“It tricked us, evil thing, to satisfy its own malicious nature.” Drewry made a ball of mud and threw it down in anger.
Fools!
We had not heard a word from the Spirit all day, but I was not surprised when its wicked laughter rose from the pit the men had dug.
What else will you do for the promise of riches?
No one responded. Instead, we made haste to load the tools and mount the horses, all of us despondent and much chagrined.
What fun we will have this evening!
The Spirit shouted, filling the forest with its nasty laughter before growing quiet.
We rode home in silence wishing the whispering leaves and the chattering of birds preparing for the night could stifle our ugly thoughts.
“Why is it so mean?” Drewry slapped the reins gently on the horse’s back, speaking softly. I could not answer him, and only shook my head before laying my cheek against his dirty sweat-filled shirt. I berated myself for having been foolish enough to believe the Spirit, and I closed my eyes when we passed the stand of dogwood, for it glowed silver and recalled to me the many coins lost to us. Even the farm hounds that ran ahead kept their noses to the ground and gave no bark.
Twilight was well settled when we rode into the yard, but a bright half-moon hung above the stables and we were surprised to see no fewer than ten carts and buggies parked there.
“What’s this?” I heard Father grumble at the discovery. Zeke was waiting by the stable and he quickly took Father’s reins in his big hands.
“While you was riding on the lands, suh, these folks done pulled up and pitched their tents, assured you were hospitable. Miz Lucy had me see to all their horses.”
“From where have they come? I do not recognize the carts.” Father dismounted and assessed the numbers, gravely calculating the extra feed and water he must dispense.
“They hail from far away, from the mountains of Kentucky, and the folk who own that wooden cart over near the hog pen say they are Shakers, from the north.”
“Good gracious, Shakers!” The Reverend also dismounted and conferred quickly with my father. “No doubt now that the weather is sublime you will be inundated with visitors who are curious regarding the phenomenon.” The Reverend took a deep breath, causing his chest to barrel up, as if he must prepare to give a sermon. He brushed the dust of riding from his coat in anticipation of addressing a crowd.
“What am I to do? Host the entire state of Tennessee and beyond, on my small farm?” Father stood annoyed and muddy, in his working clothes, in no mood to be hospitable to strangers.
“You appear to have little choice in the matter, Jack.” The Reverend sighed and turned to his horse, unpacking his Bible from the saddlebag. “Take the boy and clean up, and when you enter the house, strike as fine a form as only a man like you, John Bell, can cut. I will entertain them for you until then.”
“Listen,” I interrupted. Drifting from the open windows of our home we heard many voices raised in song, led by the strong timbre we recognized as the Spirit’s voice.
“Clearly,” Father’s tired eyes looked directly into my own before he spoke to the Reverend, “they are already entertained.” He and Drewry went to the bath to wash, and I was sent to fetch new clothes for them. The Reverend took the path up to the front door, but I strode up the hill from the stables and cut across the orchard so I might enter through the garden into the kitchen. I did not wish to report the failure of our mission to anyone until Father and Drewry were by my side. In the kitchen, two lamps burned and Chloe raced from the pantry to the stove, sweat pouring from the edges of her kerchief. A steaming iron pot shook with heat on the wood-stove, and Chloe took no notice of me, busy as she was. I kept my head down, surprised as I entered the dining room, for it seemed a hundred people occupied our house, and I recognized not one of them.
In truth, the number of persons present was less than half that, but still, I had to force my way through the crowd parting for me without knowing who I was. I slipped behind a line of visitors perched along the banister, all the way up the stairs, and glancing back I saw every chair in the parlor was taken, though I could not spot Joel or Richard, John Jr. or my mother. The crowd occupying our house was involved in singing a song, led by the Spirit.
