The Lancashire Witches by William Harrison Ainsworth

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[Illustration: POTTS AFTER BEING THROWN FROM HIS HORSE.]

Hitherto, the glen had been remarkable for its softness and beauty, but
it now began to assume a savage and sombre character. The banks drew
closer together, and became rugged and precipitous; while the trees met
overhead, and, intermingling their branches, formed a canopy impervious
to the sun's rays. The stream was likewise contracted in its bed, and
its current, which, owing to the gloom, looked black as ink, flowed
swiftly on, as if anxious to escape to livelier scenes. A large raven,
which had attended the horsemen all the way, now alighted near them, and
croaked ominously.

This part of the glen was in very ill repute, and was never traversed,
even at noonday, without apprehension. Its wild and savage aspect, its
horrent precipices, its shaggy woods, its strangely-shaped rocks and
tenebrous depths, where every imperfectly-seen object appeared doubly
frightful--all combined to invest it with mystery and terror. No one
willingly lingered here, but hurried on, afraid of the sound of his own
footsteps. No one dared to gaze at the rocks, lest he should see some
hideous hobgoblin peering out of their fissures. No one glanced at the
water, for fear some terrible kelpy, with twining snakes for hair and
scaly hide, should issue from it and drag him down to devour him with
his shark-like teeth. Among the common folk, this part of the ravine was
known as "the boggart's glen", and was supposed to be haunted by
mischievous beings, who made the unfortunate wanderer their sport.

For the last half-mile the road had been so narrow and intricate in its
windings, that the party were obliged to proceed singly; but this did
not prevent conversation; and Nicholas, throwing the bridle over Robin's
neck, left the surefooted animal to pursue his course unguided, while he
himself, leaning back, chatted with Roger Nowell. At the entrance of the
gloomy gorge above described, Robin came to a stand, and refusing to
move at a jerk from his master, the latter raised himself, and looked
forward to see what could be the cause of the stoppage. No impediment
was visible, but the animal obstinately refused to go on, though urged
both by word and spur. This stoppage necessarily delayed the rest of the
cavalcade.

Well aware of the ill reputation of the place, when Simon Sparshot and
the grooms found that Robin would not go on, they declared he must see
the boggart, and urged the squire to turn back, or some mischief would
befall him. But Nicholas, though not without misgivings, did not like to
yield thus, especially when urged on by Roger Nowell. Indeed, the party
could not get out of the ravine without going back nearly a mile, while
Sabden was only half that distance from them. What was to be done? Robin
still continued obstinate, and for the first time paid no attention to
his master's commands. The poor animal was evidently a prey to violent
terror, and snorted and reared, while his limbs were bathed in cold
sweat.

Dismounting, and leaving him in charge of Roger Nowell, Nicholas walked
on by himself to see if he could discover any cause for the horse's
alarm; and he had not advanced far, when his eye rested upon a blasted
oak forming a conspicuous object on a crag before him, on a scathed
branch of which sat the raven.

Croak! croak! croak!

"Accursed bird, it is thou who hast frightened my horse," cried
Nicholas. "Would I had a crossbow or an arquebuss to stop thy croaking."

And as he picked up a stone to cast at the raven, a crashing noise was
heard among the bushes high up on the rock, and the next moment a huge
fragment dislodged from the cliff rolled down and would have crushed
him, if he had not nimbly avoided it.

Croak! croak! croak!

Nicholas almost fancied hoarse laughter was mingled with the cries of
the bird.

The raven nodded its head and expanded its wings, and the squire, whose
recent experience had prepared him for any wonder, fully expected to
hear it speak, but it only croaked loudly and exultingly, or if it
laughed, the sound was like the creaking of rusty hinges.

Nicholas did not like it at all, and he resolved to go back; but ere he
could do so, he was startled by a buffet on the ear, and turning angrily
round to see who had dealt it, he could distinguish no one, but at the
same moment received a second buffet on the other ear.

The raven croaked merrily.

"Would I could wring thy neck, accursed bird!" cried the enraged squire.

Scarcely was the vindictive wish uttered than a shower of blows fell
upon him, and kicks from unseen feet were applied to his person.

All the while the raven croaked merrily, and flapped his big black
wings.

Infuriated by the attack, the squire hit right and left manfully, and
dashed out his feet in every direction; but his blows and kicks only met
the empty air, while those of his unseen antagonist told upon his own
person with increased effect.

The spectacle seemed to afford infinite amusement to the raven. The
mischievous bird almost crowed with glee.

