{"id":33,"date":"2024-05-21T18:23:47","date_gmt":"2024-05-21T22:23:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.bccampus.ca\/americangothic\/?post_type=chapter&p=33"},"modified":"2025-01-05T14:34:54","modified_gmt":"2025-01-05T19:34:54","slug":"rachel-dyer-1828","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.bccampus.ca\/americangothic\/chapter\/rachel-dyer-1828\/","title":{"raw":"Rachel Dyer: A North American Story [1828]","rendered":"Rachel Dyer: A North American Story [1828]"},"content":{"raw":" \r\n\r\nDISTRICT OF MAINE.... TO WIT:<\/strong>\r\n

DISTRICT CLERK\u2019S OFFICE.<\/i><\/p>\r\n\r\n

\r\n\r\nB<\/span>E IT REMEMBERED, That on the eighth day of October, A.D. 1828, and in the fifty-third year of the Independence of the United States of America, Shirley & Hyde of said District, have deposited in this office, the title of a book, the right whereof they claim as proprietors, in the words following,\u00a0to wit<\/i>.\r\n

\u201cRachel Dyer: A North American Story. By John Neal. Portland.\u201d<\/p>\r\nIn conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled \u201cAn Act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned;\u201d and also, to an act, entitled \u201cAn Act supplementary to an act, entitled An Art for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned; and for extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving and etching historical and other prints.\u201d\r\n

J. MUSSEY,\u00a0Clerk of the District of Maine<\/i>.<\/p>\r\n

A true copy as of record,<\/p>\r\n

Attest,\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0<\/span>J. MUSSEY,\u00a0Clerk D. C. Maine<\/i>.<\/span><\/p>\r\n \r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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<\/h5>\r\n

PREFACE.<\/h3>\r\n \r\n\r\n\"Title\r\n\r\nI have long entertained a suspicion, all that has been said by the novel-writers and dramatists and poets of our age to the contrary notwithstanding, that personal beauty and intellectual beauty, or personal beauty and moral beauty, are not inseparably connected with, nor apportioned to each other. In\u00a0Errata<\/span><\/a>, a work of which\u00a0as<\/i>\u00a0a work, I am heartily ashamed now, I labored long and earnestly to prove this. I made\u00a0my<\/i> dwarf a creature of great moral beauty and strength.\r\n\r\nGodwin<\/a>, the powerful energetic and philosophizing Godwin, saw a shadow of this truth; but he saw nothing more\u2014the substance escaped him. He taught, and he has been followed by others, among whom are Brown, Scott and Byron<\/a>, (I observe the chronological order) that a towering intellect may inhabit a miserable body; that heroes are not of necessity six feet high, nor of a godlike shape, and that we may be deceived, if we venture to judge of the inward by the outward man. But they stopped here. They did not perceive, or perceiving, would not acknowledge the whole truth; for if we consider a moment, we find that all their\u00a0great<\/i>\u00a0men are scoundrels. Without one exception I believe, their heroes are hypocrites or [pb_glossary id=\"1826\"]misanthropes[\/pb_glossary], [pb_glossary id=\"364\"]banditti[\/pb_glossary] or worse; while their good men are altogether subordinate and pitiable destitute of energy and wholly without character.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1910\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"229\"]\"Painting \"George Gordon Byron, 6th Baron Byron,\" (Lord Byron), 1813, by Richard Westall.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nNow believing as I do, in spite of such overwhelming authority, that a man may have a club-foot, or a hump-back, or even red hair and yet be a good man\u2014[pb_glossary id=\"1252\"]peradventure[\/pb_glossary] a great man; that a dwarf with a distorted shape may be a giant in goodness of heart and greatness of temper; and that moral beauty\u00a0may<\/i>\u00a0exist where it appears not to have been suspected by the chief critics of our age, and of past ages\u2014namely, in a deformed body (like that of \u00c6sop<\/a>,) I have written this book.\r\n\r\nLet me add however that although such was my principal, it was not my only object. I would call the attention of our novel-writers and our novel-readers to what is undoubtedly native and peculiar, in the early history of our Fathers; I would urge them to believe that though there is much to lament in that history, there is nothing to conceal; that if they went astray, as they most assuredly did in their judgments, they went astray conscientiously, with what they understood to be the law of God in their right hands. The \u201cSalem Tragedie<\/i><\/a>\u201d is in proof\u2014that is the ground-work of my story; and I pray the reader to have patience with the author, if he should find this tale rather more serious in parts, and rather more argumentative in parts, than stories, novels and romances generally are.\r\n\r\nI do not pretend to say that the book I now offer to my countrymen, is altogether such a book as I would write now, if I had more leisure, nor altogether such a book as I hope to write before I die; but as I cannot afford to throw it entirely away, and as I believe it to be much better, because more evidently prepared for a healthy good purpose, than any other I have written, I have concluded to publish it\u2014hoping it may be regarded by the wise and virtuous of our country as some sort of atonement for the folly and extravagance of my earlier writing.\r\n\r\n[Pg v] <\/span>The skeleton of this tale was originally prepared for Blackwood, as the first of a series of North-American Stories: He accepted it, paid for it, printed it, and sent me the proofs. A misunderstanding however occurred between us, about other matters, and I withdrew the story and repaid him for it. It was never published therefore; but was put aside by me, as the frame-work for a novel\u2014which novel is now before the reader.\r\n

JOHN NEAL.<\/p>\r\n

Portland, October 1, 1828.<\/p>\r\nP.S. After some consideration, I have concluded to publish a preface, originally intended for the\u00a0North American Stories<\/span>\u00a0alluded to above. It was never published, nor has it ever been read by any body but myself. Among those who are interested for the encouragement of our native literature, there may be some who will not be sorry to see what my ideas\u00a0were<\/i>\u00a0on the subject of novel-writing, as well as what they\u00a0are<\/i>. Changes have been foretold in my views\u2014and I owe it to our people to acknowledge, that in a good degree, the prediction has been accomplished I do not feel now as I did, when I wrote Seventy-Six<\/a>, Randolph<\/a>, and the rest of the works published in America; nor even as I did, when I wrote those that were published over seas. The mere novel-reader had better skip the following pages and go directly to the story. The introductory chapter in all human probability will be too much for him.\r\n

J. N.<\/p>\r\n\"Title\r\n\r\n\"Title\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n

\r\n\r\n

UNPUBLISHED PREFACE<\/h3>\r\n

TO THE NORTH-AMERICAN STORIES, ALLUDED TO IN PAGE V.<\/h6>\r\nThe author of this work is now under the necessity of bidding the novel-readers of the day, on both sides of the water, farewell, and in all probability, forever. By them it may be considered a trivial affair\u2014a time for pleasantry, or peradventure for a formal expression of what are called good wishes. But by him, who does not feel like other men\u2014or does not understand their language, when they talk in this way, it will ever be regarded as a very serious thing. He would neither conceal nor deny the truth\u2014he would not so affront the feeling within him\u2014and he says therefore without affectation or ceremony, that it goes to his heart even to bid the novel-readers of the age, the few that have read his novels, it were better to say\u2014farewell.\r\n\r\nThese volumes are the last of a series which even from his youth up, he had been accustomed to meditate upon as a worthy and affectionate offering to his family and to those who have made many a long winter day in a dreary climate, very cheerful and pleasant to him\u2014the daughters of a dear friend\u2014of one who, if his eye should ever fall upon this page, will understand immediately more than a chapter could tell, of the deep wayward strange motives that have influenced the author to say thus much and no more, while recurring for the last time to the bright vision of his youth. And the little that he does say now, is not said for the world;\u2014for what care they about the humble and innocent creatures, whose gentleness and sincerity about their own fire-side, were for a long time all that kept a man, who was weary and sick of the great world, from leaving it in despair? No, it is not said for them; but for any one of that large family who may happen to be alive now, and in the way of remembering \u201cthe stranger that was within their gates\u201d\u2014when to the world he may be as if he never had been. Let them not be amazed when they discover the truth; nor afraid nor ashamed to see that the man whom they knew only as the stranger from a far country, was also an author.\r\n\r\nIn other days, angels were entertained in the shape of travellers and way-faring men; but ye\u2014had ye known every stranger that knocked at your door to be an angel, or a messenger of the [pb_glossary id=\"1913\"]Most High[\/pb_glossary], could not have treated him more like an immortal creature than ye did that unknown man, who now bears witness to your simplicity and great goodness of heart. With you it was enough that a fellow-creature was unhappy\u2014you strove to make him happy; and having done this, you sent him away, ignorant alike of his people, his country and his name.\r\n

*****<\/p>\r\nThis work is the last of the sort I believe\u2014the very last I shall ever write<\/a>. Reader\u2014stop!\u2014lay down the book for a moment and answer me. Do you feel no emotion at the sight of that word? You are surprised at the question. Why should you feel any, you ask. Why should you?\u2014let us reason together for a moment. Can it be that you are able to bear of the final consummation of a hope which had been the chief stay of a fellow-creature for many\u2014many years?\u2014Can it be that you feel no sort of emotion at hearing him say, [pb_glossary id=\"1874\"]Lo![\/pb_glossary] I have finished the work\u2014it is the last\u2014no sensation of inquietude? Perhaps you now begin to see differently; perhaps you would now try to [pb_glossary id=\"1827\"]exculpate[\/pb_glossary] yourself. You are willing to admit now that the affair is one of a graver aspect than you first imagined. You are half ready to deny now that you ever considered it otherwise. But mark me\u2014out of your own mouth you are condemned. Twice have I said already\u2014three times have I said already, that this was the last work of the sort I should ever write, and you have read the declaration as you would, the passing motto of a title-page. You neither cared for it, nor thought of it; and had I not alarmed you by my abruptness, compelled you to stop and think, and awed you by steadfastly rebuking your inhumanity, you would not have known by to-morrow whether I had spoken of it as my last work or not. Consider what I say\u2014is it not the truth?\u2014can you deny it? And yet you\u2014you<\/i> are one of the multitude\u00a0who dare to sit in judgment upon the doings of your fellow men. It is on what you and such as you say, that authors are to depend for that which is of more value to them than the breath of life\u2014character. How dare you!\u2014You read without reflection, and you hear without understanding. Yet upon the judgment of such as you\u2014so made up, it is that the patient and the profound, the thoughtful and the gifted, are to rely for immortality.\r\n\r\nTo return to what I was about saying\u2014the work now before you, reader, is the last of a series, meditated as I have already told you, from my youth. It was but a dream at first\u2014a dream of my boyhood, indefinite, vague and shadowy; but as I grew up, it grew stronger and braver and more substantial. For years it did not deserve the name of a plan\u2014it was merely a breathing after I hardly knew what, a hope that I should live to do something in a literary way worthy of my people\u2014accompanied however with an inappeasable yearning for the time and opportunity to arrive. But so it was, that, notwithstanding all my anxiety and resolution, I could not bring myself to make the attempt\u2014even the attempt\u2014until it appeared no longer possible for me to do what for years I had been very anxious to do. The engagement was of too sacred a nature to be trifled with\u2014perhaps the more sacred in my view for being made only with myself, and without a witness; for engagements having no other authority than our moral sense of duty to ourselves, would never be performed, after they grew irksome or heavy, unless we were scrupulous in proportion to the facility with which we might escape if we would.\r\n\r\nThis indeterminate, haunting desire to do what I had so engaged to do, at last however began to give way before the serious and necessary business of life, and the continually augmenting pressure of duties too solemn to be slighted for any\u2014I had almost said for any earthly consideration. Yea more, to confess the whole truth, I had begun to regard the enterprise itself\u2014so prone are we to self-deception, so ready at finding excuses where we have a duty to perform\u2014as hardly worthy of much power, and as altogether beneath an exalted ambition. But here I was greatly mistaken; for I have an idea now, that\u00a0a great novel\u2014such a novel as might be made\u2014if all the powers that could be employed upon it were found in one man, would be the greatest production of human genius. It is a law and a history of itself\u2014to every people\u2014and throughout all time\u2014in literature and morals\u2014in character and passion\u2014yea\u2014in what may be called the fire-side biography of nations. It would be, if rightly managed, a picture of the present for futurity\u2014a picture of human nature, not only here but every where\u2014a portrait of man\u2014a history of the human heart\u2014a book therefore, written not only in a universal, but in what may be considered as an everlasting language\u2014the language of immortal, indistructable spirits. Such are the [pb_glossary id=\"1828\"]parables[\/pb_glossary] of Him who spoke that language best.\r\n\r\nAgain however, the subject was revived. Sleeping and waking, by night and by day, it was before me; and at last I began to perceive that if the attempt were ever to be made, it must be made by one desperate, convulsive, instantaneous effort. I determined to deliberate no longer\u2014or rather to stand no longer, shivering like a coward, upon the brink of adventure, under pretence of deliberation; and therefore, having first carefully stopped my ears and shut my eyes, I threw myself headlong over the precipice. Behold the result! If I have not brought up the pearls, I can say at least that I have been to the bottom\u2014and I might have added\u2014of the human heart sometimes\u2014but for the perverse and foolish insincerity of the world, which if I had so finished the sentence, would have set their faces forever against my book; although that same world, had I been wise enough\u2014no, not wise enough but cunning enough, to hold my peace, might have been ready to acknowledge that I had been sometimes, even where I say\u2014to the very bottom of the human heart.\r\n\r\nI plunged. But when I did, it was rather to relieve my own soul from the intolerable weight of her own reproach, than with any hope of living to complete the design, except at a sacrifice next in degree to that of self-[pb_glossary id=\"1829\"]immolation[\/pb_glossary]. Would you know what more than any other thing\u2014more than all other things determined me at last? I was an American. I had heard the insolent question of a Scotch Reviewer, repeated on\u00a0every side of me by native Americans\u2014\u201c[pb_glossary id=\"1831\"]Who reads an American Book?[\/pb_glossary]<\/i>\u201d I could not bear this\u2014I could neither eat nor sleep till my mind was made up. I reasoned with myself\u2014I strove hard\u2014but the spirit within me would not be rebuked. Shall I go forth said I, in the solitude of my own thought, and make war alone against the foe\u2014for alone it must be made, or there will be no hope of success. There must be but one head, one heart in the plan\u2014the secret must not even be guessed at by another\u2014it must be single and simple, one that like the wedge in mechanics, or in the ancient military art, must have but one point, and that point must be of adamant. Being so it may be turned aside: A thousand more like itself, may be blunted or shivered; but if at last, any one of the whole should make any impression whatever upon the foe, or effect any entrance whatever into the sanctity and strength of his tremendous [pb_glossary id=\"1833\"]phalanx[\/pb_glossary], then, from that moment, the day is our own. Our literature will begin to wake up, and our pride of country will wake up with it. Those who follow will have nothing to do but\u00a0keep<\/i>\u00a0what the forlorn hope, who goes to irretrievable [pb_glossary id=\"1834\"]martyrdom[\/pb_glossary] if he fail, has\u00a0gained<\/i>.\r\n\r\nMoreover\u2014who was there to stand by the native American that should go out, [pb_glossary id=\"1835\"]haply[\/pb_glossary] with a sling and a stone, against a tower of strength and the everlasting entrenchments of prejudice? Could he hope to find so much as one of his countrymen, to go with him or even to bear his shield? Would the Reviewers of America befriend him? No\u2014they have not courage enough to fight their own battles manfully.[1]\u00a0No\u2014they would rather flatter than strike. They negociate altogether too much\u2014where blows are wanted, they give words. And the best of our literary champions, would they? No; they would only bewail his [pb_glossary id=\"488\"]temerity[\/pb_glossary], if he were the bold headlong creature he should be to accomplish the work; and pity his folly and presumption, if he were any thing else.\r\n

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[1] Or had not before this was written. Look to the North-American Review<\/a> before 1825, for proof.<\/p>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1914\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"211\"]\"Portrait Joseph Addison (1672-1719), unknown artist.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nAfter all however, why should they be reproached for this? They have gained their little reputation hardly. \u201cIt were too much to spend that little\u201d\u2014so grudgingly acquiesced in by their beloved countrymen\u2014\u201crashly.\u201d No wonder they fight shy.\u00a0It is their duty\u2014considering what they have at stake\u2014their little all. There is Washington Irving<\/a> now; he has obtained the reputation of being\u2014what?\u2014why at the best, of being only the American Addison<\/a>, in the view of Englishmen. And is this a title to care much for? Would such a name, though Addison stood far higher in the opinion of the English themselves, than he now does, or ever again will, be enough to satisfy the ambition of a lofty minded, original thinker? Would such a man falter and reef his plumage midway up the altitude of his blinding and brave ascent, to be called the American Addison, or even what in my view were ten thousand times better, the American Goldsmith<\/a>.[2]\u00a0No\u2014up to the very [pb_glossary id=\"1837\"]key stone[\/pb_glossary] of the broad blue [pb_glossary id=\"903\"]firmament[\/pb_glossary]! he would say, or back to the vile earth again: ay, lower than the earth first! Understand me however. I do not say this lightly nor disparagingly. I love and admire Washington Irving. I wish him all the reputation he covets, and of the very kind he covets. Our paths never did, never will cross each other. And so with Mr. Cooper<\/a>; and a multitude more, of whom we may rightfully be proud. They have gained just enough popular favor to make them afraid of hazarding one jot or tittle of it, by stepping aside into a new path. No one of these could avail me in my design. They would have everything to lose, and nothing to gain by embarking in it. While I\u2014what had I to lose\u2014nay what\u00a0have<\/i>\u00a0I to lose? I am not now, I never have been, I never shall be an author by trade. The opinion of the public is not the breath of life to me; for if the truth must be told, I have to this hour very little respect for it\u2014so long as it is indeed the opinion of the public\u2014of the mere multitude, the careless, unthinking judgment of the mob, unregulated by the wise and thoughtful.\r\n

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[2] I speak here of Goldsmith\u2019s prose, not of his poetry. Heaven forbid!<\/p>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\nTo succeed as I hoped, I must put everything at hazard. It would not do for me to imitate anybody. Nor would it do for my country. Who would care for the\u00a0American<\/i> Addison where he could have the English by asking for it? Who would languish, a twelvemonth after they appeared, for Mr. Cooper\u2019s imitations of Sir Walter Scott<\/a>, or Charles Brockden Brown<\/a>\u2019s imitations of Godwin? Those, and those only, who after having seen the transfiguration of Raphael, (or that of Talma,) or Dominichino\u2019s St. Jerome, would walk away to a village painting room, or a provincial theatre, to pick their teeth and play the critic over an imitation of the one or a copy of the other. At the best, all such things are but\u00a0imitations<\/i>. And what are imitations? Sheer mimicry\u2014more or less exalted to be sure; but still mimicry\u2014wherever the\u00a0copies<\/i>\u00a0of life are copied and not life itself: a sort of high-handed, noon-day plagiarism\u2014nothing more. People are never amazed, nor carried away, nor uplifted by imitations. They are pleased with the ingenuity of the artist\u2014they are delighted with the closeness of the imitation\u2014but that is all. The better the work is done, the worse they think of the workman. He who can paint a great picture, cannot copy\u2014David Teniers<\/a> to the contrary notwithstanding; for David never painted a great picture in his life, though he has painted small ones, not more than three feet square, which would sell for twenty-five thousand dollars to day.\r\n\r\nYes\u2014to succeed, I must imitate nobody\u2014I must\u00a0resemble<\/i>\u00a0nobody; for with your critic, resemblance in the unknown to the known, is never anything but [pb_glossary id=\"775\"]adroit[\/pb_glossary] imitation. To succeed therefore, I must be unlike all that have gone before me. That were no easy matter; nor would be it so difficult as men are apt to believe. Nor is it necessary that I should do\u00a0better<\/i>\u00a0than all who have gone before me. I should be more likely to prosper, in the long run, by worse original productions\u2014with a poor story told in poor language, (if it were original in spirit and character) than by a much better story told in much better language, if after the transports of the public were over, they should be able to trace a resemblance between it and Walter Scott, or Oliver Goldsmith, or Mr. Addison.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1915\" align=\"alignright\" width=\"310\"]\"Page From \"Manfred, a Dramatic Poem,\" 1817, by Lord Byron. (This line is also mentioned in the bible.)[\/caption]\r\n\r\nSo far so good. There was, beyond a doubt, a fair chance in the great commonwealth of literature, even though I should not achieve a miracle, nor prove myself both wiser and better than all the authors who had gone before me. And moreover, might it not be possible\u2014possible<\/i> I say\u2014for the mob are a jealous guardian of [pb_glossary id=\"1840\"]sepulchres[\/pb_glossary] and ashes, and high-sounding\u00a0names, particularly where a name will save them the trouble of judging for themselves, or do their arguments for them in the shape of a perpetual demonstration, whatever may be the nature of the controversy in which they are involved\u2014might it not be possible then, I say, that, as the whole body of mankind have been growing wiser and wiser, and better and better, since the day when these great writers flourished, who are now ruling \u201cour spirits from their urns,<\/a>\u201d that authors may have improved with them?\u2014that they alone of the whole human race, by some possibility, may not have remained altogether stationary age after age\u2014while the least enquiring and the most indolent of human beings\u2014the very multitude\u2014have been steadily advancing both in knowledge and power? And if so, might it not be\u00a0possible<\/i>\u00a0for some improvements to be made, some discoveries, even yet in style and composition, by lanching forth into space. True, we might not be certain of finding a new world, like Columbus, nor a new heaven, like Tycho Brahe<\/a>; but we should probably encounter some phenomena in the great unvisited moral sky and ocean; we should at least find out, after a while\u2014which would of itself be the next greatest consolation for our trouble and anxiety, after that of discovering a new world or a new system,\u2014that there remained no new world nor system to be discovered; that they who should adventure after us, would have so much the less to do for all that we had done; that they must follow in our steps; that if our health and strength had been wasted in a [pb_glossary id=\"1482\"]prodigious[\/pb_glossary] dream, it would have the good effect of preventing any future waste of health and strength on the part of others in any similar enterprize.\r\n\r\nIslands and planets may still be found, we should say, and they that find them, are welcome to them; but continents and systems cannot be beyond where we have been; and if there be any within it, why\u2014they are neither continents nor systems.\r\n\r\nBut then, after all, there was one plain question to be asked, which no honest man would like to evade, however much a mere dreamer might wish to do so. It was this. After all my fine theory\u2014what are my chances of success? And if successful, what have I to gain? I chose to answer the last question\u00a0first. Gain!\u2014of a truth, it were no easy matter to say. Nothing\u00a0here<\/i>, nothing\u00a0now<\/i>\u2014certainly nothing in America, till my bones have been [pb_glossary id=\"1841\"]canonized[\/pb_glossary]; for my countrymen are a thrifty, calculating people\u2014they give nothing for the reputation of a man, till they are sure of selling it for more than they give. Were they visited by saints and prophets instead of gifted men, they would never believe that they were either saints or prophets, till they had been starved to death\u2014or lived by a miracle\u2014by no visible means; or until their cast-off clothes, bones, hair and teeth, or the furniture of the houses wherein they were starved, or the trees under which they had been chilled to death, carved into [pb_glossary id=\"1842\"]snuff-boxes[\/pb_glossary] or walking-sticks, would sell for as much as that sympathy had cost them, or as much as it would come to, to build a monument over\u2014I do not say over their unsheltered remains, for by that time there would be but little or no remains of them to be found, unmingled with the sky and water, earth and air about them, save perhaps in here and there a museum or college where they might always be bought up, however, immortality and all\u2014for something more than compound interest added to the original cost\u2014but to build a monument or a shed over the unappropriated stock, with certain privileges to the manufacturer of the walking-sticks and snuff-boxes aforesaid, so long as any of the material remained; taking care to provide with all due solemnity, perhaps by an act of the legislature, for securing the monopoly to the sovereign state itself.\r\n\r\nThus much perhaps I might hope for from my own people. But what from the British? They were [pb_glossary id=\"1845\"]magnanimous[\/pb_glossary], or at least they would bear to be told so; and telling them so in a simple, off-hand, ingenuous way, with a great appearance of sincerity, and as if one had been carried away by a sudden impulse, to speak a forbidden truth, or surprised into a prohibited expression of feeling by some spectacle of generosity, in spite of his constitutional reserve and timidity and caution, would be likely to\u00a0pay well<\/i>. But I would do no such thing. I would flatter nobody\u2014no people\u2014no nation. I would be to nobody\u2014neither to my own countrymen, nor to the British\u2014unless I were better paid for it, than any of my countrymen were ever yet paid either at home or abroad.\r\n\r\nNo\u2014I choose to see for myself, by putting the proof touch like a hot iron to their foreheads, whether the British are indeed a magnanimous people. But then, if I do all this, what are my chances of reward, even with the British themselves? That was a fearful question to be sure. The British are a nation of writers. Their novel-writers are as a cloud. True\u2014true\u2014but they still want something which they have not. They want a real American writer\u2014one with courage enough to write in his native tongue.\u00a0That<\/i>\u00a0they have not, even at this day.\u00a0That<\/i>\u00a0they never had. Our best writers are English writers, not American writers. They are English in every thing they do, and in every thing they say, as authors\u2014in the structure and moral of their stories, in their dialogue, speech and pronunciation, yea in the very characters they draw. Not so much as one true [pb_glossary id=\"1846\"]Yankee[\/pb_glossary] is to be found in any of our native books: hardly so much as one true Yankee phrase. Not so much as one true Indian, though you hardly take up a story on either side of the water now, without finding a red-man stowed away in it; and what sort of a red-man? Why one that uniformly talks the best English the author is capable of\u2014more than half the time perhaps out-Ossianing Ossian<\/a>.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1916\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"605\"]\"Graphite Group form picture of \"Ossian,\" late 19th Century, by Wilbur Woodward.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nI have the modesty to believe that in some things I am unlike all the other writers of my country\u2014both living and dead; although there are not a few, I dare say who would be glad to hear of my bearing a great resemblance to the latter. For my own part I do not pretend to write English\u2014that is, I do not pretend to write what the English themselves call English\u2014I do not, and I hope to God\u2014I say this reverently, although one of their Reviewers may be again puzzled to determine \u201cwhether I am swearing or praying\u201d when I say so\u2014that I never shall write what is now worshipped under the name of\u00a0classical<\/i>\u00a0English. It is no natural language\u2014it never was\u2014it never will be spoken alive on this earth: and therefore, ought never to be written. We have dead languages enough now; but the deadest language I ever met with or heard of, was that in use among the writers of Queen Anne<\/a>\u2019s day.\r\n\r\nAt last I came to the conclusion\u2014that the chances were at least a thousand to one against me. A thousand to one said I, to myself, that I perish outright in my headlong enterprise. But then, if I do not perish\u2014if I triumph, what a triumph it will be! If I succeed, I shall be rewarded well\u2014if the British\u00a0are<\/i>\u00a0what they are believed to be\u2014in fair proportion to the toil and peril I have encountered. At any rate, whether I fail or not, I shall be, and am willing to be, one of the first hundred to carry the war into the very camp, yea among the very household gods of the enemy. And if I die, I will die with my right arm consuming in the blaze of their altars\u2014like Mutius Sc\u00e6vola<\/a>.\r\n\r\nBut enough on this head. The plan took shape, and you have the commencement now before you, reader. I have had several objects in view at the same time, all subordinate however to that which I first mentioned, in the prosecution of my wayward enterprise. One was to show to my countrymen that there are abundant and hidden sources of fertility in their own beautiful brave earth, waiting only to be broken up; and barren places to all outward appearance, in the northern, as well as the southern Americas\u2014yet teeming below with bright sail\u2014where the plough-share that is driven through them with a strong arm, will come out laden with rich mineral and followed by running water: places where\u2014if you but lay your ear to the scented ground, you may hear the perpetual gush of innumerable fountains pouring their subterranean melody night and day among the minerals and rocks, the iron and the gold: places where the way-faring man, the pilgrim or the wanderer through what he may deem the very deserts of literature, the barren-places of knowledge, will find the very roots of the withered and blasted shrubbery, which like the traveller in Peru, he may have accidentally uptorn in his weary and discouraging ascent, and the very bowels of the earth into which he has torn his way, heavy with a brightness that may be coined, like the soil about the favorite hiding places of the sunny-haired [pb_glossary id=\"1850\"]Apollo[\/pb_glossary].\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1918\" align=\"alignright\" width=\"490\"]\"Allegorical \"America guided by wisdom: An allegorical representation of the United States depicting their independence and prosperity,\" 1815, by John James Barralet (artist) and Benjamin Tanner (engraver).[\/caption]\r\n\r\nAnother, was to teach my countrymen, that these very Englishmen, to whom as the barbarians of ancient story did by\u00a0their gods when they would [pb_glossary id=\"1851\"]conciliate[\/pb_glossary] them, we are accustomed to offer up our own offspring, with our own hands, whenever we see the sky darkening over the water\u2014the sky inhabited of them; ay, that these very Englishmen, to whom we are so in the habit of immolating all that is beautiful and grand among us\u2014the first born of our youth\u2014our creatures of immortality\u2014our men of genius, while in the fever and flush of their vanity, innocence and passion\u2014ere they have had time to put out their first plumage to the sky and the wind, all above and about them\u2014that they, these very Englishmen, would not love us the less, nor revere us the less, if we loved and revered ourselves, and the issue of our blood and breath, and vitality and power, a little more. No\u2014the men of England\u00a0are<\/i>\u00a0men. They love manhood. They may smile at our national vanity, but their smile would be one of compassionate benevolence and encouragement, if we were wise enough to keep our young at home, till their first molting season were well over\u2014and then, offer to pair them, even though there would be a little presumption in it, high up in the skies, and the strong wind\u2014with their bravest and best: not, as we do now, upon the altars of the earth\u2014upon the tables of our money-changers\u2014half fledged and untrained\u2014with their legs tied, and wings clipped; or, peradventure, with necks turned, and heads all skewered under their tails\u2014a heap of carrion and garbage that the braver birds, even among their enemies, would disdain to stoop at. Such would be their behavior, if we dealt as we ought with our own; there would be no pity nor disdain with them. They would cheer us to the conflict\u2014pour their red wine down our throats if we were beaten; and if their birds were beaten, they would bear it with temper\u2014knowing that their reputation could well afford an occasional trumph, to the young of their favorite brood. The men of England are waiting to do us justice: but there is a certain formality to be gone through with, before they will do it. We must claim it. And why should we not? I do not mean that we should claim it upon our knees as the condemned of their courts of justice are compelled to claim that\u00a0mercy<\/i>, which the very law itself, has predetermined to grant to him\u2014but will not, unless\u00a0that idle and unworthy formality has been submitted to; no\u2014I mean no such thing. We do not want mercy: and I would have my countrymen, when they are [pb_glossary id=\"2036\"]arraigned[\/pb_glossary] before any mere\u00a0English<\/i>\u00a0[pb_glossary id=\"2037\"]tribunal[\/pb_glossary]\u2014not acting under the\u00a0law of nations<\/i>\u00a0in the world of literature, to go at once, with a calm front and untroubled eye, and plead to their jurisdiction, with a loud clear voice, and with their right hand upon the great book of English law, and set them at defiance. This, they have the right, and the power to do; and why should they not, when some of the inferior courts, of mere\u00a0English<\/i>\u00a0criticism, have the audacity at every little interval, to call upon a sovereign people, to plead before them\u2014without counsel\u2014and be tried for some infringement of some [pb_glossary id=\"2042\"]paltry[\/pb_glossary] municipal provision of their [pb_glossary id=\"1887\"]statute[\/pb_glossary] book\u2014some provincialism of language\u2014or some heresy in politics\u2014or some plagiarism of manner or style; and abide the penalty of forgery\u2014or of [pb_glossary id=\"1422\"]ecclesiastical[\/pb_glossary] censure\u2014or the reward of [pb_glossary id=\"1852\"]petit-larceny[\/pb_glossary]; re-transportation\u2014or re-banishment to America.\r\n\r\nIt is high time now, that we should begin to do each other justice. Let us profit by their good qualities; and let them, by ours. And in time, we shall assuredly come to feel like brothers of the same parentage\u2014an elder and a younger\u2014different in temper\u2014but alike in family resemblance\u2014and alike proud of our great ancestry, the English giants of olden time. We shall revere\u00a0our<\/i>\u00a0brother; and he will love his. But when shall this be?\u2014not, I am sorely afraid\u2014till we have called home all our children, from the four corners of the earth; from the east and from the west; from the north and from the south\u2014and held a congress of the dead\u2014of their fathers, and of our fathers\u2014and published to the world, and to [pb_glossary id=\"1868\"]posterity[\/pb_glossary]\u2014appealing again to Jehovah<\/a> for the rectitude of our intentions\u2014another\u00a0Declaration of Independence<\/span>, in the great\u00a0Republic of Letters<\/span>. And, yet this may soon be. The time is even now at hand. Our representatives are assembling: the dead Greek, and the Roman; the ancient English, and the fathers of literature, from all the buried nations of all the earth, and holding counsel together, and choosing their delegates. And the generation is already born, that shall yet hear\u00a0the heavens ringing with acclamations to their decree\u2014that another state has been added to the everlasting [pb_glossary id=\"1853\"]confederacy[\/pb_glossary] of literature!\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1920\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"463\"]\"Drawing \"Declaration of Independence,\" 1823, by Asher B. Durand after John Trumbull.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nAnd now the author repeats to the people of America, one and all, farewell; assuring them that there is very little probability of his ever appearing before them again as a novel-writer. His object has been, if not wholly, at least in a great degree accomplished. He has demonstrated that a bold and direct appeal to the manhood of any people will never be made in vain. Others may have been already, or may hereafter be incited to a more [pb_glossary id=\"1778\"]intrepid[\/pb_glossary] movement; and to a more confident reliance upon themselves and their resources, by what he has now accomplished\u2014where it is most difficult to accomplish any thing\u2014among his own countrymen: and most devoutly does he pray, that if they should, they may be more fortunate, and far more generously rewarded, than he has ever been; and if they should not, he advises them to go where he has been already\u2014and trust to another people for that, which his own have not the heart to give him, however well he may deserve it. Abroad\u2014if he do not get a [pb_glossary id=\"1855\"]chaplet[\/pb_glossary] of fire and greenness\u2014he will, at least, get a cup of cold water,\u2014and it may be, a tear or two of compassion, if nothing of encouragement\u2014whatever he may do. At home\u2014he may wear himself out\u2014like one ashamed of what he is doing, in secrecy and darkness\u2014exhaust his own heart of all its power and vitality, by pouring himself into the hearts of others\u2014with a certainty that he will be called a madman, a beggar and a fool, for his pains\u2014unless he persevere, in spite of a broken heart, and a broken constitution, till he shall have made his own countrymen ashamed of themselves, and afraid of him.\r\n\r\nIt is a sad thing to say [pb_glossary id=\"1856\"]good by\u2019e[\/pb_glossary], even for an author. If you mean what you say\u2014it is a prayer as well as a blessing, an audible breathing of the heart. And if you do not\u2014it is a wicked profanation. So far, reader, you have been the familiar companion of the author; and you may be one of those, who have journied with him before, for many a weary day, through much of his wandering and meditation:\u2014that is, you may be one of those who, having been admitted before, to touch his\u00a0heart with a naked hand\u2014have felt in one pulsation\u2014in one single hour\u2019s fellowship with it, all that he had felt and thought for many a weary year. You have been\u00a0with<\/i>\u00a0him to a more holy place than the fire-side;\u00a0to<\/i>\u00a0him, more like the invisible creatures\u2014for he hath never seen your face, and peradventure never may, though you have been looking into his very soul\u2014that hover about the chamber of prayer\u2014the solitude of the poet\u2014or the haunted place under the shadow of great trees, where the wearied man throws himself down, to muse upon the face of his Creator, which he sees in the sky over him, or beneath the vast blue water before him. Is it wonderful therefore that there should be a little seriousness about his brow\u2014although ye\u00a0are<\/i>\u00a0invisible to him\u2014when he is about to say farewell to you\u2014farewell forever\u2014without having once heard the tone of your voice\u2014nor one of the many tears, that you may have dropped over him, when you thought yourself altogether alone:\u2014\r\n\r\nNor can he look back, without some emotion, upon the labour that he has undergone, even within that flowery wilderness, where he hath been journeying with you, or lying and ruminating all alone, for so long a time; and out of which, he is now about to emerge\u2014forever\u2014with a strong tread, to the broad blue sky and the solid earth; nor without lamenting that he cannot go barefooted\u2014and half-naked among men;\u2014and that the colour and perfume\u2014the dim enchantment, and the sweet, breathing, solemn loneliness of the wild-wood path, that he is about to abandon, for the broad dusty highway of the world, are so unpropitious to the substantial reputation of a man: nor, without grieving that the blossom-leaves, and the golden flower-dust, which now cover him, from head to foot,\u00a0must<\/i>\u00a0be speedily brushed away;\u2014and that the scent of the wilderness may not go with him\u2014wherever he may go\u2014wandering through the habitation of princes\u2014the courts of the living God\u2014or, the dwelling places of ambition\u2014yea, even into the grave.\r\n

*****<\/p>\r\nI have but one other request to make. Let these words be engraven hereafter on my tomb-stone: \u201cWho reads an American Book?<\/span>\u201d\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n

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RACHEL DYER.<\/h3>\r\nThe<\/span>\u00a0early history of New-England, or of Massachusetts Bay, rather; now one of the six New-England States of North America, and that on which the Plymouth settlers<\/a>, or \u201cFathers\u201d went ashore\u2014the shipwrecked men of mighty age, abounds with proof that witchcraft was a familiar study, and that witches and wizards were believed in for a great while, among the most enlightened part of a large and well-educated religious population. The multitude of course had a like faith; for such authority governs the multitude every where, and at all times.\r\n\r\n[h5p id=\"24\"]\r\n\r\nThe belief was very general about a hundred years ago in every part of British America, was very common fifty years ago, when the revolutionary war<\/a> broke out, and prevails now, even to this day in the wilder parts of the New-England territory, as well as in the new States which are springing up every where in the retreating shadow of the great western wilderness\u2014a wood where half the men of Europe might easily hide from each other\u2014and every where along the shores of the solitude, as if the new earth were full of the seed of empire, as if dominion were like fresh flowers or magnificent herbage, the spontaneous growth of a new soil wherever it is reached by the warm light or the cheerful rain of a new sky.\r\n\r\nIt is not confined however, nor was it a hundred and thirty five years ago, the particular period of our story, to the uneducated and barbarous, or to a portion of the white people of North-America, nor to the native Indians, a part of whose awful faith, a part of whose inherited religion it is to believe in a bad power, in witchcraft spells and sorcery. It may be met with wherever the Bible is much read in the spirit of the New-England Fathers. It was rooted in the very nature of those who were quite remarkable in the history of their age, for learning, for wisdom, for courage and for [pb_glossary id=\"1857\"]piety[\/pb_glossary]; of men who fled away from their fire-sides in Europe to the rocks of another world\u2014where they buried themselves alive in search of truth.\r\n\r\nWe may smile now to hear witchcraft spoken seriously of; but we forget perhaps that a belief in it is like a belief in the after appearance of the dead among the blue waters, the green graves, the still starry atmosphere and the great shadowy woods of our earth; or like the beautiful deep instinct of our nature for worship,\u2014older than the skies, it may be, universal as thought, and sure as the steadfast hope of immortality.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1923\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"436\"]\"The \"Witch of Endor<\/a>,\" 1805, engraving by J. Kay after A. Elsheimer.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nWe may turn away with a sneer now from the devout believer in witches, wondering at the folly of them that have such faith, and quite persuading ourselves in our great wisdom, that all who have had it [pb_glossary id=\"1862\"]heretofore[\/pb_glossary], however they may have been regarded by ages that have gone by, were not of a truth wise and great men; but we forget perhaps that we are told in the Book of Books, the Scriptures of Truth, about witches with power to raise the dead, about wizards and sorcerers that were able to strive with Jehovah\u2019s anointed high priest before the misbelieving majesty of Egypt, with all his court and people gathered about his throne for proof, and of others\u00a0who could look into futurity with power, interpret the vision of sleep, read the stars, bewitch and afflict whom they would, cast out devils and prophesy\u2014false prophets were they called, not because that which they said was untrue, but because that which they said, whether true or untrue, was not from above\u2014because the origin of their [pb_glossary id=\"522\"]preternatural[\/pb_glossary] power was bad or untrue. And we forget moreover that laws were made about conjuration, spells and witchcraft by a body of British lawgivers, renowned for their [pb_glossary id=\"367\"]sagacity[\/pb_glossary], deep research, and grave thoughtful regard for truth, but a few years ago\u2014the other day as it were\u2014and that a multitude of superior men have recorded their belief in witchcraft\u2014men of prodigious power\u2014such men as the great and good Sir Matthew Hale<\/a>, who gave judgment of death upon several witches and wizards, at a period when, if we may believe a [pb_glossary id=\"1858\"]tithe[\/pb_glossary] of what we hear every day of our lives, from the mouth of many a great lawyer, there was no lack of wit or wisdom, nor of knowledge or faithful enquiry; and such men too as the celebrated author of the Commentaries on the Laws of England, which are, \u201cas every body knows, or should know, and a man must be exceedingly ignorant not to know\u201d the pride of the British empire and a pillar of light for the sages of hereafter; and that within the last one hundred and fifty or two hundred years, a multitude of men and women have been tried and executed by authority of British law, in the heart of England, for having dealt in sorcery and witchcraft.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1926\" align=\"alignright\" width=\"157\"]\"Portrait \"Portrait of Sir Matthew Hale Kt, Chief Justice of the King's Bench,\" 1670, by John Michael Wright.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nWe may smile\u2014we may sneer\u2014but would such things have occurred in the British Parliament, or in the British courts of law, without some proof\u2014whatever, it was\u2014proof to the understandings of people, who in other matters are looked up to by the chief men of this age with\u00a0absolute awe\u2014that creatures endowed with strange, if not with preternatural power, did inhabit our earth and were able to work mischief according to the popular ideas of witchcraft and sorcery?\r\n\r\nWe know little or nothing of the facts upon which their belief was founded. All that we know is but hearsay, tradition or [pb_glossary id=\"1865\"]conjecture[\/pb_glossary]. They who believed were eye-witnesses and ear witnesses of what they believed; we who disbelieve are neither. They who believed knew all that we know of the matter and much more; we who disbelieve are not only ignorant of the facts, but we are living afar off, in a remote age. Nevertheless, they believed in witchcraft, and we regard all who speak of it seriously, with contempt. How dare we! What right have we to say that witches and witchcraft are no more, that sorcery is done with forever, that miracles are never to be wrought again, or that Prophecy shall never be heard again by the people of God, uplifting her voice like a thousand echoes from the everlasting solitudes of the sea, or like uninterrupted heavy thunder breaking over the terrible and haughty nations of our earth?\r\n\r\nWhy should we not think as well of him who believes too much, as of him who believes too little? Of him whose faith, whatever it may be, is too large, as of him whose faith, whatever it may be, is too small? Of the good with a credulous temper, as of the great with a suspicious temper? Of the pure in heart, of the youthful, of the untried in the ways of the world, who put much faith in whatever they are told, too much it may be, as of them who being thoroughly tried in the ways of the world put no faith in what they hear, and little in what they see? Of the humble in spirit who believe,\u00a0though<\/i>\u00a0they do not perfectly understand, as of the haughty who will not believe\u00a0because<\/i> they do not perfectly understand?\u00a0Of the poor child who thinks a juggler eats fire when he does not, as of the grown-up sage who thinks a juggler does\u00a0not<\/i>\u00a0swallow a sword when he\u00a0does<\/i>? Of the believer in [pb_glossary id=\"1939\"]Crusoe[\/pb_glossary], who sits poring over the story under a hedge, as of the unbeliever in Bruce<\/a> who would not believe, so long as it was new, in the Tale of Abyssinia? Of those in short who are led astray by self-distrust, or innocence, or humility, as of them who are led astray by self-conceit, or corruption, or pride?\r\n\r\nIn other days, the Lion of the desert would not believe the horse when he came up out of the bleak north, and told a story of waters and seas that grew solid, quiet and smooth in the dead of winter. His majesty had never heard of such a thing before, and what his majesty had never heard of before could not be possible. The mighty lord of the Numedian desert could not believe\u2014how could he?\u2014in a [pb_glossary id=\"1860\"]cock-and-a-bull-story[\/pb_glossary], about ice and snow; for to him they were both as a multitude of such things are to the philosophy of our age, out of the course of nature.\r\n\r\nA solid sea and a fluid earth are alike to such as have no belief in what is new or contrary to that course of nature with which they are acquainted\u2014whatever that may be. There is no such thing as proof to the over-wise or over mighty, save where by reason of what they already know, there is not much need of other proof.\u2014They would not believe, though one should rise from the dead\u2014they are too cautious by half; they are not satisfied with any sort of testimony; they dare not believe their own eyes\u2014they do not indeed; for spectres when they appear to the eye of the philosopher now, are attributed altogether to a diseased organ.[3] They care not for the cloud of witnesses\u2014they withdraw from the Bible, they scoff at history, and while they themselves\u00a0reject every kind of proof, whatever it may be, such proof as they would be satisfied with in a case of murder, were they to hear it as a jury\u2014such proof as they would give judgment of death upon, without fear, proof under oath by men of high character and severe [pb_glossary id=\"2052\"]probity[\/pb_glossary], eye-witnesses and ear-witnesses of what they swear to\u2014they ridicule those who undertake to weigh it with care, and pursue with scorn or pity those who shiver through all their arteries at a story of the preternatural.\"Title\r\n
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[3] As by the printer of Berlin. See also Beasley\u2019s Search after Truth<\/a>.<\/p>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\nAs if it were a mark of deplorable [pb_glossary id=\"382\"]fatuity[\/pb_glossary] for a babe to believe now as a multitude of wise and great and gifted men have heretofore believed in every age of the world! As if to think it possible for such to have been right in their belief, were too absurd for excuse now\u2014such men as the holy Greek, the upright immovable Socrates<\/a>, who persuaded himself that he was watched over by a sort of household spirit; such men too as the \u201cbald\u201d C\u00e6sar<\/a>, and the rock-hearted Brutus<\/a>, both of whom spite of their imperial nature and high place among the warlike and mighty of their age, believed in that, and shook before that which whether deceitful or not, substance or shadow, the very cowards of our day are too brave to be scared with, too full of courage to put their trust in\u2014afraid as they are of that, which the Roman pair would have met with a stern smile and a free step; such men too of a later age, as the profound, wise and pure Sir Matthew Hale, who put many to death for witchcraft\u2014so clear was the proof, and so clear the nature of the crime\u2014while the nature of larceny, the nature of common theft was forever a mystery to him, if we may believe what we hear out of his own mouth; such men too as the celebrated Judge Blackstone<\/a>, who after a thorough sifting of the law, says\u2014\u201cIt seems to be most eligible to conclude that in general there has been such a thing as witchcraft, though we cannot give credit to any particular\u00a0modern instance of it<\/a>;\u201d such men too as Doctor Samuel Johnson, L. L. D.<\/a> who saw through all the hypocricy and subterfuge of our day, when he said, speaking of a superstitious belief, that men who deny it by their words, confess it by their fears\u2014nothing was ever so true! we who are most afraid, want courage to own it; such men too as the Lord Protector of England, while she was a commonwealth; and such as he, the Desolator\u2014\r\n

