by Howard Pyle
In this case the “afflicted” girls were brought up to Captain Alden, one after the other and upon his being made to touch them with his hand, they invariably drew a deep breath of relief, and said they felt entirely well again.
“You see Captain Alden,” said Squire Gedney solemnly, “none of the tests fail in your case. If there were only one proof, we might doubt; but as the Scripture says, by the mouths of two or three witnesses shall the truth be established. If you were innocent a just God would not allow you to be overcome in this manner.”
“I know that there is a just God, and I know that I am entirely innocent” replied the noble old seaman in a firm voice. “But it is not for an uninspired man like me, to attempt to reconcile the mysteries of His providence. Far better men than I am, even prophets and apostles, have been brought before magistrates and judges, and their good names lied away, and they condemned to the prison and the scaffold and the cross. Why then, should I expect to fare better than they did? All I can do, like Job of old, is to maintain my integrity — even though Satan and all his imps be let loose for a time against me.”
Here the Reverend Master Noyes rose excitedly, and said that the decisions of heathen courts and judges were one thing; and the decisions of godly magistrates, who were all members of the church of the true God, and therefore inspired by his spirit, was a very different thing. He said it was simply but another proof of the guilt of the accused, that he should compare himself with the apostles and the martyrs; and these worshipful Christian magistrates with heathen magistrates and judges. Hearing him talk in this ribald way, he could no longer doubt the accusation brought against him; for there was no surer proof of a man or woman having dealings with Satan, than to defame and calumniate God’s chosen people.
As Mr. Noyes took his seat, the magistrates said they had heard sufficient, and ordered the committal of the accused to Boston prison to await trial.
“I will give bail for Captain Alden’s appearance, to the whole amount of my estate,” said Joseph Putnam coming forward. “A man of his age, who has served the colony in so many important positions, should be treated with some leniency.”
“We are very sorry for the Captain,” answered Squire Gedney, “but as this is a capital offence, no bail can be taken.”
“Thank you, Master Putnam, but I want no bail,” said the old seaman proudly. “If the colony of Massachusetts Bay, which my father helped to build up, and for which I have labored so long and faithfully, chooses to requite my services in this ungrateful fashion, let it be so. The shame is on Massachusetts not on me!”
CHAPTER XXVI.
Considering New Plans.
“Well, what now?” said Master Joseph Putnam to his guest, as they rode homeward. “You might give up the sea-route and try a push through the wilderness to the Hudson River.”
“Rather dangerous that.”
“Yes, unless you could secure the services of some heathen savages to pilot you through.”
“Could we trust them?”
“Twenty years ago, according to my father’s old stories, we could; but they are very bitter now — they do not keep much faith with white men.
“Perhaps the white men have not kept much faith with them.”
“Of course not. You know they are the heathen; and we have a Bible communion to exterminate them, and drive them out of our promised land.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Well, not exactly,” and Master Joseph laughed. “Besides, I think the Quaker plan both cheaper in the end and a great deal safer. Not that I believe they have any more right to the land than we have.”
“Penn and the Quakers think differently.”
“I know they do — but they are a set of crazy enthusiasts.”
“What is your view? That of your ministers? The earth is the Lord’s. He has given it to His saints. We are the saints.”
Master Joseph laughed again. “Well, something like that. The earth is the Lord’s. He has intended it for the use of His children. We are His children quite as much as the savages. Therefore we have as much right to it as they have.”
“Only they happen to be in possession,” replied Master Raymond, drily.
“Are they in possession? So far as they are actually in possession, I admit their right. But do you seriously mean that a few hundred or thousand of wild heathen, have a right to prior occupancy to the whole North American continent? It seems to me absurd?”
“A relative of mine has ten square miles in Scotland that he never occupies, in your sense of the word any more than your red-men do; and yet he is held to have a valid right to it, against the hundreds of peasants who would like to enter in and take possession.”
“Oh, plenty of things are done wrong in the old world,” replied Master Putnam; “that is why we Puritans are over here. But still the fact remains that the earth is the Lord’s and that He intended it for His children’s use; and no merely legal or personal right can be above that. If ever the time comes that your relative’s land is really needed by the people at large, why then some way will have to be contrived to get hold of it for them.”
“The Putnam family have a good many broad acres too,” said Master Raymond, with a smile, looking around him.
“Oh, you cannot scare me,” replied his friend, also smiling. “What is sauce for the Campbell goose is sauce for the Putnam gander. If the time ever comes when the public good requires that the broad lands of the Putnams — if there be any Putnams at that time — have to be appropriated to meet the wants of their fellow men, then the broad Putnam lands will have to go like the rest, I imagine. We have taken them from the Indians, just as the Normans took them from the Saxons — and as the Saxons took them from the Danes and the ancient inhabitants — by the strong hand. But the sword can give no right — save as the claim of the public good is behind it. Show me that the public good requires it, and I am willing that the title-deeds for my own share of the broad Putnam lands shall be burnt up tomorrow.”
