteries on the mole, and threw booms across
the mouth of the harbour. Mansell, hampered by his instructions, dared
not expose his vessels further and withdrew, having lost only eight
men; and returned to England. Among those who had sailed with him was
Richard Peeke, of Tavistock, who returned home much disgusted, “My Body
more wasted and weather-beaten, but my purse never the fuller nor my
pockets thicker lyned.”
Charles I came to the throne in 1625; and one of his first acts was to
organize and start an expedition against the Spanish. It was devised
for the sake of plunder. His treasury was empty; he was obliged to
borrow £3000 to procure provisions for his own table. Plate ships,
heavy-laden argosies, were arriving in the port of Spain from the New
World, and Buckingham suggested to him to fill his empty coffers by
the capture of these vessels. The English fleet counted eighty sail;
the Dutch contributed a squadron of sixteen sail; it was the greatest
joint naval power that had ever spread sail upon salt water--and this
made the world abroad wonder what the purpose was for which it was
assembled. Ten thousand men were embarked on the English vessels, and
the command of both fleet and army was given to Sir Edward Cecil, now
created Lord Wimbledon, a general who had served with very little
success in the Palatinate and the Low Countries. This appointment of a
mere landsman surprised and vexed the seamen. The position belonged to
Sir Robert Mansell, Vice-Admiral of England, in case the Admiral did
not go; but Buckingham had made the choice and persisted in it. The
fleet set sail in the month of October, and shaped its course for the
coast of Spain.
Richard Peeke had remained in Tavistock after his return from Algiers
till October, 1625, when--“The Drumbe beating up for a New Expedition
in which many noble Gentlemen, and Heroical Spirits, were to venture
their Honors, Lives and Fortunes: Cables could not hold me, for away I
would, and along I vowed to goe, and did so.” Peeke entered as sailor
on board the _Convertine_, under Captain Thomas Porter.
In the Bay of Biscay the ships were damaged and in part scattered by a
storm. One vessel foundered with a hundred and seventy men on board.
This was the beginning of misadventure. The confusion of orders was
such that the officers and soldiers scarcely knew who were in command
and whom they were to order about. When Wimbledon got in sight of the
Spanish shores, he summoned a council of war, the usual and dangerous
resource of an incompetent commander. His instructions were to
intercept the plate ships from America, to scour the Spanish shores and
destroy the shipping in the ports. But where should he begin? In the
council of war some recommended one point, some another; in the end it
was resolved to make for Cadiz Bay. But whilst they were consulting,
the Spaniards had got wind of their approach, and prepared to receive
them. Moreover, Wimbledon allowed seven large and rich Spanish vessels
to sail into the bay under his nose, and these afterwards did him much
damage. “’Tis thought,” says Howell, who had many friends with the
expedition, “that they being rich would have defrayed well near the
charge of our fleet.”
A sudden attack on the shipping at Cadiz and Port St. Maria could
hardly have failed even now, but the blundering and incompetent
Wimbledon preferred to land all his troops, and he succeeded in
capturing the paltry fort of Puntal, whilst his fleet remained inactive
outside the bay. Then he moved towards the bridge which connects the
Isle de Laon with the continent, to cut off communications. No enemy
was visible; but in the wine-cellars of the country, which were broken
open and plundered, a foe was found which has ever been more dangerous
to undisciplined English troops than bullets and sabres. The men, under
no control, got drunk, and became totally unmanageable; and if the
Spaniards had been on the alert they might have cut them to pieces.
Lord Wimbledon then ordered a retreat, but this was conducted in such a
manner that hundreds of stragglers were left behind to fall under the
knives of the enraged peasantry.
Richard Peeke, not being a soldier, did not accompany the army; but at
midday thought that he might as well also go ashore to refresh himself.
He did so, and met some of the men laden with oranges and lemons. He
inquired of them where the enemy was. They replied that they had not
seen a Spaniard. Thereupon “we parted, they to the shippes, I forward,
and before I reached a mile, I found three Englishmen starke dead,
being slayne, lying in the way, and one, some small distance off, not
fully dead.” Whilst Peeke was assisting the wounded man, a Spanish
cavaliero, whose name he afterwards learned was Don Juan de Cadiz, came
up and attacked him, but Peeke flapped his cloak in the eyes of the
horse, which swerved, and Peeke mastered the Don, and threw him down.
