by Ann Rinaldi
"Thank you, Mary." He nodded at me and left.
Two days later, Elizabeth Porter came into the shop. She was sister to Magistrate John Hathorne and wife to Israel Porter. Joseph Putnam was her son-in-law; his wife, Elizabeth, her daughter.
"Reverend Deodat Lawson returned to Salem Village and his former parish yesterday," she told Mama. "He witnessed the fits of the girls. He said the violence that overcame them was well beyond the power of the ordinary person."
"He has come all the way from Boston to study our problem?" Mama asked.
"Yes. And he put up at Ingersoll's Ordinary. There he saw Mary Walcott in one of her fits. He said the poor girl acted as if a witch was biting her."
"What was that child doing at Ingersoll's Ordinary?" Mama asked.
"Performing, Mary. The afflicted girls have taken to going to Ingersoll's so people can witness their torments. Mr. Ingersoll's tavern has picked up considerably in business."
"Shameful," Mama said.
"I take it then, Mary, that you and your husband do not subscribe to the theory of witchcraft?"
"We do not!" Mama said firmly. "We never have. But I fear we will soon be in the minority."
Elizabeth nodded. "We who believe in kind must give comfort to each other and consult often," she said. Then she smiled at me. "Have you seen my young nephew Johnathan Hathorne lately?"
"I haven't," I answered.
"He is much taken with you. Are you sensible of that, Susanna?"
"No, ma'am." It was the only modest and seemly answer I could give. "He hasn't been around to call."
"He's been to Boston with his father." She turned back to Mama. "My brother will be one of the magistrates to hear the cases if this witch business comes to trial."
"Do you think it will come to such?" Mama asked.
"It will. My brother and Magistrate Corwin are thinking of accepting any mischief that follows quarrels between neighbors as grounds for suspicion of guilt of witchcraft."
Mama and I just stared at the woman.
"I don't agree with my brother on that point. There have been too many quarrels in Salem between neighbors."
No one said anything for a moment as we considered this.
"Does my nephew capture your fancy, Susanna?" she asked.
"He's a handsome lad," I admitted. "And quick of mind."
"He'll be off to Harvard next year. But he needs a push with the fairer sex. I'll speak with him."
Before I could tell her not to trouble herself, she was off. Mama and I looked at each other and laughed. Then I felt the need for air. Too many thoughts were crowding my mind. So I put my cloak on and walked through town in the sunshine, heading toward the wharf.
It was a bright day with a brisk breeze. The flags of two countries, Holland and France, were snapping on the masts of two trading vessels bobbing at anchor in the harbor. Likely their captains were delivering needles, nails, and gunpowder for hides, dried beef, salted fish, and whale oil.
I loved the wharf. Two of my father's shallops were waiting for the outgoing tide so they could carry wheat to Boston. I stood there, a solitary figure apart from the activity, breathing in the fresh salt air. I'd hoped to find my father, but he was nowhere in sight.
"Ho! Susanna!"
John Dorich came out of the countinghouse on the end of the wharf. "Some sport!" He laughed. "Have you heard the news?"
"About what?"
"What indeed? The only subject on everyone's tongue these days."
"You mean the cold weather?"
"I mean the afflicted girls. You take my meaning, Susanna English. Why pretend otherwise?"
"I'm done to death by the subject."
"You've livelier subjects to discuss?"
"I don't consider the matter lively. I consider it dull."
"Then you don't wish to hear the news?"
"Stop plaguing me, John. What is it? Or do you want a coin of the realm for your news?"
"My, we're contentious today, aren't we?"
"It's just that I'm weary of hearing about the antics of a few girls who have all of Salem in a state of anxiety."
"Do I sense jealousy for the attention they are receiving? You must admit that no one our age ever got such attention before."
His brown eyes were merry yet full of wisdom. John always had been a calculating soul. I could see he was not taking the antics of the girls seriously, and that cheered me. He was wise enough, perhaps, to see it all for what it was. Nonetheless, I must be careful in my conversation, I decided, and not give away what I knew.