There was no standing it any longer. So, amid a perfect hurricane of
blows and kicks, and with the infernal voice of the raven ringing in his
ears, the squire took to his heels. On reaching his companions he found
they had not fared much better than himself. The two grooms were
belabouring each other lustily; and Master Potts was exercising his
hunting-whip on the broad shoulders of Sparshot, who in return was
making him acquainted with the taste of a stout ash-plant. Assailed in
the same manner as the squire, and naturally attributing the attack to
their nearest neighbours, they waited for no explanation, but fell upon
each other. Richard Assheton and Roger Nowell endeavoured to interfere
and separate the combatants, and in doing so received some hard knocks
for their pains; but all their pacific efforts were fruitless, until the
squire appeared, and telling them they were merely the sport of
hobgoblins, they desisted, but still the blows fell heavily on them as
before, proving the truth of Nicholas's assertion.

Meanwhile the squire had mounted Robin, and, finding the horse no longer
exhibit the same reluctance to proceed, he dashed at full speed through
the haunted glen; but even above the clatter, of hoofs, and the noise of
the party galloping after him, he could hear the hoarse exulting
croaking of the raven.

As the gully expanded, and the sun once more found its way through the
trees, and shone upon the river, Nicholas began to breathe more freely;
but it was not until fairly out of the wood that he relaxed his speed.
Not caring to enter into any explanation of the occurrence, he rode a
little apart to avoid conversation; as the others, who were still
smarting from the blows they had received, were in no very good-humour,
a sullen silence prevailed throughout the party, as they mounted the
bare hill-side in the direction of the few scattered huts constituting
the village of Sabden.

A blight seemed to have fallen upon the place. Roger Nowell, who had
visited it a few months ago, could scarcely believe his eyes, so changed
was its appearance. His inquiries as to the cause of its altered
condition were every where met by the same answer--the poor people were
all bewitched. Here a child was ill of a strange sickness, tossed and
tumbled in its bed, and contorted its limbs so violently, that its
parents could scarcely hold it down. Another family was afflicted in a
different manner, two of its number pining away and losing strength
daily, as if a prey to some consuming disease. In a third, another child
was sick, and vomited pins, nails, and other extraordinary substances. A
fourth household was tormented by an imp in the form of a monkey, who
came at night and pinched them all black and blue, spilt the milk, broke
the dishes and platters, got under the bed, and, raising it to the roof,
let it fall with a terrible crash; putting them all in mental terror. In
the next cottage there was no end to calamities, though they took a more
absurd form. Sometimes the fire would not burn, or when it did it
emitted no heat, so that the pot would not boil, nor the meat roast.
Then the oatcakes would stick to the bake-stone, and no force could get
them away from it till they were burnt and spoiled; the milk turned
sour, the cheese became so hard that not even rats' teeth could gnaw it,
the stools and settles broke down if sat upon, and the list of petty
grievances was completed by a whole side of bacon being devoured in a
single night. Roger Nowell and Nicholas listened patiently to a detail
of all these grievances, and expressed strong sympathy for the
sufferers, promising assistance and redress if possible. All the
complainants taxed either Mother Demdike or Mother Chattox with
afflicting them, and said they had incurred the anger of the two
malevolent old witches by refusing to supply them with poultry, eggs,
milk, butter, or other articles, which they had demanded. Master Potts
made ample notes of the strange relations, and took down the name of
every cottager.

At length, they arrived at the last cottage, and here a man, with a very
doleful countenance, besought them to stop and listen to his tale.

"What is the matter, friend?" demanded Roger Nowell, halting with the
others. "Are you bewitched, like your neighbours?"

"Troth am ey, your warship," replied the man, "an ey hope yo may be able
to deliver me. Yo mun knoa, that somehow ey wor unlucky enough last Yule
to offend Mother Chattox, an ever sin then aw's gone wrang wi' me. Th'
good-wife con never may butter come without stickin' a redhot poker into
t' churn; and last week, when our brindlt sow farrowed, and had fifteen
to t' litter, an' fine uns os ever yo seed, seign on um deed. Sad wark!
sad wark, mesters. The week efore that t' keaw deed; an th' week efore
her th' owd mare, so that aw my stock be gone. Waes me! waes me! Nowt
prospers wi' me. My poor dame is besoide hersel, an' th' chilter seems
possessed. Ey ha' tried every remedy, boh without success. Ey ha'
followed th' owd witch whoam, plucked a hontle o' thatch fro' her roof,
sprinklet it wi' sawt an weter, burnt it an' buried th' ess at th'
change o' t' moon. No use, mesters. Then again, ey ha' getten a
horseshoe, heated it redhot, quenched it i' brine, an' nailed it to t'
threshold wi' three nails, heel uppard. No more use nor t'other. Then ey
ha' taen sawt weter, and put it in a bottle wi' three rusty nails,
needles, and pins, boh ey hanna found that th' witch ha' suffered
thereby. An, lastly, ey ha' let myself blood, when the moon wur at full,
an in opposition to th' owd hag's planet, an minglin' it wi' sawt, ha'
burnt it i' a trivet, in hopes of afflictin' her; boh without avail, fo'
ey seed her two days ago, an she flouted me an scoffed at me. What mun
ey do, good mesters? What mun ey do?"

