“Harbour, showing entrance to Cow Lane.”
She gladly made promise. The man died, but it is affirmed that the disconsolate widow, at the end of twelve months, had discovered by close observation, and to her great disappointment, that she had made a rash promise, and that there was not a day in the whole year when flowers might not be found on the prickly gorse.
Editor’s Note.
Other Editor’s notes on this subject will be found in Appendix A.
In the Castel parish they tell another story based on the same proverb. Here is a house called Les Mourains, in that parish, belonging to the Ozannes. In the middle of the last century, a Mr. Ozanne married a young wife, who died after having given birth to two sons. On her death-bed she made her husband promise that he would never marry, “lorsqu’il y avait des fllieurs sur l’ jan.” He promised, but after her death he married again.
But the poor spirit had not found rest. The nurse, while she dressed and undressed the children, frequently saw her late mistress watching her. The other servants, when in the evenings they stood at the back door talking to their friends and acquaintances, heard the rustling of her silk dress along the passages.
And she so habitually haunted the drawing room that for years it had to be kept locked up, and finally the Rector of the parish had to be sent for, to lay the ghost, which he did, and it was boarded up in a cupboard. The place may be conjectured, for in the drawing room there is still a part boarded up, and at times strange noises are heard, as of a spirit ill at rest.[145]
“Wise judges have prescribed that men may not rashly believe the confessions of witches, nor the evidence against them. For the witches themselves are imaginative, and people are credulous, and ready to impute accidents to witchcraft.”—Bacon.
The belief in witchcraft dates from so very remote a period, it is so universally spread throughout all the various races that compose the human family, that it is not to be wondered at if it still retains its hold among the ignorant and semi-educated, especially when we find, even in the present day, that persons, who ought by their superior instruction, and by the position they hold in society, to be above such superstitions, are nevertheless, firm believers in judicial astrology, fortune telling, spiritualism, and other similar delusions. Although it is now but very seldom that public rumour goes so far as to point out any particular individual as a proficient in this forbidden art, the persuasion that sorcery does still exist, is by no means extinct. A sudden and unusual malady, either in man or beast, a strange and unlooked-for accident, the failure of crops from blight or insects,—all these, and many more evils, are attributed by the ignorant to supernatural causes; and, it is probable, will continue to be so as long as there are those who find it their interest to encourage this superstitious belief. For there are individuals, commonly called “désorceleurs” or “white-witches,” who pretend to be able to declare whether a person is bewitched or not, and to have it in their power, by charms and incantations, to counteract the evil influence. Of course this is not to be done for nothing; and cases of this kind, where large sums of money have been extorted from ignorant dupes, have, even of late years, formed the subject of judicial investigation. It is useless to attempt to reason with the lower orders on this subject. They have an answer ready which, in their minds at least, is a conclusive reply to all doubts that may be suggested:—
“Witches and witchcraft are frequently spoken of in the Holy Scriptures; who, then, but an unbeliever, can doubt that such things are?”
Guernsey did not escape the epidemic delusion which spread over the whole of Europe in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Here, as elsewhere, a terror seized upon the people, and no man thought himself secure from the machinations of the agents of Satan. The records of the Royal Court of the island contain far too many condemnations of unfortunate men and women to the stake for sorcery; and the evidence on which the sentences against them were based, as well as their own confessions, extorted under the infliction of torture, and taken down in writing at the time, are still extant. The unhappy individuals were of various ages and conditions, but, judging from the statements of their accusers, and the evidence brought against them, they appear to have been in most, if not all cases, persons of irregular life, subsisting by begging and pilfering, vindictive towards those who offended them, and clever in taking advantage of, and working on, the fears and preconceived notions of their dupes.
They were accused of causing storms to arise, in which the unfortunate fisherman who had refused them a share of his catch, either lost his boat, his gear, or his life; or was so tempest-tossed as to be in danger of losing his wits. Women and children were, by their infernal influence, afflicted with sudden and strange maladies. Oxen, horses, calves, sheep, and swine died unexpectedly, the cows calved prematurely, and either gave no milk, or else blood in lieu of it. Butter would not come, or became rancid even while it was being made, and curds dissolved and turned to whey.
