The Witch of Salem; or, Credulity Run Mad Read online

  CHAPTER XV.

  "YOUR MOTHER A WITCH."

  'Tis a bleak wild, but green and bright In the summer warmth and the mid-day light, There's the hum of the bee and the chirp of the wren, And the dash of the brook from the older glen. There's the sound of the bell from the scattered flock, And the shade of the beach lies cool on the rock, And fresh from the west is the free-wind's breath. There is nothing here that speaks of death. --Bryant.

  Shortly after the arrest and incarceration of Goodwife Nurse, ReverendDeodat Lawson, an eminent Boston divine, came to Salem village. All landtravel at that time was on horseback. He lodged at the house ofNathaniel Ingersol near the home of the minister Mr. Parris. Theappearance of a foreigner in the village was at once the signal formaking a new convert, and the afflicted put themselves on exhibition toconvince him that evil spirits were abroad. He had been but a short timeat the house of Ingersol, when Captain Walcut's daughter Mary came tosee him and speak with him. She greeted him with a smile, and hoped hehad had a pleasant journey.

  It was now growing late, and she stood in the door bidding allgood-evening, preparatory to going home. Suddenly the girl gaveutterance to a wild shriek and leaped into the house, holding her wristin her left hand.

  "What is the matter?" asked Mr. Lawson.

  "I am bitten on the wrist," she cried.

  "Surely you cannot be bitten, for I have seen nothing to bite you."

  "Nevertheless, I am bitten. It is a witch that hath bitten me."

  The candle had been burning all the while in the apartment, and Mr.Lawson knew that no one could have been in the room without hisknowledge.

  "Some one hath grievously bitten me!" the girl sobbed.

  Mr. Lawson seized the candle and, holding it to her wrist, sawapparently the marks of teeth, both upper and lower set, on each side ofher wrist. He was lost in wonder and, placing the candle on the mantel,remarked:

  "It is a mystery."

  "Yea, verily it is," Lieutenant Ingersol answered; "but you have notseen the beginning of the wonders of witchcraft in this village. Satansurely hath been loosed for a little season."

  "I have heard much of the sore afflictions of the children at the homeof Mr. Parris," remarked Mr. Lawson.

  "And they are sorely afflicted, as I can bear testimony. After tea wewill walk over to his house."

  Mr. Lawson assented, and Mary Walcut was sent home. After an early tea,Mr. Lawson went to the parsonage, which was but a short distance. Mr.Parris met them at the door. His white, cadaverous face, prominent cheekbones, aquiline nose, piercing eyes, and wild, disheveled hair givinghim a strange, weird appearance. He greeted Reverend Mr. Lawson warmlyand thanked him for coming all the way from Boston to preach for himnext Lord's Day.

  "I am so sorely tried with my many afflictions, that I cannot compose mymind for sermonizing."

  "I have heard somewhat of the afflictions and troubles that beset you,"Rev. Deodat Lawson answered.

  "Verily you cannot have heard more than has occurred. I am maligned,misunderstood and beset everywhere by the enemies of God."

  "Meet it with prayer and humiliation," answered Mr. Lawson.

  "I do--I do--and, verily, the Lord is making my enemies my footstool.Many are already in prison, and many more will yet go to the gallows."The pastor gnashed his teeth in silent rage, while his eyes gleamed withhate.

  "How are the afflicted children?" asked Mr. Lawson.

  "No better. Abigail come hither."

  Abigail Williams, the niece of the pastor, came from an adjoining room.She was a girl of twelve, with a fair face, but cunning eyes, whichdeprived her of the innocence of childhood. Mr. Lawson at once enteredinto conversation with her, but had not proceeded far, when she uttereda shriek and, turning her face to the ceiling, whirled about in acircle, while her eyes, rolling back in her head, snapped like flashesof light. Her mouth was drawn to the left side of her face and her wholeframe convulsively jerked till she fell to the floor, where she writhedand struggled, and blood-stained froth issued from her mouth, while Mr.Lawson gazed upon her appalled. Then she sprang to her feet and hurriedviolently to and fro through the room in spite of the efforts to holdher. Sometimes she made motions as if she would fly, reaching her armsup as high as she could, and bringing them down at her side, crying:

  "Whish! whish! whish!"

  Presently she began talking in a strange, hysterical and half inaudiblemanner.

  "There is Goodwife Nurse!" she cried. "Do you not see her? Why, thereshe stands!" and the girl pointed to a corner of the room that wasvacant. Her eyes seemed riveted on some object that kept moving about.After a short silence, Abigail Williams said:

  "There, she is offering me the book to sign; but I won't take it, GoodyNurse! I won't! I won't! I won't take it! I do not know what book it is.I am sure it is not God's book. It is the Devil's book, for aught Iknow."

