when Master Tom Campbell set the whole country in a flame, and brought no
end of notice and sympathy upon his house and family. In 1654 one Gilbert
Campbell was a weaver in Glenluce, a small village not far from Newton
Stewart. Tom, his eldest son, and the most important personage in the
drama, was a student at Glasgow College; and there was a certain old
blaspheming beggar, called Andrew Agnew--afterwards hanged at Dumfries for
his atheism, having said, in the hearing of credible witnesses, that
"there was no God but salt, meal, and water"--who every now and then came
to Glenluce to ask alms. One day old Andrew visited the Campbells as
usual, but got nothing; at which he cursed and swore roundly, and
forthwith sent a devil to haunt the house, for it was soon after this
refusal that the stirs began, and the connection was too apparent to be
denied. For what could they be but the malice of the devil sent by old
Andrew in revenge? Young Tom Campbell was the worst beset of all, the
demon perpetually whistling and rioting about him, and playing him all
sorts of diabolical and malevolent tricks. Once, too, Jennet, the young
daughter, going to the well, heard a whistling behind her like that
produced by "the small slender glass whistles of children," and a voice
like the damsel's, saying, "I'll cast thee, Jennet, into the well! I'll
cast thee, Jennet, into the well!" About the middle of November, when the
days were dark and the nights long, things got very bad. The foul fiend
threw stones in at the doors and windows, and down the chimney head; cut
the warp and threads of Campbell's loom; slit the family coats and bonnets
and hose and shoon into ribbons; pulled off the bed-clothes from the
sleeping children, and left them cold and naked, besides administering
sounding slaps on those parts of their little round rosy persons usually
held sacred to the sacrifices of the rod; opened chests and trunks, and
strewed the contents over the floor; knocked everything about, and
ill-treated bairn and brother; and, in fact, persecuted the whole family
in the most merciless manner. The weaver sent his children away, thinking
their lives but barely safe, and _in their absence there were no assaults
whatever_--a thing to be specially noted. But on the minister's
representing to him that he had done a grievous sin in thus withdrawing
them from God's punishments, they were brought back again in contrition.
Only Tom was left behind, and nothing ensued until Tom appeared; but
unlucky Tom brought back the devil with him, and then there was no more
peace to be had.
On the Sunday following Master Tom's return, the house was set on
fire--the devil's doing: but the neighbours put the flames out again
before much damage had ensued. Monday was spent in prayer; but on Tuesday
the place was again set on fire, to be again saved by the neighbours'
help. The weaver, in much trouble, went to the minister, and besought him
to take back that unlucky Tom, whom the devil so cruelly followed and
molested; which request he, after a time, "condescended to," though
assuring the weaver that he would find himself deceived if he thought
that the devil would quit with the boy. And so it proved; for Tom, having
now indoctrinated some of his juniors with the same amount of mechanics
and legerdemain as he himself possessed, managed that they should be still
sore troubled--the demon cutting their clothes, throwing peats down the
chimney, pulling off turf and "feal" from the roof and walls, stealing
their coats, pricking their poor bodies with pins, and raising such a
clamour that there was no peace or rest to be had.
The case was becoming serious. Glenluce objected to be made the
head-quarters of the devil; and the ministers convened a solemn meeting
for fast and humiliation; the upshot of which was that weaver Campbell was
led to take back his unlucky Tom, with the devil or without him. For this
was the point at issue in the beginning; the motive of which is not hard
to be discovered. Whereupon Tom returned; but as he crossed the threshold
he heard a voice "forbidding him to enter that house, or any other place
where his father's calling was exercised." Was Tom, the Glasgow student,
afraid of being made a weaver, consent or none demanded? In spite of the
warning voice he valiantly entered, and his persecutions began at once. Of
course they did. They were tremendous, unheard of, barbarous; in fact, so
bad that he was forced to return once more for a time to the minister's
house; but his imitator or disciple left behind carried on business in his
absence. On Monday, the 12th day of February, the demon began to speak to
the family, who, nothing afraid, answered quite cheerily: so they and the
devil had long confidential chats together, to the great improvement of
mind and morals. The ministers, hearing of this, convened again, and met
at weaver Campbell's, to see what they could do. As soon as they entered,
Satan began: "Quum literatum is good Latin," quoth he. These were the
first words of the Latin rudiments, as taught in the grammar-school. Tom's
classical knowledge was coming into play.
After a while he cried out, "A dog! a dog!" The minister, thinking he was
alluded to, answered, "He thought it no evil to be reviled of him;" to
which Satan replied civilly, "It was not you, sir, I spoke to: I meant the
dog there;" for there was a dog standing behind backs. They then went to
prayer, during which time Tom--or the devil--remained reverently silent;
his education being not yet carried out to the point of scoffing.