Maggots of unusual appearance, black at both extremities, appeared in prodigious quantities in the beds, and even under the women’s caps, and lice were in such numbers that they could be swept away with a broom.
The water in the fountains—usually so bright and limpid—became turbid and unfit for use, and full of tadpoles and disgusting insects. Frogs and black beasts (“des bêtes noires”), whatever they may have been, sat by the bedside of those who were under a spell; but all these evils disappear as suddenly as they have come, either on the sufferer weakly yielding to the demands of the supposed sorcerer, or having courage enough to threaten to denounce him to the judicial authorities.
It is not to be wondered at that the pretended wizards and witches should have shrunk from a judicial investigation at a time when all believed firmly in their supernatural powers, and when the examination into the alleged facts was carried on in a manner so different from the procedure of the present day, hearsay evidence of the vaguest description being admitted as proof, and when that failed, torture being resorted to in order to extort a confession.
From the evidence given, and the confessions of the sorcerers themselves, it appears that the means employed by them to effect their nefarious designs were various; but two in particular are mentioned.
A peculiar black powder, furnished them by their master, the Devil, which, being cast on man or beast, was the cause of serious and unusual maladies; and certain enchanted articles, introduced furtively into the beds or pillows of those on whom they wished to practise their evil arts.
These charms are variously described by the witnesses as consisting of seeds of different kinds, of which mildewed or blighted beans seem to have been the most common, and of feathers, knotted together with ends of thread or silk twist, and sometimes made into the shape of a small image.
When the beds or pillows were opened to search for these articles, it sometimes happened that an animal was seen to leave the bed, which, after taking various forms, as that of a black cat, a cock, a rat, a mouse, or a stoat, succeeded in evading all attempts to catch it, and escaped in a mysterious manner.
Isabell Le Moigne, one of the witches, declared in her confession that this was none other than Satan himself. If these charms were thrown into the fire, they produced a most noisome smell, but, in some instances, the immediate cure of the sufferer was the result. If the person under the influence of witchcraft was uncertain on whom he ought to fix the guilt of bewitching him, there was an infallible method for discovering the culprit.
The house-key was to be placed on the hearth-stone, and the fire heaped around it. As it became hot, the wizard or witch, apparently suffering great agony, would come to the door, and endeavour to force an entrance into the house, offering at the same time to put an end to the spell under which the inmates were bound.
Another means of finding out the guilty party was to roast the heart of some animal—some said that of a black sheep was the most efficacious—with certain prescribed rites and incantations, or to boil it with certain herbs known to the white witch or “désorceleur,” who, of course, could not be expected to give his valuable advice and services for nothing.
According to the confessions of the unfortunate victims of the superstition and credulity of their times, to which allusion has been made above, the doings of Satan with them were just such as we read of in the accounts of prosecutions for witchcraft in other countries. A desire to be revenged on some persons who had given them offence seems to have been the first motive.
“North Arm, Old Harbour, showing back of Pollet.”
The Devil then appeared to them in the shape of a black dog, cat, or other animal, sometimes under one likeness, sometimes under another; offered his services, invited them to attend the “Sabbath,” which was generally held in some weird, out-of-the-way locality; furnished them with a certain ointment, which was to be rubbed on the back and stomach; after doing which, they found themselves carried through the air, with extraordinary velocity, to the appointed place of meeting, where they found other wizards and witches, and a number of imps in the shape of dogs, cats, and hares. They were unable to recognise the other sorcerers on account of their all appearing blackened and disfigured, but they knew who they were by their answering to their names when the roll was called over by Satan before entering on the business of the night.
They commenced by adoring their infernal master in a manner which it is not necessary to describe minutely. They then danced back to back, after which they were regaled with bread and wine, which Satan poured out of silver or pewter flagons into goblets of the same metals. They all agreed in describing the wine as being inferior to that usually drunk; and they asserted that salt was never seen at these feasts. The Devil, before dismissing the assembly, gave them a certain black powder, of which we have spoken before.
The favourite form assumed by Satan on these occasions seems to have been that of a large black dog, standing upright on his hind legs, but he sometimes appeared in the shape of a he-goat.