\u201c........... From whose reluctant hand,<\/p>\r\n\r\n

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\r\n
The thunder-bolt was wrung\u201d\u2014[footnote]\"Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte<\/a>,\" by\u00a0George Gordon Byron.<\/span>[\/footnote]<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\nfor they were both believers in what the very rabble of our earth deride now; such men, too, as the chief among poets\u2014Byron\u2014for he believed in the words of a poor old gypsey, and shook with fear, and faltered on the way to his bridal-chamber, when he thought of the prophecy she had uttered years and years before, in the morning of his haughty youth; such men too as the head lawgiver of our day, the High-Priest of Legislation, the great and good, the benevolent, the courageous Bentham<\/a>, who to this hour is half afraid in the dark, and only able to satisfy himself about the folly of such fear, when his [pb_glossary id=\"1863\"]night-cap[\/pb_glossary] is off, by resorting with suitable gravity to his old refuge, the exhaustive mode of reasoning. If a ghost appear at all, argues he, it must appear either clothed or not clothed. But a ghost never appears not clothed, or naked; and if it appear clothed, we shall have not only the ghost of a human creature\u2014which is bad enough; but the ghost of a particular kind of cloth of a particular fashion, the ghost of a pocket-handkerchief, or a night-cap\u2014which is too bad.\r\n\r\nThus much for authority: and here, but for one little circumstance we should take up our narrative, and pursue it without turning to the right or the left, until we came to the sorrowful issue; but as we may have here\u00a0and there a reader, in this unbelieving age, who has no regard for authority, nor much respect for the wisdom of our ancestors, what if we try to put the whole argument into a more conclusive shape? It may require but a few pages, and a few pages may go far to allay the wrath of modern philosophy. If we throw aside the privilege of authorship, and speak, not as a multitude but as one of the true faith, our argument would stand thus:\r\n\r\nIn a word, whatever the philosophy of our age may say, I cannot look upon witchcraft and sorcery as the unbeliever does. I know enough what the fashion is now; but I cannot believe, I do not believe that we know much more of the matter than our great [pb_glossary id=\"1864\"]progenitors[\/pb_glossary] did; or that we are much wiser than a multitude who have been for ages, and are now, renowned for their wisdom; or that we are much more pious than our noble fathers were, who died in their belief\u2014died\u00a0for<\/i>\u00a0their belief, I should say, and are a proverb to this hour on account of their piety. Nor can I persuade myself that such facts would be met with in grave undoubted history, if they were untrue, as are to be met with in every page of that which concerns the period of our story; facts which go to prove not only that a fixed belief in witchcraft prevailed throughout Europe as well as America, and among those with whom there was no lack of probity or good sense, or knowledge, it would appear; but that hundreds of poor creatures were tried for witchcraft under the authority of British law, and put to death, under the authority of British law, (and several after confession) for the practice of witchcraft and sorcery.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1928\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"400\"]\"Drawing \"Many poor women imprisoned and hanged for witches,\" 1655, by Ralph Gardiner. From The New York Public Library.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nMay it not be worth our while therefore, to speak seriously and reverently of our mighty forefathers? to bear in mind that the proof which they offer is affirmative and positive, while that which we rely upon, is negative\u2014a matter of theory? to keep in view, moreover,\u00a0that if a body of witnesses of equal worth were equally divided, one half saying that on such a day and hour, at such a place, when they were all together, such or such a thing, preternatural or not, mysterious or not, occurred; while the other half say positively, man for man, that so far as they heard or saw, or know or believe, no such thing did occur, at such a time or place, or at any other time or place, whatsoever\u2014still, even here, though you may believe both parties, though you may give entire credit to the words of each, you may be justified, in a variety of cases, in acting upon the testimony of the former in preference to that of the latter. And why? Because the contradictory words of both may not be so contradictory as they appear\u2014not so contradictory as to neutralize each other on every hypothesis; but may be reconcilable to the supposition that such or such a fact, however positively denied by one party, and however mysterious it may seem, really did occur: and this while they are not reconcilable to the supposition that such or such a fact really did\u00a0not<\/i>\u00a0occur.\u2014It being much more easy to overlook that which is, than to see that which is not; much more easy to\u00a0not<\/i>\u00a0see a shadow that falls upon our pathway, than to see a shadow where indeed there is no shadow; much more easy to\u00a0not<\/i>\u00a0hear a real voice, than to hear\u00a0no<\/i>\u00a0voice.\r\n\r\nIf the multitude of trustworthy and superior men, therefore, who testify to the facts which are embodied in the following narrative, and which may appear incredible to the wise of our day, or out of the course of nature to the philosophy of our day, like ice or snow to the Lord of the Desert; if they were positively contradicted step by step, throughout, by another like multitude of trustworthy and superior men\u2014still, though the two parties were alike numerous and alike worthy of credit, and although you might believe the story of each,\u00a0and every word of it, and give no preference to either:\u2014Still I say, you might be justified in supposing that after all, the facts which the former testify to really did occur. And why? Because\u00a0though<\/i>\u00a0both speak true, that hypothesis may still be supported; while\u00a0if<\/i>\u00a0both speak true, the contrary hypothesis cannot be supported. Facts may occur without being heard or seen by the whole of a party who are together at the time they occur: but how are they to be seen or heard, if they do not occur at all?\r\n\r\nI have put a much stronger case than that on which the truth of the following story is made to depend; for no such contradiction occurs here, no such positive testimony, no such array of multitude against multitude of the same worth, or the same age, or the same people. On the affirmative side are a host here\u2014a host of respectable witnesses, not a few of whom sealed their testimony with their blood; on the negative, hardly one either of a good or a bad character. What appears on the negative side is not by facts, but by theory. It is not positive but conjectural. The negative witnesses are of our age and of our people; the affirmative were of another age and of another people. The former too, it should be remarked were not only not present, but they were not born\u2014they were not alive, when the matters which they deny the truth of, took place\u2014if they ever took place at all. Now, if oaths are to be answered by conjecture, bloodshed by a sneer, absolute martyrdom by hypothesis, much grave testimony of the great and the pious, by a speculative argument, a brief [pb_glossary id=\"1351\"]syllogism[\/pb_glossary], or a joke\u2014of what use are the rules by which our trust in what we hear is regulated? our faith whatever it may be, and whether it concern this world or the next, and whether it be of the past, the present or the future? Are we to believe only so far as we may touch and see for ourselves? What is the groundwork of true knowledge? where the spirit of true philosophy? [pb_glossary id=\"1965\"]Whither[\/pb_glossary] should we go for proof; and of what avail is the truth which we are hoarding up, the truth which we are extracting year after year by laborious investigation, or fearful experiment? If we do not believe those who go up to the altar and make oath before the Everlasting God, not as men do now, one after another, but nation by nation, to that which is very new to us, or wonderful, why should posterity believe us when we testify to that which hereafter may be very new to them or very wonderful? Is every day to be like every other day, every age like every other age in the Diary of the Universe? Earthquake, war and revolution\u2014the overthrow of States and of empires, are they to be repeated forever, lest men should not believe the stories that are told of them?\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER II.<\/h3>\r\nBut<\/span> enough. It is quite impossible to doubt the sincerity of the Plymouth settlers, the Pilgrims, or Fathers of New-England, who escaping over sea laid the foundations of a mighty empire on the perpetual rocks of New-Plymouth, and along the desolate shores of a new world, or their belief in witchcraft and sorcery, whatever we may happen to believe now; for, at a period of sore and bitter perplexity for them and theirs, while they were yet wrestling for life, about four hundred of their hardy brave industrious population were either in prison for the alleged practice of witchcraft, or under accusation for matters which were looked upon as fatal evidence thereof. By referring to the sober and faithful records of that age, it will be found that in the course of about fifteen months, while the Fathers of New-England were beset on every side by the exasperated [pb_glossary id=\"1869\"]savages[\/pb_glossary], or by the more exasperated French, who led the former through every part of the British-American territory, twenty-eight persons received sentence of death (of which number nineteen were executed) one died in jail, to whom our narrative relates, and one was deliberately crushed to death\u2014according to British law, because [pb_glossary id=\"1870\"]forsooth[\/pb_glossary], being a stout full-hearted man, he would not make a plea, nor open his mouth to the charge of sorcery, before the twelve, who up to that hour had permitted no one who did open his mouth to escape; that a few more succeeded in getting away before they were capitally charged; that one hundred and fifty were set free after\u00a0the outcry was over; and that full two hundred more of the accused who were in great peril without knowing it, were never proceeded against, after the death of the individual whose character we have attempted a sketch of, in the following story.\r\n\r\nOf these four hundred poor creatures, a large part of whom were people of good repute in the prime of life, above two-score made confession of their guilt\u2014and this although about one half, being privately charged, had no opportunity for confession. The laws of nature, it would seem\u00a0were<\/i>\u00a0set aside\u2014if not by Jehovah, at least by the judges acting under the high and holy sanction of British law, in this day of sorrow; for at the trial of a woman who appears to have been celebrated for beauty and held in great fear because of her temper, both by the settlers and the savages, three of her children stood up, and children though they were, in the presence of their mother, avowed themselves to be witches, and gave a particular account of their voyages through the air and over sea, and of the cruel mischief they had perpetrated by her advice and direction; for she was endowed, say the records of the day, with great power and prerogative, and the Father of lies had promised her, at one of their church-yard gatherings that she should be \u201cQueen of Hell.\u201d\r\n\r\nBut before we go further into the particulars of our narrative which relates to a period when the frightful superstition we speak of was raging with irresistible power, a rapid review of so much of the earlier parts of the New-England history, as immediately concerns the breaking out, and the growth of a belief in witchcraft among the settlers of our savage country, may be of use to the reader, who, but for some such preparation, would never be able to credit a fiftieth part of what is undoubtedly true in the following story.\r\n\r\nThe pilgrims or \u201cFathers\u201d of New-England, as they are now called by the writers of America, were but a ship-load of pious brave men, who while they were in search of a spot of earth where they might worship their God without fear, and build up a faith, if so it pleased him, without reproach, went ashore partly of their own accord, but more from necessity, in the terrible winter of 1620-21, upon a rock of Massachusetts-Bay, to which they gave the name of New-Plymouth, after that of the port of England from which they embarked.\r\n\r\nThey left England forever.... England their home and the home of their mighty fathers\u2014turned their backs forever upon all that was dear to them in their beloved country, their friends, their houses, their tombs and their churches, their laws and their literature with all that other men cared for in that age; and this merely to avoid persecution for a religious faith; fled away as it were to the ends of the earth, over a sea the very name of which was doubtful, toward a shore that was like a shadow to the navigators of Europe, in search of a place where they might kneel down before their Father, and pray to him without molestation.\r\n\r\nBut, alas for their faith! No sooner had these pilgrims touched the shore of the new world, no sooner were they established in comparative power and security, than they fell upon the [pb_glossary id=\"1407\"]Quakers[\/pb_glossary], who had followed them over the same sea, with the same hope; and scourged and banished them, and imprisoned them, and put some to death, for not believing as the new church taught in the new world. Such is the nature of man! The persecuted of to-day become the persecutors of to-morrow. They flourish, not because they are right, but because they are persecuted; and they persecute because they have the power, not because they whom they persecute are wrong.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1931\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"523\"]\"The \"Mary Dyer led to execution on Boston Common, 1 June 1660,\" 19th century, artist unknown.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nThe quakers died in their belief, and as the great always die\u2014without a word or a tear; praying for the misguided people to their last breath, but prophecying heavy sorrow to them and to theirs\u2014a sorrow without a name\u2014a [pb_glossary id=\"1871\"]wo[\/pb_glossary] without a shape, to their whole race forever; with a mighty series of near and bitter affliction to the judges of the land, who while they were uttering the words of death to an aged woman of the Quakers, (Mary Dyer<\/a>) were commanded with a loud voice to set their houses in order, to get ready the accounts of their stewardship, and to prepare with the priesthood of all the earth, to go before the Judge of the quick and the dead. It was the voice of [pb_glossary id=\"1930\"]Elizabeth Hutchinson[\/pb_glossary], the dear and familiar friend of Mary Dyer. She spoke as one having authority from above, so that all who heard her were afraid\u2014all! even the judges who were dealing out their judgment of death upon a fellow creature. And lo! after a few years, the daughter of the chief judge, before whom the prophecy had been uttered with such awful power, was tried for witchcraft and put to death for witchcraft on the very spot (so says the tradition of the people) where she stayed to scoff at Mary Dyer, who was on her way to the scaffold at the time, with her little withered hands locked upon her bosom ... her grey head lifted up ... not bowed in her unspeakable distress ... but lifted up, as if in prayer to something visible above, something whatever it was, the shadow of which fell upon the path and walked by the side of the aged martyr; something whatever it was, that moved like a spirit over the green smooth turf ... now at her elbow, now high up and afar off ... now in the blue, bright air; something whose holy guardianship was betrayed to the multitude by the devout slow motion of the eyes that were about to be extinguished forever.\r\n\r\nNot long after the death of the daughter of the chief\u00a0judge, another female was executed for witchcraft, and other stories of a similar nature were spread over the whole country, to prove that she too had gone out of her way to scoff at the poor quaker-woman. This occurred in 1655, only thirty-five years after the arrival of the Fathers in America. From this period, until 1691, there were but few trials for witchcraft among the Plymouth settlers, though the practice of the art was believed to be common throughout Europe as well as America, and a persuasion was rooted in the very hearts of the people, that the prophecy of the quakers and of Elizabeth Hutchinson would assuredly be accomplished.\r\n\r\nIt\u00a0was<\/i> accomplished. A shadow fell upon the earth at noon-day. The waters grew dark as midnight. Every thing alive was quiet with fear\u2014the trees, the birds, the cattle, the very hearts of men who were gathered together in the houses of the Lord, every where, throughout all the land, for worship and for mutual [pb_glossary id=\"1596\"]succor[\/pb_glossary]. It was indeed a \u201cDark Day\u201d\u2014a day never to be thought of by those who were alive at the time, nor by their children\u2019s children, without fear. The shadow of the grave was abroad, with a voice like the voice of the grave. Earthquake, fire, and a furious bright storm followed; [pb_glossary id=\"1872\"]inundation[\/pb_glossary], war and strife in the church. Stars fell in a shower, heavy cannon were heard in the deep of the wilderness, low music from the sea\u2014trumpets, horses, armies, mustering for battle in the deep sea. Apparitions were met in the high way, people whom nobody knew, men of a most unearthly stature; evil spirits going abroad on the [pb_glossary id=\"1242\"]sabbath[\/pb_glossary] day. The print of huge feet and hoof-marks were continually discovered in the snow, in the white sand of the sea-shore\u2014nay, in the solid rocks and along the steep side of high mountains,\u00a0where no mortal hoof could go; and sometimes they could be traced from roof to roof on the house-tops, though the buildings were very far apart; and the shape of Elizabeth Hutchinson herself, was said to have appeared to a traveller, on the very spot where she and her large family, after being driven forth out of New-England by the power of the new church, were put to death by the savages. He that saw the shape knew it, and was afraid for the people; for the look of the woman was a look of wrath, and her speech a speech of power.\r\n\r\nElizabeth Hutchinson was one of the most extraordinary women of the age\u2014haughty, ambitious and crafty; and when it was told every where through the Plymouth colony that she had appeared to one of the church that expelled her, they knew that she had come back, to be seen of the judges and elders, according to her oath, and were siezed with a deep fear. They knew that she had been able to draw away from their peculiar mode of worship, a tithe of their whole number when she was alive, and a setter forth, if not of strange gods, at least of strange doctrines: and who should say that her mischievous power had not been fearfully augmented by death?\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1932\" align=\"alignright\" width=\"312\"]\"Engraving \"Philip King of Mount Hope,\" 1772, by engraver Paul Revere Jr.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nMeanwhile the men of New Plymouth, and of Massachusetts Bay, had multiplied so that all the neighborhood was tributary to them, and they were able to send forth large bodies of their young men to war<\/a>, six hundred, seven hundred, and a thousand at a time, year after year, to fight with Philip of Mount Hope, a royal barbarian, who had wit enough to make war as the great men of Europe would make war now, and to persuade the white people that the prophecy of the Quakers related to him. It is true enough that he made war like a savage\u2014and who would not, if he were surrounded as Philip of Mount Hope was, by a foe whose hatred was a part of his religion, a part of his very blood and being? if his territory were ploughed up or laid waste by a superior foe? if the very wilderness about him were fired while it was the burial-place and sanctuary of his mighty fathers? if their form of worship were scouted, and every grave and every secret place of prayer laid open to the light, with all their treasures and all their mysteries? every temple not made with hands, every church built by the Builder of the Skies, invaded by such a foe and polluted with the rites of a new faith, or levelled without mercy\u2014every church and every temple, whether of rock or wood, whether perpetual from the first, or planted as the churches and temples of the solitude are, with leave to perpetuate themselves forever, to renew their strength and beauty every year and to multiply themselves on every side forever and ever, in spite of deluge and fire, storm, strife and earthquake; every church and every temple whether roofed as the skies are, and floored as the mountains are, with great clouds and with huge rocks, or covered in with tree-branches and paved with fresh turf, lighted with stars and purified with high winds? Would not the man of Europe make war now like a savage, and without mercy, if he were beset by a foe\u2014for such was the foe that Philip of Mount Hope had to contend with in the fierce pale men of Massachusetts Bay,\u2014a foe that no weapon of his could reach, a foe coming up out of the sea with irresistible power, and with a new shape? What if armies were to spring up out of the solid earth before the man of Europe\u2014it would not be more wonderful to him than it was to the man of America to see armies issuing from the deep. What if they were to approach in balloons\u2014or in great ships of the air, armed all over as the foe of\u00a0the poor savage appeared to be, when the ships of the water drew near, charged with thunder and with lightning, and with four-footed creatures, and with sudden death? Would the man of Europe make war in such a case according to what are now called the usages of war?\r\n\r\nThe struggle with this haughty savage was regarded for a time as the wo without a shape, to which the prophecy referred, the sorrow without a name; for it occupied the whole force of the country, long and long after the bow of the red-chief was broken forever, his people scattered from the face of the earth, and his royalty reduced to a shadow\u2014a shadow it is true, but still the shadow of a king; for up to the last hour of his life, when he died as no king had ever the courage to die, he showed no sign of terror, betrayed no wish to conciliate the foe, and smote all that were near without mercy, whenever they talked of submission; though he had no hope left, no path for escape, and every shot of the enemy was fatal to some one of the few that stood near him. It was a war, which but for the accidental discovery of a league embracing all the chief tribes of the north, before they were able to muster their strength for the meditated blow, would have swept away the white men, literally to the four winds of heaven, and left that earth free which they had set up their dominion over by falsehood and by treachery. By and by however, just when the issue of that war was near, and the fright of the pale men over, just when the hearts of the church had begun to heave with a new hope, and the prophecy of wrath and sorrow was no longer to be heard in the market-place, and by the way-side, or wherever the people were gathered together for business or worship, with a look of awe and a subdued breath\u2014just when it came to be no longer thought of nor cared for by the\u00a0judges and the elders, to whom week after week and year after year, it had been a familiar proverb of death (if bad news from the war had come over night, or news of trouble to the church, at home or abroad, in Europe or in America) they saw it suddenly and wholly accomplished before their faces\u2014every word of it and every letter.\r\n\r\nThe shadow of the destroyer went by ... the type was no more. But lo! in the stead thereof, while every mother was happy, and every father in peace, and every child asleep in security, because the shadow and the type\u00a0had<\/i>\u00a0gone by\u2014lo! the Destroyer himself appeared! The shadow of death gave way for the visage of death\u2014filling every heart with terror, and every house with lamentation. The people cried out for fear, as with one voice. They prayed as with one prayer. They had no hope; for they saw the children of those who had offered outrage to the poor quaker-woman gathered up, on every side, from the rest of the people, and after a few days and a brief inquiry, afflicted in their turn with reproach and outcry, with misery, torture and cruel death;\u2014and when they saw this, they thought of the speech of Elizabeth Hutchinson before the priesthood of the land, the judges and the people, when they drove her out from among them, because of her new faith, and left her to perish for it in the depth of a howling wilderness; her, and her babes, and her beautiful daughter, and her two or three brave disciples, away from hope and afar from succor;\u2014and as they thought of this, they were filled anew with unspeakable dread: for Mary Dyer and Elizabeth Hutchinson, were they not familiar, and very dear friends? were they not sisters in life, and sisters in death? gifted alike with a spirit of sure prophecy, though of a different faith? and martyrs alike to the church?\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER III.<\/h3>\r\n \r\n\r\n\"Title\r\n\r\n\u201cA strange infatuation had already begun to produce misery in private families, and disorder throughout the community,\u201d says an old American writer<\/a>, in allusion to the period of our story, 1691-2. \u201cThe imputation of witchcraft was accompanied with a prevalent belief of its reality; and the lives of a considerable number of innocent people were sacrificed to blind zeal and superstitious credulity. The mischief began at Naumkeag<\/a>, (Salem) but it soon extended into various parts of the colony. The contagion however, was principally within the county of Essex. The \u00e6ra of English learning, had scarcely commenced. Laws then existed in England against witches; and the authority of Sir Matthew Hale, who was revered in New England, not only for his knowledge in the law, but for his gravity and piety, had doubtless, great influence. The trial of the witches in Suffolk, in England, was published<\/a> in 1684; and there was so exact a resemblance between the Old England d\u00e6mons and the New, that, it can hardly be doubted the arts of the designing were borrowed, and the credulity of the populace augmented from the parent country. * * * * *\r\n\r\n\u201cThe gloomy state of New England probably facilitated the delusion, for \u2018superstition flourishes in times of danger and dismay.\u2019 The distress of the colonist, at this time, was great. The sea-coast was infested with [pb_glossary id=\"1875\"]privateers[\/pb_glossary]. The inland frontiers, east and west, were\u00a0continually harassed by the French and Indians. The abortive expedition to Canada, had exposed the country to the resentment of France, the effects of which were perpetually dreaded. The old [pb_glossary id=\"1876\"]charter[\/pb_glossary] was gone, and what evils would be introduced by the new, which was very reluctantly received by many, time only could determine, but fear might forbode. * * How far these causes operating in a wilderness that was scarcely cleared up, might have contributed toward the infatuation, it is difficult to determine. It were injurious however, to consider New England as peculiar in this culpable credulity, with its [pb_glossary id=\"306\"]sanguinary[\/pb_glossary] effects; for more persons have been put to death for witchcraft, in a single county in England, in a short space of time, than have suffered for the same cause, in all New-England, since its first settlement.\u201d\r\n\r\n\"The\r\n\r\nAnother American writer<\/a> who was an eye witness of the facts which are embodied in the following narrative, says, \u201cAs to the method which the Salem justices do take in their examinations, it is truly this: A warrant being issued out to apprehend the persons that are charged and complained of by the afflicted children, (Abigail Paris and Bridget Pope) said persons are brought before the justices, the afflicted being present. The justices ask the apprehended why they afflict these poor children; to which the apprehended answer they do not afflict them. The justices order the apprehended to look upon the said children, which accordingly they do; and at the time of that look (I dare not say\u00a0by<\/i>\u00a0that look as, the Salem gentlemen do) the afflicted are cast into a fit. The apprehended are then blinded and ordered to touch the afflicted; and at that touch, though not\u00a0by<\/i> the touch (as above) the afflicted do ordinarily come out of their fits. The afflicted persons then declare and affirm that the apprehended have afflicted\u00a0them; upon which the apprehended persons though of never so good repute are forthwith committed to prison on suspicion of witchcraft.\u201d\r\n\r\nAt this period, the chief [pb_glossary id=\"1877\"]magistrate[\/pb_glossary] of the New-Plymouth colony, a shrewd, artful, uneducated man, was not only at the head of those who believed in witchcraft as a familiar thing, but he was a head-ruler in the church. He was a native New-Englander of\u00a0low birth<\/i>\u2014so say the records of our country,\u2014where birth is now, and ever will be a matter of inquiry and solicitude, of shame perhaps to the few and of pride to the few, but of inquiry with all, in spite of our ostentatious [pb_glossary id=\"737\"]republicanism[\/pb_glossary]. He was the head man over a body of men who may be regarded as the natural growth of a rugged soil in a time of religious warfare; with hearts and with heads like the resolute unforgiving Swiss-protestant of their age, or the Scotch-[pb_glossary id=\"1879\"]covenanter[\/pb_glossary] of an age that has hardly yet gone by. They were the Maccabees<\/a> of the seventeenth century, and he was their political chief. They were the fathers of a new church in a new world, where no church had ever been heard of before; and he was ready to buckle a sword upon his thigh and go out against all the earth, at the command of that new church. They were ministers of the [pb_glossary id=\"1880\"]gospel[\/pb_glossary], who ministered with fire and sword unto the savages whom they strove to convert; believers, who being persecuted in Europe, hunted out of Europe, and cast away upon the shores of America, set up a new war of persecution here\u2014even here\u2014in the untrodden\u2014almost unapproachable domain of the Great Spirit of the Universe; pursued their brethren to death, scourged, fined, imprisoned, banished, mutilated, and where nothing else would do, hung up their bodies between heaven and earth for the good of their souls; drove mother after mother, and babe after babe, into the woods for not believing as their church taught; made\u00a0war upon the lords of the soil, the savages who had been their stay and support while they were strangers, and sick and poor, and ready to perish, and whom it was therefore a duty for them\u2014after they had recovered their strength\u2014to make happy with the edge of the sword; such war as the savages would make upon the wild beast\u2014way-laying them by night, and shooting them to death, as they lie asleep with their young, without so much as a declaration of war; destroying [pb_glossary id=\"312\"]whithersoever[\/pb_glossary] they went, whatsoever they saw, in the shape of a dark man, as if they had authority from above to unpeople the woods of America; firing village after village, in the dead of the night\u2014in the dead of winter too\u2014and going to prayer in the deep snow, while their hands were smoking with slaughter, and their garments stiffening with blood\u2014the blood, not of warriors overthrown by warriors in battle, but of the decrepit, or sick, or helpless; of the aged man, or the woman or the babe\u2014set fire to in their sleep.\u2014Such were the men of Massachusetts-Bay, at the period of our story, and he was their political chief.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1993\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"315\"]\"Portrait Samuel Parris (1653-1720), 1670-90, unknown artist. John Neal uses the fictional name \"Matthew Paris,\" as he explains later.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nHe had acquired a large property and the title of\u00a0Sir<\/i>; a title which would go a great way at any time among the people of New-England, who whatever else they may be, and whatever they may pretend, are not now, and were not during the governship of Sir William Phipse<\/span><\/a>, at the period we refer to, and we dare say, never will be, without a regard for titles and birth, and ribbons, and stars, and garters, and much more too, than would ever be credited by those who only judge of them by what they are pleased to say of themselves in their fourth-of-July orations. His rank and wealth were acquired in rather a strange way\u2014not by a course of rude mercantile adventure, such as the native Yankee is familiar with from his birth, through every unheard-of sea, and along every unheard-of shore; but by fishing up ingots of gold, and bars of silver, from the wreck of a Spanish [pb_glossary id=\"734\"]hulk[\/pb_glossary], which had ben cast away on the coast of [pb_glossary id=\"1938\"]La Plata[\/pb_glossary], years and years before, and which he had been told of by Mr. Paris, the minister of Salem,\u2014a worthy, studious, wayward man, who had met with some account of the affair, while rummaging into a heap of old newspapers and ragged books that fell in his way.<\/span>\r\n\r\nAnother would have paid no attention, it is probable, to the advice of the preacher\u2014a man who had grown old in poring over books that nobody else in that country had ever met with or heard of; but the hardy New-Englander was too poor and too anxious for wealth to throw a chance away; and having satisfied himself in some degree about the truth of a newspaper-narrative which related to the ship, he set sail for the mother country, received the patronage of those, who if they were not noblemen, would be called partners in every such enterprise, with more than the privilege of partners\u2014for they generally contrive to take the praise and the profit, while their plebeian associates have to put up with the loss and the reproach; found the wreck, and after a while succeeded in weighing a prodigious quantity of gold and silver. He was knighted in \u201cconsequence,\u201d we are told; but in consequence of what, it would be no easy matter to say: and after so short an absence that he was hardly missed, returned to his native country with a new charter, great wealth, a great name, the title of Sir, and the authority of a chief magistrate.\r\n\r\nSuch are a few of the many facts which every body that knew him was acquainted with by report, and which nobody thought of disbelieving in British-America, till the fury about witches and witchcraft took possession of the people; after which they began to shake their heads at the story, and getting more and more\u00a0courage as they grew more and more clear-sighted, they went on doubting first one part of the tale, and then another, till at last they did not scruple to say of their worthy Governor himself, and of the aged Mr. Paris, that one of the two\u2014they did not like to say which\u2014had got above their neighbors\u2019 heads, after all, in a very strange way\u2014a very strange way indeed\u2014they did not like to say how; and that the sooner the other was done with old books, the better it would be for him. He had a Bible of his own to study, and what more would a preacher of the Gospel have?\r\n\r\nGovernor Phips and Matthew Paris were what are called neighbors in America. Their habitations were not more than five [pb_glossary id=\"1994\"]leagues[\/pb_glossary] apart. The Governor lived at Boston, the chief town of Massachusetts-Bay, and the preacher at Naumkeag, in a solitary log-house, completely surrounded by a thick wood, in which were many graves; and a rock held in great awe<\/a> by the red men of the north, and avoided with special care by the whites, who had much reason to believe that in other days, it had been a rock of sacrifice, and that human creatures had been offered up there by the savages of old, either to Hobbamocko, their evil deity, or to Rawtantoweet, otherwise Ritchtau, their great Invisible Father. Matthew Paris and Sir William Phips had each a faith of his own therefore, in all that concerned witches and witchcraft. Both were believers\u2014but their belief was modified, intimate as they were, by the circumstances and the society in which they lived. With the aged, poor and solitary man\u2014a widower in his old age, it was a dreadful superstition, a faith mixed up with a mortal fear. With the younger and richer man, whose hope was not in the grave, and whose thoughts were away from the death-bed; who was never alone perhaps for an hour of the day; who lived in the very\u00a0whirl of society, surrounded by the cheerful faces of them that he most loved on earth, it wore a less harrowing shape\u2014it was merely a faith to talk of, and to teach on the Sabbath day, a curious faith suited to the bold inquisitive temper of the age. Both were believers, and fixed believers; and yet of the two, perhaps, the speculative man would have argued more powerfully\u2014with fire and sword\u2014as a teacher of what he believed.\r\n\r\nAbout a twelvemonth before the enterprise to La Plata, whereby the \u201cuneducated man of low birth\u201d came to be a ruler and a chief in the land of his nativity, Matthew Paris the preacher, to whom he was indebted for a knowledge of the circumstances which led to the discovery, had lost a young wife\u2014a poor girl who had been brought up in his family, and whom he married not\u00a0because<\/i> of her youth, but in spite of her youth; and every body knew as he stood by her grave, and saw the fresh earth heaped upon her, that he would never hold up his head again, his white venerable head, which met with a blessing wherever it appeared. From that day forth, he was a broken-hearted selfish man, weary of life, and sick with insupportable sorrow. He began to be afraid with a strange fear, to persuade himself that his Father above had cast him off, and that for the rest of his life he was to be a mark of the divine displeasure. He avoided all that knew him, and chiefly those he had been most intimate with while he was happy; for their looks and their speech, and every change of their breath reminded him of his poor Margaret, his meek beautiful wife. He could not bear the very song of the birds\u2014nor the sight of the green trees; for she was buried in the summer-time, while the trees were in flower, and the birds singing in the branches that overshadowed her grave; and so he withdrew from the world and shut himself up in a dreary solitude, where neglecting his\u00a0duty as a preacher of the gospel, he gave up his whole time to the education of his little daughter\u2014the child of his old age, and the live miniature of its mother\u2014who was\u00a0like<\/i>\u00a0a child, from the day of her birth to the day of her death. His grief would have been despair, but for this one hope. It was the sorrow of old age\u2014that insupportable sorrow\u2014the sorrow of one who is ready to cry out with every sob, and at every breath, in the desolation of a widowed heart, whenever he goes to the fireside or the table, or sees the sun set, or the sky change with the lustre of a new day, or wakes in the dead of the night from a cheerful dream of his wife\u2014his dear, dear wife, to the frightful truth; finding the heavy solitude of the grave about him, his bridal chamber dark with the atmosphere of death, his marriage bed\u2014his home\u2014his very heart, which had been occupied with a blessed and pure love a moment before, uninhabited forever.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_2006\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"434\"]\"A New England mother and baby (\"Elizabeth Clarke Freake (Mrs. John Freake) and Baby Mary\"), 1671-1674, by The Freake-Gibbs Painter<\/a>.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nHis family consisted now of this one child, who was in her tenth year, a niece in her twelfth year, and two Indians who did the drudgery of the house, and were treated as members of the family, eating at the same table and of the same food as the preacher. One was a female who bore the name of Tituba<\/a>; the other a praying warrior, who had become a by-word among the tribes of the north, and a show in the houses of the white men.\r\n\r\nThe preacher had always a belief in witchcraft, and so had every body else that he knew; but he had never been afraid of witches till after the death of his wife. He had been a little too ready perhaps to put faith in every tale that he heard about apparition or shadow, star-shooting or prophecy, unearthly musick, or spirits going abroad through the very streets of Salem village, and over the green fields, and along by the sea shore,\u00a0the wilderness, the rock and the hill-top, and always at noon-day, and always without a shadow\u2014shapes of death, who never spoke but with a voice like that of the wind afar off, nor moved without making the air cold about them; creatures from the deep sea, who are known to the pious and the gifted by their slow smooth motion over the turf, and by their quiet, grave, unchangeable eyes. But though he had been too ready to believe in such things, from his youth up, he had never been much afraid of them, till after he found himself widowed forever, as he drew near, arm in arm with an angel, to the very threshold of eternity; separated by death, in his old age, from a good and beautiful, and young wife, just when he had no other hope\u2014no other joy\u2014nothing but her and her sweet image, the babe, to care for underneath the sky. Are we to have no charity for such a man\u2014weak though he appear\u2014a man whose days were passed by the grave where his wife lay, and whose nights were passed literally in her death-bed; a man living away and apart from all that he knew, on the very outskirts of the solitude, among those who had no fear\u00a0but<\/i>\u00a0of shadows and spirits, and witchcraft and witches? We should remember that his faith after all, was the faith, not so much of the man, as of the age he lived in, the race he came of, and the life that he led. Hereafter, when posterity shall be occupied with our doings, they may wonder at our faith\u2014perhaps at our credulity, as we now wonder at his.\r\n\r\nBut the babe grew, and a new hope flowered in his heart, for she was the very image of her mother; and there was her little cousin too, Bridget Pope, a child of singular beauty and very tall of her age\u2014how\u00a0could<\/i>\u00a0he be unhappy, when he heard their sweet voices ringing together?\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1974\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"492\"]\"1670 Puritan children of New England (\"David, Joanna and Abigail Mason\"), 1670, by the Freake-Gibbs Painter.[\/caption]\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER IV.<\/h3>\r\nBridget Pope was of a thoughtful serious turn\u2014the little Abby the [pb_glossary id=\"1976\"]veriest[\/pb_glossary] [pb_glossary id=\"1977\"]romp [\/pb_glossary]that ever breathed. Bridget was the elder, by about a year and a half, but she looked five years older than Abby, and was in every way a remarkable child. Her beauty was like her stature, and both were above her age; and her aptitude for learning was the talk of all that knew her. She was a favorite every where and with every body\u2014she had such a sweet way with her, and was so unlike the other children of her age\u2014so that when she appeared to merit reproof, as who will not in the heyday of innocent youth, it was quite impossible to reprove her, except with a mild voice, or a kind look, or a very affectionate word or two. She would keep away from her slate and book for whole days together, and sit for half an hour at a time without moving her eyes off the page, or turning away her head from the little window of their school-house, (a log-hut plastered with blue clay in stripes and patches, and lighted with horn, oiled-paper and [pb_glossary id=\"2194\"]isinglass[\/pb_glossary]) which commanded a view of Naumkeag, or Salem village, with a part of the original woods of North America\u2014huge trees that were found there on the first arrival of the white man, crowded together and covered with moss and dropping to pieces of old age; a meeting-house with a short wooden spire, and the figure of death<\/a> on the top for a [pb_glossary id=\"1248\"]weather-cock[\/pb_glossary], a multitude of cottages that appeared to be lost in the landscape, and a broad beautiful approach from the sea.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1979\" align=\"alignnone\" width=\"1544\"]\"Map \"Map of Salem Village<\/a> 1692,\" 1866, by William Phineas Upham.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nSpeak softly to Bridget Pope at such a time, or look at her with a look of love, and her quiet eyes would fill, and her childish heart would run over\u2014it would be impossible to say why. But if you spoke sharply to her, when her head was at the little window, and her thoughts were away, nobody knew where, the poor little thing would grow pale and serious, and look at you with such a look of sorrow\u2014and then go away and do what she was bid with a gravity that would go to your heart. And it would require a whole day after such a rebuke to restore the dye of her sweet lips, or to persuade her that you were not half so angry as you might have appeared. At every sound of your voice, at every step that came near, she would catch her breath, and start and look up, as if she expected something dreadful to happen.\r\n\r\nBut as for Abigail Paris, the pretty little blue-eyed cousin of Bridget Pope, there was no dealing with her in that way. If you shook your finger at her, she would laugh in your face; and if you did it with a grave air, ten to one but she made you laugh too. If you scolded her, she would scold you in return but always in such a way that you could not possibly be angry with her; she would mimic your step with her little naked feet, or the toss of your head, or the very curb of your mouth perhaps, while you were trying to terrify her. The little wretch!\u2014everybody was tired to death of her in half an hour, and yet everybody was glad to see her again. Such was Abigail Paris, before Bridget Pope came to live in the house with her, but in the course of about half a year after that, she was so altered that her very play-fellows twitted her with being \u201cafeard o\u2019 Bridgee Pope.\u201d She began to be tidy in her dress, to comb her bright hair, to speak low, to keep her shoes on her feet, and her stockings from about her heels, and before a twelvemonth was over, she left off wading in the snow, and grew very fond of her book.\r\n\r\nThey were always together now, creeping about under the old beach-trees, or hunting for hazle nuts, or searching for sun-baked apples in the short thick grass, or feeding the fish in the smooth clear sea\u2014Bridget poring over a story that she had picked up, nobody knows where, and Abigail, whatever the story might be, and although the water might stand in her eyes at the time, always ready for a roll in the wet grass, a dip in the salt wave, or a slide from the very top of the [pb_glossary id=\"1975\"]haymow[\/pb_glossary]. They rambled about in the great woods together on tip-toe, holding their breath and saying their prayers at every step; they lay down together and slept together on the very track of the wolf, or the she-bear; and if they heard a noise afar off, a howl or a war-whoop, they crept in among the flowers of the solitary spot and were safe, or hid themselves in the shadow of trees that were spread out over the whole sky, or of shrubbery that appeared to cover the whole earth\u2014\r\n

Where the wild grape hangs dropping in the shade,<\/span><\/p>\r\n\r\n

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O\u2019er unfledged minstrels that beneath are laid;[footnote]Possibly written by Ann S. Stephens (1810-1886); a search alleges this phrase is within The Works of Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, Volume 2.[\/footnote]<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n
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<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\n<\/div>\r\nWhere the scarlet barberry glittered among the sharp green leaves like threaded bunches of coral,\u2014where at every step the more brilliant [pb_glossary id=\"1983\"]ivory-plumbs[\/pb_glossary] or clustered [pb_glossary id=\"1985\"]bunch-berries[\/pb_glossary] rattled among the withered herbage and rolled about their feet like a handful of beads,\u2014where they delighted to go even while they were afraid to speak above a whisper, and kept fast hold of each other\u2019s hands, every step of the way. Such was their love, such their companionship, such their behaviour while oppressed with fear. They were never apart for a day, till the time of our story; they were together all day and all night, going to sleep together and waking up together, feeding out of the same cup, and sleeping in the same bed, year after year.\r\n\r\n[h5p id=\"31\"]\r\n\r\nBut just when the preacher was ready to believe that his Father above had not altogether deserted him\u2014for he was ready to cry out with joy whenever he looked upon these dear children; they were so good and so beautiful, and they loved each other so entirely; just when there appeared to be no evil in his path, no shadow in his way to the grave, a most alarming change took place in their behavior to each other. He tried to find out the cause, but they avoided all inquiry. He talked with them together, he talked with them apart, he tried every means in his power to know the truth, but all to no purpose. They were afraid of each other, and that was all that either would say. Both were full of mischief and appeared to be possessed with a new temper. They were noisy and spiteful toward each other, and toward every body else. They were continually hiding away from each other in holes and corners, and if they were pursued and plucked forth to the light, they were always found occupied with mischief above their age. Instead of playing together as they were wont, or sitting together in peace, they would creep away under the tables and chairs and beds, and behave as if they were hunted by something which nobody else could see; and they would lie there by the hour, snapping and snarling at each other, and at everybody that passed near. They had no longer the look of health, or of childhood, or of innocence. They were meagre and pale, and their eyes were fiery, and their fingers were skinny and sharp, and they delighted in devilish tricks and in outcries yet more devilish. They would play by themselves in the dead of the night, and shriek with a preternatural voice, and wake everybody with strange laughter\u2014a sort of smothered giggle, which\u00a0would appear to issue from the [pb_glossary id=\"1973\"]garret[\/pb_glossary], or from the top of the house, while they were asleep, or pretending to be dead asleep in the great room below. They would break out all over in a fine sweat like the dew on a rose bush, and fall down as if they were struck to the heart with a knife, while they were on the way to meeting or school, or when the elders of the church were talking to them and every eye was fixed on their faces with pity or terror. They would grow pale as death in a moment, and seem to hear voices in the wind, and shake as with an [pb_glossary id=\"555\"]ague[\/pb_glossary] while standing before a great fire, and look about on every side with such a piteous look for children, whenever it thundered or lightened, or whenever the sea roared, that the eyes of all who saw them would fill with tears. They would creep away backwards from each other on their hands and feet, or hide their faces in the lap of the female Indian Tituba, and if the preacher spoke to them, they would fall into a stupor, and awake with fearful cries and appear instantly covered all over with marks and spots like those which are left by pinching or bruising the flesh. They would be struck dumb while repeating the Lord\u2019s prayer<\/a>, and all their features would be distorted with a savage and hateful expression.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1995\" align=\"alignright\" width=\"413\"]\"Old Old church on Witch Hill, Salem, Mass., 1850-1930. New York Public Library.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nThe heads of the church were now called together, and a day of general fasting, humiliation and prayer was appointed, and after that, the best medical men of the whole country were consulted, the pious and the gifted, the interpreters of dreams, the [pb_glossary id=\"1944\"]soothsayers[\/pb_glossary], and the prophets of the Lord, every man of power, and every woman of power,\u2014but no relief was had, no cure, no hope of cure.\r\n\r\nMatthew Paris now began to be afraid of his own child. She was no longer the hope of his heart, the joy his old age, the live miniature of his buried wife. She\u00a0was an evil thing\u2014she was what he had no courage to think of, as he covered his old face and tore his white hair with a grief that would not be rebuked nor appeased. A new fear fell upon him, and his knees smote together, and the hair of his flesh rose, and he saw a spirit, and the spirit said to him look! And he looked, and lo! the truth appeared to him; for he saw neighbour after neighbour flying from his path, and all the heads of the church keeping aloof and whispering together in a low voice. Then knew he that Bridget Pope and Abigail Paris were bewitched.\r\n\r\nA week passed over, a whole week, and every day and every hour they grew worse and worse, and the solitude in which he lived, more dreadful to him; but just when there appeared to be no hope left, no chance for escape, just when he and the few that were still courageous enough to speak with him, were beginning to despair, and to wish for the speedy death of the little sufferers, dear as they had been but a few weeks before to everybody that knew them, a discovery was made which threw the whole country into a new [pb_glossary id=\"321\"]paroxysm[\/pb_glossary] of terror. The savages who had been for a great while in the habit of going to the house of the preacher to eat and sleep \u201cwithout money and without price,\u201d were now seen to keep aloof and to be more than usually grave; and yet when they were told of the children\u2019s behaviour, they showed no sort of surprise, but shook their heads with a smile, and went their way, very much as if they were prepared for it.\r\n\r\nWhen the preacher heard this, he called up the two Indians before him, and spoke to Tituba and prayed to know why her people who for years had been in the habit of lying before his hearth, and eating at his table, and coming in and going out of his habitation at all hours of\u00a0the day and night, were no longer seen to approach his door.\r\n\r\n\u201cTituppa no say\u2014Tituppa no know,\u201d she replied.\r\n\r\nBut\u00a0as<\/i>\u00a0she replied, the preacher saw her make a sign to Peter Wawpee, her [pb_glossary id=\"1945\"]Sagamore[\/pb_glossary], who began to show his teeth as if he knew something more than he chose to tell; but before the preacher could rebuke him as he deserved, or pursue the inquiry with Tituba, his daughter screamed out and fell upon her face and lay for a long while as if she were death-struck.\r\n\r\nThe preacher now bethought him of a new course, and after watching Tituba and Wawpee for several nights, became satisfied from what he saw, that she was a woman of diabolical power. A part of what he saw, he was afraid even to speak of; but he declared on oath before the judges, that he had seen sights, and heard noises that took away his bodily strength, his hearing and his breath for a time; that for nearly five weeks no one of her tribe, nor of Wawpee\u2019s tribe had slept upon his hearth, or eaten of his bread, or lifted the latch of his door either by night or by day; that notwithstanding this, the very night before, as he went by the grave-yard where his poor wife lay, he heard the whispering of a multitude; that having no fear in such a place, he made a search; and that after a long while he found his help Tituba concealed in the bushes, that he said nothing but went his way, satisfied in his own soul however that the voices he heard were the voices of her tribe; and that after the moon rose he saw her employed with a great black Shadow on the rock of death, where as every body knew, sacrifices had been offered up in other days by another people to the god of the [pb_glossary id=\"1946\"]Pagan[\/pb_glossary]\u2014the deity of the savage\u2014employed in a way that made him shiver with fright where he stood; for between her and the huge black shadow there lay what he knew to be the dead body of\u00a0his own dear child stretched out under the awful trees\u2014her image rather, for\u00a0she<\/i>\u00a0was at home and abed and asleep at the time. He would have spoken to it if he could\u2014for he saw what he believed to be the shape of his wife; he would have screamed for help if he could, but he could not get his breath, and that was the last he knew; for when he came to himself he was lying in his own bed, and Tituba was sitting by his side with a cup of broth in her hand which he took care to throw away the moment her back was turned; for she was a creature of extraordinary art, and would have persuaded him that he had never been out of his bed for the whole day.\r\n\r\nThe judges immediately issued a warrant for Tituba and Wawpee, both of whom were hurried off to jail, and after a few days of proper inquiry, by torture, she was put upon trial for witchcraft. Being sorely pressed by the word of the preacher and by the testimony of Bridget Pope and Abigail Paris, who with two more afflicted children (for the mischief had spread now in every quarter) charged her and Sarah Good<\/a> with appearing to them at all hours, and in all places, by day and by night, when they were awake and when they were asleep, and with tormenting their flesh. Tituba pleaded guilty and confessed before the judges and the people that the poor children spoke true, that she was indeed a witch, and that, with several of her sister witches of great power\u2014among whom was mother Good, a miserable woman who lived a great way off, nobody knew where\u2014and passed the greater part of her time by the sea-side, nobody knew how, she had been persuaded by the black man to pursue and worry and vex them. But the words were hardly out of her mouth before she herself was taken with a fit, which lasted so long that the judges believed her to be dead. She was lifted up and carried out into the air; but though she recovered her speech and her\u00a0strength in a little time, she was altered in her looks from that day to the day of her death.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_2013\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"866\"]\"Illustration \"Tituba and the Children,\" 1876-81, from A Popular History of the United States, by William Cullen Bryant and Sydney Howard Gay.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nBut as to mother Good, when they brought her up for trial, she would neither confess to the charge nor pray the court for mercy; but she stood up and mocked the jury and the people, and reproved the judges for hearkening to a body of accusers who were collected from all parts of the country, were of all ages, and swore to facts, which if they ever occurred at all, had occurred years and years before\u2014facts which it would have been impossible for her to contradict, even though they had all been, as a large part of them obviously were, the growth of mistake or of superstitious dread. Her behavior was full of courage during the trial; and after the trial was over, and up to the last hour and last breath of her life, it was the same.\r\n\r\nYou are a liar! said she to a man who called her a witch to her teeth, and would have persuaded her to confess and live. You are a liar, as God is my judge, Mike! I am no more a witch than you are a wizard, and you know it Mike, though you be so [pb_glossary id=\"1948\"]glib[\/pb_glossary] at prayer; and if you take away my life, I tell you now that you and yours, and the people here, and the judges and the elders who are now thirsting for my blood shall rue the work of this day, forever and ever, in [pb_glossary id=\"1949\"]sackcloth[\/pb_glossary] and ashes; and I tell you further as Elizabeth Hutchinson told you, Ah ha! ... how do you like the sound of that name, Judges? You begin to be afraid I see; you are all quiet enough now!... But I say to you nevertheless, and I say to you here, even here, with my last breath, as Mary Dyer said to you with her last breath, and as poor Elizabeth Hutchinson said to you with hers, if you take away my life, the wrath of God shall pursue you!\u2014you and yours!\u2014forever and ever! Ye\u00a0are wise men that I see, and mighty in faith, and ye should be able with such faith to make the deep boil like a pot, as they swore to you I did, to remove mountains, yea to shake the whole earth by a word\u2014mighty in faith or how could you have swallowed the story of that knife-blade, or the story of the sheet? Very wise are you, and holy and fixed in your faith, or how could you have borne with the speech of that bold man, who appeared to you in court, and stood face to face before you, when you believed him to be afar off or lying at the bottom of the sea, and would not suffer you to take away the life even of such a poor unhappy old creature as I am, without reproving you as if he had authority from the Judge of judges and the King of kings to stay you in your faith!\r\n\r\nPoor soul but I do pity thee! whispered a man who stood near with a coiled rope in one hand and a drawn sword in the other. It was the high-sheriff.\r\n\r\nHer eyes filled and her voice faltered for the first time, when she heard this, and she put forth her hand with a smile, and assisted him in preparing the rope, saying as the cart stopped under the large beam, Poor soul indeed!\u2014You are too soft-hearted for your office, and of the two, you are more to be pitied than the poor old woman you are a-going to choke.\r\n\r\nMighty in faith she continued, as the high-sheriff drew forth a watch and held it up for her to see that she had but a few moments to live. I address myself to you, ye Judges of Israel! and to you ye teachers of truth! Believe ye that a mortal woman of my age, with a rope about her neck, hath power to prophesy? If ye do, give ear to my speech and remember my words. For death, ye shall have death! For blood, ye shall have blood\u2014blood on the earth! blood in the sky! blood in\u00a0the waters! Ye shall drink blood and breathe blood, you and yours, for the work of this day!\r\n\r\nWoman, woman! we pray thee to forbear! cried a voice from afar off.\r\n\r\nI shall not forbear, Cotton Mather<\/a>\u2014it is your voice that I hear. But for you and such as you, miserable men that ye are, we should now be happy and at peace one with another. I shall not forbear\u2014why should I? What have I done that I may not speak to the few that love me before we are parted by death?\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1987\" align=\"alignright\" width=\"315\"]\"Portrait \"Cottonus Matheris (Cotton Mather),\" 1727, by Peter Pelham.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nBe prepared woman\u2014if you\u00a0will<\/i>\u00a0die, for the clock is about to strike said another voice.\r\n\r\nBe prepared, sayest thou? William Phips, for I know the sound of thy voice too, thou hard-hearted miserable man! Be prepared, sayest thou? Behold\u2014\u2014stretching forth her arms to the sky, and lifting herself up and speaking so that she was heard of the people on the house-tops afar off, Lo! I am ready! Be ye also ready, for now!\u2014now!\u2014even while I speak to you, he is preparing to reward both my accusers and my judges\u2014\u2014.\r\n\r\nHe!\u2014who!\r\n\r\nWho, brother Joseph? said somebody in the crowd.\r\n\r\nWhy the Father of lies to be sure! what a question for you to ask, after having been of the jury!\r\n\r\nThou scoffer!\u2014\r\n\r\nPaul! Paul, beware!\u2014\r\n\r\nHark\u2014what\u2019s that! Lord have mercy upon us!\r\n\r\nThe Lord have mercy upon us! cried the people, giving way on every side, without knowing why, and looking toward the high-sea, and holding their breath.\r\n\r\nPho, pho, said the scoffer, a grey-haired man who stood leaning over his crutch with eyes full of pity\u00a0and sorrow, pho, pho, the noise that you hear is only the noise of the tide.\r\n\r\nNay, nay, Elder Smith, nay, nay, said an associate of the speaker. If it is only the noise of the tide, why have we not heard it before? and why do we not hear it now? just now, when the witch is about to be\u2014\r\n\r\nTrue ... true ... it may not be the Evil one, after all.\r\n\r\nThe Evil one, Joe Libby! No, no! it is God himself, our Father above! cried the witch, with a loud voice, waving her arms upward, and fixing her eye upon a group of two or three individuals who stood aloof, decorated with the badges of authority. Our Father above, I say! The Governor of governors, and the Judge of judges!... The cart began to move here....\u00a0He<\/i>\u00a0will reward you for the work of this day! He will refresh you with blood for it! and you too Jerry Pope, and you too Micajah Noyes, and you too Job Smith, and you ... and you ... and you....\r\n\r\nYea of a truth! cried a woman who stood apart from the people with her hands locked and her eyes fixed upon the chief-judge. It was Rachel Dyer, the grandchild of Mary Dyer. Yea of a truth! for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that spilleth his brother\u2019s blood, or taketh his sister\u2019s life by the law\u2014and her speech was followed by a shriek from every hill-top and every house-top, and from every tree and every rock within sight of the place, and the cart moved away, and the body of the poor old creature swung to and fro in the convulsions of death.\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER V.<\/h3>\r\n<\/div>\r\nIt is not a little remarkable that within a few days after the death of Sarah Good, a part of her pretended prophecy, that which was directed by her to the man who called her a witch at the place of death, was verified upon him, letter by letter, as it were.\r\n\r\nHe was way-laid by a party of the Mohawks<\/a>, and carried off to answer to the tribe for having reported of them that they ate the flesh of their captives.\u2014It would appear that he had lived among them in his youth, and that he was perfectly acquainted with their habits and opinions and with their mode of warfare; that he had been well treated by their chief, who let him go free at a time when he might lawfully have been put to death, according to the usages of the tribe, and that he could not possibly be mistaken about their eating the flesh of their prisoners. It would appear too, that he had been watched for, a long while before he was carried off; that his path had been beset hour after hour, and week after week, by three young warriors of the tribe, who might have shot him down, over and over again if they would, on the step of his own door, in the heart of a populous village, but they would not; for they had sworn to trap their prey alive, and to bring it off with the hide and the hair on; that after they had carried him to the territory of the Mohawks, they put him on trial for the charge face to face with a red accuser; that they found him guilty, and that, with a bitter laugh, they ordered him to\u00a0eat of the flesh of a dead man that lay bleeding on the earth before him; that he looked up and saw the old chief who had been his father when he belonged to the tribe, and that hoping to appease the haughty savage, he took some of the detestable food into his mouth, and that instantly\u2014instantly\u2014before he could utter a prayer, they fell upon him with clubs and beat him to death.\r\n\r\nHer prophecy therefore did appear to the people to be accomplished; for had she not said to this very man, that for the work of that day, \u201cHe should breathe blood and eat blood?\u201d\r\n\r\nBefore a week had passed over, the story of death, and the speech of the prophetess took a new shape, and a variety of circumstances which occurred at the trial, and which were disregarded at the time, were now thought of by the very judges of the land with a secret awe; circumstances that are now to be detailed, for they were the true cause of what will not be forgotten for ages in that part of the world ... the catastrophe of our story.\r\n\r\nAt the trial of Sarah Good, while her face was turned away from her accuser, one of the afflicted gave a loud scream, and gasping for breath, fell upon the floor at the feet of the judges, and lay there as if she had been struck down by the weight of no mortal arm; and being lifted up, she swore that she had been stabbed with a knife by the shape of Sarah Good, while Sarah Good herself was pretending to be at prayer on the other side of the house; and for proof, she put her hand into her bosom and drew forth the blade of a penknife which was bloody, and which upon her oath, she declared to have been left sticking in her flesh a moment before, by the shape of Sarah Good.\r\n\r\nThe Judges were thunderstruck. The people were mute with terror, and the wretched woman herself covered\u00a0her face with her hands; for she knew that if she looked upon the sufferers, they would shriek out, and foam at the mouth, and go into fits, and lie as if they were dead for a while; and that she would be commanded by the judges to go up to them and lay her hands upon their bodies without speaking or looking at them, and that on her doing so, they would be sure to revive, and start up, and speak of what they had seen or suffered while they were in what they called their agony.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_636\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"1024\"]\"Oil \"Examination of a Witch,\" by T. H. Matteson.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nThe jury were already on their way out for consultation\u2014they could not agree, it appeared; but when they saw this, they stopped at the door, and came back one by one to the jury box, and stood looking at each other, and at the judges, and at the poor old woman, as if they no longer thought it necessary to withdraw even for form sake, afraid as they all were of doing that, in a case of life and death, for which they might one day or other be sorry. A shadow was upon every visage of the twelve\u2014the shadow of death; a look in the eyes of everybody there, a gravity and a paleness, which when the poor prisoner saw, she started up with a low cry\u2014a cry of reproach\u2014a cry of despair\u2014and stood with her hands locked, and her mouth quivering, and her lips apart before God\u2014lips white with fear, though not with the fear of death; and looked about her on every side, as if she had no longer a hope left\u2014no hope from the jury, no hope from the multitude; nay as if while she had no longer a hope, she had no longer a desire to live.\r\n\r\nThere was a dead preternatural quiet in the house\u2014not a breath could be heard now, not a breath nor a murmur; and lo! the aged [pb_glossary id=\"2040\"]foreman[\/pb_glossary] of the jury stood forth and laid his hands upon the Book of the Law, and lifted up his eyes and prepared to utter the verdict of death; but before he could speak so as to be heard, for his\u00a0heart was over-charged with sorrow, a tumult arose afar off like the noise of the wind in the great woods of America; or a heavy swell on the sea-shore, when a surge after surge rolls booming in from the secret reservoir of waters, like the tide of a new deluge. Voices drew near with a [pb_glossary id=\"324\"]portentous[\/pb_glossary] hoof-clatter from every side\u2014east, west, north and south, so that the people were mute with awe; and as the dread clamor approached and grew louder and louder every moment, they crowded together and held their breath, they and the judges and the preachers and the magistrates, every man persuaded in his own soul that a rescue was nigh. At last a smothered war-whoop was heard, and then a sweet cheerful noise like the laugh of a young child high up in the air\u2014and then a few words in the accent of authority, and a bustle outside of the door, which gave way as if it were spurned with a powerful foot; and a stranger appeared in the shadow of the huge trees that over-hung the door-way like a summer cloud\u2014a low, square-built [pb_glossary id=\"542\"]swarthy[\/pb_glossary] man with a heavy tread, and a bright fierce look, tearing his way through the crowd like a giant of old, and leading a beautiful boy by the hand.\"Title<\/a>\r\n\r\nWhat, ho! cried he to the chief judge, walking up to him, and standing before him, and speaking to him with a loud clear voice. What ho! captain Robert Sewall! why do ye this thing? What ho, there! addressing himself to the foreman\u00a0of the jury\u2014why speed ye so to the work of death? and you, master Bailey! and you governor Phips! and you doctor Mather, what business have ye here? And you ye judges, who are about to become the judges of life and death, how dare ye! Who gave you power to measure and weigh such mystery? Are ye gifted men\u2014all of you\u2014every man of you\u2014specially gifted from above? Are you Thomas Fisk\u2014with your\u00a0white hair blowing about your agitated mouth and your dim eyes, are\u00a0you<\/i>\u00a0able to see your way clear, that you have the courage to pronounce a verdict of death on your aged sister who stands there! And you Josh Carter, senior! and you major Zach Trip! and you Job Saltonstall! Who are ye and what are ye, men of war, that ye are able to see spirits, or that ye should become what ye are\u2014the judges of our afflicted people! And who are we, and what were our fathers, I beseech you, that we should be base enough to abide upon earth but by your leave!\r\n\r\nThe judges looked at each other in consternation.\r\n\r\nWho is it! ... who is it! cried the people as they rushed forward and gathered about him and tried to get a sight of his face. Who\u00a0can<\/i>\u00a0it be!\r\n\r\nBurroughs\u2014Bur\u2014Bur\u2014Burroughs, I\u00a0do<\/i>\u00a0believe! whispered a man who stood at his elbow, but he spoke as if he did not feel very sure of what he said.\r\n\r\nNot George Burroughs<\/a>, hey?\r\n\r\nI\u2019d take my oath of it neighbour Joe, my Bible-oath of it, leaning forward as far as he could reach with safety, and shading his eyes with his large bony hand\u2014\r\n\r\nWell, I\u00a0do<\/i>\u00a0say! whispered another.\r\n\r\nI see the scar!\u2014as I live, I do! cried another, peering over the heads of the multitude, as they rocked to the heavy pressure of the intruder.\r\n\r\nBut how altered he is! ... and how old he looks!...\u2014and shorter than ever! muttered several more.\r\n\r\nSilence there! cried the chief judge\u2014a militia-captain<\/a>, it is to be observed, and of course not altogether so lawyer-like as a judge of our day would be.\r\n\r\nSilence there! echoed the High Sheriff.\r\n\r\nNever see nobody so altered afore, continued one of the crowd, with his eye fixed on the judge\u2014I\u00a0will<\/i> say that much, afore I stop, Mr. Sheriff Berry, an\u2019 (dropping\u00a0his voice) if you don\u2019t like it, you may lump it ... who cares for you?\r\n\r\nWell\u2014an\u2019 who cares for you, if you come to that.[pb_glossary id=\"2021\"]High Sheriff[\/pb_glossary]\r\n\r\nOfficer of the court, how now! cried the chief judge in a very loud sharp voice.\r\n\r\nHere I be mister judge\u2014I ain\u2019t deef.\r\n\r\nTake that man away.\r\n\r\nI say ... you! cried the High-Sheriff, getting up and fetching the man a rap over the head with his white-oak staff ... do you hear that?\r\n\r\nHear what?\r\n\r\nWhat Mr. judge Sewall says.\r\n\r\nI don\u2019t care for Mr. judge Sewall, nor you nyther.\r\n\r\nAway with him Sir! out with him! are we to suffer this outrage on the dignity of the court ... in the House of the Lord\u2014away with him, Sir.\r\n\r\nHere\u2019s the devil to pay and no pitch hot\u2014whispered a sailor-looking fellow, in a red [pb_glossary id=\"888\"]baize[\/pb_glossary] shirt.\r\n\r\nAn\u2019 there\u2019s thirteen-[pb_glossary id=\"1988\"]pence[\/pb_glossary] for you to pay, Mr. Outlandishman, said a little neighbour, whose duty it was to watch for offenders in a small way, and fine them for swearing, drinking, or kissing their wives on the sabbath day.\r\n\r\nWhat for?\r\n\r\nWhy, for that air oath o\u2019yourn.\r\n\r\nWhat oath?\r\n\r\nWhy, you said here\u2019s the devil to pay!\r\n\r\nHa\u2014ha\u2014ha\u2014and there\u2019s thirteen-pence for\u00a0you<\/i>\u00a0to pay.\r\n\r\nYou be darned!\r\n\r\nAn\u2019 there\u2019s thirteen-pence more for you, my lad\u2014ha\u2014ha\u2014ha\u2014\r\n\r\nThe officer now drew near the individual he was ordered to remove; but he did so as if a little afraid of his man\u2014who stood up face to face with the judge, and planted his foot as if he knew of no power on earth able to move him, declaring he would\u2019nt budge a peg, now they\u2019d come to that; for the house they were in had been paid for out of the people\u2019s money, and he\u2019d as much right there as they had; but havin\u2019 said what he had to say on the subject, and bein\u2019 pooty considr\u2019ble easy on that score now, if they\u2019d mind their business he\u2019d mind his; and if\u00a0they\u2019d<\/i>\u00a0behave, he would.\r\n\r\nVery well, said the chief judge, who knew the man to be a soldier of tried bravery. Very well! you may stay where you are; I thought we should bring you to your senses, neighbour Joe.\r\n\r\nHere the stranger broke away from the crowd and leaped upon the platform, and setting his teeth and smiting the floor with a heavy iron-shod staff, he asked the judges why they did not enforce the order? why with courage to take away life, they had no courage to defend their authority. How dare ye forgive this man! said he; how dare you bandy words with such a fellow! What if you\u00a0have<\/i>\u00a0been to the war with him? Have ye not become the judges of the land? With hardihood enough to undertake the awful representation of majesty, have ye not enough to secure that majesty from outrage?\r\n\r\nWe know our own duty sir.\r\n\r\nNo such thing sir! you do not\u2014if you do, it shall be the worse for you. You are afraid of that man\u2014\r\n\r\nAfraid sir!\u2014Who are you!\r\n\r\nYes\u2014you are afraid of that man. If you are not, why allow him to disturb the gravity of such an hour as this? Know your own power\u2014Bid the High-sheriff take him into custody.\r\n\r\nA laugh here from the sturdy [pb_glossary id=\"1336\"]yeoman[\/pb_glossary], who having paid his quota for building the house, and fought his share of\u00a0the fight with the Indians, felt as free as the best of them.\r\n\r\nSpeak but the word, Sirs, and I will do what I see your officer hath not valor enough to do. Speak but the word, Sirs! and I that know your power, will obey it, (uplifting the staff as he spoke, while the fire flashed from his eyes, and the crowd gave way on every side as if it were the tomahawk or the bow of a savage)\u2014speak but the word I say! and I will strike him to the earth!\r\n\r\nGeorge Burroughs\u2014I pray thee! said a female, who sat in a dark part of the house with her head so muffled up that nobody could see her face\u2014I pray thee, George! do not strike thy brother in wrath.\r\n\r\nSpeak but the word I say, and lo! I will stretch him at your feet, if he refuse to obey me, whatever may be the peril to me or mine.\r\n\r\nI should like to see you do it, said the man. I care as little for you, my boy,\u2014throwing off his outer-garb as he spoke, and preparing for a trial of strength on the spot\u2014as little for you, George Burroughs, if that is your name, as I do for your master.\r\n\r\nWill you not speak! You see how afraid of him they all are, judges; you know how long he has braved your authority\u2014being a soldier forsooth. Speak, if ye are wise; for if ye do not\u2014\r\n\r\nGeorge! George!... No, no, George! said somebody at his elbow, with a timid voice, that appeared to belong to a child.\r\n\r\nThe uplifted staff dropped from his hand.\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER VI.<\/h3>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1989\" align=\"alignright\" width=\"242\"]\"Portrait \"Increase Mather, 1639-1723,\" 1693, artist unknown.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nHere the venerable Increase Mather<\/a> stood up, and after a short speech to the people and a few words to the court, he begged to know if the individual he saw before him was indeed the George Burroughs who had formerly been a servant of God.\r\n\r\nFormerly, sir! I am so now, I hope.\r\n\r\nThe other sat down, with a look of [pb_glossary id=\"477\"]inquietude[\/pb_glossary].\r\n\r\nYou appear to be much perplexed about me. You appear even to doubt the truth of what I say. Surely ... surely ... there are some here that know me. I know you, Doctor Mather, and you, Sir William Phips, and you ... and you ... and you; addressing himself to many that stood near\u2014it is but the other day that we were associated together; and some of us in the church, and others in the ministry; it is but the other day that\u2014\r\n\r\nHere the Judges began to whisper together.\r\n\r\n\u2014That you knew me as well as I knew you. Can I be so changed in a few short years? They have been years of sorrow to be sure, of uninterrupted sorrow, of trial and suffering, warfare and wo; but I did not suppose they had so changed me, as to make it over-hard for my very brothers in the church to know me\u2014\r\n\r\nIt\u00a0is<\/i>\u00a0Burroughs, I do believe, said another of the judges.\u2014But who is that boy with you, and by what authority are you abroad again, or alive, I might say, if you are the George Burroughs that we knew?\r\n\r\nBy what authority, Judges of Israel! By authority of the Strong Man who broke loose when the spirit of the Lord was upon him! By authority of one that hath plucked me up out of the sea, by the hair of my head, breathed into my nostrils the breath of new life, and endowed me with great power\u2014\r\n\r\nThe people drew back.\r\n\r\nYou have betrayed me; I will be a hostage for you no longer.\r\n\r\nBetrayed you!\r\n\r\nYes! and ye would have betrayed me to death, if I had not been prepared for your treachery\u2014\r\n\r\nThe man is mad, brother Sewall.\r\n\r\nYou have broken the treaty I stood pledged for; you have not been at peace for a day. You do not keep your faith. We do keep ours. You are churchmen ... we are savages; we I say, for you made me ashamed years and years ago of my relationship to the white man; years and years ago! and you are now in a fair way to make me the mortal and perpetual foe of the white man. The brave Iroquois<\/a> are now ready for battle with you. War they find to be better than peace with such as you\u2014\r\n\r\nWho is that boy?\r\n\r\nAsk him. Behold his beauty. Set him face to face, if you dare, with the girl that spoke to the knife just now.\r\n\r\nAnd [pb_glossary id=\"2195\"]wherefore[\/pb_glossary]? said one of the jury.\r\n\r\nWherefore, Jacob Elliot\u2014wherefore! Stay you in that box, and watch the boy, and hear what he has to say, and you shall be satisfied of the wherefore.\r\n\r\nBe quick Sir. We have no time to lose\u2014\r\n\r\nNo time to lose\u2014How dare ye! Is there indeed such power with you; such mighty power ... and you not afraid in the exercise of it! No time to lose! Hereafter, when you are upon your death-bed, when every\u00a0moment of your life is numbered as every moment of\u00a0her<\/i>\u00a0life is now ... the poor creature that stands there, what will you say if the words of that very speech ring in your ears? Believe me\u2014there is no such hurry. It will be time enough to-morrow, judges, a week hence or a whole year to shed the blood of a miserable woman for witchcraft. For witchcraft! alas for the credulity of man! alas for the very nature of man!\r\n\r\nMaster Burroughs! murmured a compassionate-looking old man, reaching over to lay his hand on his arm, as if to stop him, and shaking his head as he spoke.\r\n\r\nOh but I do pity you; sages though you are\u2014continued Burroughs, without regarding the interposition.\u2014For witchcraft! I wonder how you are able to keep your countenances! Do you not perceive that mother Good, as they call her, cannot be a witch?\r\n\r\nHow so? asked the judge.\r\n\r\nWould she abide your search, your trial, your judgment, if she had power to escape?\r\n\r\nAssuredly not brother, answered a man, who rose up as he spoke as if ready to dispute before the people, if permitted by the judges ... assuredly not, brother, if she had power to escape. We agree with you there. But we know that a period must arrive when the power that is paid for with the soul, the power of witchcraft and sorcery shall be withdrawn. We read of this and we believe it; and I might say that we see the proof now before us\u2014\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_2022\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"390\"]\"Frontispiece From The Witches: a Tale of New England<\/a>, 1837, book by William Leete Stone.[\/caption]\r\n