  Then she remained a moment with her eyes closed and arms folded acrossher breast, after which she ran to the fire, and began to throwfire-brands about the house, and run into the fireplace, against theback of the wall, as if she would go up the chimney. They caught hold ofher and pulled her out.

  "It is nothing uncommon," Mr. Parris explained. "In other fits, thechildren have sought to throw themselves into the fire."

  Mr. Lawson did not tarry long at the house of the pastor; but returnedto the home of Lieut. Ingersol.

  When Sunday came, Mr. Lawson went to the church to preach. Several ofthe afflicted people were "at meeting," for it was thought proper thatthe afflicted should be in the house of God. So long as one was able togo to church, they were taken, regardless of any mental affection theymight have. Mrs. Pope, Goodwife Bibber, Abigail Williams, Mary Walcut,Mary Lewes and Doctor Grigg's maid, all of whom were persons bewitched,are reported by reliable historians as being present at this "Lord's Dayservice." There was also present Goodwife Corey, who was subsequentlyarrested for a witch.

  While at prayer, Mr. Lawson was interrupted by shrieks and struggles onthe part of the afflicted, and a voice near said:

  "Fits!"

  He kept on praying for the Lord to relieve them of their torments, whileCharles Stevens, who was in the house, declared that a whip wouldrelieve them. After the prayer, a psalm was sung, as usual, and thenAbigail Williams, turning to the preacher, said in a loud, coarse voice:

  "Now stand up and name your text!"

  After he had named his text, she said:

  "It is a long text."

  He had scarcely begun his sermon, when Mrs. Pope, one of the afflictedwomen, bawled out:

  "Now, there is enough of that."

  "These mad people ought to be kept away from the house of worship,"declared Charles Stevens to a neighbor.

  Rev. Mr. Lawson, unaccustomed to these interruptions, was greatlyannoyed and had to pause frequently in his sermon. Goodwife Corey waspresent at the time, and Abigail Williams, in the midst of the sermon,cried out:

  "Look! look, where Goodwife Corey sits on the beam, suckling her yellowbird betwixt her fingers!"

  At this, Ann Putnam, the daughter of Thomas Putnam, said:

  "There is a yellow bird sitting on Mr. Lawson's hat, where it hangs onthe pin in the pulpit."

  Those who sat nearest the girls tried to restrain them from speakingaloud; but it was in vain; for, despite all precaution, they wouldoccasionally blurt out some ridiculous nonsense, which the peopleattributed to the results of witchcraft.

  "Charles Stevens, what say you, now that your eyes have witnessed theseabominations?" said John Bly.

  "I say, if I had my way, I would cure them," answered the youth.

  "How would you, pray?" Bly asked.

  "With a good whip about their shoulders."

  "Beware, Charles Stevens, how you speak so lightly of these afflictions,lest you bring on yourself the same condemnation of those on Witches'Hill."

  There are some spirits so bold, that they overawe and intimidate eve
n anenraged populace. Martin Luther's very audacity saved him, on more thanone occasion, and something like the same spirit enabled Charles Stevensto overcome or overawe the deluded populace of Salem.

  A few days after the execution of Goody Nurse, he was passing themeeting house, when he was accosted by the West Indian negro, John.

  "You not believe in witches?" said John.

  "No."

  "Goody Nurse brought me de book."

  "John, I believe you lied. I believe you have perjured yourself and sentyour soul to endless torment," answered Charles Stevens. John was acunning rascal and thought to give him a proof positive of the powers ofwitchcraft. He fell down in a fit, and Charles applied his cane to himuntil he ran howling away effectually cured, while Charles, disgustedwith the black-skinned African, left him and hurried out of the village.

  Charles Stevens' favorite walk was across the brook and among the greatold oak trees beyond. His mind was greatly harassed and, like all greatminds when perplexed, sought solitude. He went farther and farther intothe woods and sat down upon a large stone. The recent trial of GoodyNurse, her conviction and execution moved his soul. He could notunderstand how people, civilized and enlightened, could be so deceivedby what, to him, was so apparent.

  Charles knew that all were not dishonest in their belief. He evenbelieved that some of the actors in this tragedy were sincere, but hadbeen over-persuaded by Mr. Parris, whom he set down as the prime moverin it all.

  He sat for a long time, much longer than he supposed, reflecting on thepast, and planning for the future, when he was startled by hearingfootsteps coming toward him. He raised his head, and saw a young Indianbrave, with his blanket wrapped about his shoulders, carrying a bow inhis hand. His head was ornamented with a bunch of feathers, and his facewas painted with all the gorgeous hues of savage barbaric art. Herecognized Charles Stevens, for, advancing toward him with a smile, heextended his hand saying:

  "My white brother is not happy. What has made him sad?"