Isabell Le Moigne described him as a black dog of large size, with long erect horns, and hands like those of a man. Deeds were done at the Sabbath which will not bear being spoken of; but there are circumstances which lead one to suppose that the poor deluded wretches of women may, in some cases, have been deceived by designing men, who enticed them from their houses at night, and, under assumed disguises, abused their credulity.
All sorcerers were marked by Satan in some part or other of the body, and the mark thus made was insensible to pain, and bloodless.
One of the witches asserted that the Devil, before her enlistment into his service, required of her the gift of some living animal, and that she presented him with a young fowl. The next night at the Sabbath, whither she was conveyed through the air after having duly anointed her body with the ointment given her by the Devil, she was made to renounce the Holy Trinity, and to promise obedience to her infernal master. It appeared also from the confessions that if the servants of Satan refused to do his behests, they are beaten and otherwise maltreated by him.
It is clear from the evidence given in many of the trials for witchcraft that the accused, in a majority of cases, were persons who trafficked on the ignorance and credulity of the people, and who encouraged the idea of their being possessed of supernatural powers so long as they found it profitable to do so.
Even in the present day there are people who are afraid to refuse to give alms to a beggar, lest an evil eye should be cast upon them; and who can say how many deaths of cattle and pigs, attributed to witchcraft, may not have been caused by poison adroitly administered out of revenge for a supposed injury?
In their nocturnal flights through the air to their appointed place of meeting with the Demon, witches were said to utter loud cries; and persons may, perhaps, still be found ready to affirm that in tempestuous nights, when the wind was howling round their dwellings, they have been able to distinguish above all the tumult of the elements, the unearthly cry of “Har-hèri[146]! qué-hou-hou! Sabbat! Sabbat.” This cry is attributed to the “gens du hocq” or “gens du Vendredi,” as they are called by those whose prudence deters them from speaking of “sorciers” and “sorcières,” lest the use of such offensive epithets should give umbrage. It is believed, too, that in their assemblies on Friday nights on the hill of Catiôroc, around the cromlech called “Le Trepied,” or on the sands of Rocquaine Bay, they dance to a roundelay, the burden of which is “Qué-hou-hou! Marie Lihou!” Some suppose that these words are uttered in defiance of the Blessed Virgin Mary, in whose honour the church and priory were erected and dedicated by the name of Notre Dame, Ste. Marie de Lihou. They are now a heap of shapeless ruins, but the place must have been looked upon as one of peculiar sanctity, for even down to the present day French coasting vessels passing by salute it by lowering their topmast. It is not then to be wondered at if the infernal sisterhood—one of whose chief amusements, as is well known, is the raising of storms in which many a proud vessel goes down—should take a particular delight in insulting the “Star of the Sea,” the kind and ever-watchful guardian of the poor mariner.
Wizards and witches are supposed to have the power of navigating on the sea in egg-shells, and on the blade-bones of animals. It is to prevent this improper use of them that the spoon is always thrust through the egg-shell after eating its contents, and that a hole is made through the blade-bone before throwing it away.
It is believed that witches have the power of assuming the shape of various animals, and many stories turn on the exercise of this supposed faculty. The favourite forms with them appear to be those of cats, hares, and “cahouettes”[147] or red-legged choughs. It is not easy to conjecture how this beautiful and harmless bird got into such bad company; perhaps its predilection for the wild and unfrequented cliffs and headlands, where the witches are supposed to hold their unholy meetings, may have gained it the reputation of being in alliance with them.
In Guernsey, as elsewhere, a horseshoe, nailed on the lintel, door, or threshold, or on the mast or any other part of a ship or boat, is supposed to be a sure preservative against witchcraft, and, although a black cat is one of the most frequent disguises assumed by Satan’s imps and servants, the household in which a cat without a single white hair is domesticated, is thought to be highly favoured, as none of the infernal gang will venture to molest it. As some persons are fully persuaded that every black cat, however tame and well-behaved it may appear to be, is in reality in league with the Prince of Darkness, it may be that any interference on the part of others of the fraternity is contrary to the rules established among them, and resented accordingly, the old saying that “two of a trade cannot agree,” holding good in this case.
