Taylor & Son's Northamptonshire Handbook.
those days; and when executions for witchcraft became common, the chief motive for publishing a detailed account of each prisoner's case—that of gratifying popular curiosity-was taken away. A further illustration of the partial extent to which these occurrences were generally known is afforded in the fact that in books of authority on the subject, the last execution of witches in England is put down to 1682,[1] while we have well-established cases at least as late as 1705.
To return to the beginning of the seventeenth century, when the mania for witch-hunting was just becoming developed. An old villager of Guilsborough, named Agnes Browne, was one of the first seized in this county. She was, of course, poor—"borne to no good," as the old black-letter pamphlet spitefully says,—"and, for want of grace, neuer in the way to receive any." She certainly had not the art of conciliating the good-will of her neighbours, though we shall no doubt be going a good deal too far if we take the statement on trust that she was "of an ill nature and wicked disposition, spightfull and malitious." The proverb says, "Give a dog a bad name and hang him;" but the rule with these old pamphleteers was, hang him first, and give him a dreadfully bad name afterwards. Agnes Browne had a daughter named Joan Vaughan or Varnham, "as gratious," we are told, "as the mother, and both of them as farre from grace as heauen from hell." It was through her child that the old woman was reached, and eventually condemned. The tradition everywhere cherished was that witchcraft was to some extent hereditary; so that, where a half-starved, wrinkled hag laboured under suspicion of the crime, her offspring, if she had any, were sure to suffer in the opinion of the neighbours. No doubt this was the case with Joan Vaughan. Her mother had been "long suspected," and so of course the daughter was narrowly watched. She was a girl apparently of loose tongue, and perhaps of doubtful habits. One day she happened to be in the company of a "vertuous and godly gentlewoman" of the village, Mistress Belcher by name, with some others, and her conversation took a turn so "vnfitting and vnseeming the nature of woman-hood," that those who heard her were shocked, and especially did it "touch the modesty" of this very good person. To vindicate her sex, she rose up and struck Miss Joan; not to hurt her, we are assured, but only to make her leave the company, which she accordingly did. "This chicken of her dammes hatching," however, "taking it disdainefully, and being also enraged, at her going out told the gentlewoman that shee would remember this iniury and reuenge it: to whom Mistris Belcher answered that shee neither feared her nor her mother; but bad her doe her worst." After this very pretty squabble, the company" were smitten with sudden terror, fearing that they had provoked the rage of one potent to do evil; and so, we are told, it turned out. Three or four days afterwards, Mistress Belcher, "being alone in her house, was sodainely taken with such a griping and gnawing in her body, that shee cried out, and could scarce bee held by such as came vnto her. And being carried to her bed, her face was many times so disfigured by beeing drawne awrie that it bred both feare and astonishment to all the beholders, and euer as shee had breath, slie cried, 'Heere comes Ioane Vaughan, away with Ioane Vaughan."" Such an exclamation was not a very unlikely one, considering that she believed herself bewitched, but it was taken as damning evidence against the two luckless women. Mrs. Belcher's illness proved to be lasting, and of course distressed her family. Her brother, a certain Maister Avery, came to visit her, and, like others, became mightily indignant at the supposed cause of the mischief. To avenge his sister, he "ranne sodainly" towards Mrs. Browne's house; but what was his astonishment, when he came to the door, to find that he could not enter, through some infernal agency restraining him. This was conclusive, if the other evidence had not been, especially as he was a gentleman of a stoute courage." He tried again and again at subsequent visits, but ineffectually. "Belike," says the chronicler, "the deuill stood there centinell, and he kept his station well." Soon after his return home, Mr. Avery was seized with fits like his sister, and the two women were then, without hesitation, apprehended, and sent to Northampton Gaol, the committing magistrate being a certain Sir William Saunders, of Codebrooke.
The only possible remedy for the fits, according to popular opinion, was scratching the witch, as in the Warboys case, and this was therefore resorted to. Mr. Avery and his sister were taken to the gaol, and the witches held until they had drawn blood of them, when the afflicted were "sodainely deliuered of their paine." But the cure was not effectual, for no sooner were the witches out of sight than the visitors "fell againe into their old traunces,
- ↑ See Hutchinson, p. 57; Wright ii, 277; Scott, &c. Hutchinson's work was published in 1718.
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