Brother, I marvel at you\u2014<\/p>\r\n\u2014If the woman be unexpectedly deserted by the Father of lies, and if we pursue our advantage now, we may be able both to succeed with her and overthrow him, and thereby (lowering his voice and stooping toward Burroughs) and thereby deter a multitude more from entering into the league of death.<\/span>\r\n\r\nSpeak low ... lower\u2014much lower, [pb_glossary id=\"2023\"]deacon[\/pb_glossary] Darby, or we shall be no match for the Father of lies: If he should happen to overhear you, the game is up, said another.\r\n\r\nFor shame, Elder Smith\u2014\r\n\r\nFor shame! cried Burroughs. Why rebuke his levity, when if we are to put faith in what you say, ye are preparing to over-reach the Evil One himself? You must play a sure game, (for it\u00a0is<\/i>\u00a0a game) if you hope to convict him of treachery in a case, where according to what you believe, his character is at stake.\r\n\r\nBrother Burroughs!\r\n\r\nBrother Willard<\/a>!\r\n\r\nForbear, I beseech you.\r\n\r\nI shall not forbear. If the woman is a witch, how do you hope to surprise her? ... to entrap her? ... to convict her? And if she is not a witch, how can she hope to go free? None but a witch could escape your toils.\r\n\r\nAh Sir.... Sir! O, Mr. Burroughs! cried the poor woman. There you have spoken the truth sir; there you have said just what I wanted to say. I knew it.... I felt it.... I knew that if I was guilty it would be better for me, than to be what you know me to be, and what your dead wife knew me to be, and both of your dead wives, for I knew them both\u2014a broken-hearted poor old woman. God forever bless you Sir! whatever may become of me\u2014however this may end, God forever bless you, Sir!\r\n\r\nBe of good faith Sarah. He whom you serve will be nigh to you and deliver you.\r\n\r\nOh Sir\u2014Sir\u2014Do not talk so. They misunderstand you\u2014they are whispering together\u2014it will be the death of me; and hereafter, it may perhaps be a trouble to you. Speak out, I beseech you! Say to them whom it\u00a0is that you mean, whom it is that I serve, and who it is that will be nigh to me and deliver me.\r\n\r\nWho it is, poor heart! why whom should it be but our Father above! our Lord and our God, Sarah? Have thou courage, and be of good cheer, and put all thy trust in him, for he hath power to deliver thee.\r\n\r\nI have\u2014I do\u2014I am no longer afraid of death sir. If they put me to death now\u2014I do not wish to live\u2014I am tired and sick of life, and I have been so ever since dear boy and his poor father\u2014I told them how it would be if they went away when the moon was at the full\u2014they were shipwrecked on the shore just underneath the window of my chamber\u2014if they put me to death now, I shall die satisfied, for I shall not go to my grave now, as I thought I should before you came, without a word or a look of pity, nor any thing to make me comfortable.\r\n\r\nJudges\u2014may the boy speak?\r\n\r\nSpeak? speak? to be sure he may, muttered old Mr. Wait Winthrop<\/a>, addressing himself to a preacher who sat near with a large Bible outspread upon his knees. What say you? what say you Brother Willard, what says the Book?\u2014no harm there, I hope; what can he have to say though, (wiping his eyes) what\u00a0can<\/i>\u00a0such a lad have to say? What say you major Gidney; what say you\u2014(half sobbing) dreadful affair this, dreadful affair; what can he possibly have to say?\r\n\r\nNot much, I am afraid, replied Burroughs, not very much; but enough I hope and believe, to shake your trust in the chief accuser. Robert Eveleth\u2014here\u2014this way\u2014shall the boy be sworn, Sir?\r\n\r\nSworn\u2014sworn?\u2014to be sure\u2014why not? very odd though\u2014very\u2014very<\/i>\u2014swear the boy\u2014very odd, I confess\u2014never saw a likelier boy of his age\u2014how old is he?\r\n\r\nThirteen Sir\u2014\r\n\r\nVery\u2014very\u2014of his height, I should say\u2014what can he know of the matter though? what can such a boy know of\u2014of\u2014however\u2014we shall see\u2014is the boy sworn?\u2014there, there\u2014\r\n\r\nThe boy stepped forth as the kind-hearted old man\u2014too kind-hearted for a judge\u2014concluded his perplexing [pb_glossary id=\"2024\"]soliloquy[\/pb_glossary], one part of which was given out with a very decided air, while another was uttered with a look of pitiable indecision\u2014stepped forth and lifted up his right hand according to the law of that people, with his large grey eyes lighted up and his fine yellow hair blowing about his head like a glory, and swore by the Everlasting God, the Searcher of Hearts, to speak the truth.\r\n\r\nEvery eye was riveted upon him, for he stood high upon a sort of stage, in full view of everybody, and face to face to all who had sworn to the spectre-knife, and his beauty was terrible.\r\n\r\nStand back, stand back ... what does that child do there? said another of the judges, pointing to a poor little creature with a pale anxious face and very black hair, who had crept close up to the side of Robert Eveleth, and sat there with her eyes lifted to his, and her sweet lips apart, as if she were holding her breath.\r\n\r\nWhy, what are you afeard of now, Bridgee Pope? said another voice. Get away from the boy\u2019s feet, will you ... why don\u2019t you move? ... do you hear me?\r\n\r\nNo ... I do not, she replied.\r\n\r\nYou do not! what did you answer me for, if you didn\u2019t hear me?\r\n\r\nWhy ... why ... don\u2019t you see the poor little thing\u2019s bewitched? whispered a bystander.\r\n\r\nVery true ... very true ... let her be, therefore, let her stay where she is.\r\n\r\nPoor babe! she don\u2019t hear a word you say.\r\n\r\nO, but she dooze, though, said the boy, stooping down\u00a0and smoothing her thick hair with both hands; I know her of old, I know her better than you do; she hears every word you say ... don\u2019t you be afeard, Bridgee Pope;\u00a0I\u2019m<\/i>\u00a0not a goin\u2019 to be afeard of the Old Boy himself....\r\n\r\nWhy Robert Eveleth! was the reply.\r\n\r\nWell, Robert Eveleth, what have you to say? asked the chief-judge.\r\n\r\nThe boy stood up in reply, and threw back his head with a brave air, and set his foot, and fixed his eye on the judge, and related what he knew of the knife. He had broken it a few days before, he said, while he and the witness were playing together; he threw away a part of the blade, which he saw her pick up, and when he asked her what she wanted of it, she wouldn\u2019t say ... but he knew her well, and being jest outside o\u2019 the door when he heard her screech, and saw her pull a piece of the broken blade out of her flesh and hold it up to the jury, and say how the shape of old mother Good, who was over tother side o\u2019 the house at the time, had stabbed her with it, he guessed how the judge would like to see the tother part o\u2019 the knife, and hear what he had to say for himself, but he couldn\u2019t get near enough to speak to nobody, and so he thought he\u2019d run off to the school-house, where he had left the handle o\u2019 the knife, an\u2019 try to get a mouthful o\u2019 fresh air; and so ... and so ... arter he\u2019d got the handle, sure enough, who should he see but that are man there (pointing to Burroughs) stavin\u2019 away on a great black horse with a club\u2014that very club he had now.\u2014\u201cWhereupon,\u201d added the boy, \u201chere\u2019s tother part o\u2019 the knife, judge\u2014I say ... you ... Mr. judge ... here\u2019s tother part o\u2019 the knife ... an\u2019 so he stopped me an\u2019 axed me where the plague I was runnin to; an\u2019 so I up an\u2019 tells him all I know about the knife, an\u2019 so, an\u2019 so, an\u2019 so, that air feller, what dooze he do, but he jounces me up on that air plaguy crupper and fetches me back here full split, you see, and rides over everything, and makes everybody get out o\u2019 the way, an\u2019\u00a0will<\/i>\u00a0make me tell the story whether or no ... and as for the knife now, if you put them are two pieces together, you\u2019ll see how they match.... O, you needn\u2019t be makin\u2019 mouths at me, Anne Putnam<\/a>! nor you nyther, Marey Lewis! you are no great shakes, nyther on you, and I ain\u2019t afeard o\u2019 nyther on you, though the grown people be; you wont make\u00a0me<\/i>\u00a0out a witch in a hurry, I guess.\r\n\r\nBoy ... boy ... how came you by that knife?\r\n\r\nHow came I by that knife? Ax Bridgy Pope; she knows the knife well enough, too\u2014I guess\u2014don\u2019t you, Bridgy?\r\n\r\nI guess I do, Robert Eveleth, whispered the child, the tears running down her cheeks, and every breath a sob.\r\n\r\nYou\u2019ve seen it afore, may be?\r\n\r\nThat I have, Robert Eveleth; but I never expected to see ... to see ... to see it again ... alive ... nor you neither.\r\n\r\nAnd why not, pray? said one of the judges.\r\n\r\nWhy not, Mr. Major! why, ye see \u2019tis a bit of a keep-sake she gin me, jest afore we started off on that are vyage arter the goold.\r\n\r\nThe voyage when they were all cast away, sir ... after they\u2019d fished up the gold, sir....\r\n\r\nAh, but the goold was safe then, Bridgy\u2014\r\n\r\nBut I knew how \u2019twould be Sir, said the poor girl turning to the judge with a convulsive sob, and pushing away the hair from her face and trying to get up, I never expected to see Robert Eveleth again Sir\u2014I said so too\u2014nor the knife either\u2014I said so before they went away\u2014\u2014.\r\n\r\nSo she did Mr. Judge, that\u2019s a fact; she told me so down by the beach there, just by that big tree that grows over the top o\u2019 the new school-house there\u2014You know the one I mean\u2014that one what hangs over the edge o\u2019 the hill just as if \u2019twas a-goin\u2019 to fall into the water\u2014she heard poor mother Good say as much when her Billy would go to sea whether or no, at the full o\u2019 the moon\u2014\u2014.\r\n\r\nAh!\r\n\r\nThat she did, long afore we got the ship off.\r\n\r\nPossible!\r\n\r\nAy, to be sure an\u2019 why not?\u2014She had a bit of a dream ye see\u2014such a dream too! such a beautiful dream you never heard\u2014about the lumps of goold, and the joes, and the jewels, and the women o\u2019 the sea, and about a\u2014I say, Mr. Judge, what, if you ax her to tell it over now\u2014I dare say she would; wouldn\u2019t you Bridgy? You know it all now, don\u2019t you Bridgy?\r\n\r\nNo, no Robert\u2014no, no; it\u2019s all gone out o\u2019 my head now.\r\n\r\nNo matter for the dream, boy, said a judge who was comparing the parts of the blade together\u2014no matter for the dream\u2014these are undoubtedly\u2014look here brother, look\u2014look\u2014most undoubtedly parts of the same blade.\r\n\r\nOf a truth?\r\n\r\nOf a truth, say you?\r\n\r\nYea verily, of a truth; pass the knife there\u2014pass the knife. Be of good cheer woman of sorrow\u2014\u2014.\r\n\r\nBrother! brother!\u2014\u2014.\r\n\r\nWell brother, what\u2019s to pay now?\r\n\r\nPerhaps it may be well brother\u2014perhaps<\/i>\u00a0I say, to have the judgment of the whole court before we bid the prisoner be of good cheer.\r\n\r\nHow wonderful are thy ways, O Lord! whispered\u00a0Elder Smith, as they took the parts of the blade for him to look at.\r\n\r\nVery true brother\u2014very true\u2014but who knows how the affair may turn out after all?\r\n\r\nPooh\u2014pooh!\u2014if you talk in that way the affair is all up; for whatever should happen, you would believe it a trick of the father of lies\u2014I dare say now\u2014.\r\n\r\nThe knife speaks for itself, said a judge.\r\n\r\nVery true brother\u2014very true. But he who had power to strive with Aaron the High Priest, and power to raise the dead before Saul, and power to work prodigies of old, may not lack power to do this\u2014and more, much more than this\u2014for the help of them that serve him in our day, and for the overthrow of the righteous\u2014\u2014.\r\n\r\nPooh, pooh Nathan, pooh, pooh\u2014there\u2019s no escape for any body now; your devil-at-a-pinch were enough to hang the best of us.\r\n\r\nThirteen pence for you, said the little man at the desk.\r\n\r\nHere a consultation was held by the judges and the elders which continued for half the day\u2014the incredible issue may be told in few words. The boy, Robert Eveleth, was treated with favor; the witness being a large girl was rebuked for the lie instead of being whipped; the preacher Burroughs from that day forth was regarded with unspeakable terror, and the poor old woman\u2014she was put to death in due course of law.\r\n\r\n