Allusion has been made to those who have an interest in encouraging a belief in witchcraft, and there is no doubt that persons who, for some reason or other, enjoy the unenviable reputation of dabbling in this forbidden art, now that they have no longer the fear of the stake and faggot before their eyes, and have only the minor terrors of a Police Court to dread, are not altogether unwilling to brave the latter danger if, by working on the credulity of the ignorant and superstitious, they can extort money, or even command a certain amount of consideration as the possessors of supernatural powers.
Few would venture in the present day to acknowledge openly that they could injure their neighbours by the exercise of unholy arts; but many may be found who pretend to a secret knowledge which may be used for beneficent purposes.
The difference, however, between a true witch—the servant of Satan—and what is commonly called “a white witch,” has never been clearly defined. The latter is known in Guernsey by the name of “désorceleresse” or “désorceleur,” for the art is quite as frequently, if not more frequently, exercised by men than by women. The persons who practise it pretend to be able to declare whether man or beast is suffering from the effects of witchcraft, to discover who it is that has cast the spell, and, by means of spells and incantations, to counteract the evil influence. It is clear, however, that one who is in possession of such powers must himself have a very intimate and profound knowledge of the arts he is fighting against, and that, if offended, he may perhaps be tempted to practise them. The “désorceleur” thus is as much feared as trusted, and as, of course, he cannot be expected to give his valuable services for nothing, the profession is often found to be very remunerative, large sums of money, besides presents in kind, being sometimes extorted from the superstition and fears of the credulous dupes.
There is no doubt, however, that some of these pretenders have some skill in the cure of the diseases to which cattle are liable, and even that some of the minor ailments to which the human race are subject, are occasionally relieved by them, especially those—and among ignorant, uneducated people they are not few—which arise out of a disordered imagination. The habits of close observation which those of his profession acquire must needs give the “désorceleur” a great insight into character; his cunning will soon teach him how to work on the fears and credulity of those who come to consult him, and his experience will guide him into the best way of exercising his knowledge.
How far the so-called white-witches are believers in their own supernatural powers is an open question. It may be that, in making use of certain forms or practices which they have learned from others, they may be fully persuaded in their own minds of their efficacy, it may be that in some cases they are labouring under a sort of hallucination.
A noted bone-setter, who, it is said, was occasionally resorted to when man or beast was supposed to be under evil influence, or when it was sought to discover the perpetration of a theft, used to account for his pretended knowledge of the anatomy of the human body by asserting solemnly that this knowledge had been revealed to him in a vision from Heaven, and he had repeated this story so often that it was evident to his hearers that he had come at last to believe fully in the truth of what he said.
The rustic bone-setter is not necessarily a “désorceleur,” although, as in the instance just noticed, the two professions may be combined; but he is skilled in the cure of those somewhat mysterious ailments known as “une veine trésaillie,” which seems to be a sprain or strain, and “les côtaïs bas,” which may be defined as that sort of dyspeptic affection which the lower orders call a “sinking of the stomach” or “all-overness.” This ailment is supposed popularly to be caused by the ribs slipping out of their place, and is cured by manipulation and pushing them gradually back into their proper position. The efficacy of friction properly applied in reducing a sprain is well known, and accounts for the frequent success of the bone-setter in the treatment of “veines trésaillies.”
Some of these practitioners—old women as well as men—pretend to have the gift of causing warts to disappear by counting them, and asking certain questions of the persons applying to them for relief. The principal information they seem to wish to arrive at is the age of the person; and this known, they predict that the warts are likely to disappear within a certain time. As these unsightly excrescences affect more particularly young persons, and as it is known that they frequently disappear naturally at that age when youth is passing into manhood, it is not unlikely that this fact may have been observed, and the knowledge of it turned to account. It is believed that those who possess the secret may impart it to one, and to one only; but they must receive neither fee nor reward for so doing; for if they do, or if they tell it to more than one, they lose their power of curing. They must not receive money for their services, but if a cure is effected they are at liberty to take a present.
“Town Harbour, from an old picture.”