"Reverend Lawson visited the parsonage and found Abigail running through the rooms, flapping her arms like a bat, upsetting household objects, and wrestling with a creature that wasn't there," he told me.
"A sad business," I said.
"I say it's the greatest sport we've seen hereabouts for years."
"What meaning am I to take from that, John?"
He moved closer. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Would that I were of the fairer sex. I'd be one of their number."
"John! What a thing to say!"
"And why not? Consider it, Susanna. I think they carry on so for sport; that they are done to death with life hereabouts. And with the rules. And with sitting for hours in Meeting hearing Reverend Parris tell us how we're all damned. I think they have decided to become comic oddities."
"How terrible to think such," I said.
" 'Tis wondrous. A few young girls have their elders running to their Bibles and searching Scripture. At the same time, they have managed to throw off all restrictions. I think they are a bunch of jackanapes who are teasing—and enjoying the distress of their elders."
He sought my eyes. His own were steady and unblinking. "That can't be possible, John," I said. "They've been declared possessed by learned men."
"Yes, and ever since then they've been having a wonderful time of it. Are you going to the parsonage tomorrow? The girls will name their tormentors."
"My family is not much taken with this witchcraft business."
"Ha! Your father will be there as a town elder. I'm going. Can I fetch you?"
"Thank you, John, no. I haven't decided if I should go."
"Well, I wouldn't miss it."
"Be careful of your tongue, John. You can't confide such views to just anyone. Most people don't know you as I do."
He smiled sadly. "Do you know me, Susanna?"
"Since dame school."
"But who knows another? Reverend Parris doesn't know his own daughter at this time."
"What are you saying now, John?"
"Why should the girls have all the sport? Can't young men be possessed by witches, too?"
"John!"
"These girls will be known throughout the colony before this is over. They will hold sway over learned men. Well, I'm bound to have some of that power, Susanna. I'm weary of working hard and being passed over as nothing."
I had no reply for that. He walked off, whistling, down the wharf. Poor John, I thought. He must be lonely and friendless indeed, if he seeks such a goal.
What had our way of life done to us, that to escape it some would resort to feigning possession by the dark consorts of eternity? While others would rush to believe them? And still others would rush to join them for their own advantage?
I went home thinking that everyone in Salem was most likely choosing sides in the witchcraft business, the same as John Dorich. I felt sad, for the community was torn apart already by old quarrels, and now it would be even more disrupted.
10. Naming the Tormentors
AT BREAKFAST the next day, Father told us he was going to the parsonage.
"I have informed the ministers and magistrates that I hold no belief in witchcraft," he said. "I suggested that Salem would do better to put its energies into planning the spring crops, increasing our trade, and improving the quality of our dame schools."
"What did they reply to that?" Mama asked.
"That they wanted my presence, along with
the presence of many other good people, in the place where they would pray to God that the girls be relieved of their torments. I could not say no to such a request."
" 'Tis a reasonable request to a reasonable man," Mama said.
"May I go with you, honored Father?" I asked.
"Why would you wish to, child?"
"I know so many of the afflicted."
"Do you go as a curiosity seeker or as a seeker of truth?"
"To know the truth, Father." It was no lie. Perhaps this day the truth would be known at the parsonage.
He nodded. "I must depart immediately. If you accompany me, mind your demeanor. This is a sad day for Salem, not a country fair as so many are making it out to be."
The front of the parsonage property was crowded with wagons and carriages, people on horseback, and little groups of folks conversing in the cold as if they were at a September corn husking.
" 'Tis as I thought, a country fair," Father said as we alighted from the carriage. "Daughter, with the press of people, you may not be able to get inside. I hesitate leaving you here in the cold."
"I'll keep, Father."
But he called out to the first familiar and trustworthy face. "Here! Johnathan Hathorne!"
"Sir?" Johnathan approached and took off his hat. I minded he seemed two inches taller than when we last met.