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CHAPTER VII.<\/h3>\r\n<\/div>\r\nMeanwhile other charges grew up, and there was a dread everywhere throughout the whole country, a deep fear in the hearts and a heavy mysterious fear in the blood of men. The judges were in array against the people, and the people against each other; and the number of the afflicted increased every day and every hour, and they were sent for from all parts of the Colony. Fasting and prayer preceded their steps, and whithersoever they went, witches and wizards were sure to be discovered. A native [pb_glossary id=\"1971\"]theologian[\/pb_glossary], a very pious and very learned writer of that day, was employed by the authorities of New England to draw up a detailed account of what he himself was an eye witness of; and he says of the unhappy creatures who appeared to be bewitched, all of whom he knew, and most of whom he saw every day of his life, that when the fit was on, they were distorted and convulsed in every limb, that they were pinched black and blue by invisible fingers, that pins were stuck into their flesh by invisible hands, that they were scalded in their sleep as with boiling water and blistered as with fire, that one of the afflicted was beset by a spectre with a spindle that nobody else could see, till in her agony she snatched it away from the shape, when it became instantly visible to everybody in the room with a quick flash, that another was haunted by a shape clothed in a white sheet which none but the afflicted herself was able to see till she tore a piece of it away, whereupon it grew visible to others about her, (it was of this particular story that Sarah Good spoke just before she was turned off) that they were pursued night and day by withered hands\u2014little outstretched groping hands with no bodies nor arms to them, that cups of blue fire and white smoke of a grateful smell, were offered them to drink while they were in bed, of which, if they tasted ever so little, as they would sometimes in their fright and hurry, their bodies would swell up and their flesh would grow livid, much as if they had been bit by a rattle snake, that burning rags were forced into their mouths or under their armpits, leaving sores that no medicine would cure, that some were branded as with a hot iron, so that very deep marks were left upon their foreheads for life, that the spectres generally personated such as were known to the afflicted, and that whenever they did so, if the shape or spectre was hurt by the afflicted, the person represented by the shape was sure to be hurt in the same way, that, for example, one of the afflicted having charged a woman of Beverly, Dorcas Hoare<\/a>, with tormenting her, and immediately afterwards, pointing to a far part of the room, cried out, there!\u2014there! there she goes now! a man who stood near, drew his [pb_glossary id=\"2026\"]rapier[\/pb_glossary] and struck at the wall, whereupon the accuser told the court he had given the shape a scratch over the right eye; and that Dorcas Hoare being apprehended a few days thereafter, it was found that she had a mark over the right eye, which after a while she confessed had been given her by the rapier; that if the accused threw a look at the witnesses, the latter, though their eyes were turned another way, would know it, and fall into a trance, out of which they would recover only at the touch of the accused, that oftentimes the flesh of the afflicted was bitten with a peculiar set of teeth corresponding precisely with the teeth of the accused, whether few or many, large or small,\u00a0broken or regular, and that after a while, the afflicted were often able to see the shapes that tormented them, and among the rest a swarthy devil of a diminutive stature, with fierce bright eyes, who carried a book in which he kept urging them to write, whereby they would have submitted themselves to the power and authority of another Black Shape, with which, if they were to be believed on their oaths, two or three of their number had slept.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_2003\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"999\"]\"Photograph Witch Pins, photograph ca. 1865\u20131914, by Frank Cousins.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nIn reply to these reputed facts however, which appear in the grave elaborate chronicles of the church, and are fortified by other facts which were testified to about the same time, in the mother country, we have the word of George Burroughs, a minister of God, who met the accusers at the time, and stood up to them face to face, and denied the truth of their charges, and braved the whole power of them that others were so afraid of.\r\n\r\nMan! man! away with her to the place of death! cried he to the chief judge, on hearing a beautiful woman with a babe at her breast, a wife and a mother acknowledge that she had lain with [pb_glossary id=\"2028\"]Beelzebub[\/pb_glossary]. Away with her! why do you let her live! why permit her to profane the House of the Lord, where the righteous are now gathered together, as ye believe? why do ye spare the few that confess\u2014would ye bribe them to live? Would ye teach them to swear away the lives and characters of all whom they are afraid of? and thus to preserve their own? Look there!\u2014that is her child\u2014her only child\u2014the babe that you see there in the lap of that aged woman\u2014she has no other hope in this world, nothing to love, nothing to care for but that babe, the man-child of her beauty. Ye are fathers!\u2014look at her streaming eyes, at her locked hands, at her pale quivering mouth, at her dishevelled hair\u2014can you wonder now at anything she says to save her boy\u2014for if she dies, he\u00a0dies? A wife and a mother! a broken-hearted wife and a young mother accused of what, if she did not speak as you have now made her speak, would separate her and her baby forever and ever!\r\n\r\nWould you have us put her to death? asked one of the judges. You appear to argue in a strange way. What is your motive?\u2014What your hope?\u2014What would you have us do? suffer them to escape who will not confess, and put all to death who do?\r\n\r\nEven so.\r\n\r\nWhy\u2014if you were in league with the Evil One yourself brother George, I do not well see how you could hit upon a method more advantageous for him.\r\n\r\nHear me\u2014I would rather die myself, unfitted as I am for death, die by the rope, while striving to stay the mischief-makers in their headlong career, than be the cause of death to such a woman as that, pleading before you though she be, with [pb_glossary id=\"2057\"]perjury[\/pb_glossary]; because of a truth she is pleading, not so much\u00a0against<\/i>\u00a0life as\u00a0for<\/i>\u00a0life, not so much against the poor old creature whom she accuses of leading her astray, as for the babe that you see there; for that boy and for its mother who is quite sure that if she die, the boy will die\u2014I say that which is true, fathers! and yet I swear to you by the\u2014\r\n\r\nThirteen-pence to you, brother B. for that!\r\n\r\n\u2014By the God of Abraham, that if her life\u2014\r\n\r\nThirteen-pence more\u2014faith!\r\n\r\nThe same to you\u2014said the outlandishman. Sharp work, hey?\r\n\r\nFool\u2014fool\u2014if it depended upon me I say, her life and that of her boy, I would order them both to the scaffold! Ye are amazed at what you hear; ye look at each other in dismay; ye wonder how it is that a mortal man hath courage to speak as I speak. And yet\u2014hear me! Fathers of New-England, hear me! beautiful as the boy is, and beautiful as the mother is, I would put the mark\u00a0of death upon her forehead, even though his death were certain to follow, because if I did so, I should be sure that a stop would be put forever to such horrible stories.\r\n\r\nI thought so, said major Gidney\u2014I thought so, by my [pb_glossary id=\"2029\"]troth[\/pb_glossary], leaning over the seat and speaking in a whisper to judge Saltanstall, who shook his head with a mysterious air, and said\u2014nothing.\r\n\r\nYe would save by her death, O, ye know not how much of human life!\r\n\r\nBrother Burroughs!\r\n\r\nBrother Willard!\u2014what is there to shock you in what I say? These poor people who are driven by you to perjury, made to confess by your absurd law, will they stop with confession? Their lives are at stake\u2014will they not be driven to accuse? Will they not endeavor to make all sure?\u2014to fortify their stories by charging the innocent, or those of whom they are afraid? Will they stop where you would have them stop? Will they not rather come to believe that which they hear, and that of which they are afraid?\u2014to believe each other, even while they know that what they themselves do swear is untrue?\u2014May they not strive to anticipate each other, to show their zeal or the sincerity of their faith?\u2014And may they not, by and by\u2014I pray you to consider this\u2014may they not hereafter charge the living and the mighty as they have [pb_glossary id=\"523\"]hitherto[\/pb_glossary] charged the dead, and the poor, and the weak?\r\n\r\nWell\u2014\r\n\r\nWell!\r\n\r\nYes\u2014well!\u2014what more have you to say?\r\n\r\nWhat more! why, if need be, much more! You drive people to confession, I say\u2014you drive them to it, step by step, as with a scourge of iron. Their lives are at stake, I\u00a0will<\/i> say\u2014yet more\u2014I mean to say much more now; now that you will provoke me to it. I say now that you\u2014you\u2014ye judges of the land!\u2014you<\/i>\u00a0are the cause of all that we suffer! The accused are obliged to accuse. They have no other hope. They lie\u2014and you know it, or should know it\u2014and you know, as well as I do, that they have no other hope, no other chance of escape. All that have hitherto confessed are alive now. All that have denied your charges, all that have withstood your mighty temptation\u2014they are all in the grave\u2014all\u2014all\u2014\r\n\r\nBrother\u2014we have read in the Scriptures of Truth, or at least I have, that of old, a woman had power to raise the dead. If she was upon her trial now, would you not receive her confession? I wait your reply.\r\n\r\nReceive it, governor Phips! no\u2014no\u2014not without proof that she had such power.\r\n\r\nProof\u2014how?\r\n\r\nHow! Ye should command her to raise the dead for proof\u2014to raise the dead in your presence. You are consulting together; I see that you pity me. Nevertheless, I say again, that if these people are what they say they are, they should be made to prove it by such awful and irresistible proof\u2014ah!\u2014what are ye afraid of, judges?\r\n\r\nWe are not afraid.\r\n\r\nYe are afraid\u2014ye are\u2014and of that wretched old woman there!\r\n\r\nWhat if we call for the proof now\u2014will you endure it?\r\n\r\nEndure it! Yes\u2014whatever it may be. Speak to her. Bid her do her worst\u2014I have no fear\u2014you are quaking with fear. I defy the Power of Darkness; you would appear to tremble before it. And here I set my foot\u2014and here I call for the proof! Are they indeed witches?\u2014what can be easier than to overthrow such an adversary as I am? Why do ye look at me as if I were mad\u2014you are prepared to see me drop down perhaps,\u00a0or to cry out, or to [pb_glossary id=\"1758\"]give up the ghost[\/pb_glossary]? Why do ye shake your heads at me? What have I to fear? And why is it I beseech you, that\u00a0you<\/i>\u00a0are not moved by the [pb_glossary id=\"2030\"]evil-eye[\/pb_glossary] of that poor woman? Why is it, I pray you, fathers and judges, that they alone who bear witness against her are troubled by her look?\r\n\r\nBrother Sewall, said one of the judges who had been brought up to the law; Master Burroughs, I take it, is not of counsel for the prisoner at the bar?\r\n\r\nAssuredly not, brother.\r\n\r\nNor is he himself under the charge?\r\n\r\nThe remark is proper, said Burroughs. I am aware of all you would say. I have no right perhaps to open my mouth\u2014\r\n\r\nNo right, perhaps?\u2014no\u00a0right<\/i>\u00a0brother B., said Winthrop\u2014no right, we believe?\u2014but\u2014if the prosecutors will suffer it?\u2014why, why\u2014we have no objection, I suppose\u2014I am sure\u2014have we brother G.?\r\n\r\nNone at all. What say you Mr. [pb_glossary id=\"2031\"]Attorney-general[\/pb_glossary]?\r\n\r\nSay Sir! What do I say Sir! why Sir, I say Sir, that such a thing was never heard of before! and I say Sir, that it is against all rule Sir! If the accused require counsel, the court have power to assign her suitable counsel\u2014such counsel to be of the law, Sir!\u2014and being of the law Sir, he would have no right Sir, you understand Sir,\u2014no right Sir\u2014to address the jury, Sir\u2014as you did the other day Sir\u2014in Rex versus Good, Sir,\u2014none at all Sir!\r\n\r\nIndeed\u2014what may such counsel do then?\r\n\r\nDo Sir! do!\u2014why Sir, he may cross-examine the witnesses.\r\n\r\nReally!\r\n\r\nTo be sure he may Sir! and what is more, he may argue points of law to the court if need be.\r\n\r\nIndeed!<\/span>\r\n\r\nYes\u2014but only points of law.\r\n\r\nThe court have power to grant such leave, hey?\r\n\r\nYes, that we have, said a judge. You may speak us a speech now, if you will; but I would have you confine yourself to the charge.\u2014\r\n\r\nHere the prosecutor stood up, and saying he had made out his case, prayed the direction of the court\u2014\r\n\r\nNo, no, excuse me, said Burroughs; no, no, you have taught me how to proceed Sir, and I shall undertake for the wretched woman, whatever may be thought or said by the man of the law.\r\n\r\nProceed Mr. Burroughs\u2014you are at liberty to proceed.\r\n\r\nWell Martha, said Burroughs\u2014I am to be your counsel now. What have you to say for yourself?\r\n\r\nThe lawyers interchanged a sneer with each other.\r\n\r\nMe\u2014nothin\u2019 at all, Sir.\r\n\r\nHave you nobody here to speak for you?\r\n\r\nFor me!\u2014Lord bless you, no! Nobody cares for poor Martha.\r\n\r\nNo witnesses?\r\n\r\nWitnesses!\u2014no indeed, but if you want witnesses, there\u2019s a power of witnesses.\r\n\r\nWhere?\u2014\r\n\r\nThere\u2014there by the box there\u2014\r\n\r\nPoor Martha! You do not understand me; the witnesses you see there belong to the other side.\r\n\r\nWell, what if they do?\r\n\r\nHave you no witnesses of your own, pray?\r\n\r\nOf my own! Lord you\u2014there now\u2014don\u2019t be cross with me. How should poor Martha know\u2014they never told me;\u2014what are they good for?\r\n\r\nBut is there nobody here acquainted with you?\r\n\r\nAnd if there was, what would that prove? said a man of the law.\r\n\r\nMy stars, no! them that know\u2019d me know\u2019d enough to keep away, when they lugged me off to jail.\r\n\r\nAnd so there\u2019s nobody here to say a kind word for you, if your life depended on it?\r\n\r\nNo Sir\u2014nobody at all\u2014nobody cares for Martha. Gracious God\u2014what unspeakable simplicity!\r\n\r\nO, I forgot Sir, I forgot! cried Martha, leaning over the bar and clapping her hands with a cry of childish joy. I did see neighbor Joe Trip, t\u2019other day, and I told him he ought to stick by me\u2014\r\n\r\nWell where is he\u2014what did he say?\r\n\r\nWhy he said he\u2019d rather not, if \u2019twas all the same to me.\r\n\r\nHe\u2019d rather not\u2014where does he live?\r\n\r\nAnd I spoke to three more, said a bystander, but they wouldn\u2019t come so fur, some was afeared, and some wouldn\u2019t take the trouble.\r\n\r\nAh! is that you, Jeremiah?\u2014how d\u2019ye do, how d\u2019ye do?\u2014all well I hope at your house?\u2014an\u2019 so they wouldn\u2019t come, would they?\u2014I wish they would though, for I\u2019m tired o\u2019 stayin\u2019 here; I\u2019d do as much for them\u2014\r\n\r\nHear you that judges! They would not come to testify in a matter of life and death. What are their names?\u2014where do they live?\u2014they shall be made to come.\r\n\r\nYou\u2019ll excuse me, said the prosecutor. You are the day after the fair; it\u2019s too late now.\r\n\r\nToo late! I appeal to the judges\u2014too late!\u2014would you persuade me Sir, that it is ever too late for mercy, while there is yet room for mercy? I speak to the judges\u2014I pray them to make use of their power, and to have these people who keep away at such a time brought hither by force.\r\n\r\nThe court have no such power, said the Attorney-General.\r\n\r\nHow Sir! have they not power to compel a witness to attend?\r\n\r\nTo be sure they have\u2014on the part of the crown.\r\n\r\nOn the part of the crown!\r\n\r\nYes.\r\n\r\nAnd not on the part of a prisoner?\r\n\r\nNo.\r\n\r\nNo! can this be the law?\r\n\r\nEven so, said a judge.\r\n\r\nWell, well\u2014poor Martha!\r\n\r\nWhat\u2019s the matter now?\u2014what ails you, Mr. Burroughs?\r\n\r\nMartha\u2014\r\n\r\nSir!\r\n\r\nThere\u2019s no hope Martha.\r\n\r\nHope?\r\n\r\nNo Martha, no; there\u2019s no hope for you. They\u00a0will<\/i>\u00a0have you die.\r\n\r\nDie!\u2014me!\u2014\r\n\r\nYes, poor Martha\u2014you.\r\n\r\nMe!\u2014what for?\u2014what have I done?\r\n\r\nO that your accusers were not rock, Martha!\r\n\r\nRock!\r\n\r\nO that your judges could feel! or any that anybody who knows you would appear and speak to your piety and your simplicity!\r\n\r\nLaw Sir\u2014how you talk!\r\n\r\nWhy as for that now, said Jeremiah Smith, who stood by her, wiping his eyes and breathing very hard; here am I, Sir, an\u2019 ready to say a good word for the poor soul, if I die for it; fact is, you see, Mr. Judge Sewall I\u2019ve know\u2019d poor Martha Cory<\/a>\u2014hai\u2019nt I Martha?\u2014\r\n\r\nSo you have Jerry Smith.\r\n\r\n\u2014Ever since our Jeptha warn\u2019t more\u2019n so high,\u2014\r\n\r\nStop Sir, if you please, you are not sworn yet, said one of the judges.\r\n\r\nVery true\u2014swear him, added another.\r\n\r\nYou\u2019ll excuse me, said the Attorney-general. I say, you\u2014what\u2019s your name?\r\n\r\nJerry Smith.\r\n\r\nAnd you appear on the side of the prisoner at the bar, I take it?\r\n\r\nWell, what if I do?\r\n\r\nWhy in that case, you see, you are not to be sworn, that\u2019s all.\r\n\r\nNot sworn! cried Burroughs. And why not Sir?\r\n\r\nWhy we never allow the witnesses that appear against the crown, to take the oath.\r\n\r\nAgainst the crown Sir! what on earth has the crown to do here?\u2014what have we to do with such absurdity?\r\n\r\nHave a care, brother Burroughs!\r\n\r\nDo you know Sir\u2014do you know that, if this man be not allowed to say what he has to say on oath, less credit will be given to what he says?\r\n\r\nCan\u2019t help that Sir.\u2014Such is the law.\r\n\r\nJudges\u2014judges\u2014do ye hear that?\u2014can<\/i>\u00a0this be the law? Will you give the sanction of oaths to whatever may be said here against life?\u2014and refuse their sanction to whatever may be said for life? Can such be the law?\r\n\r\nThe judges consulted together and agreed that such was the law, the law of the mother-country and therefore the law of colonies.\r\n\r\nOf a truth, said Burroughs, in reply; of a truth, I can perceive now why it is, if a man appear to testify in\u00a0favor<\/i>\u00a0of human life that he is regarded as a witness against the crown.\u2014God help such crowns, I say!\r\n\r\nBrother!\u2014dear brother!\r\n\r\nGod help such crowns, I say! What an idea of kingship\u00a0it gives! What a fearful commentary on the guardianship of monarchs! How much it says in a word or two of their fatherly care! He who is\u00a0for<\/i>\u00a0the subject, even though a life be at stake, is therefore\u00a0against<\/i>\u00a0the king!\r\n\r\nBeware of that Sir.\u2014You are on the very threshold of treason.\r\n\r\nBe it so.\u2014If there is no other way, I will step over that threshold\u2014.\r\n\r\nIf you do Sir, it will be into your grave.\u2014\r\n\r\nSir!\u2014\r\n\r\nDear brother, I beseech you!\r\n\r\nEnough\u2014enough\u2014I have nothing more to do\u2014nothing more to say, Sir\u2014not another word, Sir\u2014forgive me Sir\u2014I\u2014I\u2014I\u2014the tears of the aged I cannot bear; the sorrow of such as are about to go before God, I am not able, I never was able to bear. I beseech you, however, to look with pity upon the poor soul there\u2014poor Martha!\u2014let her gray hairs plead with you, as your gray hairs plead with me\u2014I\u2014I\u2014proceed, Mr. Attorney-General.\r\n\r\nI have nothing more to say?\r\n\r\nNothing more to say!\r\n\r\nWith submission to the court\u2014nothing.\r\n\r\nDo you throw up the case then? said a judge.\r\n\r\nThrow up the case! no indeed\u2014no!\u2014But if Mr. Counsellor Burroughs here, who has contrived in my humble opinion, to make the procedure of this court appear\u2014that is to say\u2014with all due submission\u2014appear to be not much better than a laughing-stock to the\u2014to the\u2014to my brethren of the bar\u2014if Mr. Burroughs, I say, if he has nothing more to say\u2014I beg leave to say\u2014that is to say\u2014that I have nothing more to say\u2014.\r\n\r\nSay\u2014say\u2014say\u2014whispered one of his brethren of the bar\u2014what say you to that Mr. Burroughs?\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER VIII.<\/h3>\r\n<\/div>\r\nWhat\u00a0should<\/i>\u00a0I say? replied Burroughs. What would you have me say? standing up and growing very pale. What would you have me say, you that are of counsel for the prisoner, you! the judges of the court? You that appear to rejoice when you see the last hope of the prisoner about to be made of no value to her, by the trick and subterfuge of the law. Why do you not speak to her?\u2014Why do you not advise me? You know that I depend upon the reply\u2014You know that I have no other hope, and that she has no other hope, and yet you leave us both to be destroyed by the [pb_glossary id=\"1900\"]stratagem[\/pb_glossary] of an adversary. How shall I proceed? Speak to me, I entreat you! Speak to me judges! Do not leave me to grope out a path blind-folded over a precipice\u2014a path which it would require great skill to tread\u2014O, I beseech you! do not leave me thus under the awful, the tremendous accountability, which, in my ignorance of the law, I have been desperate enough to undertake!\u2014Here by my side are two men of the law\u2014yet have you assigned her, in a matter of life and death, no counsel. They are afraid I see\u2014afraid not only to rise up and speak for the wretched woman, but they are afraid even to whisper to me. And you, ye judges! are you also on the side of the prosecutor and the witnesses\u2014are you all for the king?\u2014all!\u2014all!\u2014not so much as one to say a word for the poor creature, who being pursued\u00a0for<\/i>\u00a0the king, is treated as if she were pursued\u00a0by<\/i> the\u00a0king\u2014pursued by him for sacrifice! What! no answer\u2014not a word! What am I to believe? ... that you take pride in the exercise of your terrible power? that you look upon it as a privilege? ... that you regard me now with displeasure ... that if you could have your own way, you would permit no interference with your frightful prerogative?... O that I knew in what way to approach the hearts of men! O that I knew how to proceed in this affair! Will nobody advise me!\r\n\r\nSir\u2014Sir!\u2014allow me, said a man of the law who sat near, allow me Sir; I can bear it no longer\u2014it is a reproach to the very name of law\u2014but\u2014but (lowering his voice) if you will suffer me to suggest a step or two for your consideration\u2014you have the courage and the power\u2014I have not\u2014my brethren here have not\u2014you have\u2014and you may perhaps be able to\u2014hush, hush\u2014to bring her off.\r\n\r\nSpeak out, Sir\u2014speak out, I beseech you. What am I to do?\r\n\r\nLower if you please\u2014lower\u2014low\u2014\u2014er\u2014er\u2014er\u2014we must not be overheard\u2014Brother Trap\u2019s got a quick ear. Now my notion is\u2014allow me\u2014(whispering) the jury are on the watch; they have heard you with great anxiety\u2014and great pleasure\u2014if you can manage to keep the hold you have got for half an hour\u2014hush\u2014hush\u2014no matter how\u2014the poor soul may escape yet\u2014\r\n\r\nI\u2019ll address the jury\u2014\r\n\r\nBy no manner of means! That will not be suffered\u2014you cannot address the jury\u2014\r\n\r\nGood God! what shall I do!\r\n\r\nThirteen-pence more\u2014carry five\u2014paid to watchman.\r\n\r\nI\u2019ll put you in the way (with a [pb_glossary id=\"1294\"]waggish[\/pb_glossary] leer.) Though you are not allowed to address the jury, you are allowed to address the court\u2014hey?\u2014(chucking him with his elbow)\u2014the court you see\u2014hey\u2014sh!\u2014sh!\u2014you understand it\u2014hey?\r\n\r\nNo\u2014how cool you are!\r\n\r\nCool\u2014you\u2019d be cool too, if you understood the law.\r\n\r\nNever\u2014never\u2014in a case of life and death.\r\n\r\nLife and death? [pb_glossary id=\"1906\"]poh[\/pb_glossary]\u2014everything is a case of life and death, Sir\u2014to a man o\u2019 the law\u2014everything\u2014all cases are alike, Sir\u2014hey\u2014provided\u2014a\u2014a\u2014\r\n\r\nProvided what, Sir?\r\n\r\nWhere the quid is the same.\r\n\r\nThe quid?\r\n\r\nThe [pb_glossary id=\"2033\"]quid pro quo[\/pb_glossary]\u2014\r\n\r\nHow can you, Sir?\u2014your levity is a\u2014I begin to be afraid of your principles\u2014what am I to do?\r\n\r\nDo\u2014just keep the court in play; keep the judges at work, while I run over to the shop for an authority or two I have there which may be of use.\u2014You have the jury with you now\u2014lay it on thick\u2014you understand the play as well as I do now\u2014\r\n\r\nStop\u2014stop\u2014am I to say to the judges what I would say to the jury, if I had leave?\r\n\r\nPre\u2014cisely! but\u2014but\u2014a word in your ear\u2014so as to be heard by the jury.\u2014Tut\u2014tut\u2014\r\n\r\nThe head-prosecutor jumped up at these words, and with a great show of zeal prayed the judges to put a stop to the consultation, a part of which was of a character\u2014of a character\u2014that is to say, of a character\u2014\r\n\r\nBurroughs would have interrupted him, but he was hindered by his crafty law-adviser, who told him to let the worthy gentleman cut his own throat in his own way, now he was in the humor for it.\r\n\r\nBurroughs obeyed, and after his adversary had run himself out of breath, arose in reply, and with a gravity and a moderation that weighed prodigiously with the\u00a0court, called upon the chief-judge to put a stop to such gladiatorial controversy\u2014\r\n\r\nWhat would you have us do? said the judge.\r\n\r\nI would have you do nothing more than your duty\u2014\r\n\r\nHere the [pb_glossary id=\"2034\"]coadjutor[\/pb_glossary] of Burroughs, after making a sign to him to face the jury, slid away on tip-toe.\r\n\r\n\u2014I would have you rebuke this temper. Ye are the judges of a great people. I would have you act, and I would have you teach others to act, as if you and they were playing together, in every such case\u2014not for your own lives\u2014that were too much to ask of mortal man; but for another\u2019s life. I would have you and your officers behave here as if the game that you play were what you all know it to be, a game of life and death\u2014a trial, not of attorney with attorney, nor of judge with judge, in the warfare of skill, or wit, or trick, or stratagem, for fee or character\u2014but a trial whereby the life here, and the life hereafter it may be, of a fellow-creature is in issue. Yea\u2014more\u2014I would have you teach the king\u2019s Attorney-General, the prosecutor himself, that representative though he be of majesty, it would be more dignified and more worthy of majesty, if he could contrive to keep his temper, when he is defeated or thwarted in his attack on human life. We may deserve death all of us, but we deserve not mockery; and whether we deserve death or not, I hope we deserve, under our gracious Lord and Master, to be put to death according to law\u2014\r\n\r\nThat\u2019ll do!\u2014that\u2019ll do!\u2014whispered the lawyer, who had returned with his huge folios\u2014that\u2019ll do my boy! looking up over his spectacles and turning a leaf\u2014that\u2019ll do! give it to \u2019em as hot as they can sup it\u2014I shall be ready for you in a crack\u2014push on, push on\u2014what a capital figure you\u2019d make at the bar\u2014don\u2019t stop\u2014don\u2019t stop.\r\n\r\nWhy, what on earth can I say!\r\n\r\nTalk\u2014talk\u2014talk\u2014no matter what you say\u2014don\u2019t give them time to breathe\u2014pop a speech into \u2019em!\r\n\r\nA speech!\r\n\r\nAy, or a sermon, or a whar-whoop, or a prayer\u2014any thing\u2014anything\u2014if you do but keep the ball up\u2014no matter-what, if the jury can hear you\u2014they are all [pb_glossary id=\"2035\"]agog[\/pb_glossary] now\u2014they are pricking up their ears at you\u2014now\u2019s your time!\r\n\r\nVery well\u2014\u2014Judges!\r\n\r\nProceed.\r\n\r\nJudges. I am a traveller from my youth up. I have journied over Europe; I have journied over America\u2014I am acquainted with every people of both hemispheres, and yet, whithersoever I go, I am a stranger. I have studied much\u2014thought much\u2014and am already a show among those who watched over my youth. I am still young, though I appear old, much younger than you would suppose me to be, did you not know me\u2014\r\n\r\nHere he turned to the lawyer\u2014I never shall be able to get through this; I don\u2019t know what I am saying.\u2014\r\n\r\nNor I\u2014So much the better\u2014don\u2019t give up\u2014\r\n\r\n\u2014\u2014A youth\u2014a lad in comparison with you, ye judges, you that I now undertake to reprove\u2014\u2014a spectacle and a show among men. They follow me every where, (I hope you\u2019ll soon be ready) they pursue me day after day\u2014and week after week\u2014and month after month\u2014\r\n\r\n\u2014And year after year\u2014by jings, that\u2019ll do!\u2014\r\n\r\n\u2014And year after year; they and their wives, and their little ones\u2014\r\n\r\nAnd their flocks and their herds, and their man-servants and their maid-servants, whispered the lawyer.\r\n\r\nDo be quiet, will you.\u2014They pursue me however, not because of their [pb_glossary id=\"1901\"]veneration[\/pb_glossary] or their love, but only that they may study the perpetual changes of my countenance\u00a0and hear the language of one to whom all changes and all languages are alike, and all beneath regard. They follow me too, not because they are able to interpret the look of my eyes, or to understand the meaning of my voice, but chiefly because they hear that I have been abroad in the furthermost countries of all the earth, because they are told by grave men, who catch their breath when they speak of me, though it be in the House of the Lord, as you have seen this very day, that I have been familiar with mysterious trial and savage adventure, up from the hour of my birth, when I was dropped in the wilderness like the young of the wild-beast, by my own mother\u2014\r\n\r\nI say\u2014Brother B.\u2014I say though\u2014whispered the lawyer, in much perplexity\u2014I say though\u2014what are you at now?\u00a0You<\/i>\u00a0are not on trial\u2014are you?\r\n\r\nYes\u2014yes\u2014let me alone, I beseech you....\r\n\r\nFire away ... fire away ... you\u2019ve got possession of the jury, and that\u2019s half the battle ... fire away.\r\n\r\nPeace ... peace, I pray you ... Judges! whenever I go abroad ... wherever I go ... the first place into which I set my foot, is the tribunal of death. Go where I may, I go first in search of the courts ... the courts of\u00a0justice<\/i>, I should say, to distinguish them from all other courts\u2014\r\n\r\nGood!\u2014\r\n\r\n\u2014And I go [pb_glossary id=\"537\"]thither[\/pb_glossary] because I have an idea that nations are to be compared with nations, not in every thing\u2014not altogether, but only in a few things; and because after much thought, I have persuaded myself that matters of religion, politics and morals, are inadequate for the chief purposes of such comparison\u2014the comparison of people with people, though not for the comparison of individual with individual perhaps; and that a variety of matters which regard the administration of law, in cases affecting either life or liberty, are in their\u00a0very nature adequate, and may be conclusive. We may compare court with court and law with law; but how shall we compare opinion with opinion, where there is no unchangeable record of either? goodness with goodness\u2014where goodness itself may be but a thing of opinion or hearsay, incapable of proof, and therefore incapable of comparison?\r\n\r\nVery fair\u2014very fair\u2014but what on earth has it to do with our case?\r\n\r\nWait and you shall see; I begin to see my way clear now\u2014wherefore judges, I hold that the liberty of a people and therefore the greatness of a people may be safely estimated by the degree of seriousness with which a criminal is arraigned, or tried, or judged, or punished\u2014.\r\n\r\n\u2014Very true\u2014and very well spun out, brother B.... but a [pb_glossary id=\"2038\"]non sequitur[\/pb_glossary] nevertheless. That wherefore, with which you began the period was a bit of a\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nPray\u2014pray<\/i>\u2014don\u2019t interrupt me; you will be overheard\u2014you will put me out.\u2014In a word, ye Judges of Israel! I have had a notion that arbitrary power would betray itself in every case, and every-where on earth, by its mode of dealing with liberty and life\u2014being, I persuade myself, more and more summary and careless, in proportion as it is more and more absolute of a truth, not as it is more and more absolute by character. You had for a time, while the northern savages were at your door, a downright military government.\u2014You know therefore that my words are true. Your government was called free\u2014to have called it arbitrary, would have offended you; yet for a season you dealt with human life as the Turk would. You know, for you have seen the proof, that in proportion to the growth of power in those who bear sway among you, the forms and ceremonies which fortify and hedge in, as it\u00a0were, the life and liberty of the subject, are either disregarded or trampled on.\u2014\r\n\r\nOh ho!\u2014I see what you are driving at now!\r\n\r\n\u2014For my own part, I love to see the foreheads of them who are appointed to sit in the high-places and give judgment forever upon the property or character, life or liberty of their fellow man.\u2014\r\n\r\nProperty or character\u2014life or liberty\u2014of a fellow man! Very fair\u2014very fair indeed.\r\n\r\n\u2014Expressive at least of decent sorrow, if not of profound awe. I would have them look as if they were afraid\u2014as if they trembled under the weight of their tremendous authority; as if they were deeply and clearly and reverentially sensible of what they have undertaken to do\u2014which is, to deal with the creatures of God, as God himself professes to deal with them\u2014according to their transgressions\u2014to do a part of his duty with his own Image\u2014to shelter the oppressed and to stay the oppressor, not only now and for a time, but hereafter and forever\u2014\r\n\r\nDon\u2019t stop to breathe now; I shall be at your back in a jiffy\u2014\r\n\r\nI would that every man who has to do with the administration of law, wherever that law is to touch the life or liberty of another; and whoever he may be, from the highest judge in the highest court of all the earth, down to the humblest ministerial officer\u2014I would that he should feel, or at least appear to feel, that for a time he is the delegate of Jehovah\u2014I do not stop to say how, nor to ask why. That is for others to say.\u2014I would have the judges remarkable for their gravity, not for their austerity; for their seriousness and for their severe simplicity, not for a theatrical carriage. I would have the bar, as you call it, above the trick and subterfuge of the law\u2014incapable of doing what I see them do every\u00a0day of my life; and I would have the bench as you call it, incapable of suffering what I see them not only suffer, but take pleasure in, every day of my life\u2014\u2014are you ready?\r\n\r\nPersevere\u2014persevere\u2014you may say what you please now, said the lawyer, shuffling his papers about with both hands, chuckling in his sleeve, and whispering without appearing to whisper.\u2014Have your own way now ... they like to hear the lawyers and the judges, and the law cut up; it\u2019s a new thing to hear in such a place ... fire away, fire away ... you see how they enjoy it ... you\u2019ve got us on the hip now ... fire away.\r\n\r\nIf a criminal be arraigned on a charge that may affect his life or character, limb or property, or if a witness be to be sworn, or the oath administered, ... I care not how ... I care not why ... if you will have oaths ... ye should order silence to be proclaimed by the sound of trumpet.\r\n\r\n\u2014Pho! pho!\r\n\r\nI would have a great bell, one so large that it might be heard far and wide over the whole town\u2014I would have this tolled on the day of condemnation, if that condemnation were to death. And if it must be\u2014if you will have it so\u2014if you will that a man be put to death by the rope or the axe, on the scaffold or over an open grave\u2014as the poor soldier dies\u2014I would have him perish at night\u2014in the dead of midnight\u2014and all the town should wake up at the tolling of that heavy bell, or at the roar of cannon, with a knowledge that a fellow-creature had that instant passed away from the earth forever\u2014just gone\u2014that very instant\u2014before the Everlasting Judge of the quick and the dead\u2014that while they were holding their breath and before they could breathe again\u2014he would receive the sentence from which there would be no appeal throughout all the countless ages of eternity.\r\n\r\nVery fair\u2014very fair\u2014I see the foreman of the jury shudder\u2014keep him to it\u2014\r\n\r\nI love theory, but I love practice better\u2014\r\n\r\n[pb_glossary id=\"2039\"]Zounds[\/pb_glossary]! what a plunge!\r\n\r\n\u2014Bear with me, I beseech you. I had come to a conclusion years and years ago, before I went away into the far parts of the earth, Judges and Elders, that where human life is thought much of, there liberty is; and that just in proportion to the value of human life are the number and variety, the greatness and the strength of the safe-guards forms and ceremonies, which go to make it secure, if not altogether inaccessible.\r\n\r\nVery fair\u2014stick to the foreman\u2014keep your eye on his face\u2014don\u2019t take it off, and you\u2019ll be sure of the jury.\r\n\r\nI can hardly see his face now\u2014\r\n\r\nSo much the better\u2014we\u2019ll have candles for them yet; and if we do, my boy, the game is our own ... fire away; my authorities are almost ready now\u2014fire away.\r\n\r\n\u2014I journeyed the world over, but I found little to prove that human life was of much value anywhere\u2014anywhere I should say, except among the barbarians and the savages. My heart was troubled with fear. I knew not whither to go, nor where to look. Should I pursue my way further into the cities of Europe, or go back into the wilderness of America?\u2014At last I heard of a nation\u2014bear with me judges\u2014where all men were supposed by the law to be innocent, until they were\u00a0proved<\/i> to be guilty, where the very judges were said to be of counsel for the accused, where the verdict of at least twelve, and in some cases of twenty-four men\u2014their unanimous verdict too, was required for the condemnation of such accused; where if a man were charged with a crime, he was not even permitted to accuse himself or to acknowledge the truth, till he had been put upon his guard by the judges\u2014who would\u00a0even allow him, nay press him to withdraw an [pb_glossary id=\"2041\"]avowal[\/pb_glossary], though it were made by him with serious deliberation; where the laws were so tender of human life to say all in a word, and so remarkable for humanity as to be a perpetual theme for declamation. I heard all this.... I had much reason to believe it ... for everybody that I knew believed it.... I grew instantly weary of home....\r\n\r\nLights there! lights....\r\n\r\n\u2014I could not sleep for the desire I had to see that country.\r\n\r\nYou\u2019d better stop awhile, Mr. Burroughs, whispered the lawyer.\r\n\r\n\u2014And I lost no time in going to it.\r\n\r\nPull up where you are ... but keep your face toward the jury.\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER IX.<\/h3>\r\n<\/div>\r\nWell, continued Burroughs, I departed for the shores of that other world, where human life was guarded with such care and jealousy. I inquired for the courts of justice and for the halls of legislation ... I hurried thither; ... I elbowed my way up to the sources of their law, and I had the mortification to discover that in almost every case, their courts were contrived, not as I had hoped from the character of the people, so as to give the public an opportunity of seeing the operation of power at work in the high-places of our earth, for the detection of guilt and for the security of virtue, but so as to hinder that operation, whether evil or good, from being viewed by the public. Everywhere the courts of justice were paltry ... everywhere inconvenient. Seeing this I grew afraid for the people. I found but one large enough to accommodate its own officers, and but one which it was possible for a stranger to enter, even by the aid of money, without much delay, difficulty and hazard. Ye do not believe me\u2014ye cannot believe that such things are, such courts or such men, or that ever a price hath been fixed in a proud free country, for which a few and but a few of a mighty and wise people may see, now and then, wherefore it is that some one of their number is to be swept away from the earth forever. What I say is true. To the Halls of Legislation I proceeded\u2014to the place where that law is made of which I have had occasion to speak this day. I went without my dinner; I paid my\u00a0last [pb_glossary id=\"2043\"]half-crown[\/pb_glossary] to see the makers of the law\u2014and I came away, after seeing\u2014not the makers of the law, but the door-keepers of their cage\u2014it is true that while I was there, I was happy enough to see a man, who was looking at another man, which other man declared that the wig of the Speaker was distinctly visible\u2014\r\n\r\nAre you mad?\r\n\r\nBe quiet Sir\u2014\r\n\r\nYou have broken the spell\u2014the jury are beginning to laugh\u2014\r\n\r\nLeave the jury to me\u2014what I have to say Sir, may provoke a smile, but if I do not much mistake, a smile for the advantage of poor Martha. We have been too serious ... we may do better by showing that we have no fear\u2014if the lawgivers of that country\u00a0are<\/i>\u00a0what I say they are\u2014if the judges are what I say they are, and what I shall prove them to be\u2014and if the people of that country are what I am afraid they are, under such law\u2014why should we bow to its authority?\r\n\r\nPho\u2014pho\u2014pho.... You are all at sea now.\r\n\r\nWell Judges ... I enquired when there would be a trial to prove the truth of what I had been told, and whither I should go in search of a Temple of Justice, where I might see for myself how human life was regarded by the brave and the free. I found such a temple, and for the price of another dinner, was carried up into a gallery and put behind a huge pile of masonry, which as it stood for a pillar and happened to be neither perforated nor transparent, gave me but a dreary prospect for my money.... Do not smile\u2014do not, I beseech you\u2014I never was more serious in my life.... At last I heard a man called up, heard I say, for I could not see him, called up and charged with I know not what fearful crime\u2014I caught my breath\u2014are you ready Sir?...\r\n\r\nAlmost ... almost\u2014fire away\u2014writing as fast as he\u00a0could make the pen fly over the paper ... fire away for a few minutes more....\r\n\r\nI caught my breath ... I trembled with anxiety.... Now said I to myself, (To the lawyer; I am afraid I shall drop.)\r\n\r\nNo no, don\u2019t drop yet ... fire away!\r\n\r\nNow, said I to myself, I shall see one of the most awful and affecting sights in the world. Now shall I see the great humanity of the law ... the law of this proud nation illustrated ... the very judges becoming of counsel for the prisoner ... and the whole affair carried through with unspeakable solemnity. I addressed myself to a man who stood near me with a badge of authority in his hand ... the very key wherewith he admitted people at so much a head, to see the performance. Pray, Sir, said I, what is that poor fellow charged with? He didn\u2019t know, not he, some case of murder though, he thought, (offering me a pinch of [pb_glossary id=\"1844\"]snuff[\/pb_glossary] as he spoke) or of highway-robbery, or something of the sort ... he would enquire with great pleasure and let me know. The case opened. A speech was made by a prosecutor for the crown, a ready and a powerful speaker. The charge a capital one. The accused ... a poor emaciated miserable creature, was on trial for having had in possession, property which had been stolen out of a dwelling-house in the dead of night. Well, prisoner at the bar, what have you to say for yourself? said the judge with a stern look, after the case had been gone through with by the prosecutor. Now is your time ... speak, said the judge. I have nothing to say for myself, said the poor prisoner; nothing more than what I have said four or five times already. Have you no witnesses? No my lord\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nSoh soh, Mr. Burroughs! We understand your parable now, cried one of the judges with a look of dismay. We all know what country that is where a judge is a\u00a0lord ... have a care Sir; have a care.... Be wary ... you may rue this if you are not.\r\n\r\nI shall endure the risk whatever it be ... shall I proceed?\r\n\r\nWe have no power to stop you....\r\n\r\nNo my lord, was the reply of the prisoner. I could not oblige them to appear; and they would not appear. How came you by the property? said his lordship. It was left with me by a man who stopped at my house; he wanted a little money to carry him to see a sick wife ... and as I did not know him, he left this property in pledge. Who was that man? I do not know my lord, I never saw him before ... but one of my neighbors in the same trade with me knew him, and if you had him here, he would say so.\r\n\r\nJudges, you have now heard my story. You know what I was prepared to see; you know what I expected. Here was a man who, for aught we know, told the truth. But he had no witnesses\u2014he had no power to make them testify\u2014he had no refuge\u2014no hope\u2014the law was a snare to him\u2014the law of our mother-country.\r\n\r\nHow so pray?\r\n\r\nProperty being found in his possession\u2014property which had been stolen, he was to suffer, because\u2014mark what I say, I beseech you\u2014because he could not prove his innocence<\/i>!\r\n\r\nTut\u2014tut\u2014tut\u2014rigmarole! said the prosecutor.\r\n\r\nRigmarole Sir\u2014what I say is the simple truth. Hear me through. The moment that poor fellow was found with the property in his possession, he was concluded by the law and by the judges of the law to be guilty; and they called upon him to\u00a0prove<\/i>\u00a0that he was\u00a0not guilty<\/i>\u2014\r\n\r\nNature of things, my good brother\u2014\r\n\r\nWell\u2014and if it is the nature of things, why deny the\u00a0existence of the fact? Why do you, as all men of the law have done for ages and still do\u2014why say over and over again every day of your lives, that it is the characteristic of the law, that law of which you are the expounders, to regard every man as innocent, until he be\u00a0proved<\/i>\u00a0to be guilty? Why not say the truth? Why quibble with rhetoric? Why not say that where a man is charged with a crime, you are, in the very nature of things, under the necessity of taking that for proof which is not proof? Look you Sir\u2014how came you by the coat you wear? Suppose I were to challenge that cloth and put you to the proof, how could you prove that you purchased it fairly of a fair trader?\r\n\r\nI would appeal to the trader\u2014\r\n\r\nAppeal to the trader! If he had not come honestly by it Sir, would he ever acknowledge that you had it of him? or that he had ever seen your face before?\r\n\r\nWell then\u2014I would prove it by somebody else.\r\n\r\nBy somebody else, would you! Are you so very cautious\u2014do you never go abroad without having a witness at your heels? do you never pick up anything in the street Sir, without first assuring yourself that you are observed by somebody of good character, who will appear of his own accord in your behalf, should you be arraigned for having stolen property in your possession? What would you have to say for yourself?\u2014your oath would not be received\u2014and if it was, there would only be oath against oath\u2014your oath against that of the trader of whom you purchased, or the individual of whom you received the property\u2014and his oath against yours.\u2014How would you behave with no witnesses to help you out?\u2014or with witnesses who would not appear and could not be made to appear on your side, though your life were at stake?\u2014nay, for that very reason, for if your property only were at stake, they might be made to appear\u2014\r\n\r\nVery well!\r\n\r\n\u2014Or with witnesses, who having appeared on your side, are not allowed to make oath to what they say\u2014lest they may be believed\u2014to the prejudice of our good king?\r\n\r\nReally, cried one of the judges, really, gentlemen, you appear to be going very wide of the mark. What have we to do with your snip-snap and gossip? Are we to have nothing but speech after speech\u2014about nobody knows what\u2014now smacking of outrage\u2014now of treason? Are we to stay here all night Sirs of the bar, while you are whispering together?\r\n\r\nWith submission to the court, said the Attorney-general\u2014we have a case put here, which would seem to require a word of reply. We are asked what we should do if we were without witnesses\u2014and the court will perceive that the sympathy of the jury is relied on\u2014is relied on, I say!\u2014on the authority of a case\u2014of a case which!\u2014of a case which I never heard of before! The court will please to observe\u2014to observe I say!\u2014that the prisoner at the bar\u2014at the bar\u2014has no witnesses\u2014in which case, I would ask, where is the hardship\u2014where we cannot prove our innocence\u2014our innocence I say!\u2014of a particular charge\u2014we have only to prove our character.\r\n\r\nHere the Attorney-general sat down with a smile and a bow, and a magnificent shake of the head.\r\n\r\nOnly to prove our character, hey?\r\n\r\nTo be sure\u2014\r\n\r\nBut how\u2014if we have no witnesses\u2014\r\n\r\nVery fair\u2014very fair, brother B.\r\n\r\nWhat if you were a stranger?\u2014what if you had no character?\u2014or a bad one?\r\n\r\nIt would go hard with me, I dare say\u2014and\u2014and\u00a0(raising his voice and appealing to the bar with a triumphant look) and it\u00a0should<\/i>\u00a0go hard with me.\r\n\r\nWhy then Sir\u2014it would go hard with every stranger in a strange country, for he has no character; and it would go hard with every man who might be unable to produce proof, though he had a good character; and with every man who might be regarded as a [pb_glossary id=\"2044\"]profligate[\/pb_glossary] or a suspicious character\u2014as a cheat, or a jew, or a misbeliever.\r\n\r\nAnd what have such men to complain of?\r\n\r\nJudges\u2014Fathers\u2014I appeal to you. I have not much more to say, and what I have to say shall be said with a view to the case before you. I have always understood that if a man be charged with a crime here, he is to be tried for that particular crime with which he is charged, and for no other till that be disposed of. I have always understood moreover, not only in your courts of law and by your books of law, but by the courts and by the books of which you are but a copy, that character is not to be put in issue as a crime before you; and that nobody is to be put to death or punished merely because he may happen to have no character at all\u2014nor because he may have a bad one\u2014\r\n\r\nYou have understood no more than is true, said a judge.\r\n\r\nIf so ... allow me to ask why you and other judges are in the habit of punishing people of a bad character ... nay of putting such people to death ... for doing that which, if it were done by people of good character, you would overlook or forgive?\r\n\r\nHow Sir.... Do you pretend that we ever do such things?\r\n\r\nI do.... Will you say that you do not?...\r\n\r\nYes ... and waive the authority of a judge, and the irregularity of your procedure that you may reply.\r\n\r\nThen ... if what I hear is true ... if it is law I mean ... the judges before me will not regard character?\r\n\r\nWhy as to\u00a0regarding<\/i>\u00a0character ... that\u2019s another affair Mr. Burroughs....\r\n\r\nI implore you ... take one side or the other! Say whether you do or do not regard character.... I care not for the degree, nor do I care which side you take. For if you say that you do, then I say that you act in the teeth of all your professions; for you declare in every shape, every man of you, every day of your lives, that nobody shall be punished by law but for that which he has been charged with in due course of law ... technically charged with and apprised of ... and you never charge a man with having a bad character....\r\n\r\nWell, then ... suppose we say that we do\u00a0not<\/i>\u00a0regard character?\r\n\r\nWhen character is not in issue, brother, added the chief-judge; for it may be put in issue by the traverser\u2014in which case we are bound to weigh the proof on both sides along with the jury.\r\n\r\nIf you say that, in your character of judge ... and if you are all agreed in saying that.... Lo, I am prepared for you.\r\n\r\nWe are agreed\u2014we perceive the truth now.\r\n\r\nLo, my answer!\u2014You have heard the whole of our case. You have heard all the witnesses for the crown; you have gathered all the proof. Now ... bear with me, judges ... bear with me ... what I say is a matter of life and death ... we have no witnesses ... we have not put the character of Martha in issue ... all that you know of her, you know from your witnesses, and they have not said a syllable touching her character. Now ... fathers! and judges!... I ask you if that proof, take it altogether, would be enough in your estimation, to prove ... I beg you to hear me ... would it be enough to convict any one\u00a0of your number, if he had no witness to speak for him?... Ye are astounded! Ye know not how to reply, nor how to escape; for ye know in your own souls that such proof ... such proof and no more, would not be enough to convict any one of you in the opinion of the other six.\r\n\r\nWell Sir\u2014\u2014what then?\r\n\r\nWhy then Sir ... then ye Judges\u2014if that poor old woman before you\u2014if she be not on trial for character\u2014on trial for that which has not been charged to her ... by what you have now said, she is free. Stand up, on your feet Martha! stand up and rejoice! By what ye have now said, ye judges, that poor old woman hath leave to go free!\r\n\r\nThe judges were mute with surprise, and the lawyer started upon his feet and clapped Burroughs on the back, and stood rubbing his hands at the Attorney-general and making mouths at the jury\u2014Capital! ... Capital! ... never saw the like, faith\u2014never, never ... never thought of such a view myself ... but I say though (in a whisper) you did begin to put her character in issue\u2014tut\u2014tut\u2014yes you did, you rogue you ... say nothin\u2019\u2014tut\u2014tut\u2014\r\n\r\nSay nothing Sir!\u2014excuse me. If I have said that which is not true, I shall unsay it\u2014\r\n\r\nPooh, pooh ... your argument\u2019s all the same, and besides, you did not go far enough to make Jerry Smith your witness ... pooh, pooh\u2014what a fool you are\u2014\r\n\r\nBut the judges recovered their self-possession, and laid their heads together and asked Burroughs if he had anything more to say.\r\n\r\nMore to say\u2014yes\u2014much more\u2014enough to keep you employed for the rest of your lives, ye hard-hearted inaccessible men! What\u2014are ye so bent upon mischief! Will ye not suffer that aged woman to escape the snare! Ye carry me back all at once to the spot of which I\u00a0spoke. Ye drive me to the parable again. I saw the judges behave to their prisoner as I now see you behave to yours; and I would have cried out there as I do here, with a loud voice.... Are ye indeed the counsel for the prisoner!\u2014Why do ye not behave as other counsel do? But when I looked up and beheld their faces, and about me, and beheld the faces of the multitude, my courage was gone\u2014I had no hope\u2014my heart died away within me. They were as mute as you are\u2014and their look was your look\u2014a look of death. But where, said I, is the advocate for the prisoner? why does he not appear? He has none, was the reply. What, no advocate, no help\u2014there is a provision of your law which enables the very [pb_glossary id=\"2045\"]pauper[\/pb_glossary] to sue.... I have heard so, and surely he is not so very poor, the man I see at the bar; why do not the counsel that I see there unoccupied\u2014why do they not offer to help him? They are not paid Sir. Do they require pay before they will put forth a hand to save a fellow-creature from death? Of course. But why do not the court assign counsel to him?\u2014The reply there was the reply that you have heard here this day. The accused have no counsel in a matter of life and death ... it is only by courtesy that counsel are permitted even to address the court on a point of law, when they are employed by a prisoner.\r\n\r\nBut why do I urge all this? Are not we, and were not they, living in a land of mercy, a land remarkable for the humanity of her laws? Do not mistake me, fathers! I would not that the guilty should escape.... I have no such desire. But I would have the innocent safe, and I would have the guilty, yea the guiltiest in every case and everywhere, punished according to law. To know that a man has committed murder is not enough to justify you in taking his life\u2014to see him do the deed with your own eyes, would not be enough to\u00a0justify you in putting him to death\u2014wherefore it is that however certain the guilt of the accused, and however great his crime, he should have counsel....\r\n\r\nAbsurd!\u2014\r\n\r\nYea\u2014counsel, judge\u2014counsel!\r\n\r\nYou would allow the guilty every possible chance of escape.\r\n\r\nEven so, judge! every possible chance of escape. For the guilty have some rights to guard\u2014rights the more precious for being so few, and for being in perpetual risk of outrage; the more to be guarded Sir,\u00a0because<\/i>\u00a0they are the rights and the privileges of the wicked, who have nothing to hope from the public sympathy, no hope of pity, no hope of charity. Even so, Judge! for the innocent are liable to appear otherwise. Even so\u2014for till the trial be over, how do we know who is guilty and who not? How do we know\u2014how is it possible for us to know, till the accused have undergone their trial, whether they are, or are not unjustly charged? For the innocent as well as for the guilty therefore, would I have counsel for the accused\u2014yea, counsel, whatever were the charge, and however probable it might appear\u2014nay the more, in proportion both to the probability and to the magnitude of the charge.\r\n\r\nA fine theory that Sir. You have been abroad to much purpose, it would appear.\r\n\r\nEven so judge\u2014even so. Such\u00a0is<\/i>\u00a0my theory, and I\u00a0have<\/i> been abroad, I believe, to much purpose; for if men are to die by the law, I would have them appear to die by the law. By the law, judge\u2014not by popular [pb_glossary id=\"538\"]caprice[\/pb_glossary], popular indignation or arbitrary power. I would leave no ground for sorrow, none for self-reproach, none for misgiving, either to the public or to that portion of the public who have participated more immediately in the awful business of death. I would have no such case\u00a0on record as that of Mary Dyer.... I would have no Elizabeth Hutchinson offered up\u2014no such trials, no such graves, no such names for the people to be afraid of and sorry for, ages and ages after the death of a miserable infatuated woman\u2014a prophetess or a witch, forsooth\u2014\r\n\r\nGeorge Burroughs!\r\n\r\n\u2014A prophetess or a witch I say!\u2014after she has been put to death no man is able to say wherefore.\r\n\r\nGeorge Burroughs!\r\n\r\nWho speaks?\r\n\r\nGeorge Burroughs, beware! cried a female who stood in a dark part of the house, with her head muffled up\u2014a deep shadow was about her and a stillness like death.\r\n\r\nI know that voice\u2014be of good cheer\u2014I have nearly done, though not being used to unprepared public-speaking, I have said little that I meant to say, and much that I did not mean to say; hardly a word however even of that which I have said or meant to say, as I would say it, or as I could say it, if I had a little more experience\u2014or as I could say it now on paper. And if I feel this\u2014I\u2014who have grown up to a habit if not of speaking, at least of reading before a multitude; I, who have been used from my youth up to arrange my thoughts for the public eye, to argue and to persuade; what must another, taken by surprise, wholly without such practice and power, what must he\u2014or she\u2014or that poor woman at the bar feel, were you to put her into my place, and urge her to defend herself to a jury? Pity her ... I implore you ... consider what I say and have mercy upon her!\u2014\r\n\r\nBefore you sit down, brother B.... what if you give us a word or two of the parallel you begun?\u2014I see the drift of it now\u2014a word or two, you understand me\u2014take a mouthful o\u2019 water\u2014and if you could manage to slip in a\u00a0remark or two about the nature of the proof required in witchcraft, I\u2019ll be after you in a crack, and we\u2019ll tire \u2019em out, if we can\u2019t do anything better.\r\n\r\nI will\u2014be prepared though\u2014for I shall say\u00a0but<\/i>\u00a0a word or two\u2014I am weary; sick and weary of this\u2014my throat is parched, and my very soul in a maze of perplexity.\r\n\r\nSo much the better\u2014they can\u2019t follow you on t\u2019other side.\r\n\r\nWell, fathers! I pursued the inquiry. I found that even there, no prisoner could have a compulsory process to bring a witness\u00a0for<\/i>\u00a0him into court, although such process could be had, backed by the whole power of the country, to bring a witness\u00a0against<\/i>\u00a0him. And I discovered also, that if a witness for the accused were so obliging as to appear, they would not suffer him to speak on oath. I turned to the officer\u2014I take it, Sir, said I, that in such a case, you have no punishment for untruth, and of course, that the witnesses for the wretched man at the bar are not so likely to be believed as the witnesses against him ... the latter being on oath?... Precisely. But is he a lawyer? said I.... Who! the prisoner at the bar.... Yes.... A lawyer\u2014no. Is he accustomed to public speaking? He ... no, indeed!... Nor to close argument, perhaps? nor to a habit of arranging his ideas on paper?... I dare say not, was the reply. It would be no easy matter for a man to preserve his selfpossession ... so at least I should suppose, however much he might be accustomed to public speaking ... if he were on trial himself, and obliged to defend himself?\r\n\r\nThere\u2019s an authority for you in the books, brother B.\u2014The man who appeareth for himself, (in a loud voice) for himself, [pb_glossary id=\"1884\"]saith[\/pb_glossary] my lord ... Coke<\/a>, hath a fool for his client....\r\n\r\nSaith Lord Coke, hey?\r\n\r\nPooh, pooh, (in a whisper) pooh, pooh; never mind\u00a0who says it; give it for his, and let them show the contrary, if they are able.\r\n\r\nBut if it be a case of life and death\u2014where great coolness and great precision were needed at every step, he would be yet more embarrassed? No doubt. And is not the prosecutor a very able man? Very, Sir\u2014very. Chosen for that office, out of a multitude of superior men altogether on account of his ability? Very true, Sir\u2014very true\u2014on account of his ability and experience at the bar. And yet, Sir, said I\u2014if I understand you, that poor fellow there, who is now in such grevious trepidation, so weak that he can hardly stand\u2014his color coming and going with every breath, his throat and mouth and lips dry with excessive anxiety, his head inclined as if with a continual ringing in his ears\u2014if I understand you, said I, he is now called up to defend himself, to make speech for speech before a jury, against one of your most able and eloquent speakers; a man whose reputation is at stake on the issue\u2014a man who\u2014if he be thwarted in his way, by a witness, or a fact, or a speech, or a point of law, will appear to regard the escape of the prisoner, whatever he may be charged with, and whether he be innocent or guilty, as nothing better than a reproach to the law, and high treason to the state\u2014a man, to say all in a word, who dares to behave in a court of justice\u2014in a matter of life and death too\u2014as if the escape of a prisoner were disloyalty to the king\u2014our father! and a disgrace to the king\u2019s Attorney-general\u2014\r\n\r\nWill you [pb_glossary id=\"2054\"]have done[\/pb_glossary], Sir?\r\n\r\nNo ... no ... no!...\u00a0You have no power to stop me.<\/i>\u00a0The jury could not agree. Two of their number were unwilling to find the accused guilty. They were sent back\u2014it was in the dead of winter, and they were allowed neither food, nor fire\u2014and so, after a while they were starved and frozen into unanimity\u2014\r\n\r\nGrant me patience! what would you have, Sir?\u2014you appear to be satisfied with nothing\u2014I believe in my soul, George Burroughs, that you are no better than a [pb_glossary id=\"2046\"]Reformer[\/pb_glossary]\u2014\r\n\r\nA shudder ran through the whole court.\r\n\r\nHere was a pretty illustration of what I had been told by you, and by such as you, and of what I believed before I went abroad, about the humanity of the law\u2014the humanity of British law! of that very law that ye are now seeking to administer here, in this remote corner of the earth. Ye are amazed\u2014ye do not believe me\u2014and yet every word I have spoken is true; and that which is law there, ye would make law here. The judges, we are told, are of counsel for the prisoner\u2014God preserve me from such counsel, I say!...\r\n\r\nFive and one are six\u2014six-and-sixpence, muttered a voice.\r\n\r\nThey never interfered while I was there, in favor of the prisoner; but they did interfere two or three times, and with great acuteness too, for it was a trial of wit among three, to his disadvantage, even as ye have this day. The accused are held to be innocent there, even as they are here, till they are proved to be guilty\u2014so say the lawyers there, and so say the judges, and so say all the writers on the law, and so they believe, I dare say. And yet ... there as here, the man who happens to be suspected of a crime is held to be ... not innocent of the charge, but guilty, and is called upon to\u00a0prove his innocence<\/i>; which if he fail to do, judgment follows, and after two or three days, it may be, death. He had no counsel permitted to him where his life was at stake, though he might have had the best in the whole empire in a civil case affecting property to the value of a few pounds. He had no power to bring witnesses ... the law would not allow him witnesses therefore ... and if they appeared in spite of the law, that law put a disqualification upon whatever they said in favor of the prisoner. And after all this.... O the humanity of the law! ... the jury, a part of whom believed him to be innocent were starved into finding him guilty. What was I to think of all this? what of British law\u2014that very law by authority whereof, ye are now trying that woman for her life\u2014what of the\u2014\r\n\r\nHere Burroughs dropped into a chair completely out of breath.\r\n\r\nHave you done Sir? said the chief judge.\r\n\r\nHe signified by a motion of the head that he must give up.\r\n\r\nVery well Sir\u2014You cannot say that we have not heard you patiently; nor that we have hurried the case of the prisoners at the bar, whatever else you may think proper to say. You have had such liberty as we never granted before, as we shall never grant again; you have had full swing Sir\u2014full swing, and would have been stopped a good hour ago but for the deplorable situation of the accused. To tell you the plain truth however\u2014I did hope\u2014I did hope I say, that we should hear something\u2014something<\/i>\u00a0to the purpose, before you gave the matter up\u2014\r\n\r\nSomething to the purpose, judge!\u2014Have a care\u2014you know me\u2014\r\n\r\nSilence!\r\n\r\nJudge\u2014judge\u2014I have said more than you six will ever be able to answer, though you keep your heads together to all eternity\u2014How can you answer what I say?\r\n\r\nHow\u2014in five words....\r\n\r\nIn five words!\r\n\r\nI ask no more to satisfy all that hear me\u2014my brethren of the bench, the bar, and the people\u2014but five words, I tell you.\r\n\r\nAnd what are they, I do beseech you?...\r\n\r\nThe\u2014wisdom\u2014of\u2014our\u2014ancestors.<\/i>\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER X.<\/h3>\r\n<\/div>\r\nHere the lawyer started up, and after prevailing upon Burroughs to forbear and be still, argued (with his face to the jury) five or six points of law, as he called them, every one of which had been argued over and over again at every trial of a serious charge that he had ever been occupied with in the whole course of a long life at the bar ... four being about the propriety of capital punishments in general, and two about the propriety of capital punishments in the particular case of the prisoner at the bar\u2014whom he protested before God (for which he had to pay thirteen-pence more) he believed to be innocent of the charge\u2014and what was that charge?\u2014nothing more nor less than the charge of sorcery and witchcraft!\u2014a crime, the very possibility of which, he proceeded to deny, in the very language he had used about a twelvemonth before, while arguing about the impossibility of marriage in a particular case.\r\n\r\nBrother\u2014brother\u2014we do not sit here to try the possibility of such a thing as witchcraft\u2014please to consider where you are, and what we are.\r\n\r\nSpeech after speech followed; and it was near midnight, when the chief judge, after consulting with his brethren, proceeded to address the jury.\r\n\r\nYe have heard much that in our opinion does not need a reply, said he, after taking a general view of the case, with much that a brief reply may be sufficient for, and a very little, which, as it may serve to perplex you, if we pass it over without notice, we shall say a few words upon, though it has little or nothing to do with the case before you.\r\n\r\nThe law you have nothing to do with ... right or wrong, wise or foolish, you have nothing to do with the law. So too ... whatever may be the practice abroad or in this country, and whatever may be the hardship of that practice, you have nothing to do with it. One is the business of the legislature ... of the law-makers; the other the business of the courts, and the judges ... the law-expounders. You are to try a particular case by a particular law; to that, your whole attention is to be directed. If the law be a bad law, that is neither your business nor our business. We and you are to do our duty, and leave theirs to the sovereign legislature.\r\n\r\nI propose now to recapitulate the evidence, which I have taken notes of\u2014should I be wrong, you will correct me. After I have gone through with the evidence, I shall offer a few brief remarks in reply to the arguments which have been crowded into the case\u2014I will not say for show\u2014and which, idle as they are, would seem to have had weight with you.\r\n\r\nThe afflicted, you observe, do generally testify that the shape of the prisoner [pb_glossary id=\"2047\"]doth[\/pb_glossary] oftentimes pinch them, choke them, and otherwise afflict them, urging them always to write in a book she bears about with her. And you observe too, that the accusers were struck down with a fit before you, and could not rise up till she was ordered to touch them, and that several of their number have had fits whenever she looked upon them.\r\n\r\nBut we are to be more particular, and I shall now read my notes, and I pray you to follow me.\r\n\r\n1. Deliverance Hobbs, who confessed herself a witch, testified that the prisoner tempted her to sign the book again, and to deny what she had confessed; and that the shape of the prisoner whipped her with iron rods to force her to do so, and that the prisoner was at a general meeting of witches at a field near Salem village, and there partook of the sacrament with them.\r\n\r\n1. Deliverance<\/a>\u00a0Hobbs, who confessed herself a witch, testified that the prisoner tempted her to sign the book again, and to deny what she had confessed; and that the shape of the prisoner whipped her with iron rods to force her to do so, and that the prisoner was at a general meeting of witches at a field near Salem village, and there partook of the sacrament with them.<\/span>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1999\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"644\"]\"A \"A Witches\u2019 Sabbath,\" 1650, by Cornelis Saftleven.[\/caption]\r\n\r\n2. John Cook testified that about five or six years ago, he was assaulted with the shape of the prisoner in his chamber, and so terrified that an apple he had in his hand flew strangely from him into his mother\u2019s lap, six or eight feet distance.\r\n\r\n3. Samuel Gray testified that about fourteen years ago, he waked one night and saw his room full of light and a woman between the cradle and bed-side; he got up but found the doors fast, and the apparition vanished\u2014however the child was so frighted, that it pined away and in some time died. He confessed that he had never seen the prisoner before, but was now satisfied that it was her apparition.\r\n\r\n4. John Bly and his wife testified that he bought a sow of the prisoner\u2019s husband, but being to pay the money to another, she was so angry that she quarrelled with Bly, and soon after the sow was taken with strange fits, jumping, leaping and knocking her head against the fence which made the witnesses conclude the prisoner had bewitched it.\r\n\r\n5. Richard Coman testified that eight years ago, he was terrified with the spectre of the prisoner and others, who so oppressed him in his bed that he could not stir hand nor foot, but calling up somebody to come to his assistance, as soon as the people of the house spoke, the spectre vanished and all was quiet.\r\n\r\n6. Samuel Shattock testified that in 1680 (twelve years before the trial) the prisoner often came to his house on frivolous errands, soon after which his child was taken with strange fits, and at last lost his understanding; the fits were manifestly epileptic, but the\u00a0witness verily believed it was bewitched by the prisoner.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_2025\" align=\"alignright\" width=\"466\"]\"Page From The Witches: a Tale of New England, 1837, book by William Leete Stone.[\/caption]\r\n\r\n7. John Londor testified that upon some little controversy with the prisoner about her fowls, going well to bed, he awoke in the night and saw the likeness of this woman greviously oppressing him. Another time he was troubled with a black pig, but going to kick it, it vanished. Another time as he was sitting in his room, a black hobgobling jumped in the room, which spoke to him these words\u2014I understand you are troubled in mind: Be ruled by me and you shall want nothing in this world. But when he endeavored to strike it, there was nothing. After this he ran out of his house and saw the prisoner in her orchard, but had no power to speak to her, but concluded his trouble was all owing to her.\r\n\r\n8. William Stacy testified that the spectre of the prisoner had played him several pranks of the same nature as the former; for example\u2014having received some money of the prisoner for work, he had not gone above three [pb_glossary id=\"2048\"]rods[\/pb_glossary] from her when it was gone from him; some time after, discoursing with the prisoner about grinding her [pb_glossary id=\"2049\"]grist[\/pb_glossary], he had not gone above six rods from her with a small load in his cart, before the off-wheel sunk into a hole in plain ground, so that the [pb_glossary id=\"789\"]deponent[\/pb_glossary] was forced to get help for the recovery of it, but stepping back to look for the hole, there was none to be found. Another time, as he was going home on a dark night, he was lifted up from the ground and thrown against the stone wall, and after that, he was hoisted up, and thrown down a bank at the end of his house.\r\n\r\n9. John and William Bly testified that being employed by the prisoner to take down her cellar-wall, they found several [pb_glossary id=\"2050\"]poppets[\/pb_glossary] made of rags and hog\u2019s bristles, with headless pins in them, the points being outwards.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_2051\" align=\"alignleft\" width=\"474\"]\"Witches Witches handing wax dolls to the devil, 1720, from The History of Witches and Wizards, by Bishop Hall, Bishop Morton, Sir Matthew Hale, etc.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nIn addition to all this, continued the chief-judge, you\u00a0have the testimony of Mr. Park, the magistrate, who says that when her Paris\u2019s daughter and two other children accused the prisoner at the bar of afflicting them, by biting, pricking, strangling, &c. saying that they saw her likeness in their fits, coming toward them and bringing them a book to sign, he asked her why she afflicted those poor children\u2014to which she replied that she did not; and that when he asked her who did then? she answered she did not know\u2014\r\n\r\nBurroughs groaned aloud.\r\n\r\n\u2014You will observe her answer, gentlemen of the jury ... she did not know, but thought they were poor distracted creatures, whereupon the afflicted said that the Black man was whispering in her ear and that a yellow-bird which used to suck between her fingers was now there; and orders being given to see if there was any sign, a girl said, it is now too late for she has removed a pin and put it on her head; and upon search there was found a pin sticking upright there. He testifies too that when Mrs. Cory had any motion of her body the afflicted would cry out, when she bit her lip they would cry out of being bitten, and if she grasped one hand with the other they would cry out of being pinched.\r\n\r\nYou will observe too that a jury of women who were empanelled to search her body, testify one and all that they found a preternatural teat upon her body; but upon a second search three or four hours after, there was none to be found.\r\n\r\nThus much for the evidence, gentlemen of the jury; I proceed now to remark on what has been urged for the\u2014officer\u2014officer ... look to your prisoner!\r\n\r\nO, I am so tired and so sleepy! said Martha a getting up, and trying to pass the sheriff, who stood by her with a drawn sword. Let me go, will you!\u2014get out o\u2019 the\u00a0way and let me go\u2014what\u2019s the use o\u2019 keeping me here; I\u2019ve told you all \u2019t I know o\u2019 the job.\u00a0Do<\/i>\u00a0let poor Martha go!\r\n\r\nGracious God!\u2014Father of Love! cried Burroughs, what an appeal to the executioners of the law! Did you not hear it, ye judges? Do you not see her now, tottering away ... the poor bewildered creature.\r\n\r\nHave done Sir.\r\n\r\nDear brother\u2014if we are wise we shall be not be strict with him here\u2014let us give the world nothing to complain of, our duty require it, policy requires it\u2014ah!\r\n\r\nPrisoner at the bar\u2014go back to your seat: Officer\u2014officer\u2014\r\n\r\nShe don\u2019t hear a word you say, Mr. Judge.\r\n\r\nMartha Cory\u2014Martha!\r\n\r\nWell, here I be, Mister Capun Sewall; what d\u2019ye want o\u2019 me?\r\n\r\nGo back to your seat, Martha.\r\n\r\nBack there?\u2014I shall not\u2014\r\n\r\nOfficer!\r\n\r\nThe officer took her by the arm to lead her back.\r\n\r\nGently there\u2014gently\u2014gently.\r\n\r\nThere now! cried Martha, in a peevish, querulous tone\u2014There now; dropping into the seat with her arms [pb_glossary id=\"1349\"]a-kimbo[\/pb_glossary], and poking out her chin at the officer. There now; I hope that\u2019ll satisfy you\u2014\r\n\r\nGentlemen of the jury, pursued the judge; You have now the evidence before you. You have gone through the whole proof with me, step by step\u2014it is for you to say what is the value of that proof\u2014\r\n\r\nProof, cried Burroughs\u2014proof! taking away his hands from his pale face\u2014and speaking through his shut teeth. Call you that proof which proves nothing? that which relates to things that occurred, if they ever occurred at all, years and years ago? that which is only\u00a0a sort of guess-work? that which relates to transactions which the poor soul does not appear to have had either voice or part in?\r\n\r\nBravely said, George Burroughs\u2014bravely put, cried a female, who stood in the dark part of the house.\r\n\r\nSuch trivial matters too\u2014so trivial that we should mock at them, but for the life we lead here, surrounded by savages, and by death in every shape, and by woods and waters that were never yet explored by man; beset on every side by a foe that never sleeps; afar and away from succor and liable to be surprised every hour of the day and every hour of the night, and butchered among our babes and our household-gods; Proof, say you?\u2014can that be proof, I appeal to you judges\u2014that which, however false it may be, or however mistaken by the witnesses, cannot, in the very nature of things, be explained away nor contradicted; that which calls upon a poor creature worn out with age and misery\u2014an idiot\u2014for of a truth she is little better\u2014I pray you judges\u2014I pray you\u2014on me let your displeasure fall; not on her\u2014I will abide your wrath\u2014I see it in your eyes\u2014but I pray you\u2014I beseech you\u2014can that be proof,\u00a0that<\/i>\u00a0which calls upon a prisoner in such a case to go through the whole history of her life\u2014hour by hour\u2014step by step. Nay, speak to me!\u2014By your oaths, answer me! By your oath here, and by your hope hereafter, may you call upon her, in a matter of life and death, to do this? And not only to do this, but to account for the epilepsy of a babe? for the dreams, the diseases, the very night-mares of them that now accuse her?\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nIf you do not stop Sir, we shall have to commit you.\r\n\r\n\"TheCommit me if you dare! You have made me counsel for the prisoner, and whatever may be the courtesy of the bar, whatever you may expect\u2014and whatever may become of me\u2014or of you\u2014I shall not throw a chance away. He proceeded to review the whole of the evidence with a vigor and propriety which after a while rose up in judgment against him, as if it were supernatural; he then argued upon the nature of the crime\u2014saying it was a charge easily made but hard to disprove, and that it would require one to be a witch to prove that she was not guilty of witchcraft\u2014\r\n\r\nBeware of that man, said the chief judge, with a mysterious look. Beware, I tell you; for whoever he may be, and whatever he may be, he will be sure to lead you astray, if you are not upon your guard.\r\n\r\nLo, the counsel for the prisoner! Lo the humanity of the law! cried Burroughs. Who could do more?\u2014I appeal to you, ye men of Massachusetts-Bay\u2014could the prosecutor himself\u2014could anybody on earth\u2014in aid of the prisoner at the bar?\u2014Put upon your guard in that way, against the power and art of another\u2014if you are not men of a marvellous courage indeed\u2014of heroic probity\u2014it would be impossible for him to convince you, however true were his argument, however conclusive his facts.\r\n\r\nVery true, whispered the foreman of the jury, loud enough to be overheard by a judge, who rebuked him with great [pb_glossary id=\"2053\"]asperity[\/pb_glossary].\r\n\r\nWhatever I might say, therefore\u2014however true it might be, and however wise, after that speech, you would not venture to heed me\u2014you could not\u2014such a thing were too much to hope for\u2014unless you were indeed, every man of you, far, far superior to the race of men that are about and above you\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nTalk of art, said the chief judge, in dismay. Talk of address after that! who ever heard of such art\u2014who ever heard of such address before?\r\n\r\nWhat a compliment for your understandings!\u2014But I do not give up in despair\u2014I shall say the little that I now have to say, and leave you to decide between us\u2014if I prevail, you may have courage enough perhaps to acquit the prisoner, though you\u00a0are<\/i>\u00a0sneered at by the judges.\r\n\r\nHe proceeded with fresh vigor, and concluded the work of the day with a speech that appears to have been regarded by the court and the people as above the ability of man. He spoke to the multitude, to the judges, to the bar, to the jury\u2014man by man\u2014saying to each with a voice and a power that are spoken of still by the posterity of them that were there.... You have heard the whole evidence\u2014You\u2014you alone, Sir, that I speak to now, are to decide upon the life or death of the prisoner. You alone, Sir! and mark me if ... though ... you are but one of the twelve who are to decide ... if you decide for death ... observe what I say ... if you so decide Sir, as one of the twelve ... when, if you knew that her life depended upon you alone, you would have decided otherwise, mark me ... her blood shall be upon your head ... her death at your door! ... at yours\u2014and yours\u2014and yours\u2014though each of you be but one of the twelve.\r\n\r\nHear me. I address myself to you, John Peabody. Are you prepared to say\u2014would you say\u2014guilty<\/i>, if her life depended upon you, and upon you alone?\u2014if you were her only judge?\u2014Think of your death-bed\u2014of the Judge whom you are to meet hereafter, you that have so much need of mercy hereafter\u2014ask yourselves what harm would follow her acquittal, even though she were guilty. Then ask yourself what would be your feelings if you should ever come to know that you have put her to death wrongfully.... So say I to you, Andrew Elliot.... Her life depends upon you\u2014upon you alone! You are in fact her only judge\u2014for you\u2014or you\u2014or you\u2014or either of you may save her, and if you do not, her blood will be required hereafter at your hands\u2014at the hands of each of you\u2014\u2014I have done.\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER XI.<\/h3>\r\n<\/div>\r\nThe chief judge would not reply\u2014could not perhaps, till after he and his brothers had prayed together; and when he did speak, he spoke with a subdued voice, like one troubled with fear.\r\n\r\nGentlemen of the jury, said he; I have but a few words to urge in reply.\r\n\r\n1. You have been told that one should be a witch to prove that she is not guilty of witchcraft. I admire the ingenuity of the speaker; but my answer is, that by the same rule, a man should be a wizard to prove that he is not a manslayer\u2014he being\u00a0proved<\/i>\u00a0a manslayer. And yet,\u00a0being<\/i>\u00a0proved a manslayer, we put him to death. So here\u2014being proved a witch, if you are satisfied by the proof, we put the prisoner to death, even though it would require the exertion of diabolical power to overthrow the proof.\r\n\r\n2. You are told by one speaker that we are prone to believe in the marvellous; and that, therefore, when a marvellous thing is related, we ought to be on our guard against that proneness to belief, and require more proof. Now it appears to me that if we are prone to a belief in the marvellous, instead of requiring more proof to witchcraft, we should require less. For why require much, if less will do?\r\n\r\n3. But by another, it has been said that we are\u00a0not<\/i> prone to belief in the marvellous; that on the contrary, so prone are we to disbelieve in what may appear marvellous,\u00a0that proof, which we would be satisfied with in the ordinary affairs of life, we should pay no regard to, if it were [pb_glossary id=\"2055\"]adduced[\/pb_glossary] in favor of what we consider preternatural; and that therefore in the case you are now to try, you should require more proof than you would in support of a charge not marvellous. To which we reply\u2014that where you have the same number of witnesses, of the same character, in support of a marvellous charge, you\u00a0actually have more proof<\/i>, than you would have in the like testimony of the same witnesses, to a charge not marvellous. And why?\u2014Because by the supposition of the speaker, as they are prone to a\u00a0disbelief<\/i>\u00a0in the marvellous,\u00a0they<\/i>\u00a0would have required much proof, and would not have been persuaded to believe what they testify to, but upon irresistable proof\u2014more proof than would have satisfied them in the ordinary affairs of life.\r\n\r\n4. It has been said moreover\u2014that the greater the crime charged, the more incredible it is; that great crimes are perpetrated less frequently than small ones; and that, therefore, more proof should be required of [pb_glossary id=\"2056\"]parricide[\/pb_glossary] than of theft. Our reply to which is, that if a witness declare to a parricide on oath,\u00a0you have more proof<\/i>\u00a0than you would have to a theft sworn to by the very same witness; that, if the greater the crime, the less credible it is, you are bound to attach more value to his testimony where he testifies to parricide than where he testifies to theft. And why?\u2014Because, the greater the crime charged, the greater the crime of the witness if he charge falsely; and therefore the less likely is it, by the supposition, that he does charge falsely.\r\n\r\nBut here I would have you observe that proof is proof, and that after all, the proof which at law or otherwise would be enough to establish one charge, would be enough to establish any other. In every case you are to\u00a0be satisfied\u2014you are to believe: and in the case now before you, perhaps it may be well for you to look upon the two improbabilities which I have now spoken of, as neutralizing each other. If witchcraft is incredible\u2014it is incredible also that one should falsely charge another with witchcraft.\r\n\r\n5. It has been said too that the witnesses contradict each other. Be it so. I confess that I see no such contradiction\u2014but if I did, I might be called upon to say that perjured witnesses are remarkable for the plausibility and straight-forwardness of their stories; and that such plausibility and straight-forwardness are now regarded, like unanimity, as a sign of bad-faith by judges of experience. You are to be told moreover, that where slight contradictions appear in what may be said by several witnesses to the same fact, such contradictions are a sign of good-faith\u2014showing that no preconcerted story has been told. I might refer, and I may venture to do so perhaps, in a matter of such awful moment, to the gospels in proof. It is a mighty argument for their truth my friends, that no two of them perfectly agree\u2014no two of the whole as they could have agreed, if, as there have been people wicked enough to say (though not to believe) they had been prepared for deception by a body of conspirators\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nBrother\u2014brother\u2014put off thy shoes ... the ground is holy\u2014said Governor Phips.\r\n\r\nI have.... I have\u2014\r\n\r\nThe people groaned aloud.\r\n\r\n\u2014\u2014If you were called upon, each of you, five years from to-day, to give a particular account of what you now see and hear, and if each of you depended upon himself, your stories would be unlike; but if you consulted together, your stories would be sure to approximate. So much for this head.\r\n\r\n6. I have gone so far as to say that proof is proof, whatever may be the case; but I do not say that you are to require at any time, in any case, more proof than the nature of the case will admit of. In other words, you are not to insist upon the same sort and degree of proof in every case. You are to be satisfied with such proof as you can get\u2014if you suppose that none better is left behind. So says the law\u2014\r\n\r\nNonsense\u2014for if that rule is good, you might prove any-thing\u2014by<\/i>\u00a0any thing, said Burroughs.\r\n\r\nBe quiet Sir ... few people see spectres; and witches will do their mischief, not in the light of day, and before a multitude, but afar and apart from all but their associates. You are to be satisfied with less proof therefore in such a case, than it would be proper and reasonable for you to require in a case of property\u2014\r\n\r\nAnd if so\u2014why not in murder? ... murders being perpetrated afar and apart from the world\u2014\r\n\r\nPeace I bid you.... Having\u2014\r\n\r\nHow dare you!\r\n\r\n\u2014Having disposed of what has been urged respecting the proof, gentlemen of the jury, I should now leave the case with you, but for a remark which fell from a neighbour a few minutes ago. Doctor Mather will now touch upon what I would gladly pass over\u2014the growth and origin of the evil wherewith we are afflicted.\r\n\r\nHere a man of majestic presence of about fifty years of age arose, and laying aside his hat, and smoothing away a large quantity of thick glossy hair, which parting on his forehead, fell in a rich heavy mass upon his broad shoulders, prayed the jury and his brethren of the church to bear with him for a few moments; he should try to be very brief. Brother George\u2014he did not question his motive he said, but brother George Burroughs would have you believe that witches and wizards\u00a0are no longer permitted upon our earth; and that sorcery, witchcraft, and spells are done with.\r\n\r\n[pb_glossary id=\"2058\"]Whereto[\/pb_glossary] I reply.... First\u2014that there has been hitherto throughout all ages and among every people, and is now a general, if not a universal, belief in witchcraft and so forth. Now if such universality of belief respecting the appearance of departed souls after death, has been, as it certainly has, a great argument for the immortality of the soul with such as never heard of the Scriptures of Truth, I would ask why a like universality of belief respecting witchcraft and sorcery should be thought of no value, as an argument? Every where the multitude believe in witchcraft or in that which is of a piece with it. Spirits and fairies, goblins and wizards, prophets and witches, astrologers and soothsayers are found mixed up with the traditionary love and the religious faith of every people on earth, savage and civilized\u2014(so far as we know, I should say);\u2014with that of people who inhabit the isles of the sea, afar and apart from each other and from all the rest of the world. I speak advisedly. They believe in spirits, and they believe in a future state\u2014in sorcery and immortality. The wild Irish have what they call their banshees<\/a>, and the Scotch their [pb_glossary id=\"2059\"]second-sight[\/pb_glossary], and the French their [pb_glossary id=\"2060\"]loup-garoux[\/pb_glossary], or men turned into wolves\u2014and so also have the Irish; and a part of our jocular superstition is the posterity of that which existed among the terrible Goths<\/a>.\u00a0Maria\u2014a word that we hear from the lips of the idle and profane, before they have got reconciled to the wholesome severity of our law, was in old Runic a goblin that seized upon the sleeper and took away all power of motion. Old Nicka too\u2014he that we are in the habit of alluding to, in a grave way, as Old Nick, was a spright who used to strangle such as fell into the water. Bo\u2014was a fierce Gothic captain, the warlike son of\u00a0Odin, whose name was made use of in battle to scare a surprised enemy. Every where indeed, and with every people, earth sea and air have been crowded with specters, and the overpeopled sky with mighty shadows\u2014I do not know a\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nHere the great black horse which Burroughs had left underneath a tree, trotted up to the very door, and stood still, with the reigns afloat upon his neck, and thrust his head in over the heads of the people, who gave way on every side, as he struck his iron hoofs on the step, and for a second or two there was a dead quiet over the whole house. The speaker stopped and appeared astonished, for the eyes of the animal in the strong light of the torches, were like two balls of fire, and his loose mane was blowing forward in the draught of the door, so as actually to sound aloud.\r\n\r\nWhy do you stop\u2014what are you afraid of, Doctor Mather? Not afraid of old Pompey are you?\r\n\r\nHadn\u2019t you better tie him up? asked a judge.\r\n\r\nNo\u2014I have something else to do, but I desire that somebody at the door will. But nobody would go near the creature.\r\n\r\n\u2014History abounds with proof, I say, respecting witchcraft and sorcery, witches and wizards, magic, spells and wicked power. If we put all trust in the records of history for one purpose, why not for another? If a witness is worthy of belief in one thing\u2014why is he not another? If we find no treachery nor falsehood in a writer; if we meet with nothing but confirmation of what he says, when we refer to other writers of the same people and age, why disbelieve him when he speaks of that which, being new to our experience, we cannot be able to judge of? Able and pious men should be trusted, whatever they may say, so long as they are not contradicted by other able and pious men\u2014\r\n\r\nWe are to believe not only in witches then, but in fairies and loups-garoux\u2014\r\n\r\nBe quiet Sir\u2014\r\n\r\nSoftly judge.... And we are to believe that he who in the course of a tale about the ordinary affairs of ordinary life\u2014\r\n\r\nHave done Sir.\r\n\r\n\u2014Testifies to a miracle, should be credited as much for what he says of the miracle as for the rest of the\u2014\r\n\r\nBe quiet Sir.\r\n\r\n\u2014As for the rest of the tale.... You cannot escape me brother\u2014\r\n\r\nWill you be quiet Sir?\r\n\r\nNo.\r\n\r\n\u2014The Bible is crowded with proof, continued the Doctor. Sooth-sayers and sorcerers, interpreters of dreams, false-prophets, and a witch with power to make the grave and the sea give up their dead; men whose little rods became live serpents while they strove with Aaron the High-priest, multitudes who were clothed with a mischievous power ... all these are spoken of in the Bible.\r\n\r\nIt has been said here that credulity is a sign of ignorance. It may be so, my dear friends\u2014but you must know as well as I do, that incredulity is everywhere found among the ignorant. Able men believe much,\u00a0because<\/i>\u00a0they are able men. The weak disbelieve much because they are weak. Who are they that laugh when they hear that our earth is a globe, and that once in every twenty-four hours, it turns completely round underneath our feet\u2014\r\n\r\nMuch whispering here, and a look of surprise on every side of the speaker, encouraged him to a more emphatic delivery.\r\n\r\nWho are they that refuse to believe much that the\u00a0learned and the wise, fortified in their wisdom by the beauty of holiness, and the gravity of age, are steadfastly assured of? The truth is that extraordinary minds have a courage that ordinary minds have not\u2014for they dare to believe what may expose them to ridicule. The longer we live and the more we know, the more assured we are that impossible things are possible\u2014\r\n\r\nTo be sure Doctor, said a judge.\r\n\r\n\u2014That nothing is impossible therefore.... Now, my friends of the jury\u2014it appears to me that if witchcraft\u00a0had<\/i>\u00a0been a common thing with every people, and in all ages, we could not possibly have had more evidence of it, than we have now. We have the records of History, sacred as well as profane. We have a great body of laws, made year after year, among the most enlightened people that ever inhabited the earth, about conjurations, spells and witchcraft, and this, in all parts of the globe and especially in the land of our Fathers; judgment of death, day after day, and year after year, under that law; confessions without number by people charged with sorcery and witchcraft, not only in various parts of England, but by our very fire-sides and at our very doors. Added to all this, we have the universal faith of which I spoke, and altogether, a body of proof, which if it be false\u2014would be more wonderful than witchcraft is\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nTrue ... true ... fearfully and wonderfully true, brother.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_2001\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"579\"]\"This Frontispiece of The Discovery of Witches, 1647. \"This woodcut depicts the self-styled Witchfinder General, Matthew Hopkins<\/a>, with witches and their familiar spirits. Familiars were thought to be demonic imps which would assist the witches with their magic, often in animal form.\"[\/caption]\r\n\r\n\u2014But if such things\u00a0are<\/i> elsewhere why may they not be here? If they have been heretofore, why may they not be now, and forever? We do not know, worms that we are, how the Lord God of Heaven and earth operates in His pavillion of thick darkness\u2014we do not know whether he will or will not work in a given way. We only know that he may do whatever he will ... that\u00a0for Him there is no such law as the law of nature. And if so, why may not witches be employed as the wicked are, as great warriors are, for scourging the nations of our earth, and for the glory of our Father above.\u2014Let us pray.\r\n\r\nPrayer followed, and after the prayer, the multitude sung a psalm together, and the jury withdrew.\r\n\r\nThey were not gone long, and when they came back there was but just light enough to see their faces. Not a breath could be heard ... not a whisper\u2014and the foreman stood up and was about to speak in the name of the twelve, when Burroughs, who could bear it no longer, leaped upon his feet, and turned to the jury with tenfold power, and gasping for breath, called upon each man by name, as he hoped for mercy hereafter, to speak for himself.\r\n\r\nBrother Burroughs!\r\n\r\nBrother Moody\u2014\r\n\r\nBe quiet Master Burroughs.\r\n\r\nI will not be quiet, Master Judge\u2014\r\n\r\nOfficer!\r\n\r\nI will not be quiet I say! And hereafter you will remember my words, and if they prevail with you, men of Massachusetts-Bay, ye will be ready to cry out for joy that I was not brow-beaten by your looks; nor scared by your threats\u2014\r\n\r\nHave done Sir.\u2014Do your duty Master High-Sheriff.\r\n\r\n\u2014Begone Sir. Touch me if you dare.\u2014You see this staff.\u2014You know something of me and of my ways.\u2014Touch me if you dare. What I have to say shall be said, though I die for it. By our Sovereign Lord and Master and Mary his Queen, I charge you to hear me! You are shedding the blood of the innocent! You are driving away the good and the brave by scores from the land! You are saying to people of no courage, as to\u00a0that poor woman there\u2014as I live she is fast asleep\u2014asleep! ... while that grey-headed man who stoops over her is about to pronounce the judgment of death upon her\u2014\r\n\r\nWake the prisoner ... what, ho, there! cried the chief judge.\r\n\r\nThe officer went up to poor Martha and shook her; but she did not appear to know where she was, and fell asleep again with her little withered hands crossed in her lap.\r\n\r\nYou are saying to her and such as her.... Confess and you are safe. Deny, and you perish\u2014\r\n\r\nTo the point Mr. Burroughs.... We are tired of this; we have put up with enough to-day\u2014\r\n\r\nI will. I demand of you judges that you call upon every man there in that box to say, each man for himself, whether it be his opinion that Martha Cory should suffer death. I\u00a0will<\/i>\u00a0have it so.... I\u00a0will<\/i>\u00a0have it on record\u2014I will not permit a man of the twelve in such a case to hide himself under the cloak of the majority\u2014\r\n\r\nIt cannot be master Burroughs\u2014it cannot be\u2014such a thing was never heard of ... gentlemen of the jury, look upon the prisoner.\r\n\r\nHear me but a word more! I see death in the very eyes of the jury\u2014I see that we have no hope. Hear me nevertheless ... hear me for a minute or two, and I will go away from you forever\u2014\r\n\r\nLet us hear him, said another judge.\r\n\r\nI proved to you the other day that an accuser had perjured herself in this court, before your faces, ye mighty and grave men. What was my reward? You gave judgment of death on the accused\u2014You let the accuser go free\u2014I see that accuser now. What will be said of your justice at home, if you permit her to\u00a0escape? Will the judges of England forget you? or the majesty of England forgive you?\u2014\r\n\r\nThe horse at the door began to grow impatient\u2014snorting and striking with his feet.\r\n\r\n\u2014Ye know that the knife was a forgery; and the sheet which has made so much talk here, why even that was a\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nHe stopped short, and looking at a female who sat near him, appeared to lose himself entirely, and forget what he was going to say.\r\n\r\nWell Sir\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nExcuse me ... I ... I ... excuse me ... although I have no doubt of the fact, although as I hope to see the face of my Redeemer, I do believe the story of the sheet and the story of the spindle, to be of a piece with the story of the knife; a trick and a forgery, yet\u2014yet\u2014\r\n\r\nHere he made a sign to the female, as if to encourage her.\r\n\r\n\u2014Yet I dare not say\u00a0now<\/i>, I dare not say\u00a0here<\/i>, on what my belief is founded. But hear me ... they talk of teeth and of whole sets of teeth being discoverable by the prints which appear in their flesh. How does it happen I pray you that all these marks turn out to be on parts of the body which might be bitten by the afflicted themselves? And how does it happen, I pray you, that instead of corresponding teeth, or sets of teeth being found in the accused, ye have repeatedly found her as now, without a tooth in her head? Nay ... how does it happen that Abigail Paris and Bridget Pope, who are indeed sufferers by a strange malady, babes that are innocent as the dove, I am sure ... God forbid that I should lay the mischief at their door\u2014\r\n\r\nSeven and seven pence\u2014muttered the man, who kept an account of the oaths.\r\n\r\n\u2014\u2014How does it happen I say, that of all the accusers\u00a0they and they alone have escaped the mark of the teeth? How! ... because they alone speak the truth; because they are the deceived ... we know not how, judges, but in a fearful way. They are deceived ... poor children, but they do not seek to deceive others. Nor do they lie in wait for a\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nHe was interrupted by a loud furious neigh, so loud and so furious from the great black stallion at the door, that Martha awoke and started up with a scream that thrilled the very blood of the judges, and made the people hurry away from the bar.\r\n\r\nBurroughs now saw that he had no hope, and that in a moment the poor soul before him would bear the sentence of death. He caught up his iron-shod staff, and breaking through the crowd which recoiled from his path as if he were something whose touch would be fatal to life, sprang upon the back of the horse, and gallopped away toward the sea-shore.\r\n\r\nNo language on earth, no power on earth can describe the scene that followed his departure, the confusion, the outcry, the terror of the people who saw the fire fly from his rocky path, and heard leap after leap of the [pb_glossary id=\"1970\"]charger[\/pb_glossary] bounding toward the precipice; nor the fright of the judges; nor the pitiable distress and perplexity of the poor childish woman, when she was made fully to understand, after the tumult was over and the dread clamor and fire-flashing had passed away, and everything was quiet as the grave\u2014nothing to be heard but a heavy trample afar off and the dull roar of the sea\u2014that she must be prepared for death.\r\n\r\nShe could not believe it ... she would not believe it\u2014she did not ... such was her perfect simplicity, till the chief judge came to her and assured her with tears in his eyes, over and over again, that it must be so.\r\n\r\nAh me! said poor Martha, looking out toward the quarter of the sky where the horseman had so hastily disappeared, and where she had seen the last of the fire-light struck from his path; Ah me, bending her head to listen, and holding up her finger as if she could hear him on his way back. Ah me!\u2014ah me ... and that was all she said in reply to her judges, and all she said when they drove her up to the place of her death, decked out in all her tattered finery, as if it were not so much for the grave, as for a bridal that she was prepared.\r\n\r\nAh me! said poor Martha when they put the rope about her neck.... Ah me!\u2014and she died while she was playing with her little withered fingers, and blowing the loose grey hair from about her mouth as it strayed away from her [pb_glossary id=\"1969\"]tawdry[\/pb_glossary] cap ... saying over the words of a child in the voice of a child, Ah me\u2014ah me\u2014with her last breath\u2014\r\n\r\nGod forgive her judges!\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_2004\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"662\"]\"Oil \"Witch Hill (The Salem Martyr),\" 1869, by Thomas Satterwhite Noble.