As might be expected, fortune-telling forms no small part of the white-witch’s profession, although all do not practise it, and some confine themselves to this particular branch alone. Cards seem to be now the principal means used for prying into the secrets of futurity, but other appliances have been used, and may, perhaps, still be used by some, such as the detection of a thief by means of a Bible and key.
A sort of rhabdomancy, or divination by small rods, shuffled together with certain ceremonies and charms, and then thrown on the ground, was used by a sort of half-demented creature called Collas Roussé, about the end of the last century.
He is said to have had a good deal of shrewdness, to have been very quick at repartee, and to have had great facility in expressing himself in rhymed sentences. He appears to have believed that he was really in possession of supernatural knowledge, and as his assumption of extraordinary powers gained credence with the vulgar, he found it an easy task to make a profit of their credulity. It is reported of him that when brought to justice for some gross act of imposition, he had the audacity to threaten his judges with the effects of his vengeance. His threats, however, did not deter the magistrates from sentencing him to exposure in the cage on a market day, with his divining apparatus by his side. He bore his punishment bravely, and entertained the multitude who crowded to see him with rhyming remarks. Another species of rhabdomancy is the use of the divining rod, the efficacy of which is fully believed in, not only for the discovery of springs of water, but also for the revealing of the spot where treasure has been concealed; and, if the stories that are told are all to be depended upon, there is evidence sufficient to stagger the sturdiest unbeliever.
A country gentleman, now dead, whom nobody who knew him took for a conjurer, was particularly renowned for his skill in this art. Not only could he tell by means of the rod where a spring of water was to be found, and to what depth it would be necessary to dig before coming to it, but he could also discover in what part of a field or house money or plate had been hidden. In order, however, to perform this last feat, it is necessary that the rod should be previously touched with metal of the same kind as that to be sought for. It is only in the hands of some few favoured individuals that the rod works, and even then it does so in various degrees; with some, being violently agitated, with others, moving slowly, and sometimes imperceptibly. The art of holding the forked stick may be taught to anyone, but unless a natural aptitude exists, the rod remains inert in the grasp of the holder.
A portion of the confessions of some of the unfortunate victims who suffered at the stake in 1617, translated from the records preserved in the Register Office of the Royal Court of Guernsey, will be given as a specimen of the absurdities to which credence could be given in a superstitious age.[148]
It must not, however, be forgotten that the island did not stand alone in this belief. No part of Europe seems to have escaped the absurd dread of witchcraft, which, like a pestilence, spread from one nation to another, and from which even the most learned of the age, men of profound thought, did not escape. One curious fact may be noticed; the practices imputed to the accused, who were for the most part of the lowest and most ignorant classes of society, and to which in numberless instances they confessed, appear to have been nearly identical in all countries. The inference is that they must have been handed down from a very remote period, and that they were in use among the pretenders to magical arts and supernatural powers among our pagan ancestors; just as in the present day we find similar ideas and practices existing among savage tribes, and in semi-civilised countries where the light of Christianity has not yet penetrated. It is well known how difficult it is to wean a people from their primitive belief, and how prone they are to cling to it in secret. Is it not possible that some secret society may have existed for ages after the spread of the Gospel in which heathen practices may have been perpetuated?
[148] Editor’s Note.—These are also given in full, in French, with an English translation, by Mr. J. Linwood Pitts, F.S.A., (Normandy), in his Witchcraft and Devil-Lore in the Channel Islands, etc., 1886.
Editor’s Note.—The documents which follow are translated from the Records of the Royal Court preserved at the Greffe. Sir Edgar MacCulloch had copied out the depositions of the witnesses on loose sheets of paper, evidently meaning to incorporate them into his book. The “Confession of the Witches” in his MS. follows his essay on Witchcraft.
Katherine Eustace and her daughter were accused by common consent of practising the art of witchcraft in the island.
The wife of Collas Cousin deposed that having refused to give milk to the accused, saying that there were poorer people to whom she would rather give, her cow then gave blood instead of milk.
Johan Le Roux deposed that having been seized with great pains in his knee, he believed himself to be bewitched by Katherine Eustace, so his wife went to the latter and threatened to denounce her to the Royal Court; after that he got better.