“I believe you, my dear friend,” said Master Raymond, gazing with admiration upon the manly, glowing face of this nature’s nobleman. “And I am inclined to think that your whole view of the matter is correct. But, coming back to our first point, do you know of any savage that we could trust to guide us safely to the settlements on the Hudson?”
“If old king Philip, whose head has been savagely exposed to all weathers on the gibbet at Plymouth for the last sixteen years, were alive, something perhaps might be done. His safeguard would have carried you through.”
“Is there not another chief, called Nucas?”
“Oh, old Nucas, of the Mohegans. He was a character! But he died ten years ago. Lassacus, too, was killed. There are a couple of Pequod settlements down near New Haven I believe; but they are too far off.”
“And then you could not tell me where to put my hand on some dozen or so of the Indians, whom I might engage as a convoy.”
“Not now. A roving party may pass in the woods at any time. But they would not be very reliable. If they could make more by selling your scalps than by keeping them safely on your heads, they would be pretty sure to sell them.”
“Then I see nothing to do, but to go again to Boston, and arrange another scheme on the old plan.”
“You ought not to travel long in Dulcibel’s company without being married,” said Master Putnam bluntly.
“Very true — but we can not well be married without giving our names to the minister; and to do that, would be to deliver ourselves up to the authorities.”
“Mistress Putnam and myself might accompany you to New York — we should not mind a little trip.”
“And thus make yourselves parties to Dulcibel’s escape? No, no, my good friend — that would be to put you both in prison in her place.”
“It is not likely there would be any other woman on board the vessel — that is of any reputation. You must try to get some one to go with you.”
“And incur the certainty of punishment w
hen she returns?”
“Perhaps you could find some one who would like to settle permanently in New York. I should like to go myself if I could, and get out of this den of wild beasts.”
“Yes, I may be able to do that — though I shall not dare to try that until the last day almost — for the women always have some man to consult, and thus our secret plan would get blown about, to our great peril.”
“I have a scheme!” cried Master Joseph in exultation. “It is the very thing,” and he burst out laughing. “Kidnap Cotton Mather, or one of the other Boston ministers, and take him with you.”
“That would be a bold stroke,” replied Master Raymond, also laughing heartily. “But, like belling the cat, it is easier said than done. Ministers are apt to be cautious and wary. They are timid folk.”
“Not when a wedding is to be solemnized, and a purse of gold-pieces is shaken before them,” returned Master Putnam. “Have everything ready to sail. Then decoy the minister on board, to marry a wealthy foreign gentleman, a friend of the skipper’s — and do not let him go again. Pay him enough and the skipper will think it a first rate joke.”
“But he might be so angry that he would refuse to marry us after all our trouble.”
“Oh, do not you believe that — if you make the fee large enough. Treat him kindly, represent to him the absolute necessity of the case, say that you never would have thought of such a thing if it could in any way have been avoided, and I’ll warrant he will do the job before you reach New York.”
“I wish I felt as certain as you do.”
“Well, suppose he will not be mollified. What then? Your end is attained. He has acted as chaperon, and involuntary master of propriety whether he would or not. A minister is just as good as a matron to chaperon the maiden. Of course he will have his action for damages against you, and you will be willing to pay him fairly, but if he brings you before a jury of New Yorkers, and you simply relate the facts, and the necessity of the case, little will he get of damages beyond a plentiful supply of jokes and laughter. You know there is very little love lost between the people of the two colonies; and that the Manhattan people have no more respect for all the witchcraft business, than you and I have.”
Master Raymond made no reply. He did not want to kidnap a minister, if it could be in any way avoided. With Master Putnam, however, that seemed to be one of the most desirable features of the proposed plan, only he was tenfold more sorry now than ever, that such weighty prudential reasons prevented his taking any active share in the enterprise. To kidnap a minister — especially if it could be the Reverend Cotton Mather — seemed to him something which was worth almost the risking of his liberty and property in which to take a hand.
CHAPTER XXVII.
The Dissimulation of Master Raymond.
About this time the gossips of Salem village began to remark upon the attentions that were being paid by the wealthy young Englishman, Master Ellis Raymond, to various members of the “afflicted circle.” He petted those bright and terribly precocious children of twelve, Ann Putnam and Abigail Williams; he almost courted the older girls, Mary Walcot, Mercy Lewis and Leah Herrick and had a kindly word for Mary Warren, Sarah Churchill and others, whenever he saw them. As for Mistress Ann Putnam, the mother, he always had been very respectful to her. While in Boston he had purchased quite an assortment of those little articles which the Puritan elders usually denominated “gew-gaws” and “vain adornments” and it was observed that Abigail Williams especially had been given a number of these, while the other girls had one or more of them, which they were very careful in not displaying except at those times when no grave elder or deacon was present to be shocked by them.
I will acknowledge that there was some dissimulation in this conduct of Master Raymond’s, and Joseph Putnam by no means approved of it.
“How you can go smiling around that den of big and little she-wolves, patting the head of one, and playing with the paw of another, I cannot understand, friend Raymond. I would not do it to save my life.”
“Nor I,” answered Master Raymond gravely. “But I would do it to save your life, friend Joseph, or that of your sweet young wife there — or that of the baby which she holds upon her knee.”
