CHAPTER XVII.
Dulcibel before the Magistrates.
The next afternoon the meeting-house at Salem village was crowded to itsutmost capacity; for Dulcibel Burton and Antipas Newton were to bebrought before the worshipful magistrates, John Hathorne and JonathanCorwin. These worthies were not only magistrates, but persons of greatnote and influence, being members of the highest legislative andjudicial body in the Province of Massachusetts Bay.
Among the audience were Joseph Putnam and Ellis Raymond; the formerlooking stern and indignant, the latter wearing an apparently cheerfulcountenance, genial to all that he knew, and they were many; andespecially courteous and agreeable to Mistress Ann Putnam, and the"afflicted" maidens. It was evident that Master Raymond was determinedto preserve for himself the freedom of the village, if complimentary andpleasant speeches would effect it. It would not do to be arrested orbanished, now that Dulcibel was in prison.
When the constable, Joseph Herrick, brought in Dulcibel, he stated thathaving made "diligent search for images and such like," they had found a"yellow bird," of the kind that witches were known to affect; a wickedbook of stage-plays, which seemed to be about witches, especially onecalled "he-cat"; and a couple of rag dolls with pins stuck into them.
"Have you brought them?" said Squire Hathorne.
"We killed the yellow bird and threw it and the wicked book into thefire."
"You should not have done that; you should have produced them here."
"We can get the book yet; for it was lying only partly burned near theback-log. It would not burn, all we could do to it."
"Of course not. Witches' books never burn," said Squire Hathorne.
"Here are the images," said a constable, producing two littlerag-babies, that Dulcibel was making for a neighbor's children.
The crowd looked breathlessly on as "these diabolical instruments oftorture" were placed upon the table before the magistrates.
"Dulcibel Burton, stand up and look upon your accusers," said SquireHathorne.
Dulcibel had sunk upon a bench while the above conversation was goingon--she felt overpowered by the curious and malignant eyes turned uponher from all parts of the room. Now she rose and faced the audience,glancing around to see one loved face. At last her eyes met his; he wasstanding erect, even proudly; his arms crossed over his breast, his facecomposed and firm, his dark eyes glowing and determined. He dared notutter a word, but he spoke to her from the inmost depths of his soul:"Be firm, be courageous, be resolute!"
This was what Raymond meant to say; and this is what Dulcibel, with hersensitive and impassioned nature, understood him to mean. And from thatmoment a marked change came over her whole appearance. The shrinking,timid girl of a moment before stood up serene but heroic, fearless andundaunted; prepared to assert the truth, and to defy all the malice ofher enemies, if need be, to the martyr's death.
And she had need of all her courage. For, before three minutes hadpassed--Squire Hathorne pausing to look over the deposition on whichthe arrest had been made--Mistress Ann Putnam shrieked out, "Turn herhead away, she is tormenting us! See, her yellow-bird is whispering toher!" And with that, she and her little daughter Ann, and AbigailWilliams and Sarah Churchill and Leah Herrick and several others, flungthemselves down on the floor in apparent convulsions.
"Oh, a snake is stinging me!" cried Leah Herrick.
"Her black horse is trampling on my breast!" groaned Sarah Churchill.
"Make her look away; turn her head!" cried several in the crowd. And oneof the constables caught Dulcibel by the arm, and turned her aroundroughly.
"This is horrible!" cried Thomas Putnam--"and so young and fair-looking,too!"
"Ah, they are the worst ones, Master Putnam," said his sympatheticfriend, the Rev. Master Parris.
"She looks young and pretty, but she may really be a hundred years old,"said deacon Snuffles.
Quiet at last being restored, Magistrate Hathorne said:
"Dulcibel Burton, why do you torment Mistress Putnam and these others inthis grievous fashion?"
"I do not torment them," replied Dulcibel calmly, but a littlescornfully.
"Who does torment them, then?"
"How should I know--perhaps Satan."
"What makes you suppose that Satan torments them?"