  The Indian was a good judge of human character, and in the face of theyoung white man he read a look of sorrow.

  "The white men of Salem are very wicked, Oracus," said Charles. "Notonly are they wicked to their red brothers, but to their white brothers,as well. They have taken the old and helpless, the weak and forlorn,and put them to death."

  The young savage folded his arms across his massive chest and stood fora long time in silence. His eyes were upon the ground, and his stolidfeatures were without show of emotion. His people had suffered wrongs atthe hands of the white men; but in this one he had ever found anearnest, true friend.

  There existed between Charles and the brave a bond of brotherhood asenduring as life. The young chief inquired what had been done at thevillage, and Charles proceeded to tell him all, in as few words aspossible, of the arrest, trial and execution of Goody Nurse and others.When he had completed the terrible story, the young chief drew hisblanket about his shoulders and said:

  "I am your friend, and if your white brothers prove false, remember yourred brother will be true."

  "I believe you, Oracus."

  "I have shown one white brother through the paths, away from hisenemies, and you will always find Oracus in his forest home ready tobefriend you."

  "The time may come when I will need your aid," said Charles Stevens.

  After a long interview, he rose and started home. He was near the greatbridge which spanned the brook, when he suddenly came upon a tall,powerful man, whose sallow face and cavalier-like manner showed him tobe a citizen of the southern colonies. Charles instantly recognized himas Mr. Joel Martin, the man whom he had seen on that night with Mr.Parris, Bly and Louder, coming to arrest Cora's father.

  "You are Charles Stevens?" the Virginian said, halting before the youth.

  "I have no desire to deny my name, for it is that of an honest man; I amCharles Stevens," he answered.

  "Do you know who I am?"

  "I suspect you are one whom I saw at my house, though your name I havenot learned."

  "I am Joel Martin, and by profession an overseer on a Virginiaplantation. There were but two of us, my brother and I. He was anoverseer of an adjoining plantation, when one day a slave escaped. Hepursued him and was slain."

  "I have heard the story," interrupted Charles.

  "You have? and from his own lips?"

  "I have; and I do not blame the man who was seeking liberty. He was awhite man, as you yourself are. He had committed no crime, save that hewas arrested as one of Monmouth's insurgents and had been captured whilein the ranks of the rebel."

  Martin's eyes flashed with fury and, in a voice that was hoarse, hewhispered:

  "You aided him to escape; but it shall not avail. I have for yearsfollowed on his trail, and I will not let go my hold on him, until Ihave dragged him to the scaffold. No; the blood of my brother cries outfor vengeance, and I will follow him day and night through the tracklessforests, until I have brought the renegade to justice. He cannot concealhimself so deep in the forest, he cannot hide himself among the savagetribes, nor burrow so deep in the earth, but that I will find him."

  Charles Stevens turned away and was walking toward home, when the tallVirginian, by a few quick strides, overtook him and, laying his hand onhis shoulder, said:

  "You do not care to hear these threats; but I have not done with youyet. Listen; I want to say more. If you seek to thwart me, I will killyou. Do you hear?"

  "I have no fear of you, Mr. Martin," cried Charles Stevens, turning onthe tall, swarthy southerner a glance which made him quail. "Yourprofession is brutality. You are a stranger to mercy; yet I will defyyou. I fear you not, and, if you seek my life, you had better take heedfor your own."

  Charles boldly walked away, leaving the discomfited Virginian to fumeand rage alone. The shades of night were falling fast over the villageof Salem, as Charles hurried homeward, and he was amazed as he came insight of the house, to see a great throng of people going away from thedoor. The young man quickened his pace, hardly knowing whether he wasasleep or awake. A negro slave came running toward him crying:

  "Massa! Massa! Massa!"

  "What has happened?" asked Charles.

  "Um tuk um away! Dey tuk um off!"

  "Who?"

  "Yo mudder."

  "My mother! Oh, God!" Charles Stevens ran swift as a roe buck toward thecrowd, which had now almost reached the jail.

  "What does this mean?" he demanded of John Bly, whom he met near thejail.

  "Your mother is a witch," Bly answered.

  "You lie!" cried Charles, and with one swift, sure blow, he laid theslanderer senseless at his feet.

  "Hold, Charles Stevens! Hold! Be not rash, or she may fare worse,"whispered a kind voice at his side, and, turning, he saw the sad face ofJohn Nurse. He had drunk the bitter cup to its dregs and could advise.The world seemed swimming before the eyes of Charles Stevens. He triedto rush to that throng, whom he saw dragging both his mother and CoraWaters to the jail; but in vain. His feet refused to carry him. Hestrove to utter an outcry; but his voice failed, and all becamedarkness.