scarce a Village in England that has not a Moll White in it. When an old Woman begins to doat, 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, sometimes, confesses secret Commerces 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 decrepid Parts of our Species, in whom Human Nature is defaced by Infirmity and Dotage.’
Chapter XI.
How a Witch was made—Her Compact with the Devil—Hell Broth—Homage and Feasting—The Witches’ Sabbat.
But how did a woman become a witch, and attain to the full possession of her wicked powers? There is no doubt but that she must have been a mauvais sujet to start with, or else the Devil would not have thought of meeting her, and introducing himself to her. According to the witches’ confessions, of which we shall have many, they generally first meet the Devil by chance, and their differing testimonies affirm that he was somewhat protean in shape, appearing to one as a great black man, to another in the form of some animal. Others, again, were regularly introduced to him by some perfected witch at one of their meetings, for it was part of their duty to beat up recruits for his Satanic majesty.
Their agreement with the Devil is forcibly described by Reginald Scot,29 who quotes as his authorities such crushing names as the ‘Malleus Maleficarum,’ Bodin, Nider, Danæus, Psellus, Erastus, Hemingius, Cumanus, Aquinas, Bartholomæus Spineus, etc., so that doubtless he is correct.
‘The order of their bargaine or profession is double; the one solemne and publike; the other secret and priuate. That which is solemne or publike, is where witches come togither at certaine assemblies, at the times prefixed, and doo not onelie see the diuell in visible forme; but confer and talke familiarlie with him. In which conference the diuell exhorteth them to obserue their fidelitie unto him promising them long life and prosperitie. Then the witches assembled, commend a new disciple (whom they call a nouice) unto him; and, if the diuell findeth that young witch apt and forward in renunciation of the christian faith, in despising anie of the seuen sacraments, in treading upon Crosses, in spitting at the time of the elevation, in breaking their fast on fasting daies, and fasting on sundaies, then the diuell giveth foorth his hand, and the nouice ioining hand in hand with him, promiseth to obserue and keepe all the diuel’s commandements.
‘This done the diuell beginneth to be more bold with hir, telling hir plainelie, that all this will not serue his turne; and therefore requireth homage at hir hands: yea, he also telleth hir, that she must grant him both hir bodie and soule to be tormented in everlasting fire, which she yeeldeth unto. Then he chargeth her, to procure as many men, women and children also, as she can, to enter into this societie. Then he teacheth them to make ointments of the bowels and members of children, whereby they ride in the aire, and accomplish all their desires. So as, if there be anie children unbaptised, or not garded with the signe of the crosse, or orisons; then the witches may and doo catch them from their mothers sides in the night, or out of their cradles, or otherwise kill them with their ceremonies; and, after buriall, steale them out of their graves, and seeth them in a caldron, untill their flesh be made potable. Of the thickest whereof they make ointments, whereby they ride in the aire; but the thinner potion they put into flaggons, whereof whosoever drinketh, observing certeine ceremonies, immediatlie becommeth a maister, or rather, a mistresse in that practise and facultie.’
But there were other hell broths used by witches, as we may see by the accompanying illustration from Molitor’s ‘Die Hexen’ (1489?), in which a cock and serpent form part of the ingredients of the broth, which is being brewed during a violent hailstorm. In ‘The Witch: a Tragi-comedie,’ by Thomas Middleton, we have good notices of the component parts of these mixtures:
‘Heccat. Goe feed the vessell for the second houre.
Stadlin. Where be the magical herbes?
Hec. They’re downe his throate.
His mouth cramb’d full; his eares, and nosthrills stufft.
I thrust in Eleoselinum—lately
Aconitum, frondes populeus, and soote,
Then Sium, Acharum, Volgaro too,
Dentaphillon, the blood of a flitter-mouse,30 Solanum somnificum, et oleum.’
We all know the Witches scene in ‘Macbeth,’ but few are probably aware to what extent Shakespeare was indebted to this play of Middleton’s for its telling effect and language.
‘Heccat. Give me some lizard’s braine: quickly, Firestone. Where’s grannam Stadlin, and all the rest o’ th’ sisters? Firestone. All at hand, forsooth. Hec. Give me Marmaritin; some Bear-Breech; when? Fire. Heer’s Bear-breech, and lizard’s braine, forsooth. Hec. Into the vessell; And fetch three ounces of the red-haired girle I kill’d last midnight. Fire. Whereabouts, sweet Mother? Hec. Hip; hip or flanck. Where is the Acopus? Fire. You shall have Acopus, forsooth. Hec. Stir, stir about; whilst I begin to charme.
A CHARME SONG, ABOUT A VESSEL.
Black spiritts, and white; Red spiritts and gray;
Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may.
Titty, Tiffin, keepe it stiff in;
Fire-drake, Puckey, make it luckey;
Liard, Robin, you must bob in.
Round, around, around, about, about.
All ill come running in, all good keepe out!
1 Witch. Heer’s the blood of a bat.
Hec. Put in that; oh put in that.
2 Witch. Heer’s libbard’s bane.
Hec. Put in againe.
1 Witch. The juice of toad; the oile of adder.
2 Witch. Those will make the yonker madder.
Hec. Put in; there’s all, and rid the stench.
Fire. Nay, heer’s three ounces of the red-haired wench.
All. Round, around, around, about, about.
All ill come running in, all good keepe out!
Hec. So, soe, enough: into the vessell with it.
There, ’t hath the true perfection: I am so light
At any mischief; there’s no villany
But is a tune methinkes.
Fire. A Tune! ’tis to the tune of dampnation then, I warrant
You that that song hath a villainous burthen.
Hec. Come my sweet sisters; let the aire strike our tune,