"Because they tell lies."
"Do you know that Satan cannot torment these people except through theagency of other human beings?"
"No, I do not."
"Well, he cannot--our wisest ministers are united upon that. Is it notso, Master Parris?"
"That is God's solemn truth," was the reply.
"Who is it that torments you, Mistress Putnam?" continued SquireHathorne, addressing Mistress Ann Putnam, who had sent so many alreadyto prison and on the way to death.
Mistress Putnam was angered beyond measure at Dulcibel's intimation thatshe and her party were instigated and tormented directly by the devil.And yet she could not, if she would, bear falser witness than shealready had done against Rebecca Nurse and other women of equally goodfamily and reputation. But at this appeal of the Magistrate, she flungher arms into the air, and spoke with the vehemence and excitement of ahalf-crazy woman.
"It is she, Dulcibel Burton. She was a witch from her very birth. Herfather sold her to Satan before she was born, that he might prosper inhouses and lands. She has the witch's mark--a snake--on her breast, justover her heart. I know it, because goodwife Bartley, the midwife, toldme so three years ago last March. Midwife Bartley is dead; but have ajury of women examine her, and you will see that it is true."
At this, as all thought it, horrible charge, a cold thrill ran throughthe crowd. They all had heard of witch-marks, but never of one likethis--the very serpent, perhaps, which had deluded Eve. Joseph Putnamsmiled disdainfully. "A set of stupid, superstitious fools!" he mutteredthrough his teeth. "Half the De Bellevilles had that mark."[1]
[Footnote 1: "Most part of this noble lineage carried upon their bodyfor a natural birth-mark, from their mother's womb, a snake."--_North_.]
"I will have that looked into," said Squire Hathorne. "In what shapedoes the spectre come, Mistress Putnam?"
"In the shape of a yellow-bird. She whispers to it who it is that shewants tormented, and it comes and pecks at my eyes."
Here she screamed out wildly, and began as if defending her eyes from aninvisible assailant.
"It is coming to me now," cried Leah Herrick, striking out fiercely."Oh, do drive it away!" shrieked Sarah Churchill, "it will put out oureyes."
There was a scene of great excitement, several men drawing their swordsand pushing and slashing at the places where they supposed the spectralbird might be.
Leah Herrick said the spectre that hurt her came oftenest in the shapeof a small black horse, like that which Dulcibel Burton was known tokeep and ride. Everybody supposed, she said, that the horse was itself awitch, for it was perfectly black, with not a white hair on it, andnobody could ride it but its mistress.
Here Sarah Churchill said she had seen Dulcibel Burton riding abouttwelve o'clock one night, on her black horse, to a witches' meeting.
Ann Putnam, the child, said she had seen the same thing. One curiousthing about it was that Dulcibel had neither a saddle nor a bridle toride with. She thought this was very strange; but her mother told herthat witches always rode in that manner.
Here the two ministers of Salem, Rev. Master Parris and Rev. MasterNoyes, said that this was undeniably true, that it was a curious factthat witches never used saddles nor bridles. Master Noyes explainingfurther that there was no necessity for such articles, as the familiarwas instantly cognizant of every slightest wish or command of the witchto whom he was subject, and going thus through the air, there being norocks or gullies or other rough places, there was no necessity of asaddle. Both the magistrates and the people seemed to be very muchinstructed by the remarks of these two godly ministers.
That "pious and excellent young man," Jethro Sands, here came forwardand testified as
follows: He had been at one time on very intimate termswith the accused; but her conduct on one occasion was so very singularthat he declined thereafter to keep company with her. Hearing one daythat she had gone to Master Joseph Putnam's, he had walked up the roadto meet her on her return to the village. He looked up after walkingabout a mile, and saw her coming towards him on a furious gallop. Thereseemed to have been a quarrel of some kind between her and her familiar,for it would not stop all she could do to it. As she came up to him shesnatched a rod that he had cut in the woods, out of his hand, and thatmoment the familiar stopped and became as submissive as a pet dog. Hecould not understand what it meant, until it suddenly occurred to himthat the rod was a branch of witch-hazel!