Robert Asheley, found dead in the garden behind St. Peter Port parsonage, suspected of having committed suicide by shooting himself with an arquebus. This having been proved according to the law, the Court, after hearing the speech made by Her Majesty’s Procureur, found that the said Robert Asheley shall be carried to some unfrequented spot and there buried, a heap of stones being placed on his body,[149] and thus he shall be deprived of burial in the spot where Christian remains are placed; and that all his goods shall be confiscate to Her Majesty the Queen.
[149] Editor’s Note.—See in “Hamlet,” where the priest refuses Christian burial to Ophelia as a suicide, and commands:—“Shards, flints, and pebbles should be thrown upon her.”
It has been conjectured that these heaps of stones were placed upon graves, more especially of criminals and suicides, to keep the spirit in the earth, and prevent the ghost from walking. Hence the modern gravestone.
Collas de la Rue is accused of using the arts of witchcraft, and of grievously vexing and tormenting divers subjects of Her Majesty.
Matthieu Cauchez deposed that his wife being in a pining languorous condition, having heard that Collas de la Rue was a wizard, and knowing that he frequently visited his house, he asked him if he could help his wife. Collas replied:—
“As to her she is an ‘in pace’ (sic), she will not live much longer.”
De la Rue came to the place where his wife lay ill, and caused the bed to be reversed, putting the bolster at the foot; she died three hours afterwards.
James Blanche affirmed that having failed in a promise he had made to De la Rue, the latter swore he should repent. His wife soon afterwards became swollen all over, in which state she remained for some considerable time. He finally went to De la Rue, and consulted him as to how to cure his wife, and he gave him a decoction of herbs to be used as a drink, by which his wife was cured.
Thomas Behot deposed that on returning from fishing, he refused to give some fish to the son of Collas De la Rue. The son said he was a “false villain,” and complained to his father, who on that said, “Tais-toy, il n’en peschera plus guères.” (“Be quiet, he will not catch many more.”) That same day he was taken ill, and became so swollen that he could not rest between his sheets—(en ses draps). After having been ill for a long time, his wife unsewed his mattress and found therein several sorts of grains, such as broom, “alisandre” “nocillons” or “nerillons de fèves,” (black beans?), the treadles of sheep, pieces of laurel, rags with feathers stuck into them,[150] and several other things. His wife threw it all into the fire, and such an awful smell arose from the flames that they were obliged to leave the room, and immediately his swelling disappeared. The same day he was taken with such violent pains that he thought his last hour was come. Whereupon his wife put the key of their front door in the fire, and, as soon as it began to get red hot, Collas de la Rue, who had not been invited, and who had not put foot inside their house for six years, arrived there before sunrise, and said that he would undertake to cure him, but that it would be a lengthy operation, that he would have to refer to a book that he had at home, by which he had cured several people, Matthieu Cauchez among others, and that also he (the witness) would be cured. So Collas made him some poultices of herbs, but they did not cure him. With great difficulty he dragged himself to St. Martin’s Church (au temple de St. Martin), where De la Rue said to him:—
“I am glad to see you here, and yet not entirely glad, for you are not yet cured.”
When the deponent replied that he soon hoped to be on the sea again, De la Rue replied:
“Do not go, for you will not return without great danger.” (“N’y vas pas, car à grand’ peine en reviendras tu.”)
However, he persisted in going, and encountered such bad weather that he and all the crew were nearly drowned. And returning very ill, and his malady continuing, his wife again unsewed his mattress and there found an image made of a bone-like substance and apparently all gnawed, (d’une manière d’os tout rongé) which he took to the magistrates, and afterwards got better.
Collas De la Rue also told him that Collas Rouget had gone to Normandy to seek a cure. Had he only consulted him first, he need not have gone so far to be cured. In conclusion he said that on his conscience he believed and affirmed the said De la Rue to be a wizard.
Richard de Vauriouf deposed that having had several differences with Collas De la Rue on the subject of his cattle, which had caused him annoyance, De la Rue said to him:
“You are very strong and active, but before long you will not be thus, and you will be humbled after another manner.” (“Tu es bien robuste et fort, mais avant qu’il soit guères ce ne sera pas ainsy, et tu seras autrement abaissé.”)