\"The young woman who posed as the condemned witch was a librarian in the Cincinnati library, and was a lineal descendant of a woman who was actually hanged as a witch in 17th century Salem.\"[\/caption]\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER XII.<\/h3>\r\n<\/div>\r\nThe work of that day was the death of George Burroughs. The unhappy allusion that he made to the knife, just before he stopped so suddenly and fixed his eyes upon a young female who sat near him with her back to the light, and her face muffled up so that nobody knew her till after she had gone away, was now in every body\u2019s mouth. She was the sister of Rachel Dyer, and her name was Mary Elizabeth; after Mary Dyer and Elizabeth Hutchinson. It was now concluded that what he knew of the perjury of the witnesses, of the sheet and of the knife, he had been told by Mary Elizabeth or by Rachel Dyer, who had been watching him all the livelong day, from a part of the house, where the shadow of a mighty tree fell so as to darken all the faces about her.\r\n\r\nIt was Rachel Dyer who spoke out with a voice of authority and reproved him for a part of his wild speech. And it was Rachel Dyer who came up to his very side, when he was in array against the judges and the elders and the people, and stood there and spoke to him without fear; while Mary Elizabeth sat by her side with her hands locked in her lap, and her blue eyes fixed in despair upon the earth.\r\n\r\nNor were the people mistaken; for what he knew of the forgery, he did know from Rachel Dyer, and from Mary Elizabeth Dyer, the two quaker women whose holy regard for truth, young as they were, made their\u00a0simple [pb_glossary id=\"1968\"]asseveration[\/pb_glossary] of more value than the oath of most people. To them was he indebted for the knowledge, though he was not suffered to speak of it\u2014for the times were not ripe enough, that even as the knife-blade was, the spindle and the sheet were, a wicked forgery; and the sign that he made to Elizabeth Dyer, when he stopped in the middle of his speech, and the look of sorrow and love which accompanied his endeavor to appease her frightful agitation, as she sat there gasping for breath and clinging to Rachel\u2019s garb, were enough to betray the truth to everybody that saw them.\r\n\r\nIt was fatal to him, that look of sorrow and love, and ere long it was fatal to another, to one who loved him with a love so pure and so high as to be without reproach, even while it was without hope; and it would have been fatal to another in spite of her loveliness, but for the wonderful courage of her ... the heroine of our story, whose behavior throughout a course of sore and bitter trial which continued day after day, and month after month, and year after year, deserves to be perpetuated in marble. No hero ever endured so much\u2014no man ever yet suffered as that woman suffered, nor as a multitude of women do, that we pass by every hour, without so much as a look of pity or a word of kindness to cheer them onward in their path of sorrow and suffering. If God ever made a heroine, Rachel Dyer was a heroine\u2014a heroine without youth or beauty, with no shape to please, with no color to charm the eye, with no voice to delight the ear.\r\n\r\nBut enough\u2014let us go to our story. Before the sun rose again after the trial of poor Martha, the conspirators of death were on the track of new prey, and fear and mischief were abroad with a new shape. And before the sun rose again, the snare was laid for a preacher of the gospel, and before a month was over, they dragged him away to the scaffold of death, scoffing at his piety and ridiculing his lofty composure, and offered him up a sacrifice to the terrible infatuation of the multitude. But before we take up the story of his death, a word or two of his life. It was full of wayward and strange adventure.\r\n\r\nHe appears to have been remarkable from his earliest youth for great moral courage, great bodily power, enthusiastic views, and a something which broke forth afterwards in what the writers of the day allude to, as an extraordinary gift of speech. He was evidently a man of superior genius, though of a distempered genius, fitful, haughty and rash. \u201cHe appeared on earth,\u201d says an old writer of America, \u201cabout a hundred years too soon. What he was put to death for in 1692, he may be renowned for (if it please the Lord) in 1792, should this globe (of which there is now small hope, on account of the wars and rumors of wars, and star-shooting that we see) hold together so long.\u201d\r\n\r\nHe was not a large man, but his activity and strength were said to be unequalled. He went about every where among the nations of the earth; he grew up in the midst of peril and savage warfare; and at one period of his life, his daily adventures were so strange, so altogether beyond what other men are likely to meet with, even while they are abroad in search of adventure, that if they were told in the simple language of truth, and precisely as they occurred, they would appear unworthy of belief. The early part of his life, he spent among a people who made war night and day for their lives, and each man for himself\u2014the men of Massachusetts-Bay, who did so, for about a hundred and fifty years after they went ashore on the rocks of New-Plymouth\u2014putting swords upon the thighs of their preachers, and Bibles into the hands of their soldiers, whithersoever\u00a0they went, by day or by night, for sleep, for battle or for prayer.\r\n\r\nOn account of his birth, he was brought up to the church, with a view to the conversion of a tribe to which his father belonged: Constituted as he was, he should have been a warrior. He made poetry; and he was a strong and beautiful writer: He should have made war\u2014he might have been a leader of armies\u2014a legislator\u2014a statesman\u2014a deliverer. Had he appeared in the great struggle for North-American liberty, fourscore years later, he probably would have been all this.\r\n\r\nHe never knew his father; and he was dropped by his mother, as he said, in the heart of the wilderness, like the young of the wild-beast; but he escaped the bear and the wolf, and the snake, and was bred a savage, among savages, who while he was yet a child, put him upon the track of his unnatural mother, and bid him pursue her. He did pursue her with the instinct of a blood-pup, and found her, and fell upon her neck and forgave her and kissed her, and wept with her, and stood by her in the day of her trouble. On her death-bed she told him her story. She had been carried away captive by the Indians while she was yet a child. She grew up to their customs and married a warrior who was descended from a white man. Of that marriage the boy about her neck was born. She had no other child, but she was very happy until she saw the Rev. Mr. Elliot<\/a> of Plymouth, a man who seeing others of the church occupied in warfare and cruel strife, turned his back upon the white men that he loved, and struck into the woods of the north, and went about every where preaching the gospel to the savages and translating precious books for them, such as \u201c[pb_glossary id=\"1967\"]Primers[\/pb_glossary], [pb_glossary id=\"1419\"]catechisms[\/pb_glossary], the practice of piety, Baxter\u2019s Call to the Unconverted<\/a>, several of Mr. Shepard\u2019s<\/a> composures, and at length the\u00a0Bible itself, which was printed the first time in their language in 1664, and a second time, not long after, with the corrections of Mr. Cotton<\/a>, minister of Plymouth.\u201d After meeting with Mr. Elliot, who soon added her to his Indian church, and filled her heart with fear about original sin, faith, free grace and a future life, she grew melancholy; and being assured that her brave wild husband, a chief who hated the white man with a hatred passing that of the red men, would never permit her to preach or pray if he knew it, she forsook him and fled for refuge to New-Plymouth\u2014her boy, whom she could not bear to leave with his pagan father, strapped to her back, and her soul supported by the prayers of the true church. For a time she doated on the boy, for a time she was all that a mother could be; but before a twelvemonth was over, perceiving that she was regarded by the whites, and by the women especially (her sisterhood of the church) as unworthy to associate with them because of the babe, and because of the father, whose lineage they said was that of [pb_glossary id=\"1966\"]Anti-Christ[\/pb_glossary] and the scarlet-woman, she took to prayer anew, and bethought herself anew of the wrath of God\u2014her Father\u2014and resolving to purify herself as with fire, because of what she had been to the savages\u2014a wife and a mother, she strapped the boy on her back once more, and set off a-foot and alone to seek the hut of his wild father;\u2014and having found it she kissed her boy, and laid him at his father\u2019s door in the dead of night, and came away with a joyous heart and a free step, as if now\u2014now<\/i>, that the little heathen was in a fair way of being devoured by the wolf or the wild hog, under the very tree which overhung the very spot of green earth where she had begun to love his father, as he lay asleep in the shadow, after a day of severe toil\u2014she had nothing more to do to be saved.\r\n\r\nThe father died in battle before the boy had strength enough to draw a child\u2019s arrow to the head. The boy went in pursuit of his mother at the age of twelve, and by her he was taught the lessons of a new faith. She persuaded him to leave the tribe of his father, to forsake the wild men who were not of the true church, and to come out from the shadow of the wilderness. The whites aware of the value of such a youth and of the use he might be in their bold scheme for the overthrow of Indian power throughout all North America\u2014the spread of the Gospel of truth and peace and charity, as they called it\u2014added their solicitation to hers. But no\u2014no\u2014the brave boy withstood them all, he would neither be bribed nor flattered, nor trapped, nor scared; nor was he, till he saw his poor mother just ready to die. But then he gave up\u2014he threw aside the bow and the arrow, he tore off the rich beaver dress that he wore, buried the tomahawk, offered up the bright weapons of death along with the bright wages of death, on the altar of a new faith\u2014prayed his mother to look up and live and be happy, and betook himself with such fervor and security to the Bible, that he came to be regarded, while yet a youth, as a new hope for the church that had sprung up from the blood of the martyrs.\r\n\r\nHe married while he was yet a boy. At the age of twenty, he was a widower. At the age of twenty-four he was a widower again, with a new love at his heart which he dared not avow\u2014for how could he hope that another would be found to overlook his impure lineage; now that two had died, he believed in his own soul, a sacrifice to the bitter though mute persecution they had to endure for marrying with one who was not altogether a white man? a love which accelerated his death, for till the name of Elizabeth Dyer came to be associated with his, after the trial of Martha Cory, the wretched\u00a0women, who had acquired such power by their pretended sufferings, were able to forgive his reproof, his enquiry, and his ridicule of what they swore to, whenever they opened their lips to charge anybody with witchcraft. From the day of the trial it was not so. They forgave him for nothing, after they saw how much he loved Mary Elizabeth Dyer. And yet, he was no longer what he had been\u2014he was neither handsome nor youthful now; and they who reproached others for loving him when he was both, why should they pursue him as they did, when the day of his marvellous beauty and strength was over? when his hair was already touched with snow, and his high forehead and haughty lip with care? Merely because he appeared to love another.\r\n\r\nHe had been a preacher at Salem till after the death of his first wife, where he had a few praying Indians and a few score of white people under his charge. They were fond of him, and very proud of him (for he was the talk of the whole country) till, after her death, being seized with a desire to go away\u2014to escape for a time, he cared not how nor whither, from the place where he had been so very happy and for so short a period, he left his flock; and went eastward, and married anew\u2014and was a widower again\u2014burying a second wife; the second he had so loved, and so parted from, without a wish to outlive her\u2014and then he crossed the sea, and traversed the whole of Europe, and after much trial and a series of strange [pb_glossary id=\"275\"]vicissitude[\/pb_glossary], came back\u2014though not to the church he had left, but to the guardianship of another a great way off.\r\n\r\nHe could bear to live\u2014and that was all; he could not bear to stay, year after year, by the grave where the women that he so loved were both asleep in their youth and beauty\u2014and he forbidden to go near them. But he prospered no more\u2014so say the flock he deserted,\u00a0when he went away forever from the church he had built up, and took refuge again among the people of Casco Bay, at Falmouth\u2014a sweet place, if one may judge by what it is now, with its great green hill and smooth blue water, and a scattered group of huge pine trees on the north side. It was a time of war when he arrived at Falmouth, and the Indians were out, backed by a large body of the French and commanded by a French officer, the Sieur Hertel, a man of tried valor and great experience in the warfare of the woods. At the village of Casco Bay, there was a little fort, or block house, into which about a hundred men with their wives and little ones were gathered together, waiting the attack of their formidable and crafty foe, when the preacher appeared.\r\n\r\nThere was no time to throw away\u2014they were but a handful to the foe, afar from succor and beyond the reach of sympathy. He saw this, and he told them there was no hope, save that which pious men feel, however they may be situated, and that nothing on earth could save them but their own courage and a prayerful [pb_glossary id=\"1964\"]assiduity[\/pb_glossary]. They were amazed at his look, for he shewed no sign of fear when he said this, and they gathered about him and hailed him as their hope and refuge; the servant of the Lord, their [pb_glossary id=\"1963\"]Joshua[\/pb_glossary], and the captain of their salvation, while he proceeded to speak as if he had been familiar with war from his boyhood.\r\n\r\nFor weeks before the affair came to issue, he and they slept upon their arms. They never had their clothes off by night nor by day, nor did they move beyond the reach of their loaded guns. If they prayed now, it was not as it had been before his arrival in a large meeting-house and all together, with their arms piled or stacked at the door, and the bullet-pouch and powder-horn, wherever it might please the Lord,\u2014but they prayed\u00a0together, a few at a time, with sentries on the watch now, with every gun loaded and every knife sharpened, with every bullet-pouch and every powder-horn slung where it should be; and they prayed now as they had never prayed before\u2014as if they knew that when they rose up, it would be to grapple man to man with the savages.\r\n\r\nAt last on a very still night in the month of May, one of the two most beautiful months of the year in that country of rude weather, a horseman who was out on the watch, perceived a solitary canoe floating by in the deep shadow of the rocks, which overhung the sea beneath his feet. Before he had time to speak, or to recollect himself, he heard a slight whizzing in the air, and something which he took for a bird flew past him\u2014it was immediately followed by another, at which his horse reared\u2014and the next moment a large arrow struck in a tree just over his head. Perceiving the truth now, the horseman set off at full speed for the fort, firing into the canoe as he darted away, and wondering at his narrow escape after the flight of two such birds, and the twang of a bowstring at his very ear.\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER XIII.<\/h3>\r\n<\/div>\r\nHe\u00a0had<\/i>\u00a0a narrow escape\u2014for the shore was lined with canoes that had come in one by one with the tide, stealing along in the shadow that lay upon the edge of the water, and the woods were alive with wild men preparing to lay an [pb_glossary id=\"1960\"]ambuscade[\/pb_glossary]. They were not quite ready for the attack however, and so they lay still on both sides of the narrow path he took, and suffered him to ride away in safety when he was within the reach, not only of their balls and arrows but of their knives. They knew with whom they had to deal, and the issue proved their [pb_glossary id=\"367\"]sagacity[\/pb_glossary], for when the poor fellow arrived at the fort and related what he had seen, there was nobody to believe the story but Burroughs, and he would not put much faith in it, although he had reason to think well of the man; for how were the savages to get across the Bay in such a clear still night\u2014with a sea like the sky, and a sky like the air that men breathe in their boyhood or when they are happy\u2014without being discovered by the boats? And how were they to approach from the woods, without coming over a wide smooth level of water, seldom deep enough to float a large canoe, nor ever shoal enough to be forded without much risk on account of the mud?\r\n\r\nNo attack followed for three nights and for three days, and already the [pb_glossary id=\"1961\"]garrison[\/pb_glossary] were beginning to be weary of the watch, and to murmur at the restraint he had imposed. It grieved him to the soul to see their fright passing off and their vigilance with it. I beseech you said he, on the afternoon of the fourth day, toward night-fall, as he saw them lying about under the trees, and a full fourth of their number asleep in the rich warm grass, with hardly a knife or a gun where it should be, a pike or a powder-horn\u2014I do beseech you to hear me. You are in jeopardy, in great jeopardy\u2014I know it; I am sure of it\u2014\r\n\r\nSo you said a week ago, answered one of the men, stretching himself out, with a rude laugh, and resting his chin on both hands, with his elbows fixed in the turf.\r\n\r\nAh, you may laugh, Mark Smith, but I am satisfied of what I say\u2014the woods are much too still for the time o\u2019 the year\u2014\r\n\r\n[pb_glossary id=\"1962\"]Fiddlestick[\/pb_glossary], parson Burroughs! what a queer fish you be, to be sure, added another. You are skeered when there\u2019s nothin\u2019 at all to be skeered at\u2014\r\n\r\nSo he is Billy Pray, and yet he aint afeard o\u2019 the old One himself, when other folks air.\r\n\r\nSkeered one day at a noise, and another day at no noise at all\u2014haw, haw, haw!\r\n\r\nDo you see how the birds fly?\r\n\r\nWhat birds?\r\n\r\nThe birds that come up from the shore\u2014they fly as if they were frightened\u2014\r\n\r\nWell, what if they do?\r\n\r\nAn\u2019 so I say, Mark Smith\u2014what if they do? rolling over in the grass and preparing for another nap\u2014Who cares how they fly? if they\u2019re frightened, haw, haw, haw, that\u2019s their look out, I spose\u2014haw, haw, haw.\r\n\r\nI beseech you to be serious, men\u2014we have heard no shot fired for several days in that quarter, and yet you see the birds fly as if they were hunted. Now, it is my opinion that they are struck with arrows, and arrows\u00a0you know are made use of by people who are afraid to make a noise when they kill their food\u2014\r\n\r\nHa, ha, ha;\u2014haw, haw, haw! gi\u2019 me you yit, parson\u2014haw, haw, haw!\u2014what if they\u2019re under the shore\u2014can\u2019t they kill fish without makin\u2019 a noise? haw, haw, haw!\r\n\r\nFish\u2014fish\u2014but no, I will not be angry with you Taber; I dare not, much as you deserve it, for every thing we have in the world is now at stake\u2014everything. I entreat you therefore, my friends\u2014I implore you, instead of laying by your arms, to double your guard this very night; instead of sleeping, to watch more than ever\u2014I feel afraid of this deep tranquility\u2014\r\n\r\nNonsense\u2014double the watch now, when every thing is quiet in the woods, and down by the beach, and not a breath o\u2019 noise to be heard anywhere?\r\n\r\nYea\u2014yea\u2014for that very reason. Look you, David Fisher\u2014I know well what the Indians are, better than you do now, and better than you ever will, I hope. I have now done\u00a0my<\/i>\u00a0duty. Do you yours\u2014I have nothing more to say; but I shall be prepared as I would have you prepare, for the night which is now at hand. Our foes are not on the water, Smith, nor nigh the water now, or they might fish for their food without alarming us. But whether you believe me or no, I say again that they are not far from us, and that we shall find it so, to our sorrow, if you do not keep a better look out for the\u2014\u2014there\u2014there\u2014do you see how that partridge flies!\u2014I tell you again and again, there\u2019s something alive in that very wood now.\r\n\r\nI dare say there is\u2014haw, haw, haw!\r\n\r\nAnd so I say, Mark Smith, hee, hee, hee\u2014\r\n\r\nIt may be one o\u2019 the dogs\u2014ha, ha, ha!\u2014And they all sprang up together with a jovial outcry, and began to [pb_glossary id=\"1959\"]caper[\/pb_glossary] about in the grass, and call to a group that were at\u00a0work a little way off, to go with them and help scour the wood, where the new Joshua thought there was something alive.\r\n\r\nYou forget Mark Smith\u2014dogs do not go into the woods\u2014stay, stay, I beseech you\u2014don\u2019t be so foolhardy\u2014try to make one of the dogs go to the top of that hill before you\u2014nay, nay, Carver; nay, nay, and you too, Clark\u2014are you mad Sir?\u2014you a lieutenant of war, and the first of our men to play the fool.\r\n\r\nHere you men, said Clark. Here you men, I say!\u2014Whose afeard among the whole [pb_glossary id=\"1958\"]boodle[\/pb_glossary] of you?\r\n\r\nNo answer.\r\n\r\nNobody\u2019s afeard\u2014so I thought. Hourra then\u2014hourra for the king!\r\n\r\nHourra!\u2014hourra!\u2014hourra for the king!\r\n\r\nPooty well, that\u2014pooty fair too\u2014now le\u2019me see you hourra for the queen.\r\n\r\nHourra then\u2014hourra!\u2014hourra for the queen!\r\n\r\nThat\u2019s you, faith!\r\n\r\nHourra\u2014hourra\u2014hou\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nNo, no that\u2019s enough; a belly full o\u2019 hurrah is as good\u2019s a feast now\u2014hold up your heads.\u2014How many is there of you, all told?\u2014Soh\u2014soh\u2014steady there, steady\u2014turn out your heels\u2014\r\n\r\nTurn out your toes you mean\u2014haw, haw, hee!\r\n\r\nNo I don\u2019t\u2014hee, hee, haw\u2014give that up long ago.\u2014Now then! hold still there, hol\u2019 still I say, while I count you off\u2014one\u2014two\u2014three\u2014darn your hide Matthew Joy, aint there no hold still to you? Stan\u2019 still, I say;\u2014four, five\u2014Out o\u2019 that snarl, there\u2014one, two, three, four!\u2014very well, very well indeed, never see the wrigglars do\u2019t half so well\u2014clean as a whistle\u2014soh, soh\u2014five an\u2019 five is ten, and five is fifteen\u2014there now; you\u2019ve put me out\u2014hold your gab, Sargeant Berry;\u2014how am I goin\u2019 to count off the men if you keep a jabberin\u2019 so?\u00a0\u2014twenty-five\u2014eight\u2014nine\u2014thirty, and two is thirty-four\u2014now look me right in the eye every one o\u2019 you. Heads up\u2014heels out\u2014heels out I say\u2014that\u2019s you Jake Berry, you never stoop none, I see\u2014heels out there, every man of you, what are you afeard on?\u2014You there with the striped jacket on, what\u2019s your under jaw out there for? you want to tumble over it, hey?\u2014heads up there, heads up\u2014have your ears buttoned back, head soaped and a bladder drawn over it hey?\u2014Soh, soh!\u2014attention\u2014very well\u2014very well indeed\u2014pooty fair\u2014now I\u2019m goin\u2019 to give the word for you\u2014\r\n\r\nWall ... an\u2019 what\u2019s the word you\u2019re goin\u2019 to give ... hey?\r\n\r\nYou be quiet our Jake, and you\u2019ll see....\r\n\r\nHow shall we know what to do, when you give the word, if you don\u2019t tell us aforehand\u2014I should like to know that....\r\n\r\nShet your clam, Obadiah P. Joy\u2014aint you ashamed o\u2019 yourself; nice feller you for a sojer\u2014aint he boys?\r\n\r\nWell, fire away then.\r\n\r\nNow you see, I\u2019m goin\u2019 to say now or never, three times ... behave there! behave I say! ... and when I\u2019ve said now or never the third time, off I go, you see! right bang, slap dash into that are wood there, a top or that air hill, and them that\u2019s good enough to carry guts to a bear, they\u2019ll go with me. Soh ... all ready now!\r\n\r\nAy, ay ... ay, ay, Sir ... ruther guess we be....\r\n\r\nNow ... or ... never! said Clark, leaning forward with a preparatory step, setting the breach of his heavy musket in the turf, and driving home the [pb_glossary id=\"1957\"]ramrod[\/pb_glossary], to prove the weight of the charge. Now-or-never! cocking it, and shaking the powder into the pan, with his eye on the troop, all of whom stood with their left leg forward, ready for the race ... now-or-never! and off he started before the words were fairly out of his mouth on the heels of two or three who had started before.\r\n\r\nKeep together, keep together! shouted Burroughs. Whatever else you do, keep together!\r\n\r\nBut no, no ... they would have their own way.\r\n\r\nIf the indians are there, added he.... If they are! ... as he saw the whole thirty stretching away all out of breath for a wood which crowned the top of the hill\u2014If they are! it is all up with us ... and I am sorely afraid of that narrow green lane there, with a brush-fence on the upper side of it.... Ha!\u2014\u2014God forgive them for their folly.... Did you see that?\r\n\r\nSee what.... I saw nothing....\r\n\r\nLook ... look ... there\u2019s a glitter and a confused motion there ... can\u2019t you see it? ... just where the sun strikes on the verge of the hill among the high grass, where a\u2014\u2014my God ... I thought so!\r\n\r\nI can\u2019t see nothin\u2019 ... the sun hurts my eyes; but as for you, you can look right into the sun.... Hullow ... where now?\r\n\r\nTo arms! to arms! cried the preacher, in a voice that might have been heard a mile ... away with you to your post.\r\n\r\nAway with you all, cried Burroughs.\r\n\r\nWhat for?\r\n\r\nTo arms! to arms, I say, continued the preacher.\r\n\r\nWhat for?\r\n\r\nTo legs more like ... what for?\r\n\r\nAway to the fort I beseech you (lowering his voice) away with you, every man of you\u2014you and your wives and your little ones\u2014you haven\u2019t a breath to lose now ... away with you.\r\n\r\nNation seize the feller; what for?\r\n\r\nRattlesnakes an\u2019 toddy ... what for!\r\n\r\nWhat for\u2014God of our fathers! O, ye men of little faith!\r\n\r\nHourra for you! you\u2019re cracked I vow; pooty representative o\u2019 Joshua.\r\n\r\nHear me ... hear me.... Have I not more experience than you? Do I not know what I say? ... can you not believe me? what do you risk by doing as I desire; ... O, if you but knew as well as I do, what is nigh to us!\r\n\r\nWall what is nigh to us?\r\n\r\nDeath.\r\n\r\nDeath!\r\n\r\nAy ... death ... death ... death....\r\n\r\nBoo!\r\n\r\nMy friends ... my dear friends ... do,\u00a0do<\/i>\u00a0be ruled by me ... there ... there\u2014did you see that?\r\n\r\nSee what? ... you\u00a0air<\/i>\u00a0cracked, I\u2019ll be darned if you aint.\r\n\r\nMy God! my God! cried the preacher, looking about in despair, and speaking as if he saw the savages already at the work of death, hatchets and arrows on every side of his path, and every clump of willow-trees near breaking out with fire and smoke. Will you not be persuaded ... will you not give up? ... see ... see... Clark is getting the foolish men together, and if we betake ourselves to the refuge, there may be some hope of a\u2014\r\n\r\nWhat are they stoppin\u2019 for now, I wonder\u2014.\r\n\r\nWait half a minute more young man, said the preacher, and you will be satisfied\u2014now\u2014now!\r\n\r\nAs he spoke, the men halted and came together a few yards from the top of the hill.\r\n\r\nOut o\u2019 breath I guess?\r\n\r\nOut of courage I fear\u2014.\r\n\r\nHourra!\u2014hourra!\u2014shouted the men afar off, and the shout came through the still air, and passed off to the high sea, like a shout of triumph.\r\n\r\nHourra!\u2014hourra!\u2014answered all that were nigh Burroughs, and all that were in the fort.\r\n\r\nHourra!\u2014hourra!\u2014hourra!\u2014echoed the people, and the shores and the rocks rung with their delirious outcry, as the brave thirty dashed forward.\r\n\r\nThere they go\u2014there they go\u2014yelled a man from the top of a tree just over the head of the preacher. There they go\u2014they are up to the fence now.\r\n\r\nAre they indeed\u2014are you sure\u2014God be praised if they are.\r\n\r\nSure!\u2014that I be\u2014there they go\u2014there they go\u2014ha, ha, ha!\u2014they\u2019re tumblin\u2019 over each other\u2014ha, ha, ha\u2014there they go\u2014I knowed there wasn\u2019t any thing there\u2014ha, ha\u2014halloo!\u2014hey\u2014what\u2014\r\n\r\nWell Job, what\u2019s to pay now?\u2014they\u2019re t\u2019other side o\u2019 the fence now, arn\u2019t they?\r\n\r\nT\u2019other side o\u2019 the fence!\u2014no, indeed, not within a\u2014Lord God!\u2014Mr. Burroughs!\u2014Mr. Burroughs!\r\n\r\nWell\u2014what\u2019s the matter now?\r\n\r\nLord have mercy upon us! Lord have mercy upon us!\r\n\r\nYou\u2019ll break your neck Job Hardy, if you\u2019re not careful.\r\n\r\nO Lord, O lord! what will become of my poor wife?\r\n\r\nAh, ha\u2014now do you believe me?\r\n\r\nOut broke the tremendous war-whoop of the Pequods<\/a>, with peal after peal of musketry, and before the preacher could make himself heard in the uproar, two or three white men appeared afar off, running for their lives, and pursued by a score of savages. By and by, another appeared\u2014another and another\u2014and after a while five more\u2014and these were all that had survived the first discharge of the enemy.\r\n\r\nYou perceive now why the men tumbled about as they did, when they got near the fence; they were struck with a flight of level arrows that we couldn\u2019t see\u2014ah! you appear to have a\u2014\r\n\r\nO Mr. Burroughs, Mr. Burroughs\u2014what shall we do?\r\n\r\nHe made no answer\u2014\r\n\r\nO Sir\u2014Sir\u2014take pity upon us!\r\n\r\nHe stood as if the fear that he felt a moment before was gone away forever, and with it all concern, all hope, all care, all pity for the wretched people about him.\r\n\r\nO [pb_glossary id=\"1956\"]God of Jacob[\/pb_glossary]\u2014what\u00a0shall<\/i>\u00a0we do!\r\n\r\nPromise to obey me\u2014\r\n\r\nWe will\u2014we will\u2014we do.\r\n\r\nSo you did, when I first came here\u2014now you have begun to scoff at your Joshua, as you call me.\r\n\r\nO Sir\u2014Sir\u2014do not mock us, we entreat you!\u2014Here they come Sir, here they come! O speak to us\u2014do speak to us\u2014what are we to do\u2014\r\n\r\nChoose me to lead you\u2014\r\n\r\nWe will\u2014we will\u2014we do!\r\n\r\nAnd with power\u2014mark me\u2014do you see this gun\u2014with leave to put a ball through the head of the first man that refuses to obey me?\r\n\r\nYes\u2014yes\u2014any thing\u2014any thing\u2014\r\n\r\nVery well\u2014that\u2019s enough. And I swear to you before God I\u2019ll do it. Now\u2014hear what I have to say\u2014Silence!\u2014not a word. Here Bradish\u2014here\u2014take you twelve men out of these, and away with you to the edge of the creek there, so as to cover the retreat of your friends. Away with you.\r\n\r\nHourra\u2014hourra!\r\n\r\nSilence\u2014off with you as if you were going, every man to his own funeral\u2014don\u2019t hurry\u2014don\u2019t lose your breath; you\u2019ll have occasion for it, I promise you, before the work of this day is over\u2014away with you, now; and every man to a tree; when you hear the bell, make your way to the fort, and if it please God, we\u2019ll whip the enemy yet.\r\n\r\nOff sprang the twelve without another word.\r\n\r\nHere Fitch, here\u2014I know you\u2014you are a married man\u2014a father and a good father\u2014take these eight who are all fathers; and you Hobby, you take these\u2014they are all unmarried, and away with you to the willow-hedge yonder; you to the right, Fitch; and you to the left, Hobby\u2014and let us see who are the braver men, the married or the unmarried.\u2014Stop\u2014stop\u2014don\u2019t hurry; if you are to make a fair job of it, you must go coolly to work\u2014\r\n\r\nOff they started\u2014\r\n\r\nStand by each other!\u2014stick to your trees!\u2014and load and fire as fast as you can\u2014that\u2019ll do\u2014off with you\u2014\r\n\r\nYou\u2019ll see to the women-folks, I hope\u2014\r\n\r\nOff with you, Sir.\r\n\r\nOff we go\u2014but I say!\u2014(looking back over his shoulder and bawling as he ran)\u2014what are we to do when we hear the bell?\r\n\r\nDodge your way in\u2014tree by tree\u2014man by man\u2014\r\n\r\nHourra for you\u2014hourra for Josh\u2014hourra for Joshua!\u2014\r\n\r\nBefore five minutes were over, the savages were in check, the people reassured, the remnant of poor Clark\u2019s party safe, and the whole force of the settlement so judiciously distributed, that they were able to maintain the fight, until their powder and ball were exhausted, with more than treble their number; and after it grew dark, to retire into the fort with all their women, their children, their aged and their sick. It was no such place of security however as they thought; for the Indians after they had fired the village and burnt every house in it, finding the powder exhausted, laid siege to the fort by undermining the walls and shooting lighted arrows into the wood-work. From that moment there was nothing to hope for; and the preacher who knew that if the place were carried by assault, every living creature within the four walls would be put to death, and that there would be no escape for the women or the babes, the aged or the sick, if they did not immediately surrender, drew the principal man of the fort aside (major Davis) and assuring him of what he foresaw would be the issue, advised a [pb_glossary id=\"1955\"]capitulation[\/pb_glossary].\r\n\r\nA capitulation Sir, after the work of this day? said the Major. What will become of you? you have killed a chief and two or three warriors, and how can you hope to be forgiven, if they once get you in their power.\r\n\r\nLeave that to me\u2014I know their language\u2014I will try to pass for one of the tribe\u2014\r\n\r\nBut how\u2014how\u2014impossible, Sir.\r\n\r\nLet me have my own way, I beseech you\u2014leave me to take care of myself....\r\n\r\nNo, Sir ... we know our duty better.\r\n\r\nThen, Sir, as I hope to see my God, I will go forth alone to meet the savages, and offer myself up for the chief that I have slain. Perhaps they may receive me into their tribe ... give me a blanket, will you ... and perhaps not ... for the Pequod warrior is a terrible foe.\r\n\r\nHere he shook his black hair loose, and parted it on his forehead and twisted it into a club, and bound it up hastily after the fashion of the tribe.\r\n\r\n\u2014And the faith which a Huron owes to the dead is never violated.... I pray you therefore\u2014\r\n\r\n\u2014Stooping down and searching for a bit of brick, and grinding it to dust with his heel\u2014\r\n\r\nI pray you therefore to let me go forth\u2014\r\n\r\n\u2014[pb_glossary id=\"1954\"]Bedaubing[\/pb_glossary] his whole visage with it, before he lifted his head\u2014\r\n\r\nYou cannot save me, nor help me\u2014\r\n\r\nShouldering up his blanket and grasping a short rifle.\r\n\r\nWhat say you!\u2014\r\n\r\nLeaping to the turf parapet as he spoke, and preparing to throw himself over.\r\n\r\nGod of our Fathers\u2014cried the Major, Is it possible! who are you?\r\n\r\nA Mohawk! a Mohawk! shouted all that saw him on the parapet; even those who beheld the transfiguration were aghast with awe; they could hardly believe their own eyes.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_2016\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"1280\"]\" \"Four Indian Kings of the New World<\/a> (1 Mohican 3 Mohawk). From left to right: Etow Oh Koam (Mohican), Sa Ga Yeath Qua Pieth Tow, Ho Nee Yeath Taw No Row, and Tee Yee Ho Ga Row.,\" 1710, by John Verelst.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nWhat say you!\u2014one word is enough ... will you give up?\r\n\r\nFor the love of God, Mr. Burroughs! cried the Major, putting forth his hand to catch at the blanket as it was blown out by a strong breeze.... I do pray you\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nHe was too late; for Burroughs bounded over with a shout which appeared to be understood by the savages, who received him with a tremendous war-whoop. A shriek followed ... a cry from the people within the fort of\u2014treachery!\u2014treachery!\u2014and after a moment or two every-thing was quiet as the grave outside.\r\n\r\nThe garrison were still with fear\u2014still as death.... Were they deserted or betrayed? Whither should they fly?\u2014What should they do? Their deliverer ... where was he? Their Joshua ... what had become of him?\r\n\r\nThe attack was renewed after a few minutes with tenfold fury, and the brave Major was driven to capitulate, which he did to the Sieur Hertel, under a promise that the survivors of the garrison should be safely conducted to Saco, the next English fort and that they and their children, their aged and their sick should be treated with humanity.\r\n\r\nAlas for the faith of the red men! alas for the faith of their white leaders! Before they saw the light of another day, the treaty was trampled under foot by the savages, and hardly a creature found within the four walls of the fort was left alive. The work of butchery\u2014but no\u2014no\u2014I dare not undertake to describe the horrible scene.\r\n\r\nAnd Burroughs.... What of Burroughs?\u2014Did he escape or die?... Neither. He was carried away captive to the great lakes, and after much vicissitude, trial and suffering which lasted for upwards of a year, came to be an adopted Iroquois, and a voluntary hostage for the faith of the white men of Massachusetts-Bay. From this period we lose sight of him for a long while. It would appear however that he grew fond of a savage life, that his early affection for it sprang up anew, as he approached the deep of the solitude, where all that he saw and all that he heard, above or about him, or underneath his feet, reminded him of his youth, of his parentage and his bravery; that he began after a time to cherish a hope\u2014a magnificent hope, for a future coalition of the red men of America; that he grew to be a favorite with Big Bear, the great northern chief, who went so far as to offer him a daughter in marriage; that he had already begun to reflect seriously on the offer, when the whites for whom he stood in pledge, were guilty of something which he regarded as a breach of trust\u2014whereupon he bethought himself anew of a timid girl\u2014a mere child when he left her, and beautiful as the day, who when the shadow of death was upon all that he cared for, when he was a broken-hearted miserable man without a hope on earth, pursued him with her look of pity and sorrow, till, turn which way he would, her eyes were forever before him, by night and by day. It was not with a look of love that she pursued him\u2014it was rather a look of strange fear. And so, having thought of Mary Elizabeth Dyer, till he was ready to weep at the recollection of the days that were gone, the days he had passed in prayer, and the love he had met with among the white girls of the Bay, he arose,\u00a0and walked up to the Great northern chief, who but for the treachery of the whites would have been his father, and stood in the circle of death, and offered himself up a sacrifice for the white countrymen of the child that he knew\u2014the lovely and the pure. But no\u2014the Big Bear would not have the blood of a brother.\r\n\r\nYou know the Big Bear, said he to the young men of the Iroquois that were gathered about him. Who is there alive to harm a cub of the Big Bear? I am your chief\u2014who is there alive to harm the child of your chief? Behold my daughter!\u2014who is there alive to strike her sagamore? Warriors\u2014look at him\u2014He is no longer a pale man\u2014he is one of our tribe. He is no longer the scourge of the Iroquois. The beloved of our daughter\u2014who is there alive to touch him in wrath?\r\n\r\nHere all the warriors of the tribe and all the chief men of the tribe stood up; and but one of the whole drew his arrow to the head\u2014the signal of warfare.\r\n\r\nWhite man\u2014brother, said the Big Bear. Behold these arrows! they are many and sharp, the arrows of him that would slay thee, but few\u2014but few brother\u2014and lo!\u2014they are no more. Saying this, he struck down the arrow of death, and lifted the hatchet and shook it over the head of the stubborn warrior, who retreated backward step by step, till he was beyond the reach of the Big Bear.\r\n\r\nBrother\u2014would ye that we should have the boy stripped and scourged? said the Big Bear, with all the grave majesty for which he was remarkable. White man\u2014behold these arrows\u2014they are dripping with blood\u2014they are sharp enough to cleave the beach tree. White man\u2014whither would you go? Feel the edge of this knife. That blood is the blood of our brave, who would not obey the law\u2014this knife is the weapon of\u00a0death. Fear not\u2014for the arrows and the knife are not for the pale man\u2014fear not\u2014beloved of her in whom we have put our hope. The arrows and the knife are not for him\u2014but for the dogs that pursue him. Speak!\r\n\r\nI will, said Burroughs, going up to the resolute young savage, who stood afar off, and setting his foot upon the bare earth before him with all his might\u2014I will. Big Bear\u2014father\u2014I must go away. I found you in peace\u2014Let me leave you in peace. Your people and my people are now at war. I cannot strike a brother in battle. The white men are my brothers.\r\n\r\nBig Bear made no reply.\r\n\r\nFarewell.... I must go away. I cannot be on either side when Big Bear and Long-knife are at war.\r\n\r\nGood.\r\n\r\nI cannot have Pawteeda now. I have done.\r\n\r\nSpeak.\r\n\r\nWherefore?\r\n\r\nSpeak. Why not have Pawteeda now?\r\n\r\nPawteeda should be wife to some warrior, who, when he goes forth to war, will strike every foe of his tribe, without asking, as I should, who is he\u2014and what is he? As a white man, I will not war with white men. As the adopted of the red men ... with the blood of a red man boiling in my heart, as the captive and nursling of the brave Iroquois, I will not be the foe of a red man.\r\n\r\nGood\u2014\r\n\r\nLet Pawteeda be wife to Silver-heels. He hath deserved Pawteeda, and but for me, they would have been happy.\r\n\r\nGood.\r\n\r\nHere the youthful savage, whose arrow had been struck aside by the Big Bear, lifted his head in surprise, but he did not speak.\r\n\r\nI beseech you father! let my beloved be his wife.\r\n\r\nGood.\r\n\r\nThe youthful savage dropped his bow, threw off his quiver, and plucking the ornamented hatchet from his war-belt, after a tremendous though brief struggle, offered the weapon of death to Burroughs, thereby acknowledging that in some way or other he had injured the pale man. Big Bear breathed fiercely and felt for his knife, but Burroughs went up to the bold youth and gave him his hand after the fashion of the whites, and called him brother.\r\n\r\nIt shall be so, said the Big Bear. And from that day the youth was indeed a brother to Burroughs, who being satisfied that Pawteeda, if she married one of her own people, would be happier than with a white man, left her and the savages and the Big Bear and the woods forever, and got back among the white people again, at a period of universal dismay, just in time to see a poor melancholy creature, whom his dear wife had loved years and years before, on trial for witchcraft. He could hardly believe his own ears. Nor could he persuade himself that the preachers and elders, and grave authorities of the land were serious, till he saw the wretched old woman put to death before their faces.\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER XIV.<\/h3>\r\n<\/div>\r\nFrom that hour he was another man. His heart was alive with a new hope. The dark desolate chambers thereof were lighted up with a new joy. And what if there was no love, nor beauty, nor music sounding in them all the day through, such as there had been a few brief years before, in the spring-tide of his youthful courage; they were no longer what they had been at another period, neither very dark, nor altogether uninhabited, nor perplexed with apparitions that were enough to drive him distracted\u2014the apparition of a child\u2014the apparition of a dead hope\u2014for with him, after the death of a second wife, hope itself was no more. He was now a messenger of the Most High, with every faculty and every power of his mind at work to baffle and expose the treachery of those, who pretending to be afflicted by witchcraft, were wasting the heritage of the white man as with fire and sword. He strove to entrap them; he set spies about their path. He prayed in the public highway, and preached in the market place, for they would not suffer him to appear in the House of the Lord. He besought his Maker, the Searcher of Hearts, day after day, when the people were about him, to stay the destroyer, to make plain the way of the judges, to speak in the dead of the night with a voice of thunder to the doers of [pb_glossary id=\"1951\"]iniquity[\/pb_glossary]; to comfort and support the souls of the accused however guilty they might appear, and (if consistant with his Almighty pleasure) to repeat as with the\u00a0noise of a multitude of trumpets in the sky, the terrible words,\u00a0Thou shalt not bear false witness<\/span>.\r\n\r\nBut the death of Martha Cory discouraged him. His heart was heavy with a dreadful fear when he saw her die, and before anybody knew that he was among the multitude, he started up in the midst of them, and broke forth into loud prayer\u2014a prayer which had well nigh exposed him to the law for [pb_glossary id=\"1950\"]blasphemy[\/pb_glossary]; and having made himself heard in spite of the rebuke of the preachers and magistrates, who stood in his way at the foot of the gallows, he uttered a prophecy and shook off the dust from his feet in testimony against the rulers of the land, the churches and the people, and departed for the habitation of Mr. Paris, where the frightful malady first broke out resolved in his own soul whatever should come of it\u2014life or death\u2014to Bridget Pope, or to Abigail Paris\u2014or to the preacher himself, his old associate in grief, straightway to look into every part of the fearful mystery, to search into it as with fire, and to bring every accuser with whom there should be found guile, whether high or low, or young or old, a flower of hope, or a blossom of pride, before the ministers of the law,\u2014every accuser in whom he should be able to see a sign of bad faith or a look of trepidation at his inquiry\u2014though it were the aged servant of the Lord himself; and every visited and afflicted one, whether male or female, in whose language or behaviour he might see anything to justify his fear.\r\n\r\nIt was pitch dark when he arrived at the log-hut of Matthew Paris, and his heart died within him, as he walked up to the door and set his foot upon the broad step, which rocked beneath his agitated and powerful tread; for the windows were all shut and secured with new and heavy wooden bars\u2014and what appeared very surprising at such an early hour, there was neither light nor life, neither sound nor motion, so far as he could\u00a0percieve in the whole house. He knocked however, and as he did so, the shadow of something\u2014or the shape of something just visible in the deep darkness through which he was beginning to see his way, moved [pb_glossary id=\"889\"]athwart[\/pb_glossary] his path and over the step, as if it had pursued him up to the very door. He was a brave man\u2014but he caught his breath and stepped back, and felt happy when a light flashed over the wet smooth turf, and a voice like that of Mr. Paris bid him walk in, for he was expected and waited for, and had nothing to fear.\r\n\r\nNothing to fear, brother Paris.... He stopped short and stood awhile in the door-way as if debating with himself whether to go forward or back.\r\n\r\nWhy\u2014how pale and tired you are\u2014said Mr. Paris, lifting up the candle and holding it so that he could see the face of Burroughs, while his own was in deep shadow. You appear to have a\u2014the Lord have pity on us and help us, dear brother! what can be the matter with you?\u2014why do you hold back in that way?\u2014why do you stand as if you haven\u2019t the power to move? why do you look at me as if you no longer know me?\u2014\r\n\r\nTrue\u2014true, said Burroughs\u2014very true\u2014talking to himself in a low voice and without appearing to observe that another was near. No, no ... it is too late now ... there\u2019s no going back now, if I would ... but of a truth, it is very wonderful, very ... very ... that I should not have recollected my rash vow ... a vow like that of Jeptha ... very ... very ... till I had passed over that rocky threshold which five years ago this very night, I took an oath never to pass again. What if the day that I spoke of be near?... What if I should be taken at my word! Our Father who art in....\r\n\r\nSir\u2014Mr. Burroughs\u2014my dear friend\u2014\r\n\r\nWell.\r\n\r\nWhat is the matter with you?\r\n\r\nWith me? ... nothing.... Oh ... ah ... I pray you, brother, do not regard my speech; I am weary of this work, and the sooner we give it up now, the better. I have done very little good, I fear ... two deaths to my charge, where I had hoped a ... ah, forgive me, brother; pray forgive me.... But how is this?... What\u2019s the matter with\u00a0you<\/i>?\r\n\r\nWith me!\r\n\r\nYes\u2014with you. What have I done, that you should block up the door-way of your own house, when you see me approach? And what have I done that you should try to hide your face from me, while you are searching mine with fire, and looking at me with half-averted eyes?\r\n\r\nWith half-averted eyes\u2014\r\n\r\nMatthew, Matthew\u2014we are losing time\u2014we should know each other better. You are much less cordial to me than you were a few days ago, and you know it. Speak out like a man ... like a preacher of truth\u2014what have I done?\r\n\r\nWhat have you done, brother George\u2014how do I know?\r\n\r\nMatthew Paris ... are we never to meet again as we have met? never while we two breathe the breath of life?\r\n\r\nI hope ... I do hope.... I am not less glad to see you than I should be; I do not mean to give you up, whatever others may do, but\u2014but these are [pb_glossary id=\"1953\"]ticklish[\/pb_glossary] times brother, and just now (in a whisper) situated as we are, we cannot be too cautious. To tell you the truth ... I was not altogether prepared to see you, after the\u2014\r\n\r\nNot prepared to see me! Why you told me before you lifted the latch that I was expected, and waited for\u2014\r\n\r\nSo I did brother ... so I did, I confess\u2014\r\n\r\nAnd yet, I told nobody of my intention; how did you know I was to be with you?\u2014\r\n\r\nOne of the children said so above a week ago, in her sleep.\r\n\r\nIn\u2014deed.\r\n\r\nAh, you may smile now, brother George; but you looked serious enough a moment ago, when I opened the door, and if what they say is true\u2014\r\n\r\nHow did I look, pray?\r\n\r\nWhy\u2014to tell you the truth, you looked as if you saw something.\r\n\r\nWell ... what if I did see something?\r\n\r\nThe Lord help us brother\u2014what did you see?\r\n\r\nI do not say\u2014I am not sure ... but I thought I saw something.\r\n\r\nThe Lord have mercy on you, brother\u2014what was it?\r\n\r\nA shadow\u2014a short black shadow that sped swiftly by me, but whether of man or beast, I do not know. All that I do know, is\u2014\r\n\r\nLower ... lower ... speak lower, I beseech you, brother B.\r\n\r\nNo brother P. I shall not speak lower.\r\n\r\nDo ... do\u2014\r\n\r\nI shall not. For I would have the shadow hear me, and the body to know, whether it be man or devil, that if either cross my path again, I will pursue the shadow till I discover the body, or the body till I have made a shadow of that\u2014\r\n\r\nWalk in brother ... walk in, I beseech you.\r\n\r\nI\u2019ll not be startled again for nothing. Ah\u2014what are you afraid of?\r\n\r\nAfraid\u2014I\u2014\r\n\r\nBrother Paris\u2014\r\n\r\nThere now!\r\n\r\nLook you brother Paris. You have something to say to me, and you have not the courage to say it. You are sorry to see me here ... you would have me go away.... I\u00a0do not know wherefore ... I do not ask; but I know by the tone of your voice, by your look, and by everything I hear and see, that so it is. In a word therefore ... let us understand each other. I shall not go away ... here I am Sir, and here I shall abide Sir, until the mystery which brought me hither is cleared up.\r\n\r\nIndeed, indeed Mr. Burroughs, you are mistaken.\r\n\r\nI do not believe you.\r\n\r\nSir!\r\n\r\nI do not believe you, I say; and I shall put you to the proof.\r\n\r\nGeorge Burroughs\u2014I will not be spoken to, thus.\r\n\r\nPoh\u2014poh\u2014\r\n\r\nI will not, Sir. Who am I, Sir\u2014and who are you, that I should suffer this of you?\u2014I, a preacher of the gospel\u2014you, an outcast and a fugitive\u2014\r\n\r\nBurroughs drew up with a smile. He knew the temper of the aged man, he foresaw that he should soon have the whole truth out of him, and he was prepared for whatever might be the issue.\r\n\r\n\u2014Yea, an outcast and a fugitive, pursued by the law it may be, while I speak; I, a man old enough to be your father\u2014By what authority am I waylaid here, underneath my own roof\u2014a roof that would have been a refuge for you, if you were not a\u2014\r\n\r\nA what Sir?\r\n\r\nI have done\u2014\r\n\r\nSo I perceive Matthew. I am satisfied now\u2014I see the cause now of what I charged you with. I do not blame you\u2014grievous though it be to the hope I had when I thought of you\u2014my\u2014my\u2014brother. I feel for you\u2014I pity you\u2014I am sorry now for what I said\u2014I pray you to forgive me\u2014farewell\u2014\r\n\r\nHey\u2014what\u2014\r\n\r\nFarewell. You saw me, as you thought, pursued by the law\u2014flying to the shadow of your roof as to a refuge, and so, you stood at the door and rebuked me, Matthew.\r\n\r\nYou wrong me\u2014I love you\u2014I respect you\u2014there is no treachery here, and what I have said, I said rashly, and I know not why. Forgive me brother George ... forgive the old man, whose fear hath made him overlook what is due to them, whoever they are, that fly to his habitation for shelter.\r\n\r\nI do forgive you ... my brother. Let me also be forgiven.\r\n\r\nBe it so ... there ... there ... be it so.\r\n\r\nBut before I take another step, assure me that if I enter the door, neither you nor yours will be put in jeopardy.\r\n\r\nIn jeopardy!\r\n\r\nAm I pursued by the law? ... am I, of a truth?\r\n\r\nNot pursued by the law, George: I did not say you were; I do not know that you will be ... but indeed, indeed, my poor unhappy friend, here is my roof, and here am I, ready to share the peril with you, whatever it may be, and whatever the judges and elders and the people may say.\r\n\r\nYou are.\r\n\r\nYes.\r\n\r\nI am satisfied. You have done your duty.... I shall now do mine. You are a true brother; let me prove that I know how to value such truth. I am not pursued by the law, so far as I know or have reason to believe, and if I was ... I should not come hither you may be assured for safety ... nay, nay, I do not mean a reproach.... I have absolute faith in your word now; I do believe that you would suffer with me and for me ... but you shall not. If I\u00a0were<\/i> hunted for my life, why should I fly to you?... You could be of no use to me ... you could\u00a0neither conceal me nor save me ... and I might bring trouble upon you and yours forever. What would become of you, were I to be tracked by the blood-hounds up to your very door?\r\n\r\nI pray you, said the aged man, I do pray you ... looking about on every side, shadowing the light with his meagre hand, the whole inward structure whereof was thereby revealed, and speaking in a low subdued whisper\u2014as if he knew that they were overheard by invisible creatures.... I pray you brother ... dear brother ... let us have done with such talk\u2014\r\n\r\nWhy so ... what are you afraid of?\r\n\r\nSoftly ... softly ... if they should overhear us\u2014\r\n\r\nThey ... who ... what on earth are you shaking at?\r\n\r\nNo matter ... hush ... hush ... you may have no such fear brother B. ... you are a bold man brother B. ... a very bold man ... but as for me ... hark!...\r\n\r\nWhat\u2019s the matter with you? ... What ails you?\r\n\r\nHush! ... hush ... do you not hear people whispering outside the door?\r\n\r\nNo.\r\n\r\nA noise like that of somebody breathing hard?\u2014\r\n\r\nYes\u2014\r\n\r\nYou do ... the Lord help us.\r\n\r\nI do man, I do\u2014but it is yourself\u2014you it is, that are breathing hard\u2014what folly Matthew\u2014what impiety at your age!\r\n\r\nAt my age ... ah my dear brother, if you had seen what I have seen, or heard what I have heard, or suffered as I have, young as you are, and stout and powerful as you are, you would not speak as you do now, nor look as you do now....\r\n\r\nSeen ... heard ... suffered. Have I not seen ... have I not suffered!... How little you know of me....\r\n\r\nHere Matthew Paris, after securing the door with a\u00a0multitude of bars and bolts of oak, led the way with a cautious and fearful step toward a little room, through the gaping crevices of which, a dim unsteady light, like the light of a neglected fire could be seen.\r\n\r\nDeath Sir ... death in every possible shape, I might say ... but who cares for death? ... peril which, whatever you may suppose Matthew, at your age\u2014old as you are ... why\u2014what am I to understand by your behaviour! ... you don\u2019t hear a word I am saying to you.\r\n\r\nThere, there\u2014not so loud I entreat you ... not so loud\u2014there\u2019s no knowing what may be near us.\r\n\r\nNear us\u2014are you mad?\u2014what can be near us?\r\n\r\nThere again\u2014there, there!\r\n\r\nStop\u2014I go no further.\r\n\r\nMy dear friend\u2014\r\n\r\nNot another step\u2014if\u00a0you<\/i>\u00a0are crazy, I am not\u2014I will be satisfied before I go any further. Were I to judge by what I now see and hear\u2014did I not believe what you said a few moments ago; and were I not persuaded of your integrity, Matthew, I should believe my foes were on the look out for me, and that you had been employed to entrap me, as the strong man of old was entrapped for the Philistines<\/a>, with a show of great love\u2014\r\n\r\nBrother!\r\n\r\n\u2014Nay, nay, it is not so; I know that very well. But were I to judge by your behavior now, I say, and by that alone, I should prepare my fingers for the fight, and this weapon for war.\r\n\r\nAnd I\u2014if I were to judge by your looks and behaviour at the door, I should believe that you were flying for your life, and that betaking yourself to my roof, without regard for me or mine, you were willing to betray us to the law.\r\n\r\nMan\u2014man\u2014how could you believe such a thing of me?\r\n\r\nYou were pale as death, George\u2014\r\n\r\nSpeak louder\u2014\r\n\r\nPale as death, and you did not answer me, nor even appear to see me, till after I had spoken to you two or three times.\r\n\r\nOf a truth?\u2014\r\n\r\nYou appeared unwilling to trust yourself beneath my roof, when you saw me\u2014\r\n\r\nDid I\u2014\r\n\r\n\u2014So that I was driven to recall the transaction which drove us apart from each other\u2014\r\n\r\nDid I, Matthew?\u2014I am sorry for it\u2014\r\n\r\nYes\u2014and your behavior altogether was very strange\u2014is very strange now; it is in fact, allow me to say so, just what I should look for in a man who knew that his life was in jeopardy. Take a chair\u2014you are evidently much disturbed, you appear to have met with some\u2014\u2014surely\u2014surely\u2014my brother, something\u00a0has<\/i>\u00a0happened to you.\r\n\r\n\u2014Did I\u2014\r\n\r\nYou do not hear me\u2014\r\n\r\nTrue enough, Matthew\u2014I am very tired\u2014please to give me a drop of water and allow me to rest myself here a few minutes\u2014I must be gone quickly\u2014I have no time to lose now, I perceive.\r\n\r\nYou take a bed with me to night, of course.\r\n\r\nNo.\r\n\r\nYou must\u2014indeed you must, my good brother\u2014I have much to ask\u2014much to advise with you about. We are in a dreadful way now, and if we\u2014\r\n\r\nImpossible Matthew\u2014I cannot\u2014I dare not. I have more to do than you have to say. Are the children a-bed yet?\r\n\r\nAh brother, brother\u2014you have not forgotten the dear child, I see.\r\n\r\nWhich dear child?\r\n\r\nWhich dear child!\u2014why\u2014oh\u2014ah\u2014I thought you meant little Abby\u2014the very image of my departed wife.\r\n\r\nIs Bridget Pope with you now?\r\n\r\n\u2014She often speaks of you, the dear little babe ... she wears the keep-sake you gave her, and won\u2019t let any body sit in your place, and if we desire to punish her, we have only to say that uncle George won\u2019t love her....\r\n\r\nThe dear child! I saw her with Bridget on the day of the trial, but I had no time to speak to either. I hope they are both well\u2014Bridget has grown prodigiously, I hear\u2014\r\n\r\nAnd so has Abby\u2014\r\n\r\nIndeed!\r\n\r\nIndeed\u2014why\u2014is it so very wonderful that Abby should grow?\r\n\r\nTo be sure\u2014certainly not\u2014she was very fair when I saw her last\u2014when I left this part of the world, I mean.\r\n\r\nVery\u2014\r\n\r\nSo upright, and so graceful and free in her carriage....\r\n\r\nFree in her carriage?\r\n\r\nFor a child, I mean\u2014so modest, and so remarkable in every way\u2014so attentive, so quiet\u2014\r\n\r\nAh my dear friend\u2014how happy you make me. You never said half so much about her, all the time you lived here; and I, who know your sincerity and worth and soberness\u2014to tell you the truth George\u2014I have been a little sore....\r\n\r\n....So attentive, so quiet and so assiduous....\r\n\r\nVery true ... very true ... and to hear\u00a0you<\/i>\u00a0say so, is enough to make her father\u2019s heart leap for joy.\r\n\r\nWhat\u2014in the grave?...\r\n\r\nIn the grave?...\r\n\r\nAnd after all, I do not perceive that her eyes are too large....\r\n\r\nToo large?\r\n\r\nNor that her complexion is too pale....\r\n\r\nNor I....\r\n\r\nNor that her very black hair is either too....\r\n\r\nBlack hair ... black ... pray brother B. do you know what you are saying just now? black hair ... why the child\u2019s hair is no more black than\u2014large eyes too\u2014why it is Bridget Pope that has the large eyes\u2014\r\n\r\nBridget Pope\u2014to be sure it is\u2014and who else should it be?\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER XV.<\/h3>\r\n<\/div>\r\nSo then\u2014It was Bridget Pope you were speaking of all the time, hey, continued the father.\r\n\r\nTo be sure it was\u2014what\u2019s the matter now?\r\n\r\nWhy\u2014\u2014a\u2014\u2014a\u2014\u2014the fact is, brother\u2014\r\n\r\nYou are displeased, I see.\r\n\r\nNot at all\u2014not in the least\u2014no business of mine, brother George\u2014none at all, if you like Bridget Pope as much as ever\u2014child though she is\u2014no business of mine brother Burroughs\u2014I am sure of that.\r\n\r\nSo am I\u2014\r\n\r\nYou may laugh brother B., you may laugh.\r\n\r\nSo I shall brother P.\u2014so I shall. O, the sick and sore jealousy of a father! Why\u2014do you not know Matthew Paris\u2014have I not given you the proof\u2014that your Abigail is to me even as if she were my own child\u2014the child of my own dear Sarah? And is not my feeling toward poor Bridget Pope that of one who foresees that her life is to be a life, perhaps of uninterrupted trial and sorrow, because of her extraordinary character. I do acknowledge to you that my heart grows heavy when I think of what she will have to endure, with her sensibility\u2014poor child\u2014she is not of the race about her\u2014\r\n\r\nThere now George\u2014there it is again! That poor child has never been out of your head, I do believe, since you saw her jump into the sea after little Robert Eveleth; and if she were but six or eight years older, I am\u00a0persuaded from what I now see, and from what I have seen before\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nMatthew Paris!\r\n\r\nForgive me George\u2014forgive me\u2014I have gone too far.\r\n\r\nYou\u00a0have<\/i>\u00a0gone too far.\r\n\r\nWill you not forgive me?\r\n\r\nI do\u2014I do\u2014I feel what you have said though; I feel it sharply\u2014it was like an arrow, or a knife\u2014\r\n\r\nAllow me to say\u2014\r\n\r\nNo, no\u2014excuse me\u2014I know what you would say.\r\n\r\nHer great resemblance to your wife, which everybody speaks of, and her beauty\u2014\r\n\r\nNo, no, Matthew, no, no.... I cannot bear such talk.\r\n\r\nAh George!\r\n\r\nBoth my wives were very dear to me; but she of whom you speak, she whom you saw upon the bed of death in all her beauty\u2014she who died before you, in all her beauty, her glorious beauty! but the other day as it were....\r\n\r\nThe other day, George?\r\n\r\n\u2014Died with her hand in yours but the other day, while I was afar off\u2014she whom neither piety nor truth could save, nor faith nor prayer\u2014she of whom\u00a0you<\/i>\u00a0are already able to speak with a steady voice, and with a look of terrible composure\u2014to me it is terrible Matthew she is too dear to me still, and her death too near, whatever you may suppose; you, her adopted father!\u2014you, the witness of her marriage vow\u2014you, the witness of her death\u2014for me to endure it\u2014O my God, my God\u2014that such a woman should be no more in so short a time!\r\n\r\nDear George\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\n\u2014No more on the earth ... no more in the hearts of them that knew her.\r\n\r\nHave I not lost a wife too? ... a wife as beautiful as the day, George, and as good as beautiful?\r\n\r\n\u2014No more in the very heart of him, her adopted father, who sat by her and supported her when she drew her last breath\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nDear George ... would you break the old man\u2019s heart? why should I not speak of them that are dead, as freely as of\u2014\r\n\r\nThe children ... the children, Matthew\u2014how are they?\r\n\r\nThe children?\r\n\r\nI have work to do before I sleep. It grows late ... how are they?\r\n\r\nNo longer what they were, when you saw them about my table five years ago....\r\n\r\nI dare say not\u2014five years are an age to them.\r\n\r\nBut they are better now than they were at the time of the trial; we begin to have some hope now\u2014\r\n\r\nHave you, indeed?\r\n\r\nYes, for they have begun to ... she has begun, I should say ... Bridget Pope....\r\n\r\nI understand you\u2014the father will out....\r\n\r\n\u2014She has begun to look cheerful and to go about the house in that quiet smooth way\u2014\r\n\r\nI know, I know ... it was enough to bring the water into my eyes to look at her\u2014\r\n\r\nRobert Eveleth is to be with us to-night, and if we can persuade him to stay here a week or two, I have great hope in the issue....\r\n\r\nWhat hope\u2014how?\u2014\r\n\r\nThat both will be cured of their melancholy ways\u2014Bridget Pope and my poor Abby\u2014\r\n\r\nTheir melancholy ways\u2014why, what have they to do with Robert Eveleth?\r\n\r\nWhy\u2014don\u2019t you see they are always together when he is here\u2014\r\n\r\nWho\u2014Abigail and he?\r\n\r\nNo\u2014Bridget Pope\u2014\r\n\r\nWell, what if they are\u2014what does that prove?\r\n\r\nProve!\r\n\r\nYes\u2014prove\u2014prove\u2014you know the meaning of the word, I hope?\r\n\r\nDon\u2019t be angry, George.\r\n\r\nAngry\u2014who\u2019s angry?\u2014poh, poh, Matthew, poh, poh, poh; talk about love in a girl of that age for a boy of that age\u2014\r\n\r\nLove\u2014who said anything about love?\r\n\r\nPoh, poh, poh\u2014affection, or love\u2014or\u2014whatever you please, Matthew\u2014it isn\u2019t the word I quarrel with\u2014it is the idea\u2014I wonder that you should put such things into their head\u2014\r\n\r\nI!\r\n\r\nA man of your age, Matthew Paris\u2014\r\n\r\nAh, brother, brother.\r\n\r\nSir.\r\n\r\nThere you go again!\u2014But I see how it is, and I shall say no more about Bridgy Pope or the boy, Robert Eveleth, till you are a\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nFor shame\u2014\r\n\r\nWhy so, George? All I wanted to say was, that when Robert is here, the children are happy together and cheerful. They go romping about in the woods together, up all the mows in the neighbourhood, or along by the sea-shore, (between schools) and spend half their play-time in the blackberry-swamp\u2014you look very serious....\r\n\r\nI feel so ... good by\u2019e.\r\n\r\nGood by\u2019e\u2014I thought you had come to see the children?\r\n\r\nTo see the children?\u2014so I did\u2014as I live, Matthew! Lead me to them\u2014\r\n\r\nFollow me in here\u2014they are just going to bed, I see.\r\n\r\nSo I did\u2014I came for no other purpose\u2014\r\n\r\nReally?\r\n\r\nReally\u2014\r\n\r\nA tip-toe, brother, if you please\u2014the sight of you may do them good\u2014\r\n\r\nI hope so, said Burroughs\u2014beginning to feel what he had never till that hour had the slightest idea of\u2014jealousy\u2014downright jealousy, and of a nature too absurd for belief, except with such as have been afraid in a like way, of losing the chief regard of no matter what\u2014anything for which they cared ever so little, or ever so much\u2014a bird or a kitten, a dog or a horse, a child or a woman.\r\n\r\nI hope so, he repeated, as he followed the preacher on tip-toe and peeped into the little room to survey their faces before he entered, that he might enjoy their surprise. But he started back at the first view, and caught by the arm of his aged brother\u2014for there sat the poor children with their little naked feet buried half leg deep in the wood-ashes, their uncombed hair flying loose in the draught of the chimney, each with her wild eyes fixed upon the hearth, and each as far from the other as she could well get in the huge fire-place; and so pale were they, and so meagre, and their innocent faces were so full of care and so unlike what they should have been at their age\u2014the age of untroubled hope and pure joy\u2014that he was quite overcome.\r\n\r\nThey heard his approach, either his step or his breathing, and started away from their settles with a cry that pierced his heart.\r\n\r\nI pray you! said he.\u2014But Abigail ran off and hid herself in a far corner of the room, where a bed was turned up in a niche, and waited there, gasping for breath, as if she expected to be eaten alive; and Bridget Pope, although she stood still and surveyed him with a steady look, made no reply to what he said, but grew very pale, and caught by a chair when he spoke to her.\r\n\r\nWhy how now, said Mr. Paris, how now, children? what\u2019s the matter with you, now?\r\n\r\nFather\u2014father! cried Abigail, peeping out with eyes full of terror, and speaking with a voice which made her father look toward the door as if he expected Burroughs to assume another shape, or somebody else to appear from the darkness behind. O father\u2014father\u2014O\u00a0my<\/i>!\u2014there, there!\u2014there he goes!\r\n\r\nWhere\u2014where\u2014what is it, my poor child?\r\n\r\nWhy\u2014Burroughs\u2014Burroughs\u2014there, there! there now, there he goes again!\u2014that\u2019s he\u2014there, there\u2014don\u2019t you see him now, father?\r\n\r\nSee whom, dear?\u2014see what?\r\n\r\nWhy, Burroughs, to be sure\u2014Burroughs, the bad man\u2014there\u2014there\u2014there\u2014\r\n\r\nGod help us!\r\n\r\nI never saw him afore in that shape, father, never in all my days, but I know him though, I know him well enough by the scar on his forehead\u2014there, there\u2014there he goes!\u2014can\u2019t you see him now, father?\r\n\r\nSee him\u2014to be sure I do.\r\n\r\nGracious God\u2014Almighty Father\u2014what can be the matter with the poor child? I begin to perceive the truth now, said Burroughs, I do not wonder now at your faith, nor at your dreadful terror.\r\n\r\nThere\u2014there\u2014didn\u2019t you hear that, father?\u2014it spoke then\u2014I heard it speak as plain as day\u2014didn\u2019t you hear it, father?\r\n\r\nWhy\u2014Abigail Paris\u2014don\u2019t you know me dear? don\u2019t you know your uncle George?\r\n\r\nThere again\u2014that\u2019s jest the way he speaks\u2014help, father, help!\r\n\r\nWhat\u00a0is<\/i>\u00a0the matter with you, child?\r\n\r\nNothin\u2019 father; nothin\u2019 at all now\u2014it stops now\u2014it was a comin\u2019 this way when you spoke\u2014my stars! anybody might know it, father.\r\n\r\nKnow what, Abby?\r\n\r\nMake me believe that aint George Burroughs, if you can, father.\r\n\r\nWhy, to be sure it is, cried Burroughs, going a step nearer to the place where the little creature lay, cuddled up in a heap, with a quantity of split-wood and [pb_glossary id=\"1408\"]pitch-knots[\/pb_glossary] gathered about her. Why do you tremble so, dear?\u2014what\u2019s the matter with you?\u2014what are you afraid of?\r\n\r\nFather\u2014father\u2014shrieked the poor child, stop it, father!\r\n\r\nWhy!\u2014don\u2019t you know me Abigail?\u2014nor you neither Bridget Pope\u2014don\u2019t\u00a0you<\/i>\u00a0know me dear?\r\n\r\nO Sir\u2014Sir\u2014is it you?\u2014is it you yourself, Mr. Burroughs? cried the latter, huddling up into the shadow, and catching her breath, and standing on tip-toe, as if to get as far out of his reach as possible. O Sir\u2014is it you?...\r\n\r\nTo be sure it is\u2014look at me\u2014speak to me\u2014touch me\u2014\r\n\r\nO Sir, Sir\u2014\u2014no, no, Mr. Burroughs\u2014no, no.\r\n\r\nWhy what on earth can possess you Bridget Pope?\u2014what on earth is the matter with you?\u2014what are you afraid of?\r\n\r\nO Lord Sir\u2014I hope it\u00a0is<\/i>\u00a0you!\r\n\r\nWho else can it be?\u2014don\u2019t you see me?\u2014don\u2019t you hear me speak?\u2014O I\u2019m ashamed of you, such a great girl, to be afraid of a\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nWho else?\u2014how should I know Sir? and if I knew, I should be afraid to say; but I don\u2019t know Sir, I don\u2019t indeed Sir\u2014and how should I, pray, when I never saw you before to night\u2014\r\n\r\nNever saw me before to night!\r\n\r\nNo Sir, never\u2014never\u2014\r\n\r\nAre you out of your head Bridget Pope?\u2014never saw me before?\r\n\r\nNo Sir\u2014never, never\u2014I wish I may die if I ever did, though others have\u2014your shape I mean Sir\u2014but I would never allow they told the truth about you when they\u2014O, Abigail, Abigail!\r\n\r\nDid you speak to\u00a0me<\/i>, Bridgy Pope?\r\n\r\nO my, O my!\u2014it\u00a0is<\/i>\u00a0your uncle George!\u2014it is indeed\u2014I see the ring he used to wear\u2014that\u2019s the very ring!\r\n\r\nYou don\u2019t say so Bridgy!\u2014mother\u2019s pretty ring?\r\n\r\nSpeak to it now Abby\u2014you aint afeard now\u2014speak to it, will you?\r\n\r\nNo, no, Bridgy, no, no\u2014you speak to it yourself\u2014what are you cryin\u2019 about father?\r\n\r\nI did speak to it Abby\u2014it\u2019s your turn now\u2014\r\n\r\nBut you\u2019re the nearest\u2014\r\n\r\nBut you\u2019re the furthest off\u2014\r\n\r\nAh\u2014but you\u2019re the oldest!\u2014\r\n\r\nBut you are the youngest....\r\n\r\nFather\u2014father\u2014its lookin\u2019 at me now!\r\n\r\nWell, what are you afeard on Abby\u2014I don\u2019t believe he\u2019s one o\u2019 the crew\u2014is he, uncle Matthew?\r\n\r\nThe preacher was afraid to open his mouth\u2014his heart was too full. It was the first time they had called each other Abby and Bridgy, for months.\r\n\r\nAnd so\u2014and so\u2014they may say what they like; and I\u2014I\u2014as for me Abby, I\u2019m not afeard now, one bit\u2014\r\n\r\nHow you talk Bridgy.\r\n\r\nNo\u2014and I\u2019ll never be afeard again\u2014so there!\r\n\r\nWhy\u2014Bridgy!\r\n\r\nAnd so you\u2019d better come out o\u2019 your [pb_glossary id=\"1907\"]cubby-house[\/pb_glossary], and go up to it and speak to it; I\u2019m not afeard now, you see.\r\n\r\nNor I.\r\n\r\nYes you be, or you wouldn\u2019t stay there.\r\n\r\nWhat if you speak to it agin Bridgy?\r\n\r\nSo I will. How d\u2019ye do Sir, how d\u2019ye do?\r\n\r\nMy!\u2014if \u2018taint a laughin\u2019 at you!\r\n\r\nI hope you\u2019re satisfied now\u2014\r\n\r\nAint you railly afeard one bit though, cousin Bridgy?\r\n\r\nNo indeed, not I. See if I be now\u2014look at me and see what I\u2019m a goin\u2019 to do. There Sir!\u2014there Mr. Burroughs, or whatever you be, there\u2019s my hand Sir\u2014there\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nLaying it on the table before him and turning away her head just as if she were going to have some hateful operation performed....\r\n\r\n\u2014You may touch it if you like\u2014\r\n\r\nGod bless you dear.\r\n\r\nI\u2019m not afeard of you now\u2014am I Sir?\r\n\r\nNo, no\u2014my brave girl.\r\n\r\nAnd you are not ashamed of me now I hope\u2014are you Sir?\r\n\r\nNo\u2014no\u2014but I am proud of you\u2014\r\n\r\nHe touched her hand as he spoke, but released it immediately, for he saw that he had a very cautious game to play.\r\n\r\nBy jingo Abby!\r\n\r\nBy jingo\u2014what for?\r\n\r\nWhy the hand is warm after all; it is Mr. Burroughs himself\u2014it is, it is!\u2014I know him now as well as I know you\u2014\u2014hourra!\r\n\r\nO my!\r\n\r\nAs sure as you are alive Abby.\r\n\r\nWhy, Bridget Pope, said her uncle. What on earth are you made of?\r\n\r\nMe\u2014uncle Matthew?\r\n\r\nWhy ... it appears that you did not know him just now, when you spoke to him.\r\n\r\nNo Sir\u2014I wasn\u2019t very sure\u2014not so sure as I am now.\r\n\r\nThere\u2019s courage for you\u2014true courage, Matthew Paris; a spirit worthy of all admiration.\r\n\r\nVery true\u2014very true\u2014but she is two years older than Abby.\r\n\r\nNot so much, Matthew, not so much\u2014well dear?\r\n\r\nMay I go now\u2014please....\r\n\r\nYou are not afraid of me now, dear?\r\n\r\nNo Sir\u2014if you please\u2014not much\u2014\r\n\r\nAnd you never will be so again, I hope?\r\n\r\nSo do I Sir\u2014so do I.... I hope so too ... for its an awful thing to be afeard of anybody.\r\n\r\nPoor child.\r\n\r\nTo be afeard in the dark Sir\u2014in the dead o\u2019 the night Sir\u2014when you\u2019re all livin\u2019 alone Sir\u2014O, it\u00a0is<\/i>\u00a0dreadful.\r\n\r\nSo it is, our Bridgy.\r\n\r\nBut I never mean to be afeard again Sir.\r\n\r\nThere\u2019s a good girl.\r\n\r\nNever, never (catching her breath)\u2014if I can help it.\r\n\r\nNor I nyther, Bridgy\u2014\r\n\r\nNever ... (lowering her voice and peeping under the bed) never without I see the wicked Shape as they do\u2014right afore me in the path, when I go after the cows, or when I go to look for the pretty shells on the sea-shore\u2014\r\n\r\nWhat wicked Shape?\r\n\r\nYour own Sir\u2014please.\r\n\r\nAh.\r\n\r\nAnd so Sir\u2014and so\u2014and so uncle Matthew\u2014and so you\u2019d better come out o\u2019 your hole, Abby dear.\r\n\r\nAfter a deal of persuasion,\u00a0Abby dear<\/i> began to creep out of her hiding-place, and by little and little to work her way along, now by the split-wood, now by the wall, and now with her back toward the place where the Shape sat\u00a0holding his breath and afraid to move, lest he should scare away the new-born courage of the little thing.\r\n\r\nAfter a while she got near enough to speak; and holding by her father\u2019s coat all the time, she sidled up to Burroughs, who would not appear to see what she was about, and lifting up her innocent face, articulated just loud enough to reach him\u2014There now.\r\n\r\nWell dear\u2014\r\n\r\nOff she started, the moment he spoke.\r\n\r\nBut finding she was not pursued, she stopped a yard or two from his chair, and peeping over the flap of her father\u2019s coat\u2014and seeing that the shape was looking another way\u2014she came a little nearer\u2014stopped\u2014a little nearer still\u2014inch by inch\u2014stopped once more, and looking up at him, as if she knew not whether to run off or stay, said\u2014You be Mr. Burroughs\u2014I<\/i>\u00a0know?\r\n\r\nHe was afraid to speak yet, and afraid to move.\r\n\r\nUncle George\u2014ee.\r\n\r\nGod bless the babe!\r\n\r\nThere now\u2014I told you so\u2014you be uncle George, baint you?\r\n\r\nYes dear\u2014but who are you\u2014you little wayward [pb_glossary id=\"1904\"]imp[\/pb_glossary], with such a [pb_glossary id=\"1905\"]smutty[\/pb_glossary] face and such ragged hair ... poh, poh ... poh ... what are you afraid of?\r\n\r\nO father, father! he\u2019s got me! he\u2019s got me!\r\n\r\nWell\u2014there, there\u2014if you don\u2019t like to stay with me, go to your father....\r\n\r\nWhy ... what a funny Shape it is father\u2014if it\u00a0is<\/i>\u00a0a shape.\r\n\r\nI don\u2019t believe your hair has been combed for a twelvemonth.\r\n\r\nO but it has though....\r\n\r\nIt is no fault of ours, my friend, said her father, delighted to see her at the knee of Burroughs. We do all we can, but the more we scrub, the more we may; the\u00a0more we wash, the dirtier and blacker she grows, and the more we comb, the rougher looks her beautiful hair ... it was beautiful indeed a year ago\u2014\r\n\r\nIt was like spun gold when I left you.\r\n\r\n\u2014But she is no longer the same Abigail Paris that you knew\u2014\r\n\r\nWhy ... father!...\r\n\r\nBe careful Sir; metaphors and poetry are not for babes and [pb_glossary id=\"1903\"]sucklings[\/pb_glossary]....\r\n\r\nYou be a good man after all ... baint you Sir? continued she, getting more confidence at every breath, now that she found the Shape willing to let her go whenever she chose to go. You be a good man after all Sir ... baint you Sir?\r\n\r\nI hope so dear.\r\n\r\nYou never torments the people, do you? Leaning with her whole weight upon his knee, letting go her father\u2019s coat, and shaking her abundant hair loose.\r\n\r\nI! ... no indeed I hope not.... I should be very sorry to torment the people.\r\n\r\nWould you though?\r\n\r\nYes dear....\r\n\r\nUncle Georgee! said the child in a whisper that sounded like a whisper of joy ... dear uncle George ... and he drew her into his lap, and she put her mouth close to his ear and repeated the words again, so that they went into his heart\u2014O, I do love you, uncle Georgee!\r\n\r\nHaving passed a whole hour in examining the two little sufferers (whom he left asleep in each other\u2019s arms) he went away utterly confounded by their behaviour, and with little hope of reaching the truth; for if Abigail Paris and Bridget Pope were what they seemed to be ... what they undoubtedly were indeed,\u2014innocent as the dove\u2014how could he say after all, that they were\u00a0not<\/i> bewitched? Still however there was one hope. That which\u00a0he saw might proceed from disease or from fear, the natural growth in that age and among that people, of a solitary situation. But if so, what was he to think of others, who had a like faith, and yet lived in a populous neighborhood and were cheerful and happy? Anxious to arrive at the truth, he set off immediately to see Rachel and Elizabeth Dyer, knowing that under their quiet roof, he should be at peace, though he failed to procure what he needed ... further information about her who had abused the people and the judges with a tremendous forgery.\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER XVI.<\/h3>\r\n<\/div>\r\nHe was not altogether disappointed. Rachel Dyer knew much of the woman who had fabricated the story of the spindle and sheet, and was only waiting for proof to [pb_glossary id=\"1902\"]impeach[\/pb_glossary] her for it, face to face, before the people and the judges. Her name was Hubbard<\/a>; she was in the prime of life, with a good share of beauty; bold, crafty and sly, and very much feared by those who believed her story; and Rachel Dyer, though a woman of tried worth and remarkable courage, was unwilling to appear against her, till she could do so with a certainty of success, for it would be a fearful stake to play for, and she knew it\u2014nothing less than life to life\u2014her life against that of Judith Hubbard.\r\n\r\nBut though she knew this, having been very familiar with the aspect of peril from her youth, and being aware that she was looked up to with awe by the multitude\u2014not so much with fear, as with a sort of religious awe\u2014great love mingled with a secret, mysterious veneration, as the chief hope of her grandmother, Mary Dyer, the prophetess and the martyr\u2014she determined to play for that stake.\r\n\r\nShe knew well what a wager of death was, and she knew well the worth of her own life. But she knew what was expected of her, and of what she was capable, in a period of general and sore perplexity and sorrow; for twice already in her short life she had approved her high relationship to the martyr, and the sincerity of\u00a0her faith as one of that people, who, when they were smitten of one cheek, turned the other, and who, when they were reviled, reviled not again,\u2014by going forth into the great woods of North-America, while they were beset with exasperated savages and with untamed creatures of blood, forever on the track of their prey, to intercede for those who had been carried off into captivity by the red heathen ... pursuing her fearful path by night and by day ... in winter and in summer ... and always alone ... to prove her faith; and prevailing in each case where there seemed to be no sort of hope, and thereby preserving to the colony eight of her precious youth; and among others, one who had despitefully used her a little time before, and whose grandfather was reputed to have been the real cause of her beloved grandmother\u2019s death.\r\n\r\nWhen Burroughs arrived at the door, and laid his hand upon the rude latch, he started, for the door flew open of itself; there was no lock on it, no fastening, neither bolt nor bar. He found the two sisters with a large book open before them, and Rachel reading to Elizabeth in a low voice, with her arm about her neck. How now? said he.\r\n\r\nThey gave him a hearty cheerful shake of the hand; but he observed, or thought he observed a slight change of colour in the face of Rachel, as he turned his eye to the book and saw a paragraph with her name in it.\r\n\r\nYou were reading, said he, as he drew up a chair to the table. Go on, if you please.\r\n\r\nThank thee, George; we had nearly finished....\r\n\r\nWhat are you reading, pray?\r\n\r\nWe were just reading the beautiful story of ... why, Rachel Dyer ... if thee ain\u2019t a goin\u2019 to shet up the book afore we are half done with the chapter! said Elizabeth, jumping up with a look of surprise ... well, I do think!\r\n\r\nRachel turned away her head with a somewhat hasty\u00a0motion, pushed the book toward Elizabeth, and sat back as far as she could possibly get into her grandmother\u2019s huge arm-chair; but she made no reply, and Elizabeth saw that something was the matter.