Here the audience drew a long breath, the whole thing was satisfactorilyexplained. Every one knew the magical power of witch-hazel.[2]
[Footnote 2: This and many other passages, as the reader will notice,are quoted verbatim from the manuscript volume.]
Jethro further testified that Mistress Dulcibel freely admitted to himthat her horse was a witch; never speaking of the mare in fact but as a"little witch." As might be expected, the horse was a most viciousanimal, worth nothing to anybody save one who was a witch himself. Hethought it ought to be stoned, or otherwise killed, at once.
The Rev. Master Noyes suggested that if it were handed over to hisreverend brother Parris, he might be able, by a course of religiousexercises, to cast out the evil spirit and render the animalserviceable. The apostles and disciples, it would be remembered, oftensucceeded in casting out evil spirits; though sometimes, we are told,they lamentably failed.
The magistrates here consulted a few minutes, and Squire Hathorne thenordered that the black mare should be handed over to the Rev. MasterParris for his use, and that he might endeavor to exorcise the evilspirit that possessed it.
Dulcibel had regarded with calm and serious eyes the concourse aroundher while this wild evidence was being given. Notwithstanding the perilof her position, she could not avoid smiling occasionally at theabsurdity of the charges made against her; while at other times her browand cheeks glowed with indignation at the maliciousness of her accusers.Then she thought, how could I ever have injured these neighbors soseriously that they have been led to conspire together to take my life?Oh, if I had never come to Salem, to a place so overflowing with malice,evil-speaking and all uncharitableness! Where there was so muchsanctimonious talk about religion, and such an utter absence of it inthose that prated the most of its possession. Down among the despisedQuakers of Pennsylvania there was not one-half as much talking aboutreligion but three times as much of that kindly charity which is itsessential life.
"Dulcibel Burton," said Squire Hathorne, "you have heard what theseevidence against you; what answer can you make to them?"
Blood will assert itself. The daughter of the old sea-captain, himselfof Norse descent on the mother's side, felt her father's spirit glowingin her full veins.
"The charges that have been made are too absurd and ridiculous forserious denial. The 'yellow bird' is my canary bird, Cherry, given me byCaptain Alden when we lived in Boston. He brought it home with him fromthe West Indies. Ask him whether it is a familiar. My black horsemisbehaved on that afternoon Jethro Sands tells of, as I told him at thetime; simply because I had no whip. When he gave me his switch, thevixenish animal came at once into subjection to save herself a goodwhipping. It was not a hazel switch, his statement is false, and heknows it, it was a maple one."
"And you mean to say, I suppose," shrieked out Mistress Ann Putnam,"that you have no witch-mark either; that you do not carry the devil'sbrand of a snake over your heart?"
"I have some such mark, but it is a birth-mark, and not a witch-mark. Itis a simple curving line of red," and the girl blushed crimson at beingcompelled to such a reference to a personal peculiarity. But shefaltered not in her speech, though her tones were more indignant thanbefore. "It is not a peculiarity of mine, but of my mother's family.Some say that a distant ancestor was once frightened by a large snakecoming into her chamber; and her child was born with this mark upon herbreast. That is all of it. There is no necessity of any examination, forI admit the charge."
"Yes," screamed Mistress Putnam again, "your ancestress too was a notedwitch. It runs in the family. Go away with you!" she cried strikingapparently at something with her clenched hand. "It is her old greatgrandmother! See, there she is! Off! Off! She is trying to choke me!"endeavoring seemingly to unclasp invisible hands from her throat.
The other "afflicted" ones joined in the tumult. With one it was the"yellow bird" pecking at her eyes, with another the black horse rearingup and striking her with its hoofs. Leah Herrick cried that Dulcibel's"spectre" was choking her.