Very soon afterwards the said Vauriouf was taken ill, and so was one of his daughters, and he was weak and languishing for more than a month.
Pierre Tardif, who had had some law-suits with Collas De la Rue, deposed that thereupon his daughter was taken ill, and her mattress being searched they found several … (here and in various places the record is torn) … of several kinds, and being … made principally of a coloured silken thread and of … of broom, of beans cut up, two of them being black … a pin stuck in a piece of rag and … After having taken advice he (Tardif) had thrashed De la Rue … after having given him two knock-down blows, his daughter was all right again. After which she was again taken ill, so he searched for De la Rue, and, having found him, he again thrashed him, this time drawing blood, and shortly after that his daughter was cured. In conclusion he also deposed upon oath his belief that De la Rue was a wizard.
“Royal Court House in 1880.”
… deposed as to having heard Collas De la Rue say that he had means to silence those who spoke ill of him (“qu’il avait des moyens de faire taire ceux qui parloient mal de luy.”)
(The record is here again torn, and the trial apparently did not conclude, but in 1585 the proceedings against Collas De la Rue were recommenced and many of the same witnesses appeared).
[150] Editor’s Note.—In a letter called “Voudouism in Virginia,” quoted by Mr. Moncure D. Conway in his book on Demonology and Devil-Lore, Vol. I., p. 69., the following similar superstition is noticed. “If an ignorant negro is smitten with a disease which he cannot comprehend, he often imagines himself the victim of witchcraft, and, having no faith in ‘white folks’ physic’ for such ailments, must apply to one of these quacks. A physician residing near this city (Richmond), was invited by such a one to witness his mode of procedure with a dropsical patient for whom the physician in question had occasionally charitably prescribed. On the coverlet of the bed on which the sick man lay, was spread a quantity of bones, feathers and other trash. The charlatan went through with a series of so-called conjurations, burned feathers, hair, and tiny fragments of wood in a charcoal furnace, and mumbled gibberish past the physician’s comprehension. He then proceeded to rip open the pillows and bolsters, and took from them some queer conglomerations of feathers. These he said had caused all the trouble. Sprinkling a whitish powder over them he burnt them in his furnace. A black offensive smoke was produced, and he announced triumphantly that the evil influence was destroyed and that the patient would surely get well. He died not many days later, believing, in common with all his friends and relatives, that the conjurations of the ‘trick doctor’ had failed to save him only because resorted to too late.”
Collas Hugues appeared in person and showed his child to us in the Court. This said child cannot talk except at random and with an impediment in its speech that none can cure; and he declares his conviction that his said child is “detained” (detenu) by some wizard, and he will take his oath that it is Collas De la Rue who “detains” him, inasmuch that the latter threatened him that he would afflict him through his most precious treasure (du plus cher joyau qu’il peut avoir). On this declaration, Her Majesty’s Procureur testified to us that the said De la Rue had formerly been imprisoned for sorcery, and now, that though he had not always been proved guilty, yet that to all outward appearance he had practised the art of witchcraft, and so much so, that new complaints being made against him, he had demanded the arrest and the confiscation of the goods of the said De la Rue, which was granted.
On the 25th of December an investigation was ordered.
James Blanche affirms that on a certain day, having promised to go for a day’s work to the aforesaid De la Rue, and not having done so, that he was heard to say to one of his people, that he, Blanche, should repent, and that soon afterwards his wife was seized with an illness which lasted for nearly a year. So that, finding the said De la Rue near “La Croix Guerin,”[151] he asked him if he could give him something to cure his wife. Then the said De la Rue took an apple, which he broke into six parts, of which he retained one, and gave the remaining five pieces to the said Blanche to carry back to his wife, forbidding him at the same time to eat a mouthful. Notwithstanding, when he quitted De la Rue, he ate the said apple, and at that moment the said De la Rue appeared before him, he having not yet reached his own house, and taxed him with having eaten the forbidden apple, and the same day his wife was cured. He, Blanche, says that this is a man given to threats, and is much suspected and generally denounced as being a wizard, and he has even heard that people have called him “sorcier” to his face and he has not resented it.
[151] Editor’s Note.—The old name for the cross roads at St. Martin’s, near where the village Post Office now stands.