\r\n\r\nThee\u2019s not well, I\u2019m afeard, sister ... dear sister, said she, going up to her and throwing her arms about her neck, and kissing her as a child would kiss a mother.\r\n\r\nRachel burst into tears.\r\n\r\nWhy! exclaimed Elizabeth ... why! ... what is the matter with thee, Rachel ... thee turns away thy head ... thee will not look at me ... what have I done, I beseech thee, dear sister ... what have I done to grieve thee? Speak to her, George ... do speak to her ... I never saw her in this way before.\r\n\r\nPoor soul, said he, going up to her and speaking with visible emotion; but as he drew near and would have put his hand upon hers, like a brother, she pulled it away; and then as if suddenly recollecting herself, she rose up, and after a short struggle, turned to him with a smile that affected him even more than her tears, and spoke to him very kindly, and put her hand into his, and prepared to finish the chapter. It was the story of the patriarch, who, after cheating his father in his old age, and betraying his brother Esau<\/a>, went away into the land of the people of the East, where in due course of time he was overreached and betrayed by his mother\u2019s brother; and the voice of the reader was firm and clear, and her look steady, till she came to these words\u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd Laban had two daughters: the name of the elder was Lear, and the name of the younger was Rachel.\r\n\r\n\u201cLear was tender-eyed, but Rachel....\r\n\r\nHer voice quavered now, and she proceeded with visible effort and hurry.\r\n\r\n\u2014\u2014\u201cBut Rachel was\u00a0beautiful and well favored. And Jacob loved Rachel.<\/i>\r\n\r\nA moment more\u2014and she recovered her voice entirely, and finished the chapter without a sign of emotion, as if she knew in her own soul that Burroughs and Elizabeth were watching her as they had never watched her before.\r\n\r\nStrange morality\u2014said he, as they laid the Book aside. This patriarch, and others who happen to have been greatly favored in that age by the God of the patriarchs were guilty of more than we, with our shortsighted notions of propriety, should be very willing either to overlook or forgive\u2014\r\n\r\nGeorge Burroughs\u2014\r\n\r\nMy dear friend\u2014what I say is very true, and to pass over David, the man after God\u2019s own heart, I would ask you whether he who cheated his father and his brother, by the help of his mother, while he was yet a youth, and as he grew up laid before the stronger cattle the rods which he had peeled\u2014as we have it in the Book\u2014and suffered the cattle that were weak\u2014as we read there\u2014to conceive in their own way, so that \u201cthe feebler were Laban\u2019s cattle and the stronger Jacob\u2019s ... whether he, I say....\r\n\r\nI see no advantage in this ... we have a faith of our own, said Rachel, interrupting him with a mild seriousness which he dared not contend with. I pray thee to spare us,\u2014and thyself George....\r\n\r\nAre we not to bear witness to the truth, Rachel?\r\n\r\nIt may be the truth George, but ... glancing at Elizabeth who sat as if she expected the roof to fall in, or the earth to give way under their feet and swallow them up for their dreadful impiety ... some truths we know are for the strong, and some for the weak.\r\n\r\nAh ... what was that! cried Elizabeth catching at her sister\u2019s arm.\r\n\r\nPoor child ... there George there ... thee sees the effect of thy truth ... why, Lizzy!\r\n\r\nO I did hear something ... I did, I did! continued Elizabeth, clinging to her sister and fixing her eyes upon the roof. O I\u2019m sure there\u2019s something up there.\r\n\r\nWell, and what if there is, pray? What\u2019s thee afraid of?... Is the arm of our Father shortened or his power shrunk, that we are not safe?\r\n\r\nNay nay Rachel ... no wonder she\u2019s afraid. You are lying asleep as it were, in the very path-way of the prowling savage and the beast of blood, with no lock on your outer-door, not so much as a wooden bolt, with no sort of security for you, by day or by night; and all this in a time of war, and you living on the outskirts of the wood ... why it\u2019s no better than tempting [pb_glossary id=\"779\"]Providence[\/pb_glossary], Rachel Dyer....\r\n\r\nJust what I say ... said Elizabeth....\r\n\r\nAnd I am sorry to hear thee say so....\r\n\r\nNay nay Rachel ... why so grave? I confess to you that I should not like to live as you do....\r\n\r\nI dare say, George....\r\n\r\nIt would be impossible for me to sleep....\r\n\r\nNo no ... not impossible.\r\n\r\nAnd I should expect a savage or a bear to drop in, every hour of the day....\r\n\r\nThee wouldn\u2019t always be disappointed George.\r\n\r\nAnd every hour of the night, Rachel, without ceremony.\r\n\r\nWe disregard ceremony, George.\r\n\r\nWhy, what are you made of Rachel Dyer....\r\n\r\nOf earth, George.\r\n\r\nNot of common earth....\r\n\r\nGeorge Burroughs!\r\n\r\nBut of a truth now, are you not afraid of a call some\u00a0one of these dark nights from a stray savage, a Pequod, or a Mohawk\u2014or an Iroquois?\r\n\r\nShe smiled.\r\n\r\nAre you not? We are at open war now with half the tribes of the North.\r\n\r\nNo ... and why should I be? I know them all and they know that Elizabeth and I are what they call poo-ka-kee....\r\n\r\nPoor quakers, hey?...\r\n\r\nYes, and thee may be very sure that we have not much to be in fear of when I tell thee ... prepare thyself George ... that hardly a day goes over without my seeing some one or two of thy tribe, or of the Iroquois.\r\n\r\nWhat! cried the preacher, leaping out of the chair and looking up at the roof ... there may be somebody there now.\r\n\r\nNot up there George....\r\n\r\nWhere then?\r\n\r\nIt would be no easy matter for me to say: for whoever it is, he will not appear till thee is gone ... why, what\u2019s thee afraid of? ... and then he will open the door as thee did, and walk in. Thee may put up thy knife George, and lay down thy staff ... they\u2019ll never cross thy path, nor harm a hair of thy head....\r\n\r\nHow can I be sure of that?\r\n\r\nBy believing what I say to thee.\r\n\r\nI know the savages better than you do, my dear friend.\r\n\r\nI have my doubts, George. They never harmed a visiter of mine yet, neither going or coming; and I have had not a few of their mortal foes under my roof while they were lying within bow-shot of the door. Be assured of what I say ... thee has nothing to fear....\r\n\r\nWould we let thee come, George, if it wasn\u2019t very safe? asked Elizabeth.\r\n\r\nForgive me, said he, forgive me; and his eyes flashed\u00a0fire, and Elizabeth hid her face, and Rachel turned away her head.\r\n\r\nWhy, how now? said he, looking at both in astonishment, you appear to have a\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nHe stopped short ... he had an idea that he knew the character of both sisters well; he had been acquainted with Mary Elizabeth from her childhood up, and with her grave sister from her youth up, and he had always perceived that there was a something in the nature of both, but especially in that of Rachel Dyer, unlike the nature of anybody else that he ever knew; but he had never been so puzzled by either as he was now\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nI hope I have not offended you? said he, at last.\r\n\r\nDo\u00a0thee<\/i>\u00a0feel safe George?\r\n\r\nYes ... but you are not safe ... ah, you may smile and shake your head, but you are not safe. How do you think the authorities of the land will endure to be told that you are on such familiar terms with the foe? Have a care ... you will get yourself into trouble, if you don\u2019t.\r\n\r\nMake thyself easy George. We are quite safe; we belong to neither side in the war, and both sides know it. By abiding here, I am able to do much good....\r\n\r\nAs how, pray?\r\n\r\nBy showing that I am not afraid to trust to the good-faith of savages; by showing them that they are safe in trusting to\u00a0my<\/i>\u00a0good-faith, and above all, that weapons of war, whatever thee may say, George, are not necessary to them who put their trust in the Lord....\r\n\r\nWhat if we were to entrap some of your visiters without your knowledge?\r\n\r\nIt would be no easy matter. They guard every path I do believe, that leads to my door....\r\n\r\nEvery path....\r\n\r\nYes ... and let me tell thee now, that if it should ever happen to thee to go astray in these woods, thee will\u00a0have nothing to fear so long as thee pursues a path which leads to my door ... if thee should miss thy way, inquire aloud, and thee will be safe....\r\n\r\nHow so?\r\n\r\nThee will be overheard....\r\n\r\nYou astonish me.\r\n\r\nAnd guarded, if it be necessary....\r\n\r\nGuarded!...\r\n\r\nUp to my very door ... thee can hardly put faith in what I say. Do thee know George, that to be a poo-ka-kee, is to bear a charmed life, as thee would say, not only here, but in the great wilderness? Do thee know too, that among the tribes of the north, it is a common thing to charge a captive with cruelty to the quakers.\r\n\r\nI do ... and I have heard every cry of a pale man at the stake answered by ... Ah ha! what for you farver \u2019im choke-a poo-ka-kee-ooman?\r\n\r\nPoor soul....\r\n\r\nThey alluded I suppose to your grandmother. How you like em dat? said a Mohawk chief, putting his belt round the neck of another, and pulling it just hard enough to choke him a little. Ah ha! ... what for you do so?... You choke-a poo-ka-kee-ooman, hey? ... you kill um \u2019gin? ah ha....\r\n\r\nNo, no George ... no, no.... I can\u2019t bear to hear thee ... it reminds me of the poor youth I saved. They frightened him almost to death before they would give him up, only because they had a tradition in their tribe that his grandfather was in some way, the cause of my grandmother\u2019s death; and I am quite sure that he would not have been given up to anybody but me ... well....\r\n\r\nHark ... hark! said Elizabeth, interrupting her sister.\r\n\r\nWell, what now?\r\n\r\nI heard a voice....\r\n\r\nA voice ... where ... when ... what was it like?\r\n\r\nLike the voice of a woman, a great way off\u2014\r\n\r\nA female [pb_glossary id=\"2201\"]panther[\/pb_glossary] I dare say ... it\u2019s high time to look to the door.\r\n\r\nThere ... there ... oh, it\u2019s close to the door now!\r\n\r\nA low sweet voice could be distinctly heard now, but whether on the roof or up the chimney, or at the window or the door, it was quite impossible to say.\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER XVII.<\/h3>\r\n<\/div>\r\nThe preacher drew forth a knife, and went up to the door.\r\n\r\nSir ... sir ... you are wanted Sir ... right away Sir, said a low voice at his elbow....\r\n\r\nWho are you? ... where are you? cried he ... but the blood curdled about his heart, and he recoiled from the sound as he spoke.\r\n\r\nHere I be ... here ... here.\r\n\r\nElizabeth dropped on her knees and hid her face in the lap of her sister; and Rachel, who was not of a temper to be easily frightened, gathered her up and folded her arms about her, as if struck to the heart with a mortal fear. But Burroughs, after fetching a breath or two, went back to the door and stood waiting for the voice to be heard again.\r\n\r\nWhat are you?\u2014speak\u2014where<\/i>\u00a0are you?\r\n\r\nHere I be, said the invisible creature.\r\n\r\nAnd who are you\u2014what are you? cried Burroughs running up to the door, and then to the window, and then to the fire-place, and then back to the window, and preparing to push the slide away\u2014\r\n\r\nHere I be sir\u2014here\u2014here\u2014\r\n\r\nWell\u2014if ever!\u2014cried Rachel. Why don\u2019t thee go to the door George\u2014starting up and leaving poor Elizabeth on her knees. Why! thee may be sure there\u2019s something the matter\u2014going to the door a-tip-toe.\r\n\r\nNo no Rachel\u2014no no; it may be a stratagem\u2014\r\n\r\nA stratagem for what pray?\u2014what have we to fear?\r\n\r\nThe door flew open as she spoke, and a boy entered all out of breath, his neck open, his hat gone, his jacket off, and his hair flying loose\u2014\r\n\r\nWhy, Robert Eveleth\u2014\r\n\r\nO Sir\u2014sir! said he, as soon as he could speak\u2014O sir I\u2019ve come to tell you\u2014didn\u2019t you never see a Belzebub?\u2014\r\n\r\nA what?\u2014\r\n\r\nIf you never did, now\u2019s your time; just look out o\u2019the door there, and you\u2019ll see a plenty on \u2019em.\r\n\r\nWhy, Robert\u2014Robert\u2014what ails the boy?\r\n\r\nNo matter now, aunt Rachel\u2014you\u2019re wanted Sir\u2014they\u2019re all on the look-out for you now\u2014you\u2019re a goin\u2019 to be tried to-morrow for your life\u2014I come here half an hour ago to tell you so\u2014but I saw one o\u2019 the Shapes here right by the winder....\r\n\r\nA what?\u2014\r\n\r\n\u2014A Shape\u2014an\u2019 so d\u2019ye see, I cleared out ... and so, and so\u2014the sooner you\u2019re off, the better; they\u2019re a goin\u2019 to swear\u00a0your<\/i>\u00a0life away, now\u2014\r\n\r\nHis life, murmured Elizabeth.\r\n\r\nMy life\u2014mine\u2014how do you know this, boy?\r\n\r\nHow do I know it Sir?\u2014well enough ... they\u2019ve been over and waked Bridgy Pope, and want her to say so too\u2014and she and Abby\u2014they sent me off here to tell you to get away as fast as ever you can, all three of you, if you don\u2019t want to swing for it, afore you know where you be\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nRobert Eveleth!\u2014\r\n\r\nO, it\u2019s all very true Sir, an\u2019 you may look as black as a thunder-cloud, if you please, but if you don\u2019t get away, and you\u2014and you\u2014every chip of you, afore day-light, you\u2019ll never eat another huckleberry-puddin\u2019 in this\u00a0world, and you may swear to that, all hands of you, as we say aboard ship....\r\n\r\nRobert Eveleth, from what I saw of you the other day\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nCan\u2019t help that Sir ... you\u2019ve no time to lose now, either of you; you do as I say now, an\u2019 I\u2019ll hear you preach whenever you like, arter you\u2019re all safe\u2014no, no, you needn\u2019t trouble yourself to take a chair\u2014if you stop to set down, it\u2019s fifty to five an\u2019 a chaw o\u2019 tobacco, \u2019t you never git up agin ... why! ... there\u2019s Mary Wa\u2019cote and that air Judith Hubbard you see ... (lowering his voice) an\u2019 I don\u2019t know how many more o\u2019 the Shapes out there in the wood waitin\u2019 for you....\r\n\r\nPoh.\r\n\r\nLord, what a power o\u2019 faces I did see! when the moon came out, as I was crackin\u2019 away over the path by the edge o\u2019 the wood.... I\u2019ve brought you father\u2019s grey stallion, he that carried off old Ci Carter when the Mohawks were out ... are you all ready?\r\n\r\nAll ready?\r\n\r\nYes, all\u2014all\u2014you\u2019re in for\u2019t too, Lizzy Dyer, and so are you, aunt Rachel\u2014an\u2019 so\u2014and so\u2014shall I bring up the horse?\r\n\r\nNo\u2014\r\n\r\nNo\u2014yes, but I will though, by faith!\r\n\r\nRobert!\r\n\r\nWhy Robert, thee makes my blood run cold\u2014\r\n\r\nNever you mind for that, Lizzy Dyer.\r\n\r\nRobert Eveleth, I am afraid thy going to sea a trip or two, hath made thee a naughty boy, as I told thy mother it would.\r\n\r\nNo no, aunt Rachel, no no, don\u2019t say so; we never swear a mouthful when we\u2019re out to sea, we never ketch no fish if we do\u2014but here am I; all out o\u2019 breath now,\u00a0and you wont stir a peg, for all I can say or do and be\u2014gulp to you!\r\n\r\nHere Burroughs interrupted the boy, and after informing the sisters of what had occurred while he was with Mr. Paris and the poor children, he made the boy go over the whole story anew, and having done so, he became satisfied in his own soul, that if the conspirators were at work to destroy the poor girl before him, there would be no escape after she was once in their power.\r\n\r\nBe of good cheer, Elizabeth, said he, and as he spoke, he stooped down to set his lips to her forehead.\r\n\r\nGeorge\u2014George\u2014we have no time to lose\u2014what are we to do? said Rachel, putting forth her hand eagerly so as to stay him before he had reached the brow of Elizabeth; and then as quickly withdrawing it, and faltering out a word or two of self-reproach.\r\n\r\nIf you think as I do, dear Rachel, the sooner she is away the better.\r\n\r\nI do think as thee does\u2014I do, George ... (in this matter.) Go for the black mare, as fast as thee can move, Robert Eveleth.\r\n\r\nWhere shall I find her ... it\u2019s plaguy dark now, where there\u2019s no light.\r\n\r\nOn thy left hand as the door slips away; thee\u2019ll find a cloth and a side-saddle over the [pb_glossary id=\"1899\"]crib[\/pb_glossary], with a\u2014stop, stop\u2014will the grey horse bear a [pb_glossary id=\"1898\"]pillion[\/pb_glossary]?\r\n\r\nYes\u2014forty.\r\n\r\nIf he will not, however, the mare will ... so be quick, Robert, be quick....\r\n\r\nAway bounded the boy.\r\n\r\nShe has carried both of us before to-day, and safely too, when each had a heavier load upon her back than we both have now. Get thee ready sister\u2014for my own part\u2014I\u2014well George, I have been looking for sorrow and am pretty well prepared for it, thee sees. I knew four months ago that I had wagered my life against Judith Hubbard\u2019s life\u2014I am sorry for Judith\u2014I should be sorry to bring her to such great shame, to say nothing of death, and were it not for others, and especially for that poor child, (pointing to Elizabeth) I would rather lay down my own life\u2014much rather, if thee\u2019ll believe me George, than do her the great mischief that I now fear must be done to her, if our Elizabeth is to escape the snare.\r\n\r\nI\u00a0do<\/i>\u00a0believe you\u2014are you ready?\u2014\r\n\r\nQuite ready; but why do thee stand there, as if thee was not going too?\u2014or as if thee had not made up thy mind?\r\n\r\nAh\u2014I thought I saw a face\u2014\r\n\r\nI dare say thee did; but thee\u2019s not afraid of a face, I hope?\r\n\r\nI hear the sound of horses\u2019 feet\u2014\r\n\r\nHow now?\u2014it is not for such as thee to be slow of resolve.\r\n\r\nHe drew a long breath\u2014\r\n\r\nGeorge\u2014thee is going with us?\r\n\r\nNo, Rachel\u2014I\u2019d better stay here.\r\n\r\nHere! shrieked Elizabeth.\r\n\r\nHere!\u2014what do thee mean, George? asked her sister.\r\n\r\nI mean what I say\u2014just what I say\u2014it is for me to abide here.\r\n\r\nFor thee to abide here? If it is the duty of one, it is the duty of another, said Elizabeth in a low, but very decided voice.\r\n\r\nNo, Elizabeth Dyer, no\u2014I am able to bear that which ought never to be expected of you.\r\n\r\nDo thee mean death, George?\u2014we are not very much afraid of death, said Rachel\u2014are we Elizabeth?\r\n\r\nNo\u2014not very much\u2014\r\n\r\nYou know not what you say. I am a preacher of the gospel\u2014what may be very proper for me to do, may be very improper for a young beautiful\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nGeorge Burroughs\u2014\r\n\r\nForgive me Rachel\u2014\r\n\r\nI do ... prepare thyself, my dear Elizabeth, [pb_glossary id=\"1896\"]gird up thy loins[\/pb_glossary]; for the day of [pb_glossary id=\"1897\"]travail[\/pb_glossary] and bitter sorrow is nigh to thee.\r\n\r\nHere am I sister! And ready to obey thee at the risk of my life. What am I to do?\r\n\r\nI advise thee to fly, for if they seek thy death, it is for my sake\u2014I shall go too.\r\n\r\nDear sister\u2014\r\n\r\nWell?\u2014\r\n\r\nStoop thy head, I pray thee, continued Elizabeth\u2014I\u2014I\u2014(in a whisper)\u2014I hope he\u2019ll go with thee.\r\n\r\nWith me?\u2014\r\n\r\nWith us, I mean\u2014\r\n\r\nWhy not say so?\r\n\r\nHow could I?\r\n\r\nMary Elizabeth Dyer!\r\n\r\nNay nay\u2014we should be safer with him\u2014\r\n\r\nOur safety is not in George Burroughs, maiden.\r\n\r\nBut we should find our way in the dark better.\r\n\r\nRachel made no reply, but she stood looking at her sister, with her lips apart and her head up, as if she were going to speak, till her eyes ran over, and then she fell upon her neck and wept aloud for a single moment, and then arose and, with a violent effort, broke away from Elizabeth, and hurried into their little bedroom, where she staid so long that Elizabeth followed her\u2014and the preacher soon heard their voices and their sobs die away, and saw the linked shadows of both in prayer, projected along the white roof.\r\n\r\nA moment more and they came out together, Rachel\u00a0with a steady look and a firm step, and her sister with a show of courage that awed him.\r\n\r\nThee will go with us now, I hope, said Rachel.\r\n\r\nHe shook his head.\r\n\r\nI pray thee George\u2014do not thou abide here\u2014by going with us thee may have it in thy power to help a\u2014\u2014in short, we have need of thee George, and thee had better go, even if thee should resolve to come back and outface whatever may be said of thee\u2014\r\n\r\nWhat if I see an angel in my path?\r\n\r\nDo that which to thee seemeth good\u2014I have no more to say\u2014the greater will be thy courage, the stronger the presumption of thy innocence, however, should thee come back, after they see thee in safety\u2014what do thee say Elizabeth?\u2014\r\n\r\nI didn\u2019t speak, Rachel\u2014but\u2014but\u2014O I\u00a0do<\/i>\u00a0wish he would go.\r\n\r\nI shall come back if I live, said Burroughs.\r\n\r\nNay nay George\u2014thee may not see thy way clear to do so\u2014\r\n\r\nHourra there, hourra! cried Robert Eveleth, popping his head in at the door. Here we be all three of us\u2014what are you at now?\u2014why aint you ready?\u2014what are you waitin\u2019 for?\r\n\r\nGeorge\u2014it has just occurred to me that if I stay here, I may do Elizabeth more good than if I go with you\u2014having it in my power to escape, it may be of weight in her favor\u2014\r\n\r\nFiddle-de-dee for your proof cried Robert Eveleth\u2014that, for all your proof! snapping his fingers\u2014that for all the good you can do Elizabeth\u2014I say, Mr. Burroughs\u2014a word with you\u2014\r\n\r\nBurroughs followed him to a far part of the room.\r\n\r\nIf you know when you are well off, said the boy\u2014make her go\u2014you may both stay, you and Elizabeth too,\u00a0without half the risk; but as for aunt Rachel, why as sure as you\u2019re a breathin\u2019 the breath o\u2019 life now, if you don\u2019t get her away, they\u2019ll have her up with a short turn; and if you know\u2019d all, you\u2019d say so\u2014I said \u2019twas\u00a0you<\/i>\u00a0when I fuss come, for I didn\u2019t like to frighten her\u2014but the fact is you are only one out o\u2019 the three, and I\u2019d rather have your chance now, than either o\u2019 their\u2019n\u2014\r\n\r\nWhy? Robert\u2014\r\n\r\nHush\u2014hush\u2014you stoop down your head here, an\u2019 I\u2019ll satisfy you o\u2019 the truth o\u2019 what I say.... Barbara Snow, and Judy Hubbard have been to make oath, and they wanted Bridgy Pope to make oath too\u2014they\u2019d do as much for her they said\u2014how \u2019t you come to their bed-side about a week ago, along with a witch that maybe you\u2019ve heerd of\u2014a freckled witch with red hair and a big hump on her back\u2014\r\n\r\nNo no\u2014cried the preacher, clapping his hand over the boy\u2019s mouth and hastily interchanging a look with Elizabeth, whose eyes filled with a gush of sorrow, when she thought of her brave good sister, and of what she would feel at the remark of the boy ... a remark, the bitter truth of which was made fifty times more bitter by his age, and by the very anxiety he showed to keep it away from her quick sensitive ear.\r\n\r\nBut Rachel was not like Elizabeth; for though she heard the remark, she did not even change color, but went up to the boy, and put both arms about his neck with a smile, and gave him a hearty kiss ... and bid him be a good boy, and a prop for his widowed mother.\r\n\r\nA moment more and they were all on their way. It was very dark for a time, and the great wilderness through which their path lay, appeared to overshadow the whole earth, and here and there to shoot up a multitude of branches\u2014up\u2014up\u2014into the very sky\u2014where <\/span>the stars and the moon appeared to be adrift, and wallowing on their way through a sea of shadow.\r\n\r\nMe go too? said a voice, apparently a few feet off, as they were feeling for a path in the thickest part of the wood.\r\n\r\nThe preacher drew up as if an arrow had missed him. Who are you? said he\u2014\r\n\r\nNo no, George ... let me speak\u2014\r\n\r\nDo you know the voice?\r\n\r\nNo\u2014but I\u2019m sure \u2019tis one that I have heard before.\r\n\r\nMe go too\u2014high!\r\n\r\nNo.\r\n\r\nWhere you go?\u2014high!\r\n\r\nRachel pointed with her hand.\r\n\r\nAre you afraid to tell? asked the preacher, looking about in vain for somebody to appear.\r\n\r\nI have told him\u2014I pointed with my hand\u2014\r\n\r\nBut how could he see thy hand such a dark night? said Elizabeth.\r\n\r\nAs\u00a0you<\/i>\u00a0would see it in the light of day, said the preacher.\r\n\r\nHigh\u2014high\u2014me better go too\u2014poo-ka-kee.\r\n\r\nNo, no\u2014I\u2019d rather not, whoever thee is\u2014we are quite safe\u2014\r\n\r\nNo\u2014no, said the voice, and here the conversation dropped, and they pursued their way for above an hour, at a brisk trot, and were already in sight of a path which led to the Providence Plantations<\/a>, their city of refuge\u2014\r\n\r\nHigh\u2014high\u2014me hear um people, cried the same voice. You no safe much.\r\n\r\nAnd so do I, cried Burroughs. I hear the tread of people afar off\u2014no, no, \u2019tis a troop of horse\u2014who are you\u2014come out and speak to us\u2014what are we to do?\u2014the moon is out now.\r\n\r\nHigh, poo-ka-kee, high!\r\n\r\nYes\u2014come here if thee will, and say what we are to do.\r\n\r\nBefore the words were well out of her mouth, a young savage appeared in the path, a few feet from the head of her horse, and after explaining to her that she was pursued by a troop, and that he and six more of the tribe were waiting to know whether she wanted their help, he threw aside his blanket and showed her, that although he was in the garb of a swift-runner, he did not lack for weapons of war.\r\n\r\nNo, no, not for the world poor youth! cried the woman of peace, when her eye caught the glitter of the knife, the tomahawk and the short gun\u2014I pray thee to leave us ... do leave us\u2014do, do!\u2014speak to him George ... he does not appear to understand what I say\u2014entreat him to leave us.\r\n\r\nHigh\u2014high! said the young warrior, and off he bounded for the sea-shore, leaving them to pursue their opposite path in quietness. Rachel and Elizabeth were upon a creature that knew, or appeared to know every step of the way; but the young high-spirited horse the preacher rode, had become quite unmanageable, now that the moon was up, the sky clear, and the shadows darting hither and thither about her path. At last they had come to the high road\u2014their peril was over\u2014and they were just beginning to speak above their breath, when Burroughs heard a shot fired afar off\u2014\r\n\r\nHush\u2014hush\u2014don\u2019t move; don\u2019t speak for your lives, cried he, as the animal reared and started away from the path ... soh, soh\u2014I shall subdue him in a moment\u2014hark\u2014that is the tread of a horse\u2014another\u2014and another, by my life\u2014woa!\u2014woa!\u2014\r\n\r\nMy heart misgives me, George\u2014that youth\u2014\r\n\r\nAh\u2014another shot\u2014we are pursued by a troop, and that boy is picking them off\u2014\r\n\r\nO Father of mercies! I hope not.\r\n\r\nStay you here\u2014I\u2019ll be back in a moment\u2014woa\u2014woa!\u2014\r\n\r\nGeorge\u2014\u2014George\u2014\r\n\r\nDon\u2019t be alarmed\u2014stay where you are\u2014keep in the shadow, and if I do not come back immediately, or if you see me pursued, or if\u2014woa, woa\u2014or if you see the mare prick up her ears, don\u2019t wait for me, but make the best of your way over that hill yonder\u2014woa!\u2014keep out o\u2019 the high road and you are safe.\r\n\r\nSaying this, he rode off without waiting for a reply, intending to follow in the rear of the troop, and to lead them astray at the risk of his life, should they appear to be in pursuit of the fugitives. He had not gone far, when his horse, hearing the tread of other horses\u2014a heavy tramp, like that of a troop of cavalry on the charge, sounding through the still midnight air, gave a loud long neigh. It was immediately answered by four or five horses afar off, and by that on which the poor girls were mounted.\r\n\r\nThe preacher saw that there was but one hope now, and he set off at full speed therefore, intending to cross the head of the troop and provoke them to a chase; the man\u0153uvre succeeded until they saw that he was alone, after which they divided their number, and while one party pursued him, another took its way to the very spot where the poor girls were abiding the issue. He and they both were captured\u2014they were all three taken, alive\u2014though man after man of the troop fell from his horse, by shot after shot from a foe that no one of the troop could see, as they galloped after the fugitives. They were all three carried back to Salem, Burroughs prepared for the worst, Rachel afraid only for Elizabeth, and Elizabeth more dead than alive.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1990\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"640\"]\"Illustration \"Burroughs and the Sherrifs,\" 1876-81, from A Popular History of the United States, by William Cullen Bryant, and Sydney Howard Gay.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nBut why seek to delay the catastrophe? Why pause upon that, the result of which every body can foresee?\u00a0They put him upon trial on the memorable fifth day of August (1692) in the midst of the great thunder-storm. Having no proper court of justice in the Plymouth-colony at this period, they made use of a Meeting-House for the procedure, which lasted all one day and a part of the following night\u2014a night never to be forgotten by the posterity of them that were alive at the time. He was pale and sick and weary, but his bearing was that of a good man\u2014that of a brave man too, and yet he shook as with an ague, when he saw arrayed against him, no less than eight confessing witches, five or six distempered creatures who believed him to be the cause of their malady, Judith Hubbard, a woman whose character had been at his mercy for a long while (He knew that of her, which if he had revealed it before she accused him, would have been fatal to her) John Ruck his own brother-in-law, two or three of his early and very dear friends of the church, in whom he thought he could put all trust, and a score of neighbors on whom he would have called at any other time to speak in his favor. What was he to believe now?\u2014what\u00a0could<\/i>\u00a0he believe? These witnesses were not like Judith Hubbard; they had not wronged him, as she had\u2014they were neither hostile to him, nor afraid of him in the way she was afraid of him. They were about to take away his life under a deep sense of duty to their Father above. His heart swelled with agony, and shook\u2014and stopped, when he saw this\u2014and a shadow fell, or appeared to fall on the very earth about him. It was the shadow of another world.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_2063\" align=\"alignright\" width=\"388\"]\"Illustration Postcard illustration showing the First Church relic or Roger Williams Church, today known as the Quaker Meeting House, 1901, by Irving K. Annable.[\/caption]\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER XVIII.<\/h3>\r\n<\/div>\r\nA brief and faithful account of the issue ... a few words more, and the tale of sorrow is done. \u201cThe confessing witches testified,\u201d to give the language of a writer who was an eye-witness<\/a> of the \u201ctrial that the prisoner had been at witch-meetings with them, and had seduced and compelled them to the snares of witchcraft; that he promised them fine clothes for obeying him; that he brought poppets to them and thorns to stick into the poppets for afflicting other people, and that he exhorted them to bewitch all Salem-Village, but to do it gradually.\u201d\r\n\r\nAmong the bewitched, all of whom swore that Burroughs had pursued them for a long while under one shape or another, were three who swore that of him which they swore of no other individual against whom they appeared. Their story was that he had the power of becoming invisible, that he had appeared to them under a variety of shapes in a single day, that he would appear and disappear while they were talking together\u2014actually vanish away while their eyes were upon him, so that sometimes they could hear his voice in the air, in the earth, or in the sea, long and long after he himself had gone out of their sight. They were evidently afraid of him, for they turned pale when he stood up, and covered their faces when he looked at them, and stopped their ears when he spoke to them. And when the judges and the elders of the land saw this, they were satisfied of his evil power, and grew mute with terror.\r\n\r\nOne of the three chief accusers, a girl, testified that in her\u00a0agony<\/i>, a little black man appeared to her, saying that his name was George Burroughs, and bid her set her name to a book which he had with him, bragging at the time that he was a conjuror high above the ordinary rank of witches. Another swore that in\u00a0her<\/i>\u00a0agony, he persuaded her to go to a sacrament, where they saw him blowing a trumpet and summoning other witches therewith from the four corners of the earth. And a third swore, on recovering from a sort of trance before the people, that he had just carried her away into the top of a high mountain, where he showed her mighty and glorious kingdoms which he offered to give her, if she would write in the book. But she refused.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_2064\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"616\"]\"The Wood Engraving from the Compendium Maleficarum, 1608.[\/caption]\r\n\r\nNor did they stop here. They charged him with practices too terrible for language to describe. And what were the rulers to say? Here was much to strengthen a part of the charge. His abrupt appearance at the trial of Sarah Good, his behaviour, his look of premature age\u2014that look whereof the people never spoke but with a whisper, as if they were afraid of being overheard\u2014that extraordinary voice\u2014that swarthy complexion\u2014that bold haughty carriage\u2014that wonderful power of words\u2014what were they to believe? Where had he gathered so much wisdom? Where had he been to acquire that\u2014whatever it was, with which he was able to overawe and outbrave and subdue everything and everybody? All hearts were in fear\u2014all tongues mute before him. Death\u2014even death he was not afraid of. He mocked at death\u2014he threw himself as it were, in the very chariot-way of the king of Terrors; and what cared he for the law?\r\n\r\nHis behavior to the boy, his critical reproduction of the knife-blade, whereby their faith in a tried accuser was actually shaken, his bright fierce look when the people\u00a0gave way at his approach ... his undaunted smile when the great black horse appeared looking in over the heads of the people, who crowded together and hurried away with a more than mortal fear ... and his remarkable words when the judge demanded to know by what authority he was abroad ... all these were facts and circumstances within the knowledge of the court. By the authority of the\u00a0Strong Man<\/span>, said he; who was that\u00a0Strong Man<\/i>? By authority of\u00a0one<\/i>\u00a0who hath endowed me with great power; who was that\u00a0one<\/span>?\r\n\r\nYet more. It was proved by a great number of respectable and worthy witnesses, who appeared to pity the prisoner, that he, though a small man, had lifted a gun of seven feet barrel with one hand behind the lock and held it forth, at arm\u2019s length; nay, that with only his fore-finger in the barrel he did so, and that in the same party appeared a savage whom nobody knew, that did the same.\r\n\r\nThis being proved, the court consulted together, and for so much gave judgment before they proceeded any further in the trial, that \u201cGeorge Burroughs had been aided and assisted then and there by the Black Man, who was near in a bodily shape.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd it being proved that he \u201cmade nothing\u201d of other facts, requiring a bodily strength such as they had never seen nor heard of, it was adjudged further by the same court, after a serious consultation, that \u201cGeorge Burroughs had a devil.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd after this, it being proved that one day when he lived at Casco, he and his wife and his brother-in-law, John Ruck, went after strawberries together to a place about three miles off, on the way to Sacarappa<\/a>\u2014\u201cBurroughs on foot and they on horseback, Burroughs left them and stepped aside into the bushes; whereupon they halted and hallowed for him, but he not making\u00a0them any reply, they went homeward with a quick pace, not expecting to see him for a considerable time; but when they had got near, whom should they see but Burroughs himself with a basket of strawberries newly gathered, waiting for his wife, whom he chid for what she had been saying to her brother on the road; which when they marvelled at, he told them he knew their very thoughts; and Ruck saying that was more than the devil himself could know, he answered with heat, saying Brother and wife, my God makes known your thoughts to me: all this being proved to the court, they consulted together as before and gave judgment that \u201cBurroughs had stepped aside only that by the assistance of the Black Man he might put on his invisibility and in that fascinating mist, gratify his own jealous humor to hear what they said of him.\u201d\r\n\r\nWell prisoner at the bar, said the chief judge, after the witnesses for the crown had finished their testimony\u2014what have you to say for yourself?\r\n\r\nNothing.\r\n\r\nHave you no witnesses?\r\n\r\nNot one.\r\n\r\nAnd why not?\r\n\r\nOf what use could they be?\r\n\r\nYou needn\u2019t be so stiff though; a lowlier carriage in your awful situation might be more becoming. You are at liberty to cross-examine the witness, if you are so disposed\u2014\r\n\r\nI am not so disposed.\r\n\r\nAnd you may address the jury now, it being your own case.\r\n\r\nI have nothing to say ... it being my own case.\r\n\r\nAh! sighed the judge, looking about him with a portentous gravity\u2014You see the end of your tether now ... you see now that He whom you serve is not to be trusted.\u00a0It is but the other day you were clad with power as with a garment. You were able to make a speech whereby, but for the mercy of God\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nI was not on trial for\u00a0my<\/i>\u00a0life when I made that speech. I have something else to think of now.... Let me die in peace.\r\n\r\nAh, sighed the chief judge, and all his brethren shook their heads with a look of pity and sorrow.\r\n\r\nBut as if this were not enough\u2014as if they were afraid he might escape after all (for it had begun to grow very dark over-head) though the meshes of death were about him on every side like a net of iron; as if the very judges were screwed up to the expectation of a terrible issue, and prepared to deal with a creature of tremendous power, whom it would be lawful to destroy any how, no matter how, they introduced another troop of witnesses, who swore that they had frequently heard the two wives of the prisoner say that their house which stood in a very cheerful path of the town was haunted by evil spirits; and after they had finished their testimony Judith Hubbard swore that the two wives of the prisoner had appeared to her, since their death, and charged him with murder....\r\n\r\nRepeat the story that you told brother Winthrop and me, said Judge Sewall.\r\n\r\nWhereupon she stood forth and repeated the story she had sworn to before the committal of Burroughs\u2014repeated it in the very presence of God, and of his angels\u2014repeated it while it thundered and lightened in her face, and the big sweat rolled off the forehead of a man, for whose love, but a few years before, she would have laid down her life\u2014\r\n\r\nThat man was George Burroughs. He appeared as if his heart were broken by her speech, though about his mouth was a patient proud smile\u2014for near him were\u00a0Mary Elizabeth Dyer and Rachel Dyer, with their eyes fixed upon him and waiting to be called up in their turn to abide the trial of death; but so waiting before their judges and their accusers that, women though they were, he felt supported by their presence, trebly fortified by their brave bearing\u2014Elizabeth pale\u2014very pale, and watching his look as if she had no hope on earth but in him, no fear but for him\u2014Rachel standing up as it were with a new stature\u2014up, with her forehead flashing to the sky and her coarse red hair shining and shivering about her huge head with a frightful fixed gleam,\u2014her cap off, her cloak thrown aside and her distorted shape, for the first time, in full view of the awe-struck multitude. Every eye was upon her\u2014every thought\u2014her youthful and exceedingly fair sister, the pride of the neighborhood was overlooked now, and so was the prisoner at the bar, and so were the judges and the jury, and the witnesses and the paraphernalia of death. It was Rachel Dyer\u2014the red-haired witch\u2014the freckled witch\u2014the hump-backed witch they saw now\u2014but they saw not her ugliness, they saw not that she was either unshapely or unfair. They saw only that she was brave. They saw that although she was a woman upon the very threshold of eternity, she was not afraid of the aspect of death.\r\n\r\nAnd the story that Judith Hubbard repeated under such circumstances and at such a time was\u2014that the two wives of the prisoner at the bar, who were buried years and years before, with a show of unutterable sorrow, had appeared to her, face to face, and charged him with having been the true cause of their death; partly promising if he denied the charge, to reappear in full court. Nor should I wonder if they did, whispered the chief judge throwing a hurried look toward the graves\u00a0which lay in full view of the judgment seat, as if he almost expected to see the earth open.\r\n\r\nThe multitude who saw the look of the judge, and who were so eager but a few minutes before to get nigh the prisoner, though it were only to hear him breathe, now recoiled from the bar, and left a free path-way from the graveyard up to the witness-box, and a visible quick shudder ran throughout the assembly as they saw the judges consult together, and prepare to address the immoveable man, who stood up\u2014whatever were the true cause, whether he felt assured of that protection which the good pray for night and day, or of that which the evil and the mighty among the evil have prepared for, when they enter into a league of death\u2014up\u2014as if he knew well that they had no power to harm either him or his.\r\n\r\nWhat say you to that? said major Saltonstall<\/a>. You have heard the story of Judith Hubbard. What say you to a charge like that, Sir?\r\n\r\nAy, ay\u2014no evasion will serve you now, added the Lieutenant Governor.\r\n\r\nEvasion!\r\n\r\nYou are afraid, I see\u2014\r\n\r\nAfraid of what? Man\u2014man\u2014it is you and your fellows that are afraid. Ye are men of a terrible faith\u2014I am not.\r\n\r\nYou have only to say yes or no, said Judge Sewall.\r\n\r\nWhat mockery! Ye that have buried them that were precious to you\u2014very precious\u2014\r\n\r\nYou are not obliged to answer that question, whispered the lawyer, who had been at his elbow during the trial of Martha Cory\u2014nor any other\u2014unless you like\u2014\r\n\r\nAh\u2014and are\u00a0you<\/i>\u00a0of them that believe the story? Are\u00a0you<\/i>\u00a0afraid of their keeping their promise?\u2014you that have a\u2014\r\n\r\nWhat say you to the charge? I ask again!\r\n\r\nHow dare you!\u2014ye that are husbands\u2014you that are a widower like me, how dare you put such a question as that to a bereaved man, before the Everlasting God?\r\n\r\nWhat say you to the charge? We ask you for the third time.\r\n\r\nFather of love! cried Burroughs, and he tottered away and snatched at the bare wall, and shook as if he were in the agony of death, and all that saw him were aghast with fear. Men\u2014men\u2014what would ye have me say?\u2014what would ye have me do?\r\n\r\nWhatever the Lord prompteth, said a low voice near him.\r\n\r\nHark\u2014hark\u2014who was that? said a judge. I thought I heard somebody speak.\r\n\r\nIt was I\u2014I, Rachel Dyer! answered the courageous woman. It was I. Ye are all in array there against a fellow-creature\u2019s life. Ye have beset him on every side by the snares of the law.... Ye are pressing him to death\u2014\r\n\r\nSilence!\u2014\r\n\r\nNo judge, no! I marvel that ye dare to rebuke me in such a cause, when ye know that ere long I shall be heard by the Son of Man, coming in clouds with great glory to judge the quick and the dead\u2014\r\n\r\nPeace ... peace, woman of mischief\u2014look to yourself.\r\n\r\nBeware Peter! and thou too Elias! Ye know not how nigh we may all be to the great Bar\u2014looking up to the sky, which was now so preternaturally dark with the heavy clouds of an approaching thunder-storm, that torches were ordered. Lo! the pavillion of the Judge of Judges! How know ye that these things are not the sign of his hot and sore displeasure?\r\n\r\nMark that, brother; mark that, said a judge. They\u00a0must know that help is nigh, or they could never brave it thus.\r\n\r\nWhatever they may know brother, and whatever their help may be, our duty is plain.\r\n\r\nVery true brother ... ah ... how now!\r\n\r\nHe was interrupted by the entrance of a haggard old man of a majestic stature, who made his way up to the witness-box, and stood there, as if waiting for the judge to speak.\r\n\r\nAh, Matthew Paris ... thou art come, hey? said Rachel. Where is Bridget Pope?\r\n\r\nAt the point of death.\r\n\r\nAnd thy daughter, Abigail Paris?\r\n\r\nDead.\r\n\r\nGeorge ... George ... we have indeed little to hope now.... Where is Robert Eveleth?\r\n\r\nHere ... here I be, cried the boy, starting up at the sound of her voice, and hurrying forward with a feeble step.\r\n\r\nGo up there to that box, Robert Eveleth, and say to the judges, my poor sick boy, what thee said to me of Judith Hubbard and of Mary Walcott, and of their wicked conspiracy to prevail with Bridget Pope and Abby Paris, to make oath....\r\n\r\nHow now ... how now ... stop there! cried the chief-judge. What is the meaning of this?\r\n\r\nTell what thee heard them say, Robert\u2014\r\n\r\nHeard who say? asked the judge ... who ... who?\r\n\r\nBridget Pope and Abigail Paris.\r\n\r\nBridget Pope and Abigail Paris\u2014why what have we to do with Bridget Pope and Abigail Paris?\r\n\r\nI pray thee judge ... the maiden Bridget Pope is no more; the child of that aged man there is at the point of death. If the boy Robert Eveleth speak true, they told him before the charge was made\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nThey\u2014who?\r\n\r\nBridget Pope and Abigail Paris told him\u2014\r\n\r\nNo matter what they told him ... that is but hearsay\u2014\r\n\r\nWell, and if it be hear say?\u2014\r\n\r\nWe cannot receive it; we take no notice of what may occur in this way\u2014\r\n\r\nHow!\u2014If we can prove that the witnesses have conspired together to make this charge; is it contrary to law for you to receive our proof? asked Burroughs.\r\n\r\nPho, pho\u2014you mistake the matter\u2014\r\n\r\nNo judge no ... will thee hear the father himself?\u2014said Rachel.\r\n\r\nNot in the way that you desire ... there would be no end to this, if we did\u2014\r\n\r\nWhat are we to do then judge? We have it in our power to prove that Judith Hubbard and Mary Walcott proposed to the two children, Bridget Pope and Abigail Paris, to swear away the life\u2014\r\n\r\nPho, pho, pho\u2014pho, pho, pho\u2014a very stale trick that. One of the witnesses dead, the other you are told at the point of death\u2014\r\n\r\nIt is no trick judge; but if ... if ... supposing it to be true, that Judith Hubbard and her colleague did this, how should we prove it?\r\n\r\nHow should you prove it? Why, by producing the persons to whom, or before whom, the proposal you speak of was made.\r\n\r\nBut if they are at the point of death, judge?\r\n\r\nIn that case there would be no help for you\u2014\r\n\r\nSuch is the humanity of the law.\r\n\r\nNo help for us! Not if we could prove that they who are dead, or at the point of death, acknowledged what we say to a dear father?\u2014can this be the law?\r\n\r\nStop\u2014stop\u2014thou noble-hearted, brave woman! cried\u00a0Burroughs. They do not speak true. They are afraid of thee Rachel Dyer. Matthew Paris\u2014\r\n\r\nHere am I, Lord!\u2014\r\n\r\nWhy, Matthew\u2014look at me.... Do you not\u2014know me?\r\n\r\nNo\u2014no\u2014who are you?\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER XIX.<\/h3>\r\n<\/div>\r\nEnough\u2014enough\u2014cried Burroughs, on finding Matthew Paris so disturbed in his intellect\u2014enough\u2014there is no hope now, Rachel. The father himself would be no witness now, though he had been told by our witnesses upon their death-bed, while they expected to die, just what, if it could be shown here, would be a matter of life and death to us. But still, before I give up, I should like to know the meaning of that rule of evidence you spoke of the other day, which would appear to make it necessary for me to produce only the best evidence which the nature of the case admits of. We have done that here ... a rule which being interpreted by the men of the law is said to be this ... that we are to give such evidence only, as that none better may appear to be left behind\u2014we have done that now\u2014\r\n\r\nWe are weary of this\u2014what have you to say to the charge made against you by the apparition of your wife? Before you reply however, it is our duty to apprise you, that whatever you may happen to say in your own favor will go for nothing\u2014\r\n\r\nNevertheless I am ready to reply.\r\n\r\n\u2014We do not seek to entrap you\u2014\r\n\r\nSo I perceive. Repeat the charge.\r\n\r\nYou are charged with having\u2014what ho, there!\u2014lights\u2014lights\u2014more lights\u2014\r\n\r\nLights\u2014more lights! cried the people, what, ho there! How dark it grows\u2014\r\n\r\nAnd how chill the air is\u2014\r\n\r\nAy ... and quiet as the grave.\r\n\r\n\u2014You are charged I say, with having caused the death of your two wives ... who have partly promised, if you deny the charge, to confront you here.\r\n\r\nThe people began to press backward from each other, and to gasp for breath.\r\n\r\nYou have only to say yes or no, and abide the proof.\r\n\r\nIndeed\u2014is that all?\r\n\r\nYes\u2014all\u2014\r\n\r\nThen ... behold me. As he spoke, he threw up his arms, and walked forth into a broad clear space before the bench, where every body could hear and see him, and was about to address the jury, when he was interrupted by a crash of thunder that shook the whole house, and appeared to shake the whole earth. A dreadful outcry ensued, with flash after flash of lightning and peal after peal of thunder, and the people dropped upon their knees half blinded with light and half crazy with terror; and covered their faces and shrieked with consternation.\r\n\r\nWhy, what are ye afraid of judges? And you, ye people\u2014cried the prisoner, that ye cover your faces, and fall down with fear ... so that if I would, I might escape.\r\n\r\nLook to the prisoner there ... look to the prisoner.\r\n\r\n\u2014Ye do all this, ye that have power to judge me, while I ... I the accused man ... I neither skulk nor cower. I stand up ... I alone of all this great multitude who are gathered together to see me perish for my sins ... the [pb_glossary id=\"2065\"]Jonah[\/pb_glossary] of this their day of trouble and heavy sorrow.\r\n\r\nNot alone, said Rachel Dyer, moving up to the bar.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_2066\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"621\"]\"Painting \"The Trial of George Jacobs, August 5th, 1692,\" by T. H. Matteson (1813-1884).[\/caption]\r\n\r\nIf not altogether alone, alone but for thee, thou most heroic woman.... O, that they knew thy worth!... And yet these people who are quaking with terror on every side of us, bowed down with mortal fear at the voice of the Lord in the Sky, it is they that presume to deal with\u00a0us, who are not afraid of our Father, nor scared by the flashing of his countenance, for life and for death\u2014\r\n\r\nYea George\u2014\r\n\r\nBe it so\u2014\r\n\r\nPrisoner at the bar\u2014you are trifling with the court.... You have not answered the charge.\r\n\r\nHave I not!\u2014well then\u2014I prepare to answer it now. I swear that I loved them that I have buried there\u2014there!\u2014loved them with a love passing all that I ever heard of, or read of. I swear too that I nourished and comforted and ministered to the dear creatures, who, ye are told, have come out of the earth to destroy me\u2014even me\u2014me<\/i>, their husband, their lover, and the father of their children! I swear too\u2014but why continue the terrible outrage? Let my accusers appear! Let them walk up, if they will, out of their graves!\u2014their graves are before me. I am not afraid\u2014I shall not be afraid\u2014so long as they wear the blessed shape, or the blessed features of them that have disappeared from their bridal chamber, with a\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nHe was interrupted by great noises and shrieks that were enough to raise the dead\u2014noises from every part of the grave-yard\u2014shrieks from people afar off in the wood, shrieks from the multitude on the outside of the house\u2014and shrieks from the sea-shore; and immediately certain of the accusers fell down as if they saw something approach; and several that were on the outside of the meeting-house came rushing in with a fearful outcry, saying that a shed which had been built up over a part of the burial-ground was crowded with strange faces, and with awful shapes, and that among them were the two dead wives of the prisoner.\r\n\r\nThere they go\u2014there they go! screamed other voices outside the door; and immediately the cry was repeated by the accusers who were within the house\u2014all\u00a0shrieking together. \u201cHere they come!\u2014here they come!\u2014here they come!\u201d\u2014And Judith Hubbard looking up and uncovering her face, about which her cloak had been gathered in the first hurry of her distraction, declared that the last wife of Burroughs, on whom her eyes were fixed at the time, was then actually standing before him and looking him in the face, \u201cO, with such a look\u2014so calm, so piteous and so terrible!\u201d\r\n\r\nAfter the uproar had abated in some degree, the judges who were huddled together, as far as they could possibly get from the crowd below, ordered up three more of the witnesses, and were about to speak to them, when Burroughs happening to turn that way also, they cried out as if they were stabbed with a knife, and fell upon the floor at their whole length and were speechless.\r\n\r\nWhereupon the chief judge, turning toward him, asked him what hindered these poor people from giving their testimony.\r\n\r\nI do not know said Burroughs, who began to give way himself now, with a convulsion of the heart, before the tremendous array of testimony and weight of delusion; to fear that of a truth preternatural shapes were about him, and that the witnesses were over-persuaded by irresistible power, though he knew himself to be no party in the exercise of such power. I do not know, said he: I am utterly confounded by their behaviour. It may be the devil.\r\n\r\nAh\u2014and why is the devil so loath to have testimony borne against\u00a0you<\/i>?\r\n\r\n\u201cWhich query,\u201d says a writer who was there at the time, and saw the look of triumph which appeared in the faces of the whole bench, \u201cdid cast Burroughs into very great confusion.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd well it might, for he was weighed to the earth,\u00a0and he knew that whatever he said, and whatever he did; and whether he spoke with promptitude or with hesitation; whether he showed or did not show a sign of dismay, everything would be, and\u00a0was<\/i>\u00a0regarded by the judges, and the jury, and the people, as further corroboration of his [pb_glossary id=\"1895\"]turpitude[\/pb_glossary].\r\n\r\nHere the trial ended. Here the minds of the jury were made up; and although he grew collected at last, and arose and spoke in a way that made everybody about him weep and very bitterly too, for what they called the overthrow of a mind of great wisdom and beauty and power; and although he gave up to the judges a written argument of amazing ingenuity and vigor which is yet preserved in the records of that people, wherein he mocked at their faith in witchcraft, and foretold the grief and the shame, the trouble and the reproach that were to follow to them that were so busy in the work of death; yet\u2014yet\u2014so impressed were the twelve, by the scene that had occurred before their faces, that they found him guilty; and as if the judges were afraid of a rescue from the powers of the air, they gave judgment of death upon him before they left the bench, and contrary to their established practice, ordered him to be executed on the morrow.\r\n\r\nOn the morrow? said he, with a firm steady eye and a clear tone, though his lip quivered as he spoke. Will ye afford me no time to prepare?\r\n\r\nWe would not that the body and soul both perish; and we therefore urge you to be diligent in the work brother, very diligent for the little time that is now left to make your calling and election sure. Be ready for the afternoon of the morrow.\r\n\r\nHitherto the prisoner at the bar had shown little or no emotion; hitherto he had argued and looked as if he did not believe the jury nor the judges capable of doing\u00a0what they had now done, nor the multitude that knew him, capable of enduring it. Hitherto he had been as it were a spectator of the terrible farce, with no concern for the issue; but now ... now ... all eyes were rivetted upon him with fear, all thoughts with alarm; for though he stood up as before, and made no sort of reply to the judges, and bore the wracking of the heavy irons with which they were preparing to load him, as if he neither felt nor saw them; yet was there a something in his look which made the officers of the court unsheathe their swords, and lift up their axes, and the people who were occupied about him, keep as far out of his reach as they possibly could.\r\n\r\nYet he neither moved nor spoke, till he saw the women crowding up to a part of the house where he had seen Elizabeth Dyer, and stoop as if she that had been kneeling there a few moments before, lay very low, and lift her up as if she had no life in her, and carry her away, guarded by men with pikes, and with swords and with huge firelocks. Then he\u00a0was<\/i>\u00a0moved\u2014and his chains were felt for the first time, and he would have called out for a breath of air\u2014prayed for a drop of water to save a life more precious by far than his\u2014but before he could open his mouth so as to make himself heard, he saw Rachel Dyer pressing up to the bar of death, and heard the judges call out to the high-sheriff and his man to guard the door, and look to the prisoner.\r\n\r\nHe will get away if you turn your head, Mr. sheriff, said one of the judges.\r\n\r\nThat he will, added a witness, that he will! if you don\u2019t look sharp, as sure as my name is Peter P.\r\n\r\nWatch and pray\u2014watch and pray\u2014added another.\r\n\r\nBurroughs looked up to the bench with surprise, then at the people, who were watching every motion of his body as if they expected him to tear away the ponderous\u00a0[pb_glossary id=\"686\"]fetters[\/pb_glossary] and walk forth as free as the wind of the desert, and then at the blacksmith who stood near with his hammer uplifted in the air; and then his chest heaved and his chains shook, and the people hurried away from his path, and tumbled over each other in their eagerness to escape, and the chief-judge cried out again to the officer to look to the door and be prepared for a rescue.\r\n\r\nLet\u00a0me<\/i>\u00a0be tried now! I entreat thee, said Rachel Dyer, throwing up her locked-hands before Judge Winthrop, and speaking as if she was about to plead not for death but for life. Let me be tried now, I beseech thee.\r\n\r\nNow.\u2014\r\n\r\nYea\u2014now!\u2014before the maiden is brought back to life. O let her be at peace, ye men of power, till I have a\u2014have a\u2014\r\n\r\nShe gathered herself up now with a strong effort, and spoke with deliberate firmness....\r\n\r\n\u2014\u2014Till I have gone through the work which is appointed for me by the twelve that I see there\u2014\r\n\r\nBe it so.\u2014I say, Mr. high-sheriff!\r\n\r\nWell, Mr. judge Winthrop?\r\n\r\nThis way, this way; you\u2019ll be so good as to remove a\u2014a\u2014a\u2014(Looking at Burroughs who stood leaning against the wall)\u2014you are to be a\u2014a\u2014(in a whisper of authority)\u2014you are to be careful of what you do\u2014a very hard case, very\u2014very\u2014\r\n\r\nYes judge\u2014\r\n\r\nWell, well\u2014well, well\u2014why don\u2019t ye do as I bid you?\"Title\r\n\r\nWhat am I to do?\r\n\r\nWhat are you to do ... remove the prisoner\u2014poor soul.\r\n\r\nWhich prisoner?\r\n\r\nWhy that are ... poh poh, poh\u2014(pointing to Burroughs.)\r\n\r\nWhere to?\r\n\r\nWhere to Sir?\u2014Take him away; away with him\u2014pretty chap you are to be sure, not to know where to take a man to, after its all over with him\u2014poh, poh, poh.\r\n\r\nI say, Mr. Judge, none o\u2019 that now\u2014\r\n\r\nTake the man away Sir. Do as you are bid.\r\n\r\nWho\u2014me\u2014cried Burroughs, waking up from his fit of apathy and looking about on every side.\r\n\r\nAway with him.\r\n\r\nJudges\u2014judges\u2014hear me. Let me remain, I pray you, cried he, setting his back to the wall and lifting his loaded arms high up in the air\u2014suffer me to stay here till the jury have said whether or no this heroic woman is worthy of death\u2014I do beseech you!\r\n\r\nTake him away, I tell you\u2014what are ye afraid of?\r\n\r\nJudges\u2014men\u2014I would that ye would have mercy, not on me, but on the people about me. I would that ye would suffer me to tarry here\u2014in fetters\u2014till the jury have given their verdict on Rachel Dyer. Suffer me to do so, I beseech you, and I will go away then, I swear to you, whithersoever it may please you, like a lamb to the slaughter. I swear this to you before God!\u2014but, so help me God, I will not be carried away alive before. I will not stir, nor be stirred while I have power to lift my arms, or to do what you now see me do\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nAs he spoke, he lifted up his arms in the air\u2014up\u2014up, as high as he could reach, standing on tip-toe the while; and brought them down with such force, loaded as they were, that he doubled the iron guard which kept him in the box, and shattered the heavy door from the top to the bottom.\r\n\r\n\u2014Behold\u2014shorn though I be of my youth, betrayed though I have been, while I forgot where I was, I do not lack power. Now bid your people tear me away\u00a0if you have courage! For lo, my feet are upon the foundations of your strength ... and by Jehovah\u2014the God of the strong man of other days!\u2014I\u2019ll not be dragged off till I know the fate of the giantess before you.\r\n\r\nWe shall see\u2014cut him down officer\u2014cut him down!\r\n\r\nVery well. Come thou near enough to cut me down, officer, and I\u2019ll undertake for thee.\r\n\r\nJudges\u2014how little ye know of that man\u2019s power\u2014why not suffer him to stay? cried Rachel Dyer. Why will ye provoke it? On your heads be the issue, if ye drive your ministers to the toil! on yours their blood, if they approach him!\r\n\r\nThe sheriff hung back\u2014and the judges, after consulting together, told Burroughs he might stay, and ordered the trial of the women to proceed.\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER XX.<\/h3>\r\n<\/div>\r\nAlready were they about to give judgment of death upon Rachel Dyer, when two or three of her accusers, who began to fear that she might escape, had another fit.\r\n\r\nWhy are these poor women troubled? asked a judge.\r\n\r\nI do not know, was her unstudied reply.\r\n\r\nBut according to your belief?\r\n\r\nI do not desire to say what my belief is. It can do no good, and it may do harm; for who shall assure me that I do not err?\r\n\r\nDon\u2019t you think they are bewitched?\r\n\r\nNo.\r\n\r\nGive us your thoughts on their behavior.\r\n\r\nNo, Ichabod, no; my thoughts can be of no worth to thee or such as thee. If I had more proof, proof that ye would receive in law, I might be willing to speak at large both of them and of their master\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nTheir master! cried a little man, with a sharp inquisitive eye, who had not opened his mouth before. Who is their master?\r\n\r\nIf they deal in witchcraft or in the black art, Joseph Piper, thee may know as well as I do.\r\n\r\nWoman....are you not afraid of death?\r\n\r\nNo.........not much, though I should like to be spared for a few days longer.\r\n\r\nNot afraid of death!\u2014\r\n\r\nNo\u2014not much, I say. And why\u00a0should<\/i> I be afraid of death? why should I desire to live?\u2014what is there to attach a thing of my shape to life, a wretched, miserable, weary....\r\n\r\nAh, ha\u2014now we shall have it\u2014she is going to confess now\u2014she is beginning to weep, said a judge. But he was overheard by the woman herself, who turning to the jury with a look that awed them in spite of their prejudice, told them to proceed.\r\n\r\nThey\u2019ll proceed fast enough, by and by, said another judge. What have you done to disturb the faculties of that woman there?\r\n\r\nWhat woman?\r\n\r\nJudith Hubbard.\r\n\r\nMuch. For I know her, and she knows that I know her; and we have both known for a great while that we cannot both live. This world is not large enough. What have I done to disturb her faculties? Much. For that woman hath wronged me; and she cannot forgive me. She hath pursued me and mine to death; all that are very near and dear to me, my poor sister and my\u2014and the beloved friend of my sister\u2014to death; and how would it be possible for Judith Hubbard to forgive us?\r\n\r\nBut your apparition pursues her.\r\n\r\nIf so, I cannot help it.\r\n\r\nBut why is it your apparition?\r\n\r\nHow do I know? He that appeared in the shape of Samuel, why should he not appear in the shape of another?\r\n\r\nBut enough\u2014Rachel Dyer was ordered for execution also. And a part of the charge proved against her was, that she had been spirited away by the powers of the air, who communicated with her and guarded her at the cost of much human life, on the night when she fled into the deep of the wilderness in company with George Burroughs and Mary Elizabeth Dyer; each of whom had a like body-guard of invisible creatures, who shot with arrows of certain death on the night of their escape.\r\n\r\nAnd Mary Elizabeth Dyer was now brought up for trial; but being half dead with fear, and very ill, so that she was reported by a jury [pb_glossary id=\"1894\"]empannelled[\/pb_glossary] for the purpose, to be mute by the visitation of God, they adjourned the court for the morrow, and gave her permission to abide with her sister till the day after the morrow.\r\n\r\nAnd so Mary Elizabeth Dyer and Rachel Dyer met again\u2014met in the depth of a dungeon like the grave; and Elizabeth being near the brave Rachel once more, grew ashamed of her past weakness.\r\n\r\nI pray thee dear sister, said Mary Elizabeth, after they had been together for a long while without speaking a word, Rachel with her arm about Elizabeth\u2019s neck, and Elizabeth leaning her face upon the shoulder of Rachel, I pray thee to forgive me.\r\n\r\nForgive thee ... for what pray?\r\n\r\nDo,\u00a0do<\/i>\u00a0forgive me, Rachel.\r\n\r\nWhy, what on earth is the matter with thee, child? Here we sit for a whole hour in the deep darkness of the night-season, without so much as a sob or a tear, looking death in the face with a steady smile, and comforting our hearts, weary and sick as they are, with a pleasant hope\u2014the hope of seeing our beloved brother Jacob, our dear good mother, and our pious grandmother; and now, all of a sudden thee breaks out in this way, as if thee would not be comforted, and as if thee had never thought of death before\u2014\r\n\r\nO, I\u2019m not afraid of death sister, now\u2014I\u2019m prepared for death now\u2014I\u2019m very willingly to die now\u2014it isn\u2019t that I mean.\r\n\r\nWhy\u00a0now<\/i>?\u2014why do thee say so much of\u00a0now<\/i>? Is it only\u00a0now<\/i>\u00a0that thee is prepared for death?\r\n\r\nNo, no, dear sister, but some how or other I do not even desire to live now, and yet\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nAnd yet what?\u2014why does thee turn away thy head? why does thee behave so to me ... why break out into such bitter\u2014bitter lamentation?\u2014what\u00a0is<\/i>\u00a0the matter I say?\u2014what ails thee?\u2014\r\n\r\nOh dear!\r\n\r\nWhy\u2014Elizabeth!\u2014what am\u00a0I<\/i>\u00a0to believe?\u2014what has thee been doin\u2019? Why do thee cling to me so?\u2014why do thee hide thy face?\u2014\r\n\r\nO Rachel, Rachel\u2014do not go away,\u2014do not abandon me\u2014do not cast me off!\r\n\r\nChild\u2014why\u2014\r\n\r\nNo, no!\u2014\r\n\r\nLook me in the face, I beseech thee.\r\n\r\nNo no\u2014I dare not\u2014I cannot.\r\n\r\nDare not\u2014cannot\u2014\r\n\r\nNo no.\u2014\r\n\r\nDare not look thy sister in the face?\r\n\r\nOh no\u2014\r\n\r\nLift up thy head this minute, Mary Elizabeth Dyer!\u2014let go of my neck\u2014let go of my neck, I say\u2014leave clinging to me so, and let me see thy face.\r\n\r\nNo no dear Rachel, no no, I dare not\u2014I am afraid of thee now, for now thee calls me Mary Elizabeth\u2014\r\n\r\nAfraid of me\u2014of me\u2014O Elizabeth, what has thee done?\r\n\r\nOh dear!\r\n\r\nAnd what have\u00a0I<\/i>\u00a0done to deserve this?\r\n\r\nThee\u2014thee!\u2014O nothing dear sister, nothing at all; it is I\u2014I that have been so very foolish and wicked after\u2014\r\n\r\nWicked, say thee?\r\n\r\nO very\u2014very\u2014very wicked\u2014\r\n\r\nBut how\u2014in what way\u2014thee\u2019ll frighten me to death.\r\n\r\nShall I\u2014O I am very sorry\u2014but\u2014but\u2014thee knows I cannot help it\u2014\r\n\r\nCannot help it, Mary Elizabeth Dyer\u2014cannot help what? Speak ... speak ... whatever it is, I forgive thee ... we have no time to lose now; we may never meet again. Speak out, I beseech thee. Speak out, for the day is near, the day of sorrow\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nI will, I will\u2014cried Elizabeth, sobbing as if her heart would break, and falling upon her knees and burying her head in the lap of her sister\u2014I will\u2014I will, but\u2014pushing aside a heap of hair from her face, and smothering the low sweet whisper of a pure heart, as if she knew that every throb had a voice\u2014I will, I will, I say, but I am so afraid of thee\u2014putting both arms about her sister\u2019s neck and pulling her face down that she might whisper what she had to say\u2014I will\u2014I will\u2014I\u2019m a goin\u2019 to tell thee now\u2014as soon as ever I can get my breath\u2014nay, nay, don\u2019t look at me so\u2014I cannot bear it\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nLook at thee\u2014my poor bewildered sister\u2014how can thee tell whether I am looking at thee or not, while thy head is there?\u2014Get up\u2014get up, I say\u2014I do not like that posture; it [pb_glossary id=\"1893\"]betokens[\/pb_glossary] too much fear\u2014the fear not of death, but of shame\u2014too much humility, too much lowliness, a lowliness the cause whereof I tremble to ask thee. Get up, Elizabeth, get up, if thee do not mean to raise a grief and a trouble in my heart which I wouldn\u2019t have there now for the whole world; get up, I beseech thee, Mary Elizabeth Dyer.\r\n\r\nElizabeth got up, and after standing for a moment or two, without being able to utter a word, though her lips moved, fell once more upon her sister\u2019s neck; and laying her mouth close to her ear, while her innocent face glowed with shame and her whole body shook with fear, whispered\u2014I pray thee Rachel, dear Rachel ... do ...\u00a0do<\/i>\u00a0let me see him for a minute or two before they put him to death.\r\n\r\nRachel Dyer made no reply. She could not speak\u2014she had no voice for speech, but gathering up the sweet girl into her bosom with a convulsive sob, she wept for a long while upon\u00a0her<\/i>\u00a0neck.\r\n\r\nThey were interrupted by the jailor, who came to say that George Burroughs, the wizard, having desired much to see Rachel Dyer and Mary Elizabeth Dyer, the confederate witches, before his and their death, he had been permitted by the honorable and merciful judges to do so\u2014on condition that he should be doubly-ironed at the wrist; wherefore he, the jailor had now come to fetch her the said Rachel to him the said George.\r\n\r\nI am to go too, said Elizabeth, pressing up to the side of her sister, and clinging to her with a look of dismay.\r\n\r\nNo, no\u2014said he, no, no, you are to stay here.\r\n\r\nNay, nay, sister\u2014dear sister\u2014do let me go with thee!\r\n\r\nIt is not for me to speak, dear,\u00a0dear<\/i>\u00a0Elizabeth, or thee should go now instead of me. However\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nCome, come\u2014I pity you both, but there\u2019s no help for you now\u2014never cry for spilt milk\u2014you\u2019re not so bad as they say, I\u2019m sure\u2014so make yourself easy and stay where you be, if you know when you\u2019re well off.\r\n\r\nDo let me go!\r\n\r\nNonsense\u2014you\u2019re but a child however, and so I forgive you, and the more\u2019s the pity; must obey orders if we break owners\u2014poh, poh,\u2014poh, poh, poh.\r\n\r\nA separation like that of death followed. No hope had the two sisters of meeting again alive. They were afraid each for the other\u2014and Elizabeth sat unable to speak, with her large clear eyes turned up to the eyes of Rachel as if to implore, with a last look, a devout consideration of a dying prayer.\r\n\r\nIf it may be, said Rachel turning her head at the\u00a0door if it may be dear maiden, it shall be. Have courage\u2014\r\n\r\nI have, I have!\r\n\r\nBe prepared though; be prepared Elizabeth, my\u00a0beautiful<\/i>\u00a0sister. We shall not see each other again ... that is.... O I pray thee, I do pray thee, my dear sister to be comforted.\r\n\r\nElizabeth got up, and staggered away to the door and fell upon her sister\u2019s neck and prayed her not to leave her.\r\n\r\nI must leave thee ... I must, I must ... would thee have me forsake George Burroughs at the point of death?\r\n\r\nO no\u2014no\u2014no!\r\n\r\nWe never shall meet again I do fear\u2014I do hope, I might say, for of what avail is it in the extremity of our sorrow; but others may\u2014he and thee may Elizabeth\u2014and who knows but after the first shock of this thy approaching bereavement is over, thee may come to regard this very trial with joy, though we are torn by it, as by the agony of death now\u2014let us pray.\r\n\r\nThe sisters now prayed together for a little time, each with her arm about the other\u2019s neck, interchanged a farewell kiss and parted\u2014\u2014parted forever.\r\n\r\nAnd Rachel was then led to the dungeons below, where she saw him that her sister loved, and that a score of other women had loved as it were in spite of their very natures\u2014for they were bred up in fear of the dark Savage. He sat with his hands locked in his lap, and chained and rivetted with iron, his brow gathered, his teeth set, and his keen eyes fixed upon the door.\r\n\r\nThere is yet one hope my dear friend, whispered he after they had been together a good while without speaking a word or daring to look at each other\u2014one hope\u2014laying his [pb_glossary id=\"1892\"]pinioned[\/pb_glossary] arm lightly upon her shoulder, and\u00a0pressing up to her side with all the affectionate seriousness of a brother\u2014one hope, dear Rachel\u2014\r\n\r\nShe shut her eyes and large drops ran down her cheeks.\r\n\r\n\u2014One hope\u2014and but one\u2014\r\n\r\nHave a care George Burroughs. I would not have thee betray thyself anew\u2014there is no hope.\r\n\r\nIt is not for myself I speak. There is no hope for me. I know that\u2014I feel that\u2014I am sure of it; nor, to tell you the truth, am I sorry\u2014\r\n\r\nNot sorry George\u2014\r\n\r\nNo\u2014for even as you are, so am I\u2014weary of this world\u2014sick and weary of life.\r\n\r\nHer head sunk upon his shoulder, and her breathing was that of one who struggles with deep emotion.\r\n\r\nNo\u2014no\u2014it is not for myself that I speak. It is for you\u2014\r\n\r\nFor\u00a0me<\/i>\u2014\r\n\r\nFor you and for Elizabeth\u2014\r\n\r\nFor\u00a0me<\/i>\u00a0and for Elizabeth?\u2014well\u2014\r\n\r\nAnd if I could bring you to do what I am persuaded you both may do without reproach, there would be hope still for\u2014for Elizabeth\u2014and for you\u2014\r\n\r\nFor Elizabeth\u2014and for me?\u2014O George, George! what hope is there now for me? What have I to do on earth, now that we are a\u2014\u2014she stopped with a shudder\u2014I too am tired of life. She withdrew the hand which till now he had been holding to his heart with a strong terrible pressure.\r\n\r\nHear me, thou high-hearted, glorious woman. I have little or no hope for thee\u2014I confess that. I know thee too well to suppose that I could prevail with thee; but ... but ... whatever may become of us, why not save Elizabeth, if we may\u2014\r\n\r\nIf we may George\u2014but how?\r\n\r\nWhy ... draw nearer to me I pray thee; we have not\u00a0much time to be together now, and I would have thee look upon me, as one having a right to comfort thee and to be comforted by thee\u2014\r\n\r\nA right ... how George?\r\n\r\nAs thy brother\u2014\r\n\r\nAs my brother.... O, certainly\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nNay, nay ... do not forbear to lean thy head upon thy brother ... do not, I beseech thee. What have we to do here ... what have we to do now with that reserve which keeps the living apart ... our ashes, are they to be hindered of communion hereafter by the unworthy law of\u2014ah ... sobbing ... Rachel Dyer! ... can it be that I hear you\u2014you<\/i>! the unperturbable, the steadfast and the brave ... can it be that I hear you sobbing at my side, as if your very heart would break....\r\n\r\nNo no....\r\n\r\nThere is to be a great change here, after we are out of the way....\r\n\r\nWhere\u2014how?\r\n\r\nAmong the people. The accusers are going too far; they are beginning to overstep the mark\u2014they are flying too high.\r\n\r\nSpeak plainly, if thee would have me understand thy speech\u2014why do thee cleave to me so?\u2014why so eager\u2014why do thee speak in parables? My heart misgives me when I hear a man like thee, at an hour like this, weighing every word that is about to escape from his mouth.\r\n\r\nI deserve the rebuke. What I would say is, that the prisons of our land are over-crowded with people of high repute. Already they have begun to whisper the charge against our chief men. This very day they have hinted at two or three individuals, who, a week before they overthrew me, would have been thought altogether beyond the reach of their audacity.\r\n\r\nWho are they?\r\n\r\nThey speak of Matthew Paris.\r\n\r\nThe poor bewildered man ... how dare they?\r\n\r\nAnd of the Governor, and of two or three more in authority; and of all that participated in the voyage whereby he and they were made wealthy and wise and powerful\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nI thought so ... I feared as much. Poor man ... his riches are now indeed a snare to him, his liberal heart, a mark for the arrows of death....\r\n\r\nNow hear me ... the accusers being about to go up to the high places and to the seats of power, a change, there must and there will be, and so\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nAnd so ... why do thee stop?\r\n\r\nWhy do I stop ... did I stop?\r\n\r\nYea ... and thy visage too ... why does it alter?\r\n\r\nMy visage!\r\n\r\nYea ... thy look, thy tone of voice, the very color of thy lips.\r\n\r\nOf a truth, Rachel?\r\n\r\nOf a truth, George.\r\n\r\nWhy then it must be ... it is, I am sure ... on account of the ... that is to say ... I\u2019m afraid I do not make myself understood\u2014\r\n\r\nSpeak out.\r\n\r\nWell then ... may I not persuade you, my dear,\u00a0dear<\/i>\u00a0sister ... to ... to ... in a word, Rachel....\r\n\r\nTo what pray ... persuade me to what?... Speak to me as I speak to thee; what would thee persuade me to, George?\r\n\r\nTo ... to ... to confess ... there!\r\n\r\nTo confess what, pray?\r\n\r\nThat\u2019s all....\r\n\r\nGeorge....\r\n\r\nNay, nay ... the fact is my dear friend, as I said before:\u00a0I ... I ... if there be a change here, it will be a speedy one.\r\n\r\nWell\u2014\r\n\r\nAnd if\u2014and if\u2014a few weeks more, a few days more, it may be, and our accusers, they who are now dealing death to us, may be brought up in their turn to hear the words of death\u2014in short Rachel, if you could be persuaded just to\u2014not to acknowledge\u2014but just to suffer them to believe you to be a ... to be a ... I forget what I was going to say\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\n
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CHAPTER XXI.<\/h3>\r\n<\/div>\r\nA long silence followed\u2014a silence like that of death\u2014at last Rachel Dyer spoke:\r\n\r\nGeorge Burroughs\u2014I understand thee now, said she, I understand it all. Thee would have me confess that I deserve death\u2014only that I may live. Thee would have me acknowledge (for nothing else would do) that I am a liar and a witch, and that I deserve to die\u2014and all this for what?\u2014only that I may escape death for a few days. O George!\r\n\r\nNo, no\u2014you mistake the matter. I would not have you confess that you deserve death\u2014I would only have you speak to them\u2014God of the faithful!\u2014I cannot\u2014I cannot urge this woman to betray her faith.\r\n\r\nI understand thee, George. But if I were to do so, what should I gain by it?\r\n\r\nGain by it, Rachel Dyer?\r\n\r\nWhy do thee drop my hand? why recoil at my touch now?\r\n\r\nGain by it! siezing both her hands with all his might, and speaking as if he began to fear\u2014not to hope\u2014no, but to fear that she might be over-persuaded\u2014\r\n\r\nYea\u2014what have I to gain by it?\r\n\r\nLife. You escape death\u2014a cruel [pb_glossary id=\"1576\"]ignominious[\/pb_glossary] death\u2014a death, which it is not for a woman to look at, but with horror.\r\n\r\nWell George\u2014\r\n\r\nBy death, you lose the opportunity of doing much good, of bringing the wicked to justice, of aiding them that\u00a0are now ready to die with terror, of shielding the oppressed\u2014\r\n\r\nWell\u2014\r\n\r\nWell\u2014and what more would you have? Is not this enough?\r\n\r\nNo, George.\r\n\r\nHear me out Rachel. Do not reprove me, do not turn away, till you have heard me through. My duty is before me, a duty which must and shall be done, though it break my heart. I am commanded to argue with you, and to persuade you to live.\r\n\r\nCommanded?\u2014\r\n\r\nWhat if you were to confess that you deserve death? What if you were to own yourself a witch? I take your own view of the case.\u2014I put the query to you in a shape the least favorable to my purpose. What if you were to do this; you would be guilty at the most but of a\u2014of a\u2014\r\n\r\nOf untruth George.\r\n\r\nAnd you would save your own life by such untruth, and the lives, it may be, of a multitude more, and the life you know, of one that is very dear to you.\r\n\r\nWell\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nNo no\u2014do not leave me in this way! Do not go till I\u2014I beseech you to hear me through\u2014\r\n\r\nI will\u2014it grieves me, but I will.\r\n\r\nWhich is the greater sin\u2014to die when you have it in your power to escape death, if you will, by a word? or to speak a word of untruth to save your life\u2014\r\n\r\nGeorge Burroughs\u2014I pray thee\u2014suffer me to bid thee farewell.\r\n\r\nNo no, not yet. Hear me through\u2014hear all I have to say. By this word of untruth, you save your own life, and perhaps many other lives. You punish the guilty. You have leisure to repent in this world of that very untruth\u2014if such untruth be sinful. You have an\u00a0opportunity of showing to the world and to them that you love, that you were innocent of that wherewith you were charged. You may root up the error that prevails now, and overthrow the destroyer, and hereafter obtain praise for that very untruth, whereby you hinder the shedding of more innocent blood; praise from every quarter of the earth, praise from every body; from the people, the preachers, the jury, the elders\u2014yea from the very judges for having stayed them in their headlong career of guilt\u2014\r\n\r\nO George\u2014\r\n\r\nBut if you die, and your death be sinful\u2014and would it not be so, if you were to die, where you might escape death?\u2014you would have no time to repent here, no opportunity, no leisure\u2014you die in the very perpetration of your guilt\u2014\r\n\r\nIf it is guilt, I do\u2014\r\n\r\nAnd however innocent you may be of the crimes that are charged to you, you have no opportunity of showing on this earth to them that love you, that you are so. Yet more\u2014the guilt of your death, if it be not charged hereafter to you, will be charged, you may be sure, to the wretched women that pursue you; and all who might be saved by you, will have reason to lay their death at your door\u2014\r\n\r\nWell\u2014\r\n\r\nAbout life or death, you may not much care; but after death to be regarded with scorn, or hatred or terror, by all that go by your grave, my sister\u2014how could you bear the idea of that? What say you\u2014you shudder\u2014and yet if you die now, you must leave behind you a character which cannot be cleared up, or which is not likely to be cleared up on earth, however innocent you may be (as I have said before)\u2014the character of one, who being charged with witchcraft was convicted of witchcraft and\u00a0executed for a witchcraft. In a word\u2014if you live, you may live to wipe away the [pb_glossary id=\"1891\"]aspersion[\/pb_glossary]. If you die, it may adhere to you and to yours\u2014forever and ever. If you live, you may do much good on earth, much to yourself and much to others, much even to the few that are now thirsting for your life\u2014you may make lighter the load of crime which otherwise will weigh them down\u2014you may do this and all this, if you speak: But if you do not speak, you are guilty of your own death, and of the deaths it may be of a multitude, here and hereafter.\r\n\r\nNow hear\u00a0me<\/i>. I do not know whether all this is done to try my truth or my courage, but this I know\u2014I will not leave thee in doubt concerning either. Look at me\r\n\r\nThere\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nThee would have me confess?\r\n\r\nI would.\r\n\r\nThee would have Elizabeth confess?\r\n\r\nI would.\r\n\r\nDo thee mean to confess.\r\n\r\nI\u2014I!\u2014\r\n\r\nAh George\u2014\r\n\r\nI cannot Rachel\u2014I dare not\u2014I am a preacher of the word of truth. But you may\u2014what is there to hinder you?\r\n\r\nThee will not?\r\n\r\nNo.\r\n\r\nNor will I.\r\n\r\nJust what I expected\u2014give me your hand\u2014what I have said to you, I have been constrained to say, for it is a part of my faith Rachel, that as we believe, so are we to be judged: and that therefore, had you believed it to be right for you to confess and live, it would have been right, before the Lord.\u2014But whether you do or do not, Elizabeth may.\r\n\r\nTrue\u2014if she can be persuaded to think as thee would\u00a0have her think, she may. I shall not seek to dissuade her\u2014but as for me, I have put my life into the hands of our Father. I shall obey him, and trust to the inward prompting of that which upholds me and cheers me now\u2014even now, George, when, but for His Holy Spirit, I should feel as I never felt before, since I came into the world\u2014altogether alone.\r\n\r\nWill you advise with her, and seek to persuade her?\r\n\r\nNo.\r\n\r\nCruel woman!\r\n\r\nCruel\u2014no no George, no no. Would that be doing as I would be done by? Is it for me to urge a beloved sister to do what I would not do\u2014even to save my life?\r\n\r\nI feel the rebuke\u2014\r\n\r\nGeorge, I must leave thee\u2014I hear footsteps. Farewell\u2014\r\n\r\nSo soon\u2014so very soon! Say to her, I beseech you\u2014say to her as you have said to me, that she\u00a0may<\/i>\u00a0confess if she will; that we have been together, and that we have both agreed in the opinion that she had better confess and throw herself on the mercy of her judges, till the fury of the storm hath passed over.\u2014It will soon have passed over, I am sure now\u2014\r\n\r\nNo George, no; but I will say this. I will say to her\u2014\r\n\r\nGo on\u2014go on, I beseech you\u2014\r\n\r\n\u2014I will say to her\u2014Elizabeth, my dear Sister; go down upon thy knees and pray to the Lord to be nigh to thee, and give thee strength, and to lead thee in the path which is best for his glory; and after that, if thee should feel free to preserve thy life by such means\u2014being on the guard against the love of life, and the fear of death\u2014the Tempter of souls, and the weapons of the flesh\u2014it will be thy duty so to preserve it.\r\n\r\nBurroughs groaned aloud\u2014but he could prevail no\u00a0further. Enough, said he, at last: write as much on this paper, and let me carry it with me.\r\n\r\nCarry it with thee\u2014what do thee mean?\r\n\r\nI hardly know what I mean; I would see her and urge her to live, but when I consider what must follow, though I have permission to see her, my heart fails me.\r\n\r\nThee is to meet her with me, I suppose?\r\n\r\nNo, I believe not\u2014\r\n\r\nHow\u2014alone?\u2014\r\n\r\nNo no\u2014not alone, said the jailor, whom they supposed to be outside of the door, till he spoke.\r\n\r\nMore of the tender mercies of the law! They would entrap thee George\u2014\r\n\r\nAnd you too Rachel, if it lay in their power\u2014\r\n\r\nGive me that book\u2014it is the Bible that I gave thee, is it not?\r\n\r\nIt is\u2014\r\n\r\nIt belonged to my mother. I will write what I have to say in the blank leaf.\r\n\r\nShe did so; and giving it into the hands of the Jailor she said to him\u2014I would have her abide on earth\u2014my dear,\u00a0dear<\/i>\u00a0sister!\u2014I would pray to her to live and be happy,\u00a0if she can<\/i>; for she\u2014O she will have much to make life dear to her, even though she be left alone by the way-side for a little time\u2014what disturbs thee George?\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nI am afraid of this man. He will betray us\u2014\r\n\r\nNo\u2014no\u2014we have nothing to fear\u2014\r\n\r\nNothing to fear, when he must have been at our elbow and overheard everything we have whispered to each other.\r\n\r\nLook at him George, and thee will be satisfied.\r\n\r\nBurroughs looked up, and saw by the vacant gravity of his hard visage, that the man had not understood a syllable to their prejudice.\r\n\r\nBut Elizabeth\u2014I would have her continue on earth, I say\u2014I would\u2014if so it may please our Father above; but I am in great fear, and I would have thee tell her so, after she has read what I have written there in that book.\u00a0She<\/i>\u00a0will have sympathy, whatever may occur to us\u2014true sympathy, unmixed with fear; but as for me, I have no such hope\u2014and why should I wrestle with my duty\u2014I\u2014who have no desire to see the light of another day?\r\n\r\nNone Rachel?\r\n\r\nNone\u2014but for the sake of Mary Elizabeth Dyer\u2014and so\u2014and so George, we are to part now\u2014and there\u2014therefore\u2014the sooner we part, the better. Her voice died away in a low deeply-drawn heavy breathing.\r\n\r\nEven so dear\u2014even so, my beloved sister\u2014\r\n\r\nGeorge\u2014\r\n\r\nNay, nay\u2014why leave me at all?\u2014why not abide here? Why may we not die together?\r\n\r\nGeorge, I say\u2014\r\n\r\nWell\u2014what-say?\r\n\r\nSuffer me to kiss thee\u2014my brother\u2014before we part....\r\n\r\nHe made no reply, but he gasped for breath and shook all over, and stretched out his arms with a giddy convulsive motion toward her.\r\n\r\n\u2014Before we part forever George\u2014dear George, putting her hand affectionately upon his shoulder and looking him steadily in the face. We are now very near to the threshold of death, and I do believe\u2014I do\u2014though I would not have said as much an hour ago, for the wealth of all this world ... nay, not even to save my life ... no ... nor my sister\u2019s life ... nor thy life ... that I shall die the happier and the better for having kissed thee ... my brother.\r\n\r\nStill he spoke not ... he had no tongue for speech. The dreadful truth broke upon him all at once now, a truth which penetrated his heart like an arrow ... and he strove to\u00a0throw his arms about her; to draw her up to his bosom\u2014but the chains that he wore prevented him, and so he leaned his head upon her shoulder ... and kissed her cheek, and then lifted himself up, and held her with one arm to his heart, and kissed her forehead and her eyes and her mouth, in a holy transport of affection.\r\n\r\nDear George ... I am happy now ... very, very happy now, said the poor girl, shutting her eyes and letting two or three large tears fall upon his locked hands, which were held by her as if ... as if ... while her mouth was pressed to them with a dreadful earnestness, her power to let them drop was no more. And then she appeared to recollect herself, and her strength appeared to come back to her, and she rose up and set her lips to his forehead with a smile, that was remembered by the rough jailor to his dying day, so piteous and so death-like was it, and said to Burroughs, in her mild quiet way\u2014her mouth trembling and her large tears dropping at every word\u2014very, very happy now, and all ready for death. I would say more ... much more if I might, for I have not said the half I had to say. Thee will see her ... I shall not see her again....\r\n\r\nHow\u2014\r\n\r\nNot if thee should prevail with her to stay, George. It would be of no use\u2014it would only grieve her, and it might unsettle us both\u2014\r\n\r\nWhat can I say to you?\r\n\r\nNothing\u2014Thee will see her; and thee will take her to thy heart as thee did me, and she will be happy\u2014very happy\u2014even as I am now.\r\n\r\nFather\u2014Father! O, why was I not prepared for this! Do thou stay me\u2014do thou support me\u2014it is more than I can bear! cried Burroughs, turning away from the admirable creature who stood before him trying to\u00a0bear up without his aid, though she shook from head to foot with uncontrollable emotion.\r\n\r\nThee\u2019s very near and very dear to Mary Elizabeth Dyer; and she\u2014she will be happy\u2014she cannot be otherwise, alive or dead\u2014for all that know her, pity her and love her\u2014\u2014\r\n\r\nAnd so do all that know you\u2014\r\n\r\nNo, no, George, love and pity are not for such as I\u2014such pity I mean, or such love as we need here\u2014need<\/i>\u00a0I say, whatever we may pretend, whatever the multitude may suppose, and however ill we may be fitted for inspiring it\u2014I\u2014I\u2014\r\n\r\nHer voice faltered, she grew very pale, and caught by the frame of the door\u2014\r\n\r\n\u2014There may be love, George, there may be pity, there may be some hope on earth for a beautiful witch ... with golden hair ... with large blue eyes ... and a sweet mouth ... but for a ... for a ... for a freckled witch ... with red hair and a hump on her back\u2014what hope is there, what hope on this side of the grave?\r\n\r\nShe tried to smile when she said this ... but she could not, and the preacher saw and the jailor saw that her heart was broken.\r\n\r\nBefore the former could reply, and before the latter could stay her, she was gone.\r\n\r\nThe rest of the story is soon told. The preacher saw Elizabeth and tried to prevail with her, but he could not. She had all the courage of her sister, and would not live by untruth. And yet\u00a0she escaped, for she was very ill, and before she recovered, the fearful infatuation was over, the people had waked up, the judges and the preachers of the Lord; and the chief-judge, Sewall had publicly read a recantation for the part he had played in the terrible drama. But she saw her brave sister no more; she saw Burroughs no more\u2014he was put to\u00a0death on the afternoon of the morrow, behaving with high and steady courage to the last\u2014praying for all and forgiving all, and predicting in a voice like that of one crying in the wilderness, a speedy overthrow to the belief in witchcraft\u2014a prophecy that came to be fulfilled before the season had gone by, and his last words were\u2014\u201cFather forgive them, for they know not what they do!\u201d\r\n\r\nBeing dead, a messenger of the court was ordered away to apprise Rachel Dyer that on the morrow at the same hour, and at the same place, her life would be required of her.\r\n\r\nShe was reading the Bible when he appeared, and when he delivered the message, the book fell out of her lap and she sat as if stupified for a minute or more; but she did not speak, and so he withdrew, saying to her as he went away, that he should be with her early in the morning.\r\n\r\nSo on the morrow, when the people had gathered together before the jail, and prepared for the coming forth of Rachel Dyer, the High-Sheriff was called upon to wake her, that she might be ready for death; she being asleep the man said. So the High-Sheriff went up and spoke to her as she lay upon the bed; with a smile about her mouth and her arm over a large book ... but she made no reply. The bed was drawn forth to the light\u2014the book removed (it was the Bible) and she was lifted up and carried out into the cool morning air. She was dead.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1986\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"1024\"]\"Illustration \"Salem, from the lookout on Witches' Hill,\" ca. 1850, artist unknown.[\/caption]\r\n\r\n
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\r\n