"Hold her hands still!" ordered Squire Hathorne, and a constable sprangto each side of the accused maiden and held her arms and hands in agrasp of iron.
Joseph Putnam made an exclamation that almost sounded like an oath, andmade a step forward; but a firm hand was laid upon his shoulder. "Bepatient!" whispered Ellis Raymond, though his own mouth was twitchingconsiderably. "We are the anvil now; wait till our turn comes to besledgehammer!"
Such a din and babel as the "afflicted" kept up! By the curious power ofsympathy it affected the crowd almost to madness. If Dulcibel looked atthem, they cried she was tormenting them. If she looked upward inresignation to Heaven, they also stared upwards with fixed, stiff necks.If she leaned her head one side they did the same, until it seemed as iftheir necks would be broken; and the jailers forced up Dulcibel's neckwith their coarse, dirty hands.
Dulcibel had not attended any of the other examinations, but similardemonstrations on the part of the "afflicted" had been described to her.It was very different, however, to hear of such things and to experiencethem in her own person. And if she had been at all a nervous and lesshealthy young woman, she might have been overcome by them, and even ledto admit, as so many others had admitted under similar influences, thatshe really was a witch, and compelled by her master, the devil, couldnot help tormenting these poor victims.
"Why do you not cease this?" at last cried Squire Hathorne, sternly andwrathfully.
"Cease what?" she replied indignantly.
"Tormenting these poor, suffering children and women!"
"You see I am not tormenting them. Bid these men unloose my hands, theyare hurting me."
"They say your spectre and your familiar are tormenting them."
"They are bearing false witness against me."
"Who does hurt them then?"
"Their master, the devil, I suppose and his imps."
"Why should he hurt them?"
"Because they are liars, and bear false witness; being hungry forinnocent blood."
The spirit of the free-thinking, free-spoken old sea-captain--nurturedby the free winds and the free waves for forty years--was fully alivenow in his daughter. A righteous, holy indignation at the abominablefarce that was going on with all its gross lying and injustice had takenpossession of her, and she cared no longer for the opinions of any onearound her, and thought not even of her lover looking on, but only oftruth and justice. "Yes, they are possessed with devils--being childrenof their father, the devil!" she continued scornfully. "And they shallhave their reward. As for you, Ann Putnam, in seven years from this dayI summon you to meet those you have slain with your wicked, lyingtongue, at the bar of Almighty God! It shall be a long dying for you!"Then, seeing Thomas Putnam by his wife's side, "And you, Thomas Putnam,you puppet in a bad woman's hands, chief aider and abettor of her wickedways, you shall die two weeks before her, to make ready for her coming!And you," turning to the constables on each side of her, "for your crueltreatment of innocent women, shall die by this time next year!"
The constables loosened their grasp of her hands and shrank back indismay. The "afflicted" suddenly hushed their cries and regained theircomposure, as they saw the accused maiden's eyes, lit up with thewildness of inspiration, glancing around their circle with lightningflas
hes that might strike at any moment.
Even Squire Hathorne's wine-crimsoned face paled, lest she would turnaround and denounce him too. Even if she were a witch, witches it wasknown sometimes spoke truly. And when she slowly turned and looked uponhim, the haughty judge was ready to sink to the floor.
"As for you, John Hathorne, for your part in these wicked doings," hereshe paused as if waiting to hear a supernatural voice, while the crowdedmeeting-house was quiet as a tomb--"No! you are only grossly deluded;you shall not die. But a curse shall be upon you and your descendantsfor a hundred years. They shall not prosper. Then a Hathorne shall arisewho shall repudiate you and all your wicked works, and the curse shallpass away!"
Squire Hathorne regained his courage the instant she said he should notdie, little he cared for misfortunes that might come upon hisdescendants.
"Off with the witch to prison--we have heard enough!" he cried hoarsely."Tell the jailer to load her well with irons, hands and feet; and giveher nothing to eat but bread and water of repentance. She is committedfor trial before the special court, in her turn, and at the worshipfuljudges' convenience."