"Have you offended any one besides Mother Chattox, my poor fellow?" said
Nowell.

"Mother Demdike, may be, your warship," replied the man.

"You suspect Mother Demdike and Mother Chattox of bewitching you," said
Potts, taking out his memorandum-book, and making a note in it. "Your
name, good fellow?"

"Oamfrey o' Will's o' Ben's o' Tummas' o' Sabden," replied the man.

"Is that all?" asked Potts.

"What more would you have?" said Richard. "The description is
sufficiently particular."

"Scarcely precise enough," returned Potts. "However, it may do. We will
help you in the matter, good Humphrey Etcetera. You shall not be
troubled with these pestilent witches much longer. The neighbourhood
shall be cleared of them."

"Ey'm reet glad to hear, mester," replied the man.

"You promise much, Master Potts," observed Richard.

"Not a jot more than I am able to perform," replied the attorney.

"That remains to be seen," said Richard. "If these old women are as
powerful as represented, they will not be so readily defeated."

"There you are in error, Master Richard," replied Potts. "The devil,
whose vassals they are, will deliver them into our hands."

"Granting what you say to be correct, the devil must have little regard
for his servants if he abandons them so easily," observed Richard,
drily.

"What else can you expect from him?" cried Potts. "It is his custom to
ensnare his victims, and then leave them to their fate."

"You are rather describing the course pursued by certain members of
your own profession, Master Potts," said Richard. "The devil behaves
with greater fairness to his clients."

"You are not going to defend him, I hope, sir?" said the attorney.

"No; I only desire to give him his due," returned Richard.

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Nicholas. "You had better have done, Master Potts;
you will never get the better in the argument. But we must be moving, or
we shall not get our business done before nightfall. As to you, Numps,"
he added, to the poor man, "we will not forget you. If any thing can be
done for your relief, rely upon it, it shall not be neglected."

"Ay, ay," said Nowell, "the matter shall be looked into--and speedily."

"And the witches brought to justice," said Potts; "comfort yourself with
that, good Humphrey Etcetera."

"Ay, comfort yourself with that," observed Nicholas.

Soon after this they entered a wide dreary waste forming the bottom of
the valley, lying between the heights of Padiham and Pendle Hill, and
while wending their way across it, they heard a shout from the
hill-side, and presently afterwards perceived a man, mounted on a
powerful black horse, galloping swiftly towards them. The party awaited
his approach, and the stranger speedily came up. He was a small man
habited in a suit of rusty black, and bore a most extraordinary and
marked resemblance to Master Potts. He had the same perky features, the
same parchment complexion, the same yellow forehead, as the little
attorney. So surprising was the likeness, that Nicholas unconsciously
looked round for Potts, and beheld him staring at the new-comer in angry
wonder.

CHAPTER IV.--THE REEVE OF THE FOREST.

The surprise of the party was by no means diminished when the stranger
spoke. His voice exactly resembled the sharp cracked tones of the
attorney.

"I crave pardon for the freedom I have taken in stopping you, good
masters," he said, doffing his cap, and saluting them respectfully;
"but, being aware of your errand, I am come to attend you on it."

"And who are you, fellow, who thus volunteer your services?" demanded
Roger Nowell, sharply.

"I am one of the reeves of the forest of Blackburnshire, worshipful
sir," replied the stranger, "and as such my presence, at the intended
perambulation of the boundaries of her property, has been deemed
necessary by Mrs. Nutter, as I shall have to make a representation of
the matter at the next court of swainmote."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Nowell, "but how knew you we were coming?"

"Mistress Nutter sent me word last night," replied the reeve, "that
Master Nicholas Assheton and certain other gentlemen, would come to
Rough Lee for the purpose of ascertaining the marks, meres, and
boundaries of her property, early this morning, and desired my
attendance on the occasion. Accordingly I stationed myself on yon high
ground to look out for you, and have been on the watch for more than an
hour."

"Humph!" exclaimed Roger Nowell, "and you live in the forest?"

"I live at Barrowford, worshipful sir," replied the reeve, "but I have
only lately come there, having succeeded Maurice Mottisfont, the other
reeve, who has been removed by the master forester to Rossendale, where
I formerly dwelt."