HISTORICAL FACTS<\/a>.<\/h3>\r\n<\/div>\r\nThat the reader may not be led to suppose the book he has just gone through with, a sheer fabrication, the author has thought it adviseable to give a few of the many facts upon which the tale is founded, in the very language of history.\r\n\r\nThe true name of Mr. Paris was Samuel<\/a>, instead of Matthew, and he spelt it with two r\u2019s; that of his child was Elizabeth<\/a> and that of her cousin, Abigail Williams<\/a>. With these corrections to prepare the reader for what is to follow, we may now go to the historical records alluded to.\r\n\r\nAnd first\u2014Of the manner in which the accused were treated on their examination, and of the methods employed to make them confess.<\/i>\r\n\r\nJohn Proctor<\/a>, who was executed for witchcraft, gives the following account of the procedure had with his family, in a letter to Mr. Cotton Mather, Mr. Moody, Mr. Willard, and others.\r\n

\u201c<\/span>Reverend Gentlemen<\/i>,\u2014The innocency of our case, with the [pb_glossary id=\"479\"]enmity[\/pb_glossary] of our accusers and our judges and jury, whom nothing but our innocent blood will serve, having condemned us already before our trials, being so much incensed and enraged against us by the devil, makes us bold to beg and implore your favourable assistance of this our humble petition to his excellency, that if it be possible our innocent blood may be spared, which undoubtedly otherwise will be shed, if the Lord doth not mercifully step in; the magistrates, ministers, juries, and all the people in general, being so much enraged and incensed against us by the delusion of the devil, which we can term no other, by reason we know in our own consciences we are all innocent persons. Here are five persons who have lately confessed themselves to be witches, and do accuse some of us of being along with them at a sacrament, since we were committed into close prison, which we know to be lies. Two of the five are (Carrier\u2019s sons) young men, who would not confess any thing till they tied them neck and heels, till the blood was ready to come out of their noses; and it is credibly believed and reported this was the occasion of making them confess what they never did, by reason they said one had been a witch a month, and another five weeks, and that their mother had made them so, who has been confined here this nine weeks.\u00a0<\/span>My son William Proctor, when he was examined, because he would not confess that he was guilty, when he was innocent, they tied him neck and heels till the blood gushed out at his nose, and would have kept him so twenty-four hours, if one, more merciful than the rest, had not taken pity on him, and caused him to be unbound.<\/i>\u00a0These actions are very like the [pb_glossary id=\"1890\"]popish[\/pb_glossary] cruelties. They have already undone us in our estates, and that will not serve their turns without our innocent blood. If it cannot be granted that we have our trials at Boston, we humbly beg that you would endeavor to have these magistrates changed, and others in their rooms; begging also and beseeching you would be pleased to be here, if not all, some of you, at our trials, hoping thereby you may be the means of saving the shedding of innocent blood. Desiring your prayers to the Lord in our behalf, we rest your poor afflicted servants,<\/span><\/p>\r\n\r\n