"Johnathan, would you escort Susanna inside, if possible? Find a quiet place in the midst of the madness and deliver her to me afterward?"
"I'd be happy to, sir. How are you, Susanna?"
"Hello, Johnathan." Oh, why had his aunt Elizabeth said he was taken with me? How could I face him now? I was tongue-tied. And then someone opened the front door of the parsonage and everyone started to move toward it. I felt Johnathan's strong hand under my elbow, guiding me, felt him staring down at me.
"I've been meaning to call, Susanna. All winter."
I looked up at him. The sun brought out light streaks in his curly brown hair. His face was ruddy from the cold, and I noticed how broad his shoulders were under the cloak, how his cheekbones were prominent and strong, his eyes so blue. The nose was a bit pronounced, but I sensed his face would grow in strength to do it justice.
"It's just that every time I intended to come 'round, something else happened. First I went with my father to Boston. Other times I had to be man about the house, in his absence, after all this started. He's been very busy conferring with Magistrate Corwin. They have been ransacking their Bibles to find the true meaning of witchcraft."
"Have they found it?" I asked.
"All they've determined is that an accused witch has no right of counsel. All the Bible says is, 'Thou shalt not allow a witch to live.'"
I started to shiver.
"Don't be frightened, Susanna." He paused to look down at me. "None of this will touch you. My father and the other learned men will keep it from spreading."
"I wish I could be sure of that, Johnathan."
For a moment or two we stared at each other, as if we'd just met. When next we looked around, everyone was in the house and the front door was closed.
Johnathan sighed. "We'll never get inside now."
"Yes, we will. Come." And I took his hand. "I'll get us in the back way."
John Indian let us in the back door, and when Johnathan asked how I came to know the man I lied and said I came here on missions of mercy for Mama when little Betty took sick.
We took our cloaks off in the kitchen and stood in its doorway. We could see into the company room, where everyone was assembled.
Before the hearth, at a long table, sat Reverend Nicholas Noyes from Salem Town, Reverend Parris, and Reverend John Hale from Beverly, along with Magistrates Hathorne and Corwin. Joseph Putnam was on a bench to the side with my father. Flanking the other side of the long table were the elder Ann Putnam and her husband. Then someone announced the girls.
They came in single file. A general murmur went through the room. Young Ann Putnam, Mercy Lewis, Mary Warren, Gertrude Pope, Susannah Sheldon, Mary Walcott, and Elizabeth Booth. Betty and Abigail were already seated but soon got to their feet to stand with the others before the elders.
In the silence one could hear the fire crackle. A gust of wind rattled a casement window. Sun shone in on the polished furniture and pewter candlesticks and danced off the white plaster walls. The scene was not unpleasant. But what followed decidedly was.
Reverend Parris spoke. "Tell us, if you can, who has afflicted you thus."
The girls remained silent. He repeated the question, now directing it to Ann Putnam.
"I am not afflicted, Reverend," she said softly. "I am well."
In the next moment it was as if a hurricane broke loose. For Ann Putnam let out a bloodcurdling scream worthy of an attacking Indian. At the same time she hurled herself onto the floor, and her body writhed in jerking movements.
The room came alive as people cried out. "Silence!" Reverend Parris ordered.
He knelt over Ann to hold her quiet. Her thrashing subsided. Still holding her, he prayed quietly. Then he asked again, "Child, who does this to you?"
There came no answer. She seemed to be in a trance. Reverend Parris lifted her limp body and turned to the other girls. "Tell us," his voice boomed, "who is responsible for this evil?"
The girls just stared at him, their eyes blank and glassy.
Reverend Parris then placed Ann Putnam in her mother's lap. He turned to the girls. He was an imposing figure indeed in his black doublet and hose and breeches and his white collar.
"Someone amongst us is in league with the Devil," he said. "If only we knew who it was. You girls must help us. We will protect you, have no fear. We will guard you night and day if necessary. Tell and you will save your whole village from doom. For one person may, with the help of the Devil, destroy a whole town!"