We walk by faith
And not by sight
And when our faith is done,
In realms of clearer light …
I managed to fetch the clothes and slip back down the stairs, holding close to the wall, bearing a new suit for Drewry from his wardrobe, and an old suit of John Jr.’s for Father, since I did not wish to cross through the crowd in the parlor to get one of Father’s own. I kept my eyes down but I felt no one looking at me, and as I walked through the dining room unnoticed, I had the sense every stranger there was hypnotized and under a spell, so completely were they oblivious to me.
“It must be an angel, for it knows what only myself and my dead mother are aware of!” A small man with dark hair shouted this revelation to the crowd as I stole out through the kitchen into the warm night. I glanced at Chloe but she turned her back, withdrawing into the pantry.
I glided down the dark path to the necessary house, stepping lightly, stone to stone. Father had lit a candle by the hip bath and I could see him and Drewry waiting. They had cleaned their bodies and faces in piggins, and stood in their underwear on the flat platform. Father hastily reached for the linen trousers, cotton shirt and woven coat I’d brought, while I explained there were too many people in the parlor for me to fetch his own.
“ ’Tis no matter. Who is present?”
“I saw no one known to me,” I told him, and stared up at the moon and stars, for they looked suddenly closer than normal, and I felt dizzy, as if I were falling into the sky.
“What of your mother?” Father caught my arm and roughly drew his opposite arm into John Jr.’s jacket. “I did not expect to see the day when an invisible demon would host a party of strangers in our home.”
“They are singing hymns, Father. ‘We Walk by Faith.’”
The three of us looked up the hill across the garden to the house, pulsing with light and the noise of many voices. We heard talking and laughing, and a song of unintelligible syllables drifting down to us, and without speaking Drewry and Father each took up one of my hands in their own.
“Undoubtedly, it means to mock us with an audience.” Drewry shook his hair and lingering drops of water from his wash were thrown onto my cheeks.
“S’cuse me, folks, is this the outhouse?” A stranger had wandered down the hill, searching for a place to relieve himself, and Father sighed.
“It is, good sir, and you may light the candle on the left, inside the door, with this one.” I realized Father planned to take the Reverend’s advice and cut his finest figure of strength, authority and hospitality for the evening.
“Come, children, we must go.” He ushered Drew and me up the path through the garden and into the back of the house. I did not want to participate in the parlor gathering and Father seemed to know my thoughts, or they were the same as his. He had us take up stools around the flaming woodstove.
“Dish us up some dinner, Chloe, for it has been a trying day.”
“There’s only white beans and corn pone, masta Bell, the meat’s done gone.” Father frowned, but Chloe made three plates instantly, and Father sent her to find Mother amongst the crowd to tell her we were home, and merely wished to eat our supper before joining the gathering.
We ate slowly, trying to stretch out the chewing of bread and beans, for our hearts were loath to join the party. We heard Reverend Johnston’s familiar voice rising above the strange ones, while the Spirit led the group in a test of their Bible knowledge. There was a round of applause, then we heard a man cry out, “Having witnessed several hours of this magic I do proclaim it greater than the rumors! Mark this occasion, fellow travelers, we witness here the haunting of the century!”
“Jack! Children! Please, join us!” Mother burs
t into the kitchen, her cheeks pink with fetching cups of tea for the many unexpected guests. I could see she greatly desired our presence.
“The time has come,” Father said, rising and setting his plate on top of the sideboard. I noticed he had barely eaten a morsel. Drewry took my hand and I kept my head down, pushing forward, but still it was difficult following Mother through the crowd to the parlor.
“Look, there is the father! And the girl too!” A ruddy-faced and pudgy man I had never seen before stood by the door and made this announcement, and the revelry died down. Whereas before I felt invisible, I now felt like a pussing pimple on otherwise clear skin.
“Sister, sister.” Joel and Richard popped up from a place on the rug where they had been hidden by unknown boots and skirts. “Did you find the treasure? What happened in the woods?”
The room was abruptly still of all but breathing and Joel snuggled his face against my skirts looking up, expectant of good news.
“We found nothing …” I bent down and whispered in his ear.