Jehennet des Perques deposed that at divers times the said Collas De la Rue went to the fishermen and foretold to them when they should have fine weather and when they should have storms.… He was commonly reported to be a wizard. He also deposed that on a certain day, he being at the house of Collas Henry, where the said De la Rue had quarrelled with the wife of Collas de Bertran, who had called him “sorcier” (wizard), he threatened her that she should repent, and that the said Mrs. de Bertran fell in descending the stairs (cheut aval les degrez) and bruised herself from head to foot.
Several witnesses depose that Collas De la Rue is a man much given to threats, that various persons have fallen ill after having been threatened by him, and that he cured them at his will.
He was sent back to prison.
It appears that Collas De la Rue was executed, for, in a lawsuit against Denis de Garis for concealing a treasure that he had found in his house, it is said that the aforesaid treasure was found on the day of Collas De la Rue’s execution, that is to say the 25th of March, 1585-6.
Marie Roland is accused of sorcery.
John Sohier witnesses that the aforesaid Marie, having been with him one day at the house of the Henry’s, together with Joan Henry, whose child lay ill, she confessed to having bewitched the child, and on being asked in what manner, said that she had put its clothes one night by the stream (auprès du douit) and that she and her master the Devil then entered into the house of the said Henry by the chimney, and found the said child by the hearth, and with a splinter she pricked the child, and it was bewitched for three months.
An inquest on the suspicions of witchcraft against Olivier Omont, Cecile Vaultier, his wife, and Guillemine Omont, their daughter.
Jacques Bailleul deposed that having refused alms to Olivier Omont his son was taken with a pain in his ear which lasted twenty-four hours, that the doctor said that he could not understand it (qu’il n’y connaissait rien), that he believes that Olivier is a wizard.
Guillemine Le Pastourell affirms that Omont came begging from her, and she said that he was stronger than her and that he could gain his bread if necessary without begging, that the next day she was taken ill, that she remained ill for three weeks, that Omont, having come again, gave her some bread, and after that she recovered. During her illness all her cattle died. She believed it was from some spell cast by the said Omont.
Marie Sohier witnesses that the day after the death of her husband Olivier Omont came to her house demanding bread. She replied that having numerous children to feed she could not spare him any, that he went away grumbling. At that very moment her daughter Marguerite, aged six years, was taken ill, and when they gave her some bread she threw it away and ate cinders by the handful. That her daughter Marie, one year old, was taken ill one hour after the departure of Omont, and she had remained ill for two years. That having met Omont at the Mont Durand she threatened to throw a stone at him, and called him “sorcier,” that on returning home she gave a lump of white bread to her child, who ate it all, and since then is quite well. She believes that the said Omont was the cause of the sickness of her children.
Philippin Le Goubey witnesses that Olivier Omont having begged for cider from his wife, she refused him, and was instantly afflicted with grievous pains; that he entreated the said Omont several times to come into his house to see his wife, but that he always refused; that one day he forced him to enter, and he put one foot in the house and the other out, and then he fled; that rushing after him he threatened to denounce him to justice if he would not cure his wife; that then he said that she would be well again in a fortnight, but that he could not cure her at that moment; that he forced him to return to the house, and that, when there, he threatened to keep him there until he was delivered up to justice; that at that very moment his wife was cured of the worst of her pains; that having shortly afterwards come into the town to make a notification of these things, he found that the said Omont had already taken a boat and fled from the country.
Pierre Simon, of Torteval, being at the Hougue Antan,[152] met Olivier Omont lying with his face against the ground. He tried to awake him, shook him, and heard a buzzing (un bourdonnement) but saw nothing. Feeling rather frightened he left him and went on towards the Buttes[153] of Torteval, and then came back to the place where he had left him. Omont suddenly awoke, having his mouth full of mud, and his face all disfigured (défiguré). Omont having been questioned replied that he had fallen from the cliff, and that Pierre Nant had seen him fall.
Several people witnessed that having refused alms to Omont and to his wife, their cattle fell ill and died, their cows gave blood instead of milk, or gave nothing at all, their sows and their cows miscarried, and misfortunes happened to their wives.