“Or that of Mistress Dulcibel Burton!” added sweet Mistress Putnam kindly.
“Yes, or that of Dulcibel Burton.”
“You know, my dear friends, the plan I have in view may fail. If that should fail, I am laying the foundation of another — so that if Dulcibel should be brought to trial, the witnesses that are relied upon may fail to testify so wantonly against her. Even little Abigail Williams has the assurance and ingenuity to save her, if she will.”
“Yes, that precocious child is a very imp of Satan,” said Joseph Putnam. “What a terrible woman she will make.”
“Oh, no, she may sink down into a very tame and commonplace woman, after this tremendous excitement is over,” rejoined his friend. “I think at times I see symptoms of it now. The strain is too great for her childish brain.”
“Well, I suppose your dissimulation is allowable if it is to save the life of your betrothed,” said Master Putnam, “but I would not do it if I could and I could not if I would.”
“Do you remember Junius Brutus playing idiot — and King David playing imbecile?”
“Oh, I know you have plenty of authority for your dissimulation.”
“It seems to me,” joined in young Mistress Putnam, “that the difference between you is simply this. Joseph could not conscientiously do it; and you can.”
“Yes, that is about the gist of it,” said her young husband. “And now that I have relieved my conscience by protesting against your course, I am satisfied you should go on in your own way just the same.”
“And yet you feel no conscientious scruples against abducting the minister,” rejoined Raymond laughing; “a thing which I am rather loath to do.”
“I see,” replied Joseph, also laughing. “I scruple at taking mustard, and you at cayenne pepper. It is a matter of mental organization probably.”
“Yes — and if a few or many doses of mustard will prevent my being arrested as a witch, which would put it entirely out of my power to aid Dulcibel in her affliction — and perhaps turn some of the “afflicted” girls over to her side, in case she has to stand a trial for her life — I shall certainly swallow them with as much grace as if they were so many spoonfuls of honey. There is a time to be over-scrupulous, friend Joseph, but not when my beloved one is in the cage of the tigers. Yes, I shall not hesitate to meet craft with craft.”
And Mistress Putnam, sweet, good woman as she was, nodded her head, woman-like, approvingly, carried away perhaps by the young man’s earnestness, and by the strength of his love.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
The Cruel Doings of the Special Court.
Meanwhile the Special Court of seven Judges — a majority of whom were from Boston, with the Deputy Governor of the Colony, William Stoughten, as Chief-Justice — was by no means indolent. Of the proceedings of this court, which embodied apparently the best legal intellect of the colony, no official record is in existence. Its shameful pages, smeared all over with bigotry and blood, no doubt were purposely destroyed. So far as we are acquainted with the evidence given before it, it was substantially the same as had been given at the previous examinations before the committing magistrates.
That nothing was too extravagant and absurd to be received as evidence by this learned court, is proven by the statement of the Reverend Cotton Mather, already alluded to, relative to a demon entering the meeting-house and tearing down a part of it, in obedience to a look from Mistress Bridget Bishop — of which diabolical outrage the Court was duly informed. Besides, there could have been no other kind of evidence forthcoming, that would apply to the crime of which all the accused were charged, Witchcraft. Many of the prisoners indeed were accused of murdering children and others, whose illness had been beyond the physician’s power to cure; but the murders were all committ
ed, it was alleged, by the use of “spectres,” “familiars,” “puppets,” and other supernatural means. Against such accusations it was impossible for men and women of the highest character and reputation to make any effectual defence, before a court and jury given over so completely to religious fanaticism and superstitious fancies. To be accused was therefore to be condemned.
Yes, this Special Court, having had all its misgivings, if it ever really had any, quieted by the answer of the council of ministers, was doing quick and fearful work.
Meeting again in the latter part of June, it speedily tried, convicted and sentenced to death five persons: — Sarah Good, Sarah Wildes, Elizabeth How, Susanna Martin and Rebecca Nurse.
Then, adjourning till August 5th, it tried and convicted George Burroughs, John Procter, Elizabeth Procter, George Jacobs, John Willard and Martha Carrier.
Then meeting on September 9th, it tried and condemned Martha Corey, Mary Easty, Alice Parker and Ann Pudcator; and on September 17th, Margaret Scott, Wilmot Reed, Samuel Wardwell and Mary Parker.
It will be noticed that of the above nineteen persons, only five were men. As the greater number of the accusers were also of the female sex, it was natural, I suppose, that this should be so. And thus we find that the word witch is applied indifferently in the old records, to men and women; the masculine term wizard being seldom used.
That the learned Judges were fully as superstitious as the people at large, is conclusively proved by certain facts that have come down to us. In the case of that lovely and venerable matron, Rebecca Nurse, the jury at first brought in the verdict “Not guilty.”
But immediately all the accusers in the Court, and all the “afflicted” out of it, made a hideous outcry. Two of the Judges said they were not satisfied. The Chief-Justice intimated that there was one admission of the prisoner that the jury had not properly considered. These things induced the jurors to go out again, and come back with a verdict of “Guilty.”