"That may account for my not having seen you before," rejoined Nowell.
"You are well mounted, sirrah. I did not know the master forester
allowed his men such horses as the one you ride."

"This horse does not belong to me, sir," replied the reeve; "it has been
lent me by Mistress Nutter."

"Aha! I see how it is now," cried Nowell; "you are suborned to give
false testimony, knave. I object to his attendance, Master Nicholas."

"Nay, I think you do the man injustice," said the squire. "He speaks
frankly and fairly enough, and seems to know his business. The worst
that can be said against him is, that he resembles somewhat too closely
our little legal friend there. That, however, ought to be no objection
to you, Master Nowell, but rather the contrary."

"Well, take the responsibility of the matter upon your own shoulders,"
said Nowell; "if any ill comes of it I shall blame you."

"Be it so," replied the squire; "my shoulders are broad enough to bear
the burthen. You may ride with us, master reeve."

"May I inquire your name, friend?" said Potts, as the stranger fell back
to the rear of the party.

"Thomas Potts, at your service, sir," replied the reeve.

"What!--Thomas Potts!" exclaimed the astonished attorney.

"That is my name, sir," replied the reeve, quietly.

"Why, zounds!" exclaimed Nicholas, who overheard the reply, "you do not
mean to say your name is Thomas Potts? This is more wonderful still. You
must be this gentleman's twin brother."

"The gentleman certainly seems to resemble me very strongly," replied
the reeve, apparently surprised in his turn. "Is he of these parts?"

"No, I am not," returned Potts, angrily, "I am from London, where I
reside in Chancery-lane, and practise the law, though I likewise attend
as clerk of the court at the assizes at Lancaster, where I may
possibly, one of these days, have the pleasure of seeing you, my
pretended namesake."

"Possibly, sir," said the reeve, with provoking calmness. "I myself am
from Chester, and like yourself was brought up to the law, but I
abandoned my profession, or rather it abandoned me, for I had few
clients; so I took to an honester calling, and became a forester, as you
see. My father was a draper in the city I have mentioned, and dwelt in
Watergate-street--his name was Peter Potts."

"Peter Potts your father!" exclaimed the attorney, in the last state of
astonishment--"Why, he was mine! But I am his only son."

"Up to this moment I conceived myself an only son," said the reeve; "but
it seems I was mistaken, since I find I have an elder brother."

"Elder brother!" exclaimed Potts, wrathfully. "You are older than I am
by twenty years. But it is all a fabrication. I deny the relationship
entirely."

"You cannot make me other than the son of my father," said the reeve,
with a smile.

"Well, Master Potts," interposed Nicholas, laughing, "I see no reason
why you should be ashamed of your brother. There is a strong family
likeness between you. So old Peter Potts, the draper of Chester, was
your father, eh? I was not aware of the circumstance before--ha, ha!"

"And, but for this intrusive fellow, you would never have become aware
of it," muttered the attorney. "Give ear to me, squire," he said, urging
Flint close up to the other's side, and speaking in a low tone, "I do
not like the fellow's looks at all."

"I am surprised at that," rejoined the squire, "for he exactly resembles
you."

"That is why I do not like him," said Potts; "I believe him to be a
wizard."

"You are no wizard to think so," rejoined the squire. And he rode on to
join Roger Nowell, who was a little in advance.

"I will try him on the subject of witchcraft," thought Potts. "As you
dwell in the forest," he said to the reeve, "you have no doubt seen
those two terrible beings, Mothers Demdike and Chattox."

"Frequently," replied the reeve, "but I would rather not talk about them
in their own territories. You may judge of their power by the appearance
of the village you have just quitted. The inhabitants of that unlucky
place refused them their customary tributes, and have therefore incurred
their resentment. You will meet other instances of the like kind before
you have gone far."

"I am glad of it, for I want to collect as many cases as I can of
witchcraft," observed Potts.

"They will be of little use to you," observed the reeve.

"How so?" inquired Potts.

"Because if the witches discover what you are about, as they will not
fail to do, you will never leave the forest alive," returned the other.

"You think not?" cried Potts.

"I am sure of it," replied the reeve.

"I will not be deterred from the performance of my duty," said Potts. "I
defy the devil and all his works."

"You may have reason to repent your temerity," replied the reeve.

And anxious, apparently, to avoid further conversation on the subject,
he drew in the rein for a moment, and allowed the attorney to pass on.

Notwithstanding his boasting, Master Potts was not without much secret
misgiving; but his constitutional obstinacy made him determine to
prosecute his plans at any risk, and he comforted himself by recalling
the opinion of his sovereign authority on such matters.