\r\n

John Proctor<\/span>, &c.<\/p>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\nJonathan Cary, whose wife was under the charge, but escaped, has left a very affecting narrative of her trial, and of the behavior of the judges.\r\n

\u201cBeing brought before the justices, her chief accusers were two girls. My wife declared to the justices, that she never had any knowledge of them before that day. She was forced to stand with her arms stretched out. I requested that I might hold one of her hands, but it was denied me; then she desired\u00a0me to wipe the tears from her eyes, and the sweat from her face, which I did; then she desired that she might lean herself on me, saying she should faint.<\/span><\/p>\r\n\r\n

\r\n

Justice Hathorn replied, she had strength enough to torment those persons, and she should have strength enough to stand. I speaking something against their cruel proceedings, they commanded me to be silent, or else I should be turned out of the room. The Indian before mentioned was also brought in, to be one of her accusers: being come in, he now (when before the justices) fell down and tumbled about like a hog, but said nothing. The justices asked the girls who afflicted the Indian; they answered she, (meaning my wife) and that she now lay upon him; the justices ordered her to touch him, in order to his cure, but her head must be turned another way, lest, instead of curing, she should make him worse, by her looking on him, her hand being guided to take hold of his; but the Indian took hold of her hand, and pulled her down on the floor, in a barbarous manner; then his hand was taken off, and her hand put on his, and the cure was quickly wrought. I, being extremely troubled at their inhuman dealings, uttered a hasty speech,\u00a0That God would take vengeance on them, and desired that God would deliver us out of the hands of unmerciful men.<\/i> Then her [pb_glossary id=\"1889\"]mittimus[\/pb_glossary] was writ. I did with difficulty and chagrin obtain the liberty of a room, but no beds in it; if there had been, could have taken but little rest that night. She was committed to Boston prison; but I obtained a [pb_glossary id=\"2067\"]habeas corpus[\/pb_glossary] to remove her to Cambridge prison, which is in our county of Middlesex. Having been there one night, next morning the jailer put irons on her legs (having received such a command;) the weight of them was about eight pounds; these irons and her other afflictions soon brought her into convulsion fits, so that I thought she would have died that night. I sent to entreat that the irons might be taken off; but all entreaties were in vain, if it would have saved her life, so that in this condition she must continue. The trials at Salem coming on, I went thither, to see how things were managed; and finding that the spectre evidence was there received, together with idle, if not malicious stories, against people\u2019s lives, I did easily perceive which way the rest would go; for the same evidence\u00a0that served for one, would serve for all the rest. I acquainted her with her danger; and that if she were carried to Salem to be tried, I feared she would never return. I did my utmost that she might have her trial in our own county, I with several others petitioning the judge for it, and were put in hopes for it; but I soon saw so much, that I understood thereby it was not intended, which put me upon consulting the means of her escape; which through the goodness of God was effected, and she got to Rhode-Island, but soon found herself not safe when there, by reason of the pursuit after her; from thence she went to New-York, along with some others that had escaped their cruel hands.<\/p>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\nOf the trial of \u201cgood-wife Proctor,\u201d the following interpretation was had.\r\n

\u201cAbout this time, besides the experiment of the afflicted falling at the sight, &c. they put the accused upon saying the Lord\u2019s prayer, which one among them performed, except in that petition,\u00a0<\/span>deliver us from evil<\/i>, she expressed it thus,\u00a0<\/span>deliver us from<\/i>\u00a0all\u00a0<\/span>evil<\/i>: this was looked upon as if she prayed against what she was now justly under, and being put upon it again, and repeating those words,\u00a0<\/span>hallowed be thy name<\/i>, she expressed it,\u00a0<\/span>hollowed be thy name<\/i>: this was counted a depraving the words, as signifying to make void, and so a curse rather than a prayer: upon the whole it was concluded that she also could not say it, &c. Proceeding in this work of examination and commitment, many were sent to prison.<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cIn August, 1697, the superior court sat at Hartford, in the colony of Connecticut, where one mistress Benom was tried for witchcraft. She had been accused by some children that pretended to the spectral sight: they searched her several times for teats; they tried the experiment of casting her into the water, and after this she was excommunicated by the minister of Wallinsford. Upon her trial nothing material appeared against her, save spectre evidence. She was acquitted, as also her daughter, a girl of twelve or thirteen years old, who had been likewise accused; but upon renewed complaints against them, they both flew into New-York government.<\/span><\/p>\r\nSecond\u2014Of the Confessions<\/i>.\u2014The following is a letter written by six of the confessing witches, by which it may be understood in some degree how they came to accuse themselves.\r\n

\u201cWe, whose names are under written, inhabitants of Andover, when as that horrible and tremendous judgment beginning at Salem Village, in the year 1692, (by some called witchcraft) first breaking forth at Mr. Parris\u2019s house, several young persons being seemingly afflicted, did accuse several persons for afflicting them, and many there believing it so to be; we being informed that if a person were sick, the afflicted person could tell what or who was the cause of that sickness: Joseph Ballard of Andover (his wife being sick at the same time) he either from himself, or by the advice of others, fetched two of the persons, called the afflicted persons, from Salem Village to Andover: which was the beginning of that dreadful calamity that befel us in Andover. And the authority in Andover, believing the said accusations to be true, sent for the said persons to come together to the meeting-house in Andover (the afflicted persons being there.) After Mr. Barnard had been at prayer, we were blindfolded, and our hands were laid upon the afflicted persons, they being in their fits, and falling into their fits at our coming into their presence [as they said] and some led us and laid our hands upon them, and then they said they were well, and that we were guilty of afflicting of them whereupon we were all seized as prisoners, by a warrant from a justice of the peace, and forthwith carried to Salem. And by reason of that sudden surprisal, we knowing ourselves altogether innocent of that crime, we were all exceedingly astonished and amazed, and affrighted even out of our reason; and our nearest and dearest relations, seeing us in that dreadful condition, and knowing our great danger, apprehending that there was no other way to save our lives, as the case was then circumstanced, but by our confessing ourselves to be such and such persons, as the afflicted represented us to be, they out of tender love and pity persuaded us to confess what we did confess. And indeed that confession, that it is said we made, was\u00a0no other than what was suggested to us by some gentlemen; they telling us, that we were witches, and they knew it, and we knew it, and they knew that we knew it, which made us think that it was so; and our understanding, our reason and our faculties almost gone, we were not capable of judging our condition; as also the hard measures they used with us rendered us uncapable of making our defence; but said anything which they desired: and most of what we said was but in effect a consenting to what they said. Sometime after, when we were better composed, they telling of us what we had confessed, we did profess that we were innocent, and ignorant of such things. And we hearing that Samuel Wardwell<\/a> had renounced his confession, and quickly after was condemned and executed, some of us were told that we were going after Wardwell.<\/span><\/p>\r\n\r\n

\r\n

Mary Osgood<\/span><\/a>,\u00a0Abigail Barker<\/span><\/a>,\r\nMary Tiler<\/span><\/a>,\u00a0Sarah Wilson<\/span><\/a>,\r\nDeliv. Dane<\/span><\/a>,\u00a0Hannah Tiler<\/span><\/a>.\u201d<\/p>\r\n

\u201cIt may here be further added, concerning those that did confess, that besides that powerful argument, of life (and freedom from hardships, not only promised, but also performed to all that owned their guilt) there are numerous instances, too many to be here inserted, of the tedious examinations before private persons, many hours together; they all that time urging them to confess (and taking turns to persuade them) till the accused were wearied out by being forced to stand so long or for want of sleep, &c. and so brought to give an assent to what they said; they then asking them, Were you at such a witch meeting? or, Have you signed the devil\u2019s book? &c. Upon their replying, Yes, the whole was drawn into form, as their confession.<\/p>\r\n

\u201cBut that which did mightily further such confessions was, their nearest relations urging them to it. These, seeing no other way of escape for them, thought it the best advice that could be given; hence it was that the husbands of some, by counsel often urging, and utmost earnestness, and children upon their knees intreating, have at length prevailed with them to say they were guilty.<\/p>\r\n \r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_2005\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"1024\"]\"George The legend of Salem: \"The Rev. George Burroughs was accused of witchcraft on the evidence of feats of strength, tried, hung, and buried beneath the gallows,\" 1871.[\/caption]\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\nThird\u2014Of the character of Burroughs<\/i>;\u2014about which there has been from that day to this, a great difference of opinion. His readiness to forgive.\r\n

\u201cMargaret Jacobs<\/a> being one that had confessed her own guilt, and testified against her grandfather Jacobs, Mr. Burroughs and John Willard, she the day before execution came to Mr. Burroughs, acknowledging that she had [pb_glossary id=\"1888\"]belied[\/pb_glossary] them, and begged Mr. Burroughs\u2019s forgiveness; who not only forgave her, but also prayed with and for her.<\/span><\/p>\r\nApparitions at the trial.\u2014\r\n

\u201cAccordingly several of the bewitched had given in their testimony, that they had been troubled with the apparitions of two women, who said they were G. B.\u2019s two wives; and that he had been the death of them; and that the magistrates must be told of it, before whom, if B. upon his trial denied it, they did not know but that they should appear again in the court. Now G. B. had been infamous, for the barbarous usage of his two successive wives, all the country over. Moreover, it was testified the spectre of G. B. threatening the sufferers, told them he had killed [besides others] Mrs. Lawson and her daughter Ann. And it was noted, that these were the virtuous wife and daughter of one, at whom this G. B. might have a prejudice, for being serviceable at Salem Village, from whence himself had in ill terms removed some years before; and that when they died, which was long since, there were some odd circumstances about them, which made some of the attendants there suspect something of witchcraft, though none imagined from what quarter it should come.<\/span><\/p>\r\n

\u201cWell, G. B. being now upon his trial, one of the bewitched persons was cast into horror at the ghosts of B.\u2019s two deceased wives, then appearing before him, and crying for vengeance against him. Hereupon several of the bewitched persons were successively called in, who all, not knowing what the former had seen and said, concurred in their horror of the apparition, which they affirmed that he had before. But he, though much appalled, utterly denied that he discerned any thing of it, nor was it any part of his conviction.<\/span><\/p>\r\nHis bodily strength.\u2014\r\n

\u201cA famous divine recites this among the convictions of a witch; the testimony of the party bewitched, whether pining or dying; together with the joint oaths of sufficient persons, that have seen certain prodigious pranks, or feats, wrought by the party accused. Now God had been pleased so to leave G. B. that he had ensnared himself, by several instances, which he had formerly given, of a preternatural strength; and which were now produced against him. He was a very puny man yet he had often done things beyond the strength of a giant. A gun of about seven feet barrel, and so heavy that strong men could not steadily hold it out, with both hands; there were several testimonies given in by persons of credit and honour, that he made nothing of taking up such a gun behind the lock with but one hand, and holding it out, like a pistol, at arm\u2019s end. G. B. in his vindication was so foolish as to say, that an Indian was there, and held it out, at the same time; whereas, none of the spectators ever saw any such Indian; but they supposed the black man (as the witches call the devil, and they generally say he resembles an Indian) might give him that assistance. There was evidence likewise brought in, that he made nothing of taking up whole barrels filled with molasses, or cider, in very disadvantageous postures, and carrying them off, through the most difficult places, out of a canoe to the shore.<\/span><\/p>\r\n\r\n

\r\n

\u201cYea, there were two testimonies, that G. B. with only putting the fore-finger of his right hand into the muzzle of a heavy gun, a [pb_glossary id=\"504\"]fowling piece[\/pb_glossary] of about six or seven feet barrel, lifted up the gun, and held it out at arm\u2019s end; a gun which the deponents, though strong men, could not with both hands lift up, and hold out at the butt-end, as is usual. Indeed one of these witnesses was over-persuaded by some persons to be out of the way upon G. B.\u2019s trial; but he came afterwards, with sorrow for his withdrawing, and gave in his testimony.<\/p>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\nHis death.\u2014\r\n

\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1942\" align=\"alignright\" width=\"336\"]\"George George Burroughs' memorial bench, Salem Witch Trials Memorial<\/a>, 2010, photo by Dana Huff.[\/caption]\r\n

\u201cMr. Burroughs was carried in a cart with the others, through the streets of Salem to execution. When he was upon the ladder, he made a speech for the clearing of his innocency, with such solemn and serious expressions, as were to the admiration of all present: his prayer [which he concluded by repeating the Lord\u2019s prayer] was so well worded, and uttered with such composedness, and such [at least seeming] fervency of spirit, as was very affecting, and drew tears from many, so that it seemed to some that the spectators would hinder the execution. The accusers said the Black Man stood and dictated to him. As soon as he was turned off, Mr. Cotton Mather, being mounted upon a horse, addressed himself to the people, partly to declare that he [Burroughs] was no ordained minister, and partly to possess the people of his guilt, saying that the devil has often been transformed into an angel of light; and this somewhat appeased the people, and the executions went on.<\/p>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\nFourth\u2014A trial at length<\/i>. Indictment of Elizabeth How.\r\n

\r\n

ESSEX ss.\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Anno Regni Regis & Regin\u00e6 Willielmi & Mari\u00e6, nunc<\/i><\/span>\r\n\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Angli\u00e6, &c, quarto<\/i>\u2014\u2014<\/span><\/p>\r\n

The jurors for our sovereign lord and lady the king and queen present, that Elizabeth How, wife of James How, of Ipswich, in the county of Essex, the thirty-first day of May, in the fourth year of the reign of our sovereign lord and lady William and Mary, by the grace of God, of England, Scotland, France and Ireland, king and queen, defenders of the faith, &c. and [pb_glossary id=\"1263\"]divers[\/pb_glossary] other days and times, as well before as after, certain destestable arts, called witchcrafts and sorceries, wickedly and feloniously hath used, practised and exercised, at and within the township of Salem, in, upon and against one Mary Wolcott, of Salem Village, in the county aforesaid, single woman; by which said wicked arts the said Mary Wolcott, the said thirty-first day of May, in the fourth year above-said, and divers other days and times, as well before as after, was and is tortured, afflicted, pined, consumed, wasted and tormented; and also for [pb_glossary id=\"1588\"]sundry[\/pb_glossary] other acts of witchcrafts, by said Elizabeth How committed and done before and since that time, against the peace of our sovereign lord and lady, the king and queen, and against the form of the statute in that case made and provided.<\/p>\r\n

Witnesses<\/i>\u2014Mary Wolcott, Ann Putman, Abigail Williams, Samuel Pearly, and his wife Ruth, Joseph Andrews, and wife Sarah, John Sherrin, Joseph Safford, Francis Lane, Lydia Foster, Isaac Cummins, jr\u00b7<\/p>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\nFifth\u2014Recantation of the chief judge and the jurors.<\/i>\u2014A general fast was appointed by the following proclamation, after the accusers had become so bold as to accuse even the wife of Gov. Phips.\u2014\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_2019\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"547\"]\"Title More Wonders of the Invisible World, 1700, by Robert Calef -- a critical response to Mather's work. Copies of many documents from the trials, including the statement of regret<\/a>, are included within.[\/caption]\r\n

By the honourable the lieutenant governor, council and assembly of his majesty\u2019s province of the Massachusetts-Bay, in general court assembled.<\/i><\/p>\r\n\r\n

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Whereas the anger of God is not yet turned away, but his hand is still stretched out against his people in manifold judgments,\u00a0particularly in drawing out to such a length the troubles of Europe, by a perplexing war; and more especially respecting ourselves in this province, in that God is pleased still to go on in diminishing our substance, cutting short our harvest, blasting our most promising undertakings more ways than one, unsettling us, and by his more immediate hand snatching away many out of our embraces by sudden and violent deaths, even at this time when the sword is devouring so many both at home and abroad, and that after many days of public and solemn addressing him: and although, considering the many sins prevailing in the midst of us, we cannot but wonder at the patience and mercy moderating these rebukes, yet we cannot but also fear that there is something still wanting to accompany our supplications; and doubtless there are some particular sins, which God is angry with\u00a0our Israel<\/i>\u00a0for, that have not been duly seen and repented by us, about which God expects to be sought, if ever he turn again our captivity:<\/p>\r\n

Wherefore it is commanded and appointed, that Thursday, the fourteenth of January next, be observed as a day of prayer, with fasting, throughout this province; strictly forbidding all servile labour thereon; that so all God\u2019s people may offer up fervent supplications unto him, for the preservation and prosperity of his majesty\u2019s royal person and government, and success to attend his affairs both at home and abroad; that all iniquity may be put away, which hath stirred God\u2019s holy jealousy against this land; that he would [pb_glossary id=\"1886\"]shew[\/pb_glossary] us what we know not, and help us wherein we have done amiss to do so no more; and especially that whatever mistakes on either hand have been fallen into, either by the body of this people, or any orders of men, referring to the late tragedy, raised among us by Satan and his instruments, through the awful judgment of God, he would humble us therefor, and pardon all the errors of his servants and people, that desire to love his name; that he would remove the rod of the wicked from off the lot of the righteous; that he would bring in the American heathen, and cause them to hear and obey his voice.<\/p>\r\n

Given at Boston, December 12, 1696, in the eighth year\r\nof his Majesty\u2019s reign.<\/p>\r\n

Isaac Addington<\/span>,\u00a0Secretary<\/i>.<\/p>\r\n

\u201cUpon the day of the fast, in the full assembly at the south meeting-house in Boston, one of the honorable judges, [the chief justice Sewall<\/a>] who had sat in judicature in Salem, delivered in a paper, and while it was in reading stood up; but the copy being not to be obtained at present, it can only be reported by memory to this effect, [pb_glossary id=\"1885\"]viz[\/pb_glossary]. It was to desire the prayers of God\u2019s people for him and his; and that God having visited his family, &c, he was apprehensive that he might have fallen into some errors in the matters at Salem, and pray that the guilt of such miscarriages may not be imputed either to the country in general, or to him or his family in particular.<\/p>\r\n

\u201cSome, that had been of several juries, have given forth a paper, signed with their own hands, in these words:<\/p>\r\n

\u201cWe, whose names are under written, being in the year 1692 called to serve as jurors in court at Salem on trial of many, who were by some suspected guilty of doing acts of witchcraft upon the bodies of sundry persons:<\/p>\r\n

\u201cWe confess that we ourselves were not capable to understand, nor able to withstand, the mysterious delusions of the powers of darkness, and prince of the air; but were, for want of knowledge in ourselves, and better information from others, prevailed with to take up with such evidence against the accused, as, on further consideration and better information, we justly fear was insufficient for the touching the lives of any, (Deut.<\/i>\u00a0xvii. 8) whereby we fear we have been instrumental with others, though ignorantly and unwittingly, to bring upon ourselves and this people of the Lord the guilt of innocent blood; which sin the Lord saith, in scripture, he would not pardon, (2 Kings<\/i>, xxiv. 4) that is, we suppose, in regard of his temporal judgments. We do therefore hereby signify to all in general (and to the surviving sufferers in special) our deep sense of, and sorrow for, our errors, in acting on such evidence to the condemning of any person; and do hereby declare, that we justly fear that we were sadly deluded and mistaken; for which we are much disquieted and distressed in our minds; and do therefore humbly beg forgiveness, first of God for Christ\u2019s sake, for this our error; and pray that God would not impute the guilt of it to ourselves, nor others;\u00a0and we also pray that we may be considered candidly and aright, by the living sufferers, as being then under the power of a strong and general delusion, utterly unacquainted with, and not experienced in matters of that nature.<\/p>\r\n

\u201cWe do heartily ask forgiveness of you all, whom we have justly offended; and do declare, according to our present minds, we would none of us do such things again on such grounds for the whole world; praying you to accept of this in way of satisfaction for our offence, and that you would bless the inheritance of the Lord, that he may be entreated for the land.<\/p>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n

\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Foreman,<\/td>\r\nThomas Fisk,<\/td>\r\nTh. Pearly, sen,<\/td>\r\n<\/tr>\r\n
<\/td>\r\nWilliam Fisk,<\/td>\r\nJohn Peabody,<\/td>\r\n<\/tr>\r\n
<\/td>\r\nJohn Bacheler,<\/td>\r\nThomas Perkins,<\/td>\r\n<\/tr>\r\n
<\/td>\r\nThomas Fisk, jr,<\/td>\r\nSamuel Sayer,<\/td>\r\n<\/tr>\r\n
<\/td>\r\nJohn Dane,<\/td>\r\nAndrew Eliot,<\/td>\r\n<\/tr>\r\n
<\/td>\r\nJoseph Evelith,<\/td>\r\nH. Herrick, sen.\u201d<\/td>\r\n<\/tr>\r\n<\/tbody>\r\n<\/table>\r\n \r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_1882\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"607\"]\"Watercolour \"The Witch's Daughter,\" 1881, by Frederick Stuart Church.[\/caption]\r\n\r\n
\r\n\r\nSource:\r\n

Rachel Dyer: A North American Story,<\/em><\/a> 1828, by John Neal. Public Domain, via Project Gutenberg.<\/p>\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n

\r\n\r\nMood-lifter:\r\n\r\nThe Haunting of the Salem Witch Trials<\/em>, 2017, Buzzfeed Unsolved. Silly, some expletives, not at all scary, yet surprisingly informative.<\/span>\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n[embed]https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=B_ZaFmX72EY[\/embed]\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n \r\n
<\/div>","rendered":"

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DISTRICT OF MAINE…. TO WIT:<\/strong><\/p>\n

DISTRICT CLERK\u2019S OFFICE.<\/i><\/p>\n

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B<\/span>E IT REMEMBERED, That on the eighth day of October, A.D. 1828, and in the fifty-third year of the Independence of the United States of America, Shirley & Hyde of said District, have deposited in this office, the title of a book, the right whereof they claim as proprietors, in the words following,\u00a0to wit<\/i>.<\/p>\n

\u201cRachel Dyer: A North American Story. By John Neal. Portland.\u201d<\/p>\n

In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled \u201cAn Act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned;\u201d and also, to an act, entitled \u201cAn Act supplementary to an act, entitled An Art for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned; and for extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving and etching historical and other prints.\u201d<\/p>\n

J. MUSSEY,\u00a0Clerk of the District of Maine<\/i>.<\/p>\n

A true copy as of record,<\/p>\n

Attest,\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0<\/span>J. MUSSEY,\u00a0Clerk D. C. Maine<\/i>.<\/span><\/p>\n

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<\/h5>\n

PREFACE.<\/h3>\n

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\"Title<\/p>\n

I have long entertained a suspicion, all that has been said by the novel-writers and dramatists and poets of our age to the contrary notwithstanding, that personal beauty and intellectual beauty, or personal beauty and moral beauty, are not inseparably connected with, nor apportioned to each other. In\u00a0Errata<\/span><\/a>, a work of which\u00a0as<\/i>\u00a0a work, I am heartily ashamed now, I labored long and earnestly to prove this. I made\u00a0my<\/i> dwarf a creature of great moral beauty and strength.<\/p>\n

Godwin<\/a>, the powerful energetic and philosophizing Godwin, saw a shadow of this truth; but he saw nothing more\u2014the substance escaped him. He taught, and he has been followed by others, among whom are Brown, Scott and Byron<\/a>, (I observe the chronological order) that a towering intellect may inhabit a miserable body; that heroes are not of necessity six feet high, nor of a godlike shape, and that we may be deceived, if we venture to judge of the inward by the outward man. But they stopped here. They did not perceive, or perceiving, would not acknowledge the whole truth; for if we consider a moment, we find that all their\u00a0great<\/i>\u00a0men are scoundrels. Without one exception I believe, their heroes are hypocrites or misanthropes<\/a>, banditti<\/a> or worse; while their good men are altogether subordinate and pitiable destitute of energy and wholly without character.<\/p>\n

\"Painting
“George Gordon Byron, 6th Baron Byron,” (Lord Byron), 1813, by Richard Westall.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Now believing as I do, in spite of such overwhelming authority, that a man may have a club-foot, or a hump-back, or even red hair and yet be a good man\u2014peradventure<\/a> a great man; that a dwarf with a distorted shape may be a giant in goodness of heart and greatness of temper; and that moral beauty\u00a0may<\/i>\u00a0exist where it appears not to have been suspected by the chief critics of our age, and of past ages\u2014namely, in a deformed body (like that of \u00c6sop<\/a>,) I have written this book.<\/p>\n

Let me add however that although such was my principal, it was not my only object. I would call the attention of our novel-writers and our novel-readers to what is undoubtedly native and peculiar, in the early history of our Fathers; I would urge them to believe that though there is much to lament in that history, there is nothing to conceal; that if they went astray, as they most assuredly did in their judgments, they went astray conscientiously, with what they understood to be the law of God in their right hands. The \u201cSalem Tragedie<\/i><\/a>\u201d is in proof\u2014that is the ground-work of my story; and I pray the reader to have patience with the author, if he should find this tale rather more serious in parts, and rather more argumentative in parts, than stories, novels and romances generally are.<\/p>\n

I do not pretend to say that the book I now offer to my countrymen, is altogether such a book as I would write now, if I had more leisure, nor altogether such a book as I hope to write before I die; but as I cannot afford to throw it entirely away, and as I believe it to be much better, because more evidently prepared for a healthy good purpose, than any other I have written, I have concluded to publish it\u2014hoping it may be regarded by the wise and virtuous of our country as some sort of atonement for the folly and extravagance of my earlier writing.<\/p>\n

[Pg v] <\/span>The skeleton of this tale was originally prepared for Blackwood, as the first of a series of North-American Stories: He accepted it, paid for it, printed it, and sent me the proofs. A misunderstanding however occurred between us, about other matters, and I withdrew the story and repaid him for it. It was never published therefore; but was put aside by me, as the frame-work for a novel\u2014which novel is now before the reader.<\/p>\n

JOHN NEAL.<\/p>\n

Portland, October 1, 1828.<\/p>\n

P.S. After some consideration, I have concluded to publish a preface, originally intended for the\u00a0North American Stories<\/span>\u00a0alluded to above. It was never published, nor has it ever been read by any body but myself. Among those who are interested for the encouragement of our native literature, there may be some who will not be sorry to see what my ideas\u00a0were<\/i>\u00a0on the subject of novel-writing, as well as what they\u00a0are<\/i>. Changes have been foretold in my views\u2014and I owe it to our people to acknowledge, that in a good degree, the prediction has been accomplished I do not feel now as I did, when I wrote Seventy-Six<\/a>, Randolph<\/a>, and the rest of the works published in America; nor even as I did, when I wrote those that were published over seas. The mere novel-reader had better skip the following pages and go directly to the story. The introductory chapter in all human probability will be too much for him.<\/p>\n

J. N.<\/p>\n

\"Title<\/p>\n

\"Title<\/p>\n

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\n

UNPUBLISHED PREFACE<\/h3>\n

TO THE NORTH-AMERICAN STORIES, ALLUDED TO IN PAGE V.<\/h6>\n

The author of this work is now under the necessity of bidding the novel-readers of the day, on both sides of the water, farewell, and in all probability, forever. By them it may be considered a trivial affair\u2014a time for pleasantry, or peradventure for a formal expression of what are called good wishes. But by him, who does not feel like other men\u2014or does not understand their language, when they talk in this way, it will ever be regarded as a very serious thing. He would neither conceal nor deny the truth\u2014he would not so affront the feeling within him\u2014and he says therefore without affectation or ceremony, that it goes to his heart even to bid the novel-readers of the age, the few that have read his novels, it were better to say\u2014farewell.<\/p>\n

These volumes are the last of a series which even from his youth up, he had been accustomed to meditate upon as a worthy and affectionate offering to his family and to those who have made many a long winter day in a dreary climate, very cheerful and pleasant to him\u2014the daughters of a dear friend\u2014of one who, if his eye should ever fall upon this page, will understand immediately more than a chapter could tell, of the deep wayward strange motives that have influenced the author to say thus much and no more, while recurring for the last time to the bright vision of his youth. And the little that he does say now, is not said for the world;\u2014for what care they about the humble and innocent creatures, whose gentleness and sincerity about their own fire-side, were for a long time all that kept a man, who was weary and sick of the great world, from leaving it in despair? No, it is not said for them; but for any one of that large family who may happen to be alive now, and in the way of remembering \u201cthe stranger that was within their gates\u201d\u2014when to the world he may be as if he never had been. Let them not be amazed when they discover the truth; nor afraid nor ashamed to see that the man whom they knew only as the stranger from a far country, was also an author.<\/p>\n

In other days, angels were entertained in the shape of travellers and way-faring men; but ye\u2014had ye known every stranger that knocked at your door to be an angel, or a messenger of the Most High<\/a>, could not have treated him more like an immortal creature than ye did that unknown man, who now bears witness to your simplicity and great goodness of heart. With you it was enough that a fellow-creature was unhappy\u2014you strove to make him happy; and having done this, you sent him away, ignorant alike of his people, his country and his name.<\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

This work is the last of the sort I believe\u2014the very last I shall ever write<\/a>. Reader\u2014stop!\u2014lay down the book for a moment and answer me. Do you feel no emotion at the sight of that word? You are surprised at the question. Why should you feel any, you ask. Why should you?\u2014let us reason together for a moment. Can it be that you are able to bear of the final consummation of a hope which had been the chief stay of a fellow-creature for many\u2014many years?\u2014Can it be that you feel no sort of emotion at hearing him say, Lo!<\/a> I have finished the work\u2014it is the last\u2014no sensation of inquietude? Perhaps you now begin to see differently; perhaps you would now try to exculpate<\/a> yourself. You are willing to admit now that the affair is one of a graver aspect than you first imagined. You are half ready to deny now that you ever considered it otherwise. But mark me\u2014out of your own mouth you are condemned. Twice have I said already\u2014three times have I said already, that this was the last work of the sort I should ever write, and you have read the declaration as you would, the passing motto of a title-page. You neither cared for it, nor thought of it; and had I not alarmed you by my abruptness, compelled you to stop and think, and awed you by steadfastly rebuking your inhumanity, you would not have known by to-morrow whether I had spoken of it as my last work or not. Consider what I say\u2014is it not the truth?\u2014can you deny it? And yet you\u2014you<\/i> are one of the multitude\u00a0who dare to sit in judgment upon the doings of your fellow men. It is on what you and such as you say, that authors are to depend for that which is of more value to them than the breath of life\u2014character. How dare you!\u2014You read without reflection, and you hear without understanding. Yet upon the judgment of such as you\u2014so made up, it is that the patient and the profound, the thoughtful and the gifted, are to rely for immortality.<\/p>\n

To return to what I was about saying\u2014the work now before you, reader, is the last of a series, meditated as I have already told you, from my youth. It was but a dream at first\u2014a dream of my boyhood, indefinite, vague and shadowy; but as I grew up, it grew stronger and braver and more substantial. For years it did not deserve the name of a plan\u2014it was merely a breathing after I hardly knew what, a hope that I should live to do something in a literary way worthy of my people\u2014accompanied however with an inappeasable yearning for the time and opportunity to arrive. But so it was, that, notwithstanding all my anxiety and resolution, I could not bring myself to make the attempt\u2014even the attempt\u2014until it appeared no longer possible for me to do what for years I had been very anxious to do. The engagement was of too sacred a nature to be trifled with\u2014perhaps the more sacred in my view for being made only with myself, and without a witness; for engagements having no other authority than our moral sense of duty to ourselves, would never be performed, after they grew irksome or heavy, unless we were scrupulous in proportion to the facility with which we might escape if we would.<\/p>\n

This indeterminate, haunting desire to do what I had so engaged to do, at last however began to give way before the serious and necessary business of life, and the continually augmenting pressure of duties too solemn to be slighted for any\u2014I had almost said for any earthly consideration. Yea more, to confess the whole truth, I had begun to regard the enterprise itself\u2014so prone are we to self-deception, so ready at finding excuses where we have a duty to perform\u2014as hardly worthy of much power, and as altogether beneath an exalted ambition. But here I was greatly mistaken; for I have an idea now, that\u00a0a great novel\u2014such a novel as might be made\u2014if all the powers that could be employed upon it were found in one man, would be the greatest production of human genius. It is a law and a history of itself\u2014to every people\u2014and throughout all time\u2014in literature and morals\u2014in character and passion\u2014yea\u2014in what may be called the fire-side biography of nations. It would be, if rightly managed, a picture of the present for futurity\u2014a picture of human nature, not only here but every where\u2014a portrait of man\u2014a history of the human heart\u2014a book therefore, written not only in a universal, but in what may be considered as an everlasting language\u2014the language of immortal, indistructable spirits. Such are the parables<\/a> of Him who spoke that language best.<\/p>\n

Again however, the subject was revived. Sleeping and waking, by night and by day, it was before me; and at last I began to perceive that if the attempt were ever to be made, it must be made by one desperate, convulsive, instantaneous effort. I determined to deliberate no longer\u2014or rather to stand no longer, shivering like a coward, upon the brink of adventure, under pretence of deliberation; and therefore, having first carefully stopped my ears and shut my eyes, I threw myself headlong over the precipice. Behold the result! If I have not brought up the pearls, I can say at least that I have been to the bottom\u2014and I might have added\u2014of the human heart sometimes\u2014but for the perverse and foolish insincerity of the world, which if I had so finished the sentence, would have set their faces forever against my book; although that same world, had I been wise enough\u2014no, not wise enough but cunning enough, to hold my peace, might have been ready to acknowledge that I had been sometimes, even where I say\u2014to the very bottom of the human heart.<\/p>\n

I plunged. But when I did, it was rather to relieve my own soul from the intolerable weight of her own reproach, than with any hope of living to complete the design, except at a sacrifice next in degree to that of self-immolation<\/a>. Would you know what more than any other thing\u2014more than all other things determined me at last? I was an American. I had heard the insolent question of a Scotch Reviewer, repeated on\u00a0every side of me by native Americans\u2014\u201cWho reads an American Book?<\/a><\/i>\u201d I could not bear this\u2014I could neither eat nor sleep till my mind was made up. I reasoned with myself\u2014I strove hard\u2014but the spirit within me would not be rebuked. Shall I go forth said I, in the solitude of my own thought, and make war alone against the foe\u2014for alone it must be made, or there will be no hope of success. There must be but one head, one heart in the plan\u2014the secret must not even be guessed at by another\u2014it must be single and simple, one that like the wedge in mechanics, or in the ancient military art, must have but one point, and that point must be of adamant. Being so it may be turned aside: A thousand more like itself, may be blunted or shivered; but if at last, any one of the whole should make any impression whatever upon the foe, or effect any entrance whatever into the sanctity and strength of his tremendous phalanx<\/a>, then, from that moment, the day is our own. Our literature will begin to wake up, and our pride of country will wake up with it. Those who follow will have nothing to do but\u00a0keep<\/i>\u00a0what the forlorn hope, who goes to irretrievable martyrdom<\/a> if he fail, has\u00a0gained<\/i>.<\/p>\n

Moreover\u2014who was there to stand by the native American that should go out, haply<\/a> with a sling and a stone, against a tower of strength and the everlasting entrenchments of prejudice? Could he hope to find so much as one of his countrymen, to go with him or even to bear his shield? Would the Reviewers of America befriend him? No\u2014they have not courage enough to fight their own battles manfully.[1]\u00a0No\u2014they would rather flatter than strike. They negociate altogether too much\u2014where blows are wanted, they give words. And the best of our literary champions, would they? No; they would only bewail his temerity<\/a>, if he were the bold headlong creature he should be to accomplish the work; and pity his folly and presumption, if he were any thing else.<\/p>\n

\n

[1] Or had not before this was written. Look to the North-American Review<\/a> before 1825, for proof.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\"Portrait
Joseph Addison (1672-1719), unknown artist.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

After all however, why should they be reproached for this? They have gained their little reputation hardly. \u201cIt were too much to spend that little\u201d\u2014so grudgingly acquiesced in by their beloved countrymen\u2014\u201crashly.\u201d No wonder they fight shy.\u00a0It is their duty\u2014considering what they have at stake\u2014their little all. There is Washington Irving<\/a> now; he has obtained the reputation of being\u2014what?\u2014why at the best, of being only the American Addison<\/a>, in the view of Englishmen. And is this a title to care much for? Would such a name, though Addison stood far higher in the opinion of the English themselves, than he now does, or ever again will, be enough to satisfy the ambition of a lofty minded, original thinker? Would such a man falter and reef his plumage midway up the altitude of his blinding and brave ascent, to be called the American Addison, or even what in my view were ten thousand times better, the American Goldsmith<\/a>.[2]\u00a0No\u2014up to the very key stone<\/a> of the broad blue firmament<\/a>! he would say, or back to the vile earth again: ay, lower than the earth first! Understand me however. I do not say this lightly nor disparagingly. I love and admire Washington Irving. I wish him all the reputation he covets, and of the very kind he covets. Our paths never did, never will cross each other. And so with Mr. Cooper<\/a>; and a multitude more, of whom we may rightfully be proud. They have gained just enough popular favor to make them afraid of hazarding one jot or tittle of it, by stepping aside into a new path. No one of these could avail me in my design. They would have everything to lose, and nothing to gain by embarking in it. While I\u2014what had I to lose\u2014nay what\u00a0have<\/i>\u00a0I to lose? I am not now, I never have been, I never shall be an author by trade. The opinion of the public is not the breath of life to me; for if the truth must be told, I have to this hour very little respect for it\u2014so long as it is indeed the opinion of the public\u2014of the mere multitude, the careless, unthinking judgment of the mob, unregulated by the wise and thoughtful.<\/p>\n

\n

[2] I speak here of Goldsmith\u2019s prose, not of his poetry. Heaven forbid!<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

To succeed as I hoped, I must put everything at hazard. It would not do for me to imitate anybody. Nor would it do for my country. Who would care for the\u00a0American<\/i> Addison where he could have the English by asking for it? Who would languish, a twelvemonth after they appeared, for Mr. Cooper\u2019s imitations of Sir Walter Scott<\/a>, or Charles Brockden Brown<\/a>\u2019s imitations of Godwin? Those, and those only, who after having seen the transfiguration of Raphael, (or that of Talma,) or Dominichino\u2019s St. Jerome, would walk away to a village painting room, or a provincial theatre, to pick their teeth and play the critic over an imitation of the one or a copy of the other. At the best, all such things are but\u00a0imitations<\/i>. And what are imitations? Sheer mimicry\u2014more or less exalted to be sure; but still mimicry\u2014wherever the\u00a0copies<\/i>\u00a0of life are copied and not life itself: a sort of high-handed, noon-day plagiarism\u2014nothing more. People are never amazed, nor carried away, nor uplifted by imitations. They are pleased with the ingenuity of the artist\u2014they are delighted with the closeness of the imitation\u2014but that is all. The better the work is done, the worse they think of the workman. He who can paint a great picture, cannot copy\u2014David Teniers<\/a> to the contrary notwithstanding; for David never painted a great picture in his life, though he has painted small ones, not more than three feet square, which would sell for twenty-five thousand dollars to day.<\/p>\n

Yes\u2014to succeed, I must imitate nobody\u2014I must\u00a0resemble<\/i>\u00a0nobody; for with your critic, resemblance in the unknown to the known, is never anything but adroit<\/a> imitation. To succeed therefore, I must be unlike all that have gone before me. That were no easy matter; nor would be it so difficult as men are apt to believe. Nor is it necessary that I should do\u00a0better<\/i>\u00a0than all who have gone before me. I should be more likely to prosper, in the long run, by worse original productions\u2014with a poor story told in poor language, (if it were original in spirit and character) than by a much better story told in much better language, if after the transports of the public were over, they should be able to trace a resemblance between it and Walter Scott, or Oliver Goldsmith, or Mr. Addison.<\/p>\n

\"Page
From “Manfred, a Dramatic Poem,” 1817, by Lord Byron. (This line is also mentioned in the bible.)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

So far so good. There was, beyond a doubt, a fair chance in the great commonwealth of literature, even though I should not achieve a miracle, nor prove myself both wiser and better than all the authors who had gone before me. And moreover, might it not be possible\u2014possible<\/i> I say\u2014for the mob are a jealous guardian of sepulchres<\/a> and ashes, and high-sounding\u00a0names, particularly where a name will save them the trouble of judging for themselves, or do their arguments for them in the shape of a perpetual demonstration, whatever may be the nature of the controversy in which they are involved\u2014might it not be possible then, I say, that, as the whole body of mankind have been growing wiser and wiser, and better and better, since the day when these great writers flourished, who are now ruling \u201cour spirits from their urns,<\/a>\u201d that authors may have improved with them?\u2014that they alone of the whole human race, by some possibility, may not have remained altogether stationary age after age\u2014while the least enquiring and the most indolent of human beings\u2014the very multitude\u2014have been steadily advancing both in knowledge and power? And if so, might it not be\u00a0possible<\/i>\u00a0for some improvements to be made, some discoveries, even yet in style and composition, by lanching forth into space. True, we might not be certain of finding a new world, like Columbus, nor a new heaven, like Tycho Brahe<\/a>; but we should probably encounter some phenomena in the great unvisited moral sky and ocean; we should at least find out, after a while\u2014which would of itself be the next greatest consolation for our trouble and anxiety, after that of discovering a new world or a new system,\u2014that there remained no new world nor system to be discovered; that they who should adventure after us, would have so much the less to do for all that we had done; that they must follow in our steps; that if our health and strength had been wasted in a prodigious<\/a> dream, it would have the good effect of preventing any future waste of health and strength on the part of others in any similar enterprize.<\/p>\n

Islands and planets may still be found, we should say, and they that find them, are welcome to them; but continents and systems cannot be beyond where we have been; and if there be any within it, why\u2014they are neither continents nor systems.<\/p>\n

But then, after all, there was one plain question to be asked, which no honest man would like to evade, however much a mere dreamer might wish to do so. It was this. After all my fine theory\u2014what are my chances of success? And if successful, what have I to gain? I chose to answer the last question\u00a0first. Gain!\u2014of a truth, it were no easy matter to say. Nothing\u00a0here<\/i>, nothing\u00a0now<\/i>\u2014certainly nothing in America, till my bones have been canonized<\/a>; for my countrymen are a thrifty, calculating people\u2014they give nothing for the reputation of a man, till they are sure of selling it for more than they give. Were they visited by saints and prophets instead of gifted men, they would never believe that they were either saints or prophets, till they had been starved to death\u2014or lived by a miracle\u2014by no visible means; or until their cast-off clothes, bones, hair and teeth, or the furniture of the houses wherein they were starved, or the trees under which they had been chilled to death, carved into snuff-boxes<\/a> or walking-sticks, would sell for as much as that sympathy had cost them, or as much as it would come to, to build a monument over\u2014I do not say over their unsheltered remains, for by that time there would be but little or no remains of them to be found, unmingled with the sky and water, earth and air about them, save perhaps in here and there a museum or college where they might always be bought up, however, immortality and all\u2014for something more than compound interest added to the original cost\u2014but to build a monument or a shed over the unappropriated stock, with certain privileges to the manufacturer of the walking-sticks and snuff-boxes aforesaid, so long as any of the material remained; taking care to provide with all due solemnity, perhaps by an act of the legislature, for securing the monopoly to the sovereign state itself.<\/p>\n

Thus much perhaps I might hope for from my own people. But what from the British? They were magnanimous<\/a>, or at least they would bear to be told so; and telling them so in a simple, off-hand, ingenuous way, with a great appearance of sincerity, and as if one had been carried away by a sudden impulse, to speak a forbidden truth, or surprised into a prohibited expression of feeling by some spectacle of generosity, in spite of his constitutional reserve and timidity and caution, would be likely to\u00a0pay well<\/i>. But I would do no such thing. I would flatter nobody\u2014no people\u2014no nation. I would be to nobody\u2014neither to my own countrymen, nor to the British\u2014unless I were better paid for it, than any of my countrymen were ever yet paid either at home or abroad.<\/p>\n

No\u2014I choose to see for myself, by putting the proof touch like a hot iron to their foreheads, whether the British are indeed a magnanimous people. But then, if I do all this, what are my chances of reward, even with the British themselves? That was a fearful question to be sure. The British are a nation of writers. Their novel-writers are as a cloud. True\u2014true\u2014but they still want something which they have not. They want a real American writer\u2014one with courage enough to write in his native tongue.\u00a0That<\/i>\u00a0they have not, even at this day.\u00a0That<\/i>\u00a0they never had. Our best writers are English writers, not American writers. They are English in every thing they do, and in every thing they say, as authors\u2014in the structure and moral of their stories, in their dialogue, speech and pronunciation, yea in the very characters they draw. Not so much as one true Yankee<\/a> is to be found in any of our native books: hardly so much as one true Yankee phrase. Not so much as one true Indian, though you hardly take up a story on either side of the water now, without finding a red-man stowed away in it; and what sort of a red-man? Why one that uniformly talks the best English the author is capable of\u2014more than half the time perhaps out-Ossianing Ossian<\/a>.<\/p>\n

\"Graphite
Group form picture of “Ossian,” late 19th Century, by Wilbur Woodward.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I have the modesty to believe that in some things I am unlike all the other writers of my country\u2014both living and dead; although there are not a few, I dare say who would be glad to hear of my bearing a great resemblance to the latter. For my own part I do not pretend to write English\u2014that is, I do not pretend to write what the English themselves call English\u2014I do not, and I hope to God\u2014I say this reverently, although one of their Reviewers may be again puzzled to determine \u201cwhether I am swearing or praying\u201d when I say so\u2014that I never shall write what is now worshipped under the name of\u00a0classical<\/i>\u00a0English. It is no natural language\u2014it never was\u2014it never will be spoken alive on this earth: and therefore, ought never to be written. We have dead languages enough now; but the deadest language I ever met with or heard of, was that in use among the writers of Queen Anne<\/a>\u2019s day.<\/p>\n

At last I came to the conclusion\u2014that the chances were at least a thousand to one against me. A thousand to one said I, to myself, that I perish outright in my headlong enterprise. But then, if I do not perish\u2014if I triumph, what a triumph it will be! If I succeed, I shall be rewarded well\u2014if the British\u00a0are<\/i>\u00a0what they are believed to be\u2014in fair proportion to the toil and peril I have encountered. At any rate, whether I fail or not, I shall be, and am willing to be, one of the first hundred to carry the war into the very camp, yea among the very household gods of the enemy. And if I die, I will die with my right arm consuming in the blaze of their altars\u2014like Mutius Sc\u00e6vola<\/a>.<\/p>\n

But enough on this head. The plan took shape, and you have the commencement now before you, reader. I have had several objects in view at the same time, all subordinate however to that which I first mentioned, in the prosecution of my wayward enterprise. One was to show to my countrymen that there are abundant and hidden sources of fertility in their own beautiful brave earth, waiting only to be broken up; and barren places to all outward appearance, in the northern, as well as the southern Americas\u2014yet teeming below with bright sail\u2014where the plough-share that is driven through them with a strong arm, will come out laden with rich mineral and followed by running water: places where\u2014if you but lay your ear to the scented ground, you may hear the perpetual gush of innumerable fountains pouring their subterranean melody night and day among the minerals and rocks, the iron and the gold: places where the way-faring man, the pilgrim or the wanderer through what he may deem the very deserts of literature, the barren-places of knowledge, will find the very roots of the withered and blasted shrubbery, which like the traveller in Peru, he may have accidentally uptorn in his weary and discouraging ascent, and the very bowels of the earth into which he has torn his way, heavy with a brightness that may be coined, like the soil about the favorite hiding places of the sunny-haired Apollo<\/a>.<\/p>\n

\"Allegorical
“America guided by wisdom: An allegorical representation of the United States depicting their independence and prosperity,” 1815, by John James Barralet (artist) and Benjamin Tanner (engraver).<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Another, was to teach my countrymen, that these very Englishmen, to whom as the barbarians of ancient story did by\u00a0their gods when they would conciliate<\/a> them, we are accustomed to offer up our own offspring, with our own hands, whenever we see the sky darkening over the water\u2014the sky inhabited of them; ay, that these very Englishmen, to whom we are so in the habit of immolating all that is beautiful and grand among us\u2014the first born of our youth\u2014our creatures of immortality\u2014our men of genius, while in the fever and flush of their vanity, innocence and passion\u2014ere they have had time to put out their first plumage to the sky and the wind, all above and about them\u2014that they, these very Englishmen, would not love us the less, nor revere us the less, if we loved and revered ourselves, and the issue of our blood and breath, and vitality and power, a little more. No\u2014the men of England\u00a0are<\/i>\u00a0men. They love manhood. They may smile at our national vanity, but their smile would be one of compassionate benevolence and encouragement, if we were wise enough to keep our young at home, till their first molting season were well over\u2014and then, offer to pair them, even though there would be a little presumption in it, high up in the skies, and the strong wind\u2014with their bravest and best: not, as we do now, upon the altars of the earth\u2014upon the tables of our money-changers\u2014half fledged and untrained\u2014with their legs tied, and wings clipped; or, peradventure, with necks turned, and heads all skewered under their tails\u2014a heap of carrion and garbage that the braver birds, even among their enemies, would disdain to stoop at. Such would be their behavior, if we dealt as we ought with our own; there would be no pity nor disdain with them. They would cheer us to the conflict\u2014pour their red wine down our throats if we were beaten; and if their birds were beaten, they would bear it with temper\u2014knowing that their reputation could well afford an occasional trumph, to the young of their favorite brood. The men of England are waiting to do us justice: but there is a certain formality to be gone through with, before they will do it. We must claim it. And why should we not? I do not mean that we should claim it upon our knees as the condemned of their courts of justice are compelled to claim that\u00a0mercy<\/i>, which the very law itself, has predetermined to grant to him\u2014but will not, unless\u00a0that idle and unworthy formality has been submitted to; no\u2014I mean no such thing. We do not want mercy: and I would have my countrymen, when they are arraigned<\/a> before any mere\u00a0English<\/i>\u00a0tribunal<\/a>\u2014not acting under the\u00a0law of nations<\/i>\u00a0in the world of literature, to go at once, with a calm front and untroubled eye, and plead to their jurisdiction, with a loud clear voice, and with their right hand upon the great book of English law, and set them at defiance. This, they have the right, and the power to do; and why should they not, when some of the inferior courts, of mere\u00a0English<\/i>\u00a0criticism, have the audacity at every little interval, to call upon a sovereign people, to plead before them\u2014without counsel\u2014and be tried for some infringement of some paltry<\/a> municipal provision of their statute<\/a> book\u2014some provincialism of language\u2014or some heresy in politics\u2014or some plagiarism of manner or style; and abide the penalty of forgery\u2014or of ecclesiastical<\/a> censure\u2014or the reward of petit-larceny<\/a>; re-transportation\u2014or re-banishment to America.<\/p>\n

It is high time now, that we should begin to do each other justice. Let us profit by their good qualities; and let them, by ours. And in time, we shall assuredly come to feel like brothers of the same parentage\u2014an elder and a younger\u2014different in temper\u2014but alike in family resemblance\u2014and alike proud of our great ancestry, the English giants of olden time. We shall revere\u00a0our<\/i>\u00a0brother; and he will love his. But when shall this be?\u2014not, I am sorely afraid\u2014till we have called home all our children, from the four corners of the earth; from the east and from the west; from the north and from the south\u2014and held a congress of the dead\u2014of their fathers, and of our fathers\u2014and published to the world, and to posterity<\/a>\u2014appealing again to Jehovah<\/a> for the rectitude of our intentions\u2014another\u00a0Declaration of Independence<\/span>, in the great\u00a0Republic of Letters<\/span>. And, yet this may soon be. The time is even now at hand. Our representatives are assembling: the dead Greek, and the Roman; the ancient English, and the fathers of literature, from all the buried nations of all the earth, and holding counsel together, and choosing their delegates. And the generation is already born, that shall yet hear\u00a0the heavens ringing with acclamations to their decree\u2014that another state has been added to the everlasting confederacy<\/a> of literature!<\/p>\n

\"Drawing
“Declaration of Independence,” 1823, by Asher B. Durand after John Trumbull.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

And now the author repeats to the people of America, one and all, farewell; assuring them that there is very little probability of his ever appearing before them again as a novel-writer. His object has been, if not wholly, at least in a great degree accomplished. He has demonstrated that a bold and direct appeal to the manhood of any people will never be made in vain. Others may have been already, or may hereafter be incited to a more intrepid<\/a> movement; and to a more confident reliance upon themselves and their resources, by what he has now accomplished\u2014where it is most difficult to accomplish any thing\u2014among his own countrymen: and most devoutly does he pray, that if they should, they may be more fortunate, and far more generously rewarded, than he has ever been; and if they should not, he advises them to go where he has been already\u2014and trust to another people for that, which his own have not the heart to give him, however well he may deserve it. Abroad\u2014if he do not get a chaplet<\/a> of fire and greenness\u2014he will, at least, get a cup of cold water,\u2014and it may be, a tear or two of compassion, if nothing of encouragement\u2014whatever he may do. At home\u2014he may wear himself out\u2014like one ashamed of what he is doing, in secrecy and darkness\u2014exhaust his own heart of all its power and vitality, by pouring himself into the hearts of others\u2014with a certainty that he will be called a madman, a beggar and a fool, for his pains\u2014unless he persevere, in spite of a broken heart, and a broken constitution, till he shall have made his own countrymen ashamed of themselves, and afraid of him.<\/p>\n

It is a sad thing to say good by\u2019e<\/a>, even for an author. If you mean what you say\u2014it is a prayer as well as a blessing, an audible breathing of the heart. And if you do not\u2014it is a wicked profanation. So far, reader, you have been the familiar companion of the author; and you may be one of those, who have journied with him before, for many a weary day, through much of his wandering and meditation:\u2014that is, you may be one of those who, having been admitted before, to touch his\u00a0heart with a naked hand\u2014have felt in one pulsation\u2014in one single hour\u2019s fellowship with it, all that he had felt and thought for many a weary year. You have been\u00a0with<\/i>\u00a0him to a more holy place than the fire-side;\u00a0to<\/i>\u00a0him, more like the invisible creatures\u2014for he hath never seen your face, and peradventure never may, though you have been looking into his very soul\u2014that hover about the chamber of prayer\u2014the solitude of the poet\u2014or the haunted place under the shadow of great trees, where the wearied man throws himself down, to muse upon the face of his Creator, which he sees in the sky over him, or beneath the vast blue water before him. Is it wonderful therefore that there should be a little seriousness about his brow\u2014although ye\u00a0are<\/i>\u00a0invisible to him\u2014when he is about to say farewell to you\u2014farewell forever\u2014without having once heard the tone of your voice\u2014nor one of the many tears, that you may have dropped over him, when you thought yourself altogether alone:\u2014<\/p>\n

Nor can he look back, without some emotion, upon the labour that he has undergone, even within that flowery wilderness, where he hath been journeying with you, or lying and ruminating all alone, for so long a time; and out of which, he is now about to emerge\u2014forever\u2014with a strong tread, to the broad blue sky and the solid earth; nor without lamenting that he cannot go barefooted\u2014and half-naked among men;\u2014and that the colour and perfume\u2014the dim enchantment, and the sweet, breathing, solemn loneliness of the wild-wood path, that he is about to abandon, for the broad dusty highway of the world, are so unpropitious to the substantial reputation of a man: nor, without grieving that the blossom-leaves, and the golden flower-dust, which now cover him, from head to foot,\u00a0must<\/i>\u00a0be speedily brushed away;\u2014and that the scent of the wilderness may not go with him\u2014wherever he may go\u2014wandering through the habitation of princes\u2014the courts of the living God\u2014or, the dwelling places of ambition\u2014yea, even into the grave.<\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

I have but one other request to make. Let these words be engraven hereafter on my tomb-stone: \u201cWho reads an American Book?<\/span>\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

RACHEL DYER.<\/h3>\n

The<\/span>\u00a0early history of New-England, or of Massachusetts Bay, rather; now one of the six New-England States of North America, and that on which the Plymouth settlers<\/a>, or \u201cFathers\u201d went ashore\u2014the shipwrecked men of mighty age, abounds with proof that witchcraft was a familiar study, and that witches and wizards were believed in for a great while, among the most enlightened part of a large and well-educated religious population. The multitude of course had a like faith; for such authority governs the multitude every where, and at all times.<\/p>\n

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