Nothing but the good earth of the grave.
The Spirit’s tone abruptly altered from merry to malicious, and I felt a tremor of nervous anxiety electrifying the persons assembled.
Old Sugar Mouth stood about prayerfully, and Drewry’s hands worked the dirt better than a spade. As if he were made for it.
The Spirit described everything exactly as it had occurred.
Dean staved the mattock in up to the eye, every pop, pop, pop! And sweat ran off the slave like water.
Having a raucous good time, it laughed with glee between observations, and I kept my head down not wishing to see what I knew were the stricken faces of my family, humiliated before a crowd of strangers.
Old Jack dug and dug, better than the man employed in the trade of gravedigger in Clarksville. Old Jack the gravedigger! He has the knack.
I could not bear to look at Father.
Miss Betsy planned her purchases, so certain was she. She would have candy! and a gun! a book! a velvet bonnet! and satin hair ribbons too!
I covered Joel’s ears, whispering through my fingers, “The candy was to be for you.” I resented the caricatures it made of us, presenting Father as inept, and myself as a spoiled and vain young girl, but someone in the room laughed, and then there was another giggle. Though meanly done, the Spirit continued describing our party in such a humorous tone, so accurately depicting those unflattering aspects of each of us that there were many in attendance who could not help but laugh. Perhaps they could not hold it back, as it broke the highly uncomfortable tension created when our intimate thoughts were revealed. I know not the reason, but all of a sudden, in the center of the crowd of strangers, I felt again the invisible hand, twisting my hair around my throat, and I could not breathe amid the laughter. I was frightened and my heart threatened to burst inside my chest, then all went black.
I was propelled onto the floor in a violent convulsing fit, and it appeared to all gathered I was smothering under some invisible force. I panted as if for my very life, and one of the strangers in the crowd in possession of a pocketwatch and the mind to use it declared my breath was lost for up to a full minute between great gasps. This struggle went on in my body despite Father’s and Mother’s attempts to force air into my lungs. I could not breathe and I appeared to be unconscious but I was aware of everything as it happened. Mother and Father pleaded with the Spirit to relent but the Being did not respond.
“Jack, we must send for Dr. Hopson.” Mother felt she could stand it no longer, and Father asked John Jr. to ride and fetch him. “What if this time she does not recover?”
“Release this innocent!” proclaimed the Reverend. “You sinners who did laugh at the Being’s rendition of our misspent day, beg for forgiveness from our Lord.” The Reverend commanded the strangers, even the Shakers, to follow his instructions, but their well-meaning prayers were futile. The fit carried on without abating for two hours and the Spirit was silent throughout, answering no entreaties, and giving rise to general speculation that its energy was thoroughly used keeping me captive.
“You demon of Hell, in the name of God, be cast from my home, be brought to your Judgment Day for the torture and torment of this innocent child! Go from here and appear before the Lord, our God, who is all powerful and stands to conquer you!” Father attempted to distract the Being, and save my life, by shouting above my writhing body, and his forceful nature seemed to have some effect on what grasped me, for the Spirit released my lungs to breathe, and Father lifted me from the floor to the chair, where Mother bent over me.
“Thank God, the fit has ceased!”
“Make way! Make way! What is the nature of this gathering?” Dr. Hopson pushed through the crowd in our parlor.
“Good people,” the Reverend Johnston spoke in his church voice. “You have abused John Bell’s hospitality enough this evening. Let us all retire and allow the doctor his examination in more private circumstances.” The Reverend enlisted John Jr.’s and Drewry’s help to clear the house.
My head was sore at the back where I had struck the floor-boards and I looked about with my eyes half open, not caring when I saw departing looks of fear and sympathy cast in my direction. Why did they look at me that way?
“You fainted again, Elizabeth Bell?” The doctor adjusted his gold glasses on his nose, having removed his coat and hat.
