There are some opinions in which a man should stand
neuter,[93] without engaging his assent to one side or the
other. Such a hovering faith as this, which refuses to
settle upon any determination, is absolutely necessary in
a mind that is careful to avoid errors and prepossessions. (129: 5)
When the arguments press equally on both sides, in matters
that are indifferent to us, the safest method is to give
up ourselves to neither.
[93] Neutral.
It is with this temper of mind that I consider the subject
of witchcraft. When I hear the relations that are (10)
made from all parts of the world,--not only from Norway
and Lapland, from the East and West Indies, but
from every particular nation in Europe,--I cannot forbear
thinking that there is such an intercourse and commerce
with evil spirits as that which we express by the (15)
name of witchcraft. But when I consider that the ignorant
and credulous parts of the world abound most in
these relations, and that the persons among us who are
supposed to engage in such an infernal commerce are
people of a weak understanding and a crazed imagination,
and at the same time reflect upon the many
impostures and delusions of this nature that have been
detected in all ages, I endeavour to suspend my belief till
I hear more certain accounts than any which have yet (130: 5)
come to my knowledge. In short, when I consider the
question whether there are such persons in the world as
those we call witches, my mind is divided between the
two opposite opinions; or rather, to speak my thoughts
freely, I believe in general that there is, and has been, (10)
such a thing as witchcraft; but at the same time can
give no credit to any particular instance of it.
I am engaged in this speculation by some occurrences
that I met with yesterday, which I shall give my reader
an account of at large. As I was walking with my friend (15)
Sir Roger by the side of one of his woods, an old woman
applied herself to me for my charity. Her dress and
figure put me in mind of the following description in
Otway:
"In a close lane as I pursued my journey, (20)
I spied a wrinkled hag, with age grown double,
Picking dry sticks, and mumbling to herself.
Her eyes with scalding rheum were gall'd and red;
Cold palsy shook her head; her hands seem'd wither'd;
And on her crooked shoulders had she wrapp'd (25)
The tatter'd remnants of an old striped hanging,
Which served to keep her carcase from the cold:
So there was nothing of a piece about her.
Her lower weeds[94] were all o'er coarsely patch'd
With diff'rent colour'd rags--black, red, white, yellow--
And seem'd to speak variety of wretchedness."
[94] Garments.
As I was musing on this description and comparing it
with the object before me, the knight told me that this
very old woman had the reputation of a witch all over (131: 5)
the country, that her lips were observed to be always in
motion, and that there was not a switch about her house
which her neighbours did not believe had carried her
several hundreds of miles. If she chanced to stumble,
they always found sticks or straws that lay in the figure (10)
of a cross before her. If she made any mistake at
church, and cried "Amen" in a wrong place, they never
failed to conclude that she was saying her prayers backwards.
There was not a maid in the parish that would
take a pin of her, though she should offer a bag of money (15)
with it. She goes by the name of Moll White, and has
made the country ring with several imaginary exploits
which are palmed upon her. If the dairy maid does not
make her butter come so soon as she should have it,
Moll White is at the bottom of the churn. If a horse (20)
sweats in the stable, Moll White has been upon his back.
If a hare makes an unexpected escape from the hounds,
the huntsman curses Moll White. "Nay," says Sir Roger,
"I have known the master of the pack, upon such an
occasion, send one of his servants to see if Moll White (25)
had been out that morning."
This account raised my curiosity so far that I begged
my friend Sir Roger to go with me into her hovel, which
stood in a solitary corner under the side of the wood.
Upon our first entering, Sir Roger winked to me, and
pointed at something that stood behind the door, which,
upon looking that way, I found to be an old broomstaff.
At the same time, he whispered me in the ear to take
notice of a tabby cat that sat in the chimney-corner, (132: 5)
which, as the old knight told me, lay under as bad a
report as Moll White herself; for besides that Moll is
said often to accompany her in the same shape, the cat
is reported to have spoken twice or thrice in her life, and
to have played several pranks above the capacity of an (10)
ordinary cat.
I was secretly concerned to see human nature in so
much wretchedness and disgrace, but at the same time
could not forbear smiling to hear Sir Roger, who is a
little puzzled about the old woman, advising her, as a (15)
justice of peace, to avoid all communication with the
devil, and never to hurt any of her neighbours' cattle.
We concluded our visit with a bounty, which was very
acceptable.
In our return home, Sir Roger told me that old Moll (20)
had been often brought before him for making children
spit pins, and giving maids the nightmare; and that the
country people would be tossing her into a pond and
trying experiments with her every day, if it was not for
him and his chaplain. (25)
I have since found, upon inquiry, that Sir Roger was
several times staggered with the reports that had been
brought him concerning this old woman, and would frequently
have bound her over to the county sessions had
not his chaplain with much ado persuaded him to the
contrary.
I have been the more particular in this account because
I hear there is scarce a village in England that has not
a Moll White in it. When an old woman begins to dote, (133: 5)
and grow chargeable to a parish, she is generally turned
into a witch, and fills the whole country with extravagant
fancies, imaginary distempers, and terrifying dreams. In
the mean time the poor wretch that is the innocent occasion
of so many evils begins to be frighted at herself, and (10)
sometimes confesses secret commerce and familiarities
that her imagination forms in a delirious old age. This
frequently cuts off charity from the greatest objects of
compassion, and inspires people with a malevolence
towards those poor, decrepit parts of our species in (15)
whom human nature is defaced by infirmity and dotage.
L.