The Spaniard pleaded for mercy, and Peeke, after emptying the Don’s
pocket of a few coins, bade him depart. At that moment, however, up
came fourteen Spanish musketeers. “Thus farre, my Voyage for Oranges
sped well, but in the end prooved sower sauce to me.” The musketeers
overpowered Peeke, and the ungrateful Don stabbed at him, “and wounded
me through the face from eare to eare, and had there killed me, had not
the foureteen muskatiers rescued me from his rage. Upon this I was led
in triumph into the town of Cales [Cadiz]; an owl not more wondered
and hooted at, a dog not more cursed. In my being ledde thus along the
streets, a Flemming spying me cryed out alowde, Whither do you leade
this English dogge? Kill him, kill him, he’s no Christian. And with
that, breaking through the crowde, in upon those who held mee, ranne me
into the body with a halbert, at the reynes of my back, at least foure
inches.”
He was taken before the Governor, who had him well treated and attended
by surgeons, and when he was better, dispatched him to Xeres, which he
calls Sherrys. Meanwhile his captain, Porter, induced Lord Wimbledon to
send a messenger on shore and offer to ransom Peeke at any reasonable
price; but the Spanish Governor, supposing him to be a man of far
greater consequence than he was, refused this, and at Xeres he was had
up on 15 November before a council of war, consisting of three dukes,
four counts, four marquesses, and other great persons. Two Irish friars
attended as interpreters. These men had been in England the year before
acting as spies and bringing to Spain reports of the number of guns
and troops in Plymouth. “At my first appearing before the Lordes my
sword lying before them on a table, the Duke of Medina asked me if I
knew that weapon. It was reached to me, I tooke it, and embraced it in
mine armes, and with tears in mine eyes kist the pomell of it. He then
demanded, how many men I had kild with that weapon. I told him if I
had kild one I had not bene there now, before that princely Assembly,
for when I had him at my foote begging for mercy, I gave him life, yet
he then very poorely did me a mischiefe. Then they asked Don John what
wounds I gave him. He sayd, None. Upon this he was rebuked and told
that if upon our first encounter he had run me through, it had been
a faire and noble triumph, but so to wound me being in the hands of
others, they held it base.”
He was now closely questioned as to the fleet, the number of guns in
the vessels, the fortifications of Plymouth, the garrison and the
ordnance there, and was greatly surprised to find how accurately the
Council was informed on every point.
“By the common people who encompast me round, many jeerings, mockeries,
scorns and bitter jests were to my face thrown upon our Nation. At
the length one of the Spaniards called Englishmen _gallinas_ (hens);
at which the great lords fell a laughing. Hereupon one of the Dukes,
poynting to the Spanish soldiers, bid me note how their King kept them.
And indeed, they were all wondrous brave in apparell, hattes, bandes,
cuffes, garters, etc., and some of them in chaines of gold. And asked
further if I thought these would prove such hennes as our English, when
next year they should come into England? I sayd no. But being somewhat
emboldened by his merry countenance, I told him as merrily, I thought
they would be within one degree of hennes, and would prove pullets or
chickens. Darst thou then (quoth Duke Medina, with a brow half angry)
fight with one of these Spanish pullets?
“O my Lord, said I, I am a prisoner, and my life is at stake, and
therefore dare not be so bold to adventure upon any such action; yet
with the license of this princely Assembly, I dare hazard the breaking
of a rapier; and withall told him, he was unworthy the name of an
Englishman that should refuse to fight with one man of any nation
whatsoever. Hereupon my shackells were knocked off, and my iron ring
and chayne taken from my neck.
“Roome was made for the combatants, rapier and dagger the weapons. A
Spanish champion presents himselfe, named Signior Tiago, Whom after we
had played some reasonable good time, I disarmed, as thus--I caught his
rapier betwixt the barr of my poignard and there held it, till I closed
in with him, and tripping up his heeles, I tooke his weapons out of his
hands, and delivered them to the Dukes.
“I was then demanded, If I durst fight against another. I told them,
my heart was good to adventure, but humbly requested them to give me
pardon if I refused, for I too well knew that the Spaniard is haughty,
impatient of the least affront, and when he receives but a touch of any
dishonour, his revenge is implacable, mortall and bloody.
“Yet being by the noblemen pressed again and again to try my fortune
with another, I sayd, That if their Graces and Greatnesses would
give me leave to play at mine owne Countrey weapon, called the
Quarter-staffe, I was then ready there, an opposite against any comer,
whom they would call foorth; and would willingly lay doune my life
before those princes, to doe them service, provided my life might by no
foule means be taken from me.