"Let me ponder over the exact words of our British Solomon," he thought.
"I have his learned treatise by heart, and it is fortunate my memory
serves me so well, for the sagacious prince's dictum will fortify me in
my resolution, which has been somewhat shaken by this fellow, whom I
believe to be no better than he should be, for all he calls himself my
father's son, and hath assumed my likeness, doubtless for some
mischievous purpose. 'If the magistrate,' saith the King, 'be slothful
towards witches, God is very able to make them instruments to waken and
punish his sloth.' No one can accuse me of slothfulness and want of
zeal. My best exertions have been used against the accursed creatures.
And now for the rest. 'But if, on the contrary, he be diligent in
examining and punishing them, God will not permit their master to
trouble or hinder so good a work!' Exactly what I have done. I am quite
easy now, and shall go on fearlessly as before. I am one of the 'lawful
lieutenants' described by the King, and cannot be 'defrauded or
deprived' of my office."

As these thoughts passed through the attorney's mind a low derisive
laugh sounded in his ears, and, connecting it with the reeve, he looked
back and found the object of his suspicions gazing at him, and chuckling
maliciously. So fiendishly malignant, indeed, was the gaze fixed upon
him, that Potts was glad to turn his head away to avoid it.

"I am confirmed in my suspicions," he thought; "he is evidently a
wizard, if he be not--"

Again the mocking laugh sounded in his ears, but he did not venture to
look round this time, being fearful of once more encountering the
terrible gaze.

Meanwhile the party had traversed the valley, and to avoid a dangerous
morass stretching across its lower extremity, and shorten the
distance--for the ordinary road would have led them too much to the
right--they began to climb one of the ridges of Pendle Hill, which lay
between them and the vale they wished to gain. On obtaining the top of
this eminence, an extensive view on either side opened upon them. Behind
was the sterile valley they had just crossed, its black soil, hoary
grass, and heathy wastes, only enlivened at one end by patches of bright
sulphur-coloured moss, which masked a treacherous quagmire lurking
beneath it. Some of the cottages in Sabden were visible, and, from the
sad circumstances connected with them, and which oppressed the thoughts
of the beholders, added to the dreary character of the prospect. The
day, too, had lost its previous splendour, and there were clouds
overhead which cast deep shadows on the ground. But on the crest of
Pendle Hill, which rose above them, a sun-burst fell, and attracted
attention from its brilliant contrast to the prevailing gloom. Before
them lay a deep gully, the sinuosities of which could be traced from the
elevated position where they stood, though its termination was hidden by
other projecting ridges. Further on, the sides of the mountain were bare
and rugged, and covered with shelving stone. Beyond the defile before
mentioned, and over the last mountain ridge, lay a wide valley, bounded
on the further side by the hills overlooking Colne, and the mountain
defile, now laid open to the travellers, exhibiting in the midst of the
dark heathy ranges, which were its distinguishing features, some marks
of cultivation. In parts it was inclosed and divided into paddocks by
stone walls, and here and there a few cottages were collected together,
dignified, as in the case of Sabden, by the name of a village. Amongst
these were the Hey-houses, an assemblage of small stone tenements, the
earliest that arose in the forest; Goldshaw Booth, now a populous place,
and even then the largest hamlet in the district; and in the distance
Ogden and Barley, the two latter scarcely comprising a dozen
habitations, and those little better than huts. In some sheltered nook
on the hill-side might be discerned the solitary cottage of a cowherd,
and not far from it the certain accompaniment of a sheepfold. Throughout
this weird region, thinly peopled it is true, but still of great extent,
and apparently abandoned to the powers of darkness, only one edifice
could be found where its inhabitants could meet to pray, and this was an
ancient chapel at Goldshaw Booth, originally erected in the reign of
Henry III., though subsequently in part rebuilt in 1544, and which, with
its low grey tower peeping from out the trees, was just discernible. Two
halls were in view; one of which, Sabden, was of considerable antiquity,
and gave its name to the village; and the other was Hoarstones, a much
more recently erected mansion, strikingly situated on an acclivity of
Pendle Hill. In general, the upper parts of this mountain monarch of the
waste were bare and heathy, while the heights overhanging Ogden and
Barley were rocky, shelving, and precipitous; but the lower ridges were
well covered with wood, and a thicket, once forming part of the ancieut
forest, ran far out into the plain near Goldshaw Booth. Numerous springs
burst from the mountain side, and these collecting their forces, formed
a considerable stream, which, under the name of Pendle Water, flowed
through the valley above described, and, after many picturesque
windings, entered the rugged glen in which Rough Lee was situated, and
swept past the foot of Mistress Nutter's residence.