The girls stood, straight and unseeing. Ann Putnam had come to her senses by now. I saw her uncle Joseph Putnam watching her and frowning. He never took his eyes from her. Several times he seemed about to speak, then held back.
Again Reverend Parris turned to Ann. "Who has come to you through this veil of darkness? Speak, child."
Ann slipped off her mother's lap. "I cannot be certain, but there were times I thought I saw a shape."
A murmur of heightened interest from the spectators. Reverend Parris held up his hand for silence. "Can you name the person whose shape it was?"
"I do not wish," Ann said sweetly, "to injure an innocent person's reputation."
And, oh, the anger flowed through me like a river then. I wanted to run into the room and scream out to all of them that she was lying and what she had told me. I made a move in the kitchen doorway, a gesture of helplessness. And Ann Putnam saw me. She turned slightly and looked across heads to me, just long enough to smile, then she turned away.
But in that smile was all the evil that could exist in God's good sunlight. I felt the energy of it directed at me. And I fell back in silence and in fear.
"We will pray now," Reverend Parris said. "We will pray that God gives these poor, suffering girls the strength to know their tormentors."
There was a shuffling movement as everyone knelt on the hard floor. I felt Johnathan's hand on my wrist, pulling me down.
"O great Lord God," Reverend Parris's voice boomed, "look down on this congregation of sinners. See not our sins but our eternal faith in Your mercy! Smite the unrepentant amongst us with Your just anger, but do not visit that anger on these innocents. Send forth lightenings with rain, but do not turn away from Thy annointed. Behold our plight. Be mindful of our covenant with Thee. We dwell together here in unity to serve Thee. Do not let the scepter of the ungodly abide with the righteous. Do well, O God, unto those amongst us who are true of heart. Move these young ones to name the evil ones who persecute them. Amen."
The whole congregation murmured, "Amen." And just as that was done, Ann Putnam shrieked and threw herself at Reverend Parris.
"They ride on sticks!" she scre
amed. "They ride on sticks!"
Joseph Putnam was on his feet instantly to seize his niece and hold her firm. I thought I saw him give her a good shake, but I could not be sure of it.
"Who?" Reverend Parris knelt in front of her while her uncle held her firm. "Who rides on sticks? Tell us!"
From a corner by the fireplace, where she had taken refuge in a chair, his own daughter, little Betty, came to her feet and walked toward him as if in a dream.
"Tituba," she said in that frail voice. "It is Tituba who torments us."
One after another, the afflicted girls picked up the name and chanted it. "Tituba, yes, Tituba."
Reverend Parris raised his hands over his head. "Dear God, have I then housed the Devil's helper under my own roof?"
"It is not only Tituba." Mercy Lewis broke the silence that followed. "Others are with her. I can see them."
"Who? Name the others." Reverend Parris turned to Mercy and pulled her to him. "Name them now and save this town from ruin!"
Mercy exchanged glances with the other girls, who nodded to her. "Sarah Good!" Mercy shouted. "Sarah Osbourne! Tituba!"
The din that followed quickly became an uproar in the room as all the girls took up the chorus and, raising their arms over their heads, danced around Reverend Parris, chanting, "Sarah Good, Sarah Osbourne, Tituba!"
This continued for about three minutes. Johnathan Hathorne and I just stared at each other. I felt my face go white, my knees go weak. "Johnathan, take me out of here," I said.
Outside, in the brightness of midday, I saw the flash of a red bird on a nearby bush, felt the cold air on my face, saw the blue sky. I was surprised to see the world was still the same, that the trees hadn't become uprooted in the uproar and the snow hadn't turned to black mush.
"You're trembling," Johnathan said.
I looked up into his handsome, ruddy face. "There was evil in that room, Johnathan. I could feel it."
"The elders will root it out. They will issue warrants now for the arrest of the witches."
"Arrest?" I stared at him as if he'd taken leave of his senses. "Arrest Tituba? Why, she is only a poor slave who took good care of her charges."