“Good Dr. Hopson, we feared entirely for her life, so virulent was what seized her!” Mother said, stroking the hair loosened from my braid off my forehead. I felt as if I might cry. Dr. Hopson sighed, and opening his leather bag, he withdrew new smelling salts.
“I am much recovered now,” I breathed, straightening in the chair. I was uncomfortably embarrassed by the doctor’s deep assessing stare.
“Indeed, you appear to the eye most sound and fit.” Dr. Hopson did not remove his gaze from my person.
“Doctor, you cannot imagine the horror we endured!” Mother took Dr. Hopson’s arm with pleading fingers.
“Verily, I cannot.” The doctor placed his hand briefly over hers, inquiring, “What home remedy has she imbibed?”
“None, sir! For her ailment is not constant and I have no remedy in my pantry for ailments such as these.”
“Lucy, let us have a cup of tea. Elizabeth, I will give you a dose of laudanum to be certain you sleep, for I believe you are in great need of rest.” Dr. Hopson removed a brown glass bottle from his bag. Without pause he dropped a full spoon of liquid down my throat.
“Children, to your beds.” Father spoke forcefully and we all readily obeyed. I was pleased I would not be subjected to further prodding and poking of my body, as I felt sore and achy, from the long horse ride as much as the fit. The medicine dispensed by Dr. Hopson left a sweet taste on my tongue.
My brothers helped me upstairs, but left me alone to rest. I did not undress immediately, but stood at the window in my room, looking out. The laudanum had made me woozy and I steadied myself with my hand on the wall. I saw lanterns moving in between the tents pitched at the foot of the orchard where the ground was flat, and I realized the strangers were many, camping on our land. From downstairs I heard the sound of voices raised in argument, and I listened to Dr. Hopson exchanging words with my father and the Reverend.
“It is my considered opinion that these meetings at your home, John Bell, are of an anti-religious nature and I am greatly surprised, as they are attended by some of the finest, outstanding members of our community. Including yourself, Reverend, our spiritual leader!”
“You know not what ails her, but we have seen it, and we know.” The Reverend Johnston spoke most passionately in his own defense.
“Tell me why the phenomenon you so readily ascribe to is not in residence when I am called? And how has it happened, Reverend Johnston, that this religious festival grows outside John Bell’s door? Who are these Shakers from the north? Who are these strangers descending on our district, and for what cause?”
I felt certain Father wis
hed to know the answer to those queries much more than the good doctor and I wondered how he would respond.
“I know without experience of the visitation present in this home, it is difficult to fathom—” The Reverend Johnston spoke most patiently, but the doctor interrupted.
“I find it most difficult to fathom why you do not put a stop to these gatherings!”
“We are powerless before it.” Mother and Father spoke in unison and I could hear the pain of their situation so evident in their tone, it must have been powerfully strong on their features.
“The fainting girl is merely an expression of the general hysteria dominating your assemblies.” The doctor was frustrated and expressed his own opinion freely, with anger.
“Without a doubt, some supernatural phenomenon afflicts this family,” the Reverend insisted, begging Dr. Hopson to accept his word, but I knew the Spirit must speak with the doctor in the house before he ever would believe in its existence. “If you could use your medicinal arts to decipher some possible cure, as I have used my divinity schooling on the entity, perhaps—”
“My medical skills are of no use in the treatment of willful mass delusions.” Dr. Hopson did not allow the Reverend to complete his thought. “I removed myself from my domicile at urgent request and rode near two hours in the dark on a road most dangerously rutted these days, to find I am not needed, but merely a guest at your strange carnival.”
“Please, Dr. Hopson, let us drink some tea …” I heard Mother’s calm voice, raised with authority. “Let us argue no longer, for vials of the wrath of God have poured over us already here.” Her sorrow effectively silenced the men. “Let us sit at the table and take a moment to thank the Lord our Betsy has been delivered from her fit, and thank Him also for gracing us with such ill trials that we might strive to righteous behavior.”
“Amen,” the Reverend declared.
All That Lives Page 18