“Hereupon, the head of a halbert which went with a screw was taken off,
and the steall [staff] delivered to me; the other but-end of the staffe
having a short iron pike in it. This was my armor, and in my place I
stood, expecting an opponent.
“At last, a handsome and well-spirited Spaniard steps foorth with his
rapier and poignard. They asked me what I sayd to him. I told them I
had a sure friend in my hand that never failed me, and made little
account of that one to play with. Then a second, armed as before,
presents himselfe. I demanded if there would come no more. The Duke
asked, how many I desired. I told them any number under six. Which
resolution of mine they smiling at it in a kind of scorne, held it not
manly nor fit for their own honors and glory of their nation, to worry
one man with a multitude; and therefore appointed three only to enter
the lists.
Three to One:
Being, An Engliſh-Spaniſh Combat,
Performed by a _Weſterne_ Gentleman, of _Tauyſtoke_ in _Deuon
ſhire_, with an Engliſh Quarter-Staffe, againſt Three _Spaniſh_
Rapiers and Poniards, at _Sherries_ in _Spaine_,
The fifteene day of Nouember, 1625.
In the Preſence of Dukes, Condes, Marqueſſes, and other Great
Dons of _Spaine_, being the Counſell of Warre.
The Author of this Booke, and Actor in this Encounter, _Richard
Peecke_.
[Illustration:
Printed an London for _I. T._ and are to be sold at his Shoppe.
MANLY PEEKE IN HIS ENCOUNTER WITH THREE ADVERSARIES ARMED WITH
RAPIERS AND POIGNARDS]
“The rapier men traversed their ground, I mine. Dangerous thrusts were
put in, and with dangerous hazard avoyded. Showtes echoed to heaven, to
encourage the Spaniards, not a shoute nor a hand to hearten the poore
Englishman; only Heaven I had in mine eye, the honour of my Countrey in
my heart, my fame at the stake, my life on a narrow bridge, and death
both before me and behind me.
“Plucking up a good heart, seeing myself faint and wearied, I vowed to
my soule to do something ere she departed from me; and so setting all
upon one cast, it was my good fortune with the but-end where the iron
pike was to kill one of the three; and within a few boutes after, to
disarme the other two, causing one of them to fly into the armie of
soldiers then present, and the other for refuge fled behind the bench.
“Now was I in greater danger; for a generall murmure filled the ayre,
with threatenings at me; the soldiers especially bit their thumbes, and
how was it possible for me to scape?
“Which the noble Duke of Medina Sidonia seeing called me to him, and
instantly caused proclamation to be made, that none, on paine of death,
should meddle with mee. And by his honourable protection I got off. And
not off, only, with safety, but with money, for by the Dukes and Condes
were given me in gold to the value of foure pounds tenne shillings
sterling, and by the Marquesse Alquenezes himself as much; he embracing
me in his armes and bestowing upon me that long Spanish russet cloake
I now weare, which he tooke from one of his men’s backs; and withall
furnished me with a cleane band and cuffes.”
The Spaniards, nobly appreciating the bravery of their captive, and
discovering that instead of being a man of great consequence he was a
mere sailor before the mast, and not likely to be redeemed at a great
price, resolved to give him liberty, and under the conduct of four
gentlemen attached to the suite of the Marquess Alquenezes, he was
sent to Madrid to be presented to the King. During Peeke’s stay in
Madrid, which he calls Madrill, he was the guest of the Marquess. The
Marchioness showed him great kindness, and on his leaving presented him
with a gold chain and jewels for his wife, and pretty things for his
children. On Christmas Day he was presented to the King, the Queen, and
Don Carlos, the Infante.
“Being brought before him, I fell (as it was fitt) on my knees. Many
questions were demanded of me, which so well as my plaine witte
directed me, I resolved.
“In the end, his Majesty offered me a yearly pension (to a good vallew)
if I would serve him, eyther at land or at sea; for which his royal
favour, I confessing myself infinitely bound, most humbly intreated,
that with his princely leave, I might be suffered to returne into mine
own Countrey, being a subject onely to the King of England my sovereign.
“And besides that bond of allegiance there was another obligation due
from me, to a wife and children. And therefore most submissively beg’d,
that his Majesty would be so princely minded as to pitty my estate and
to let me goe. To which he at last granted, bestowing upon me, one
hundred pistoletts, to beare my charges.