Immediately after prayer was ended, a counterfeit voice cried out, "Would
you know the witches of Glenluce? I will tell of them," naming four or
five persons of indifferent repute, but one of whom was dead. The weaver
told the devil this, thinking to have caught him tripping; but the foul
fiend answered promptly, "It is true she is dead long ago, but her spirit
is living with us in the world."
The minister replied, saying, "Though it was not convenient to speak to
such an excommunicated and intercommuned person, 'the Lord rebuke thee,
Satan, and put thee to silence. We are not to receive information from
thee, whatsoever fame any person goes under. Thou art seeking but to
seduce this family, for Satan's kingdom is not divided against itself.'"
After which little sparring there was prayer again; so Tom did not take
much by this move.
All the while the young Glasgow student was very hardly holden, so that
there was more prayer on his special behalf. The devil then said, on their
rising, "Give me a spade and a shovel, and depart from the house for
seven days, and I will make a grave and lie down in it, and shall trouble
you no more."
The good man Campbell answered, "Not so much as a straw shall be given
thee, through God's assistance, even though that would do it. God shall
remove thee in due time." Satan cried out, impudently, "I shall not remove
for you. I have my commission from Christ to tarry and vex this family."
Says the minister, coming to the weaver's assistance, "A permission thou
hast, indeed; but God will stop it in due time." Says the demon,
respectfully, "I have, sir, a commission which perhaps will last longer
than yours." And the minister died in the December of that year, says
Sinclair. Furthermore, the demon said he had given Tom his commission to
keep. Interrogated, that young gentleman replied in an off-hand way, that
"he had had something put into his pocket, but it did not tarry." They
then began to search about for the foul fiend, and one gentleman said, "We
think this voice speaks out of the children." The foul fiend, very angry
at this--or Master Tom frightened--cries out, "You lie! God shall judge
you for your lying; and I and my father will come and fetch you to hell
with warlock thieves." So the devil discharged (forbade) the gentleman to
speak anything, saying, "Let him that hath a commission speak (meaning the
minister), for he is the servant of God." The minister then had a little
religious controversy with the devil, who answered at last, simply, "I
knew not these scriptures till my father taught me them." Nothing of all
this disturbing the easy faith of the audience, they, through the
minister, whom alone he would obey, conjured him to tell them who he was;
whereupon he said that he was an evil spirit come from the bottomless pit
of hell, to vex this house, and that Satan was his father. And then there
appeared a naked hand, and an arm from the elbow downward, beating on the
floor till the house did shake again, and a loud and fearful crying, "Come
up, father! come up, father! I will send my father among ye! See! there he
is behind your backs!"
Says the minister, "I saw, indeed, a hand and an arm, when the stroke was
given and heard."
Says the devil, "Saw ye that? It was not my hand, it was my father's; my
hand is more black in the loof."
"Oh!" said Gilbert Campbell, in an ecstacy, "that I might see thee as well
as I hear thee!"
"Would ye see me?" says the foul thief. "Put out the candle, and I shall
come but[45] the house among you like fire-balls; I shall let ye see me
indeed."
Alexander Bailie of Dunraget said to the minister, "Let us go ben,[46] and
see if there is any hand to be seen." But the demon exclaimed, "No! let
him (the minister) come ben alone: he is a good honest man: his single
word may be believed." He then abused Mr. Robert Hay, a very honest
gentleman, very ill with his tongue, calling him witch and warlock: and a
little while after, cried out, "A witch! a witch! there's a witch sitting
upon the ruist! take her away." He meant that there was a hen sitting on
one of the rafters. They then went to prayer again, and, when ended, the
devil cried out, "If the good man's son's prayers at the College of
Glasgow did not prevail with God, my father and I had wrought a mischief
here ere now." Ah, Master Tom, did you then know so much of prayer and the
inclining of the counsels of God?
Alexander Bailie said, "Well, I see you acknowledge a God, and that
prayer prevails with him, and therefore we must pray to God, and commit
the event to him." To whom the devil replied, having an evident spite
against Alexander Bailie, "Yea, sir, you speak of prayer, with your
broad-lipped hat" (for the gentleman had lately gotten a hat in the
fashion with broad lips); "I'll bring a pair of shears from my father's
which shall clip the lips of it a little." And Alexander Bailie presently
heard a pair of shears go clipping round his hat, "which he lifted, to see
if the foul thief had meddled with it."
Then the fiend fell to prophesying. "Tom was to be a merchant, Bob a
smith, John a minister, and Hugh a lawyer," all of which came to pass.
Turning to Jennet, the good man's daughter, he cried, "Jennet Campbell,
Jennet Campbell, wilt thou cast me thy belt?"