I know no bird.
HATHORNE.
Have you not dealt with a Familiar Spirit? 125
MARTHA.
No, never, never!
HATHORNE.
What then was the Book
You showed to this young woman, and besought her
To write in it?
MARTHA.
Where should I have a book?
I showed her none, nor have none.
MARY.
The next Sabbath
Is the Communion Day, but Martha Corey 130
Will not be there!
MARTHA.
Ah, you are all against me.
What can I do or say?
HATHORNE.
You can confess.
MARTHA.
No, I cannot, for I am innocent.
HATHORNE.
We have the proof of many witnesses
That you are guilty.
MARTHA.
Give me leave to speak. 135
Will you condemn me on such evidence, —
You who have known me for so many years?
Will you condemn me in this house of God,
Where I so long have worshipped with you all?
Where I have eaten the bread and drunk the wine 140
So many times at our Lord’s Table with you?
Bear witness, you that hear me; you all know
That I have led a blameless life among you,
That never any whisper of suspicion
Was breathed against me till this accusation. 145
And shall this count for nothing? Will you take
My life away from me, because this girl,
Who is distraught, and not in her right mind,
Accuses me of things I blush to name?
HATHORNE.
What! is it not enough? Would you hear more? 150
Giles Corey!
COREY.
I am here.
HATHORNE.
Come forward, then.
COREY ascends the platform.
Is it not true, that on a certain night
You were impeded strangely in your prayers?
That something hindered you? and that you left
This woman here, your wife, kneeling alone
Upon the hearth?
COREY.
Yes; I cannot deny it. 155
HATHORNE.
Did you not say the Devil hindered you?
COREY.
I think I said some words to that effect.
HATHORNE.
Is it not true, that fourteen head of cattle,
To you belonging, broke from their enclosure
And leaped into the river, and were drowned? 160
COREY.
It is most true.
HATHORNE.
And did you not then say
That they were overlooked?
COREY.
So much I said.
I see; they ‘re drawing round me closer, closer,
A net I cannot break, cannot escape from! (Aside.)
HATHORNE.
Who did these things?
COREY.
I do not know who did them. 165
HATHORNE.
Then I will tell you. It is some one near you;
You see her now; this woman, your own wife.
COREY.
I call the heavens to witness, it is false!
She never harmed me, never hindered me
In anything but what I should not do. 170
And I bear witness in the sight of heaven,
And in God’s house here, that I never knew her
As otherwise than patient, brave, and true,
Faithful, forgiving, full of charity,
A virtuous and industrious and good wife! 175
HATHORNE.
Tut, tut, man; do not rant so in your speech;
You are a witness, not an advocate!
Here, Sheriff, take this woman back to prison.
MARTHA.
O Giles, this day you ‘ve sworn away my life!
MARY.
Go, go and join the Witches at the door. 180
Do you not hear the drum? Do you not see them?
Go quick. They ‘re waiting for you. You are late.
[Exit MARTHA; COREY following.
COREY.
The dream! the dream! the dream!
HATHORNE.
What does he say?
Giles Corey, go not hence. You are yourself
Accused of Witchcraft and of Sorcery 185
By many witnesses. Say, are you guilty?
COREY.
I know my death is foreordained by you, —
Mine and my wife’s. Therefore I will not answer.
During the rest of the scene he remains silent.
HATHORNE.
Do you refuse to plead?— ‘T were better for you
To make confession, or to plead Not Guilty. — 190
Do you not hear me? — Answer, are you guilty?
Do you not know a heavier doom awaits you,
If you refuse to plead, than if found guilty?
Where is John Gloyd?
GLOYD (coming forward).
Here am I.
HATHORNE.
Tell the Court;
Have you not seen the supernatural power 195
Of this old man? Have you not seen him do
Strange feats of strength?
GLOYD.
I ‘ve seen him lead the field,
On a hot day, in mowing, and against
Us younger men; and I have wrestled with him.
He threw me like a feather. I have seen him 200
Lift up a barrel with his single hands,
Which two strong men could hardly lift together,
And, holding it above his head, drink from it.
HATHORNE.
That is enough; we need not question further.
What answer do you make to this, Giles Corey? 205
MARY.
See there! See there!
HATHORNE.
What is it? I see nothing.
MARY.
Look! Look! It is the ghost of Robert Goodell,
Whom fifteen years ago this man did murder
By stamping on his body! In his shroud
He comes here to bear witness to the crime!
The crowd shrinks back from COREY in horror. 210
HATHORNE.
Ghosts of the dead and voices of the living
Bear witness to your guilt, and you must die!
It might have been an easier death. Your doom
Will be on your own head, and not on ours.
Twice more will you be questioned of these things; 215
Twice more have room to plead or to confess.
If you are contumacious to the Court,
And if, when questioned, you refuse to answer,
Then by the Statute you will be condemned
To the peine forte et dure! To have your body 220
Pressed by great weights until you shall be dead!
And may the Lord have mercy on your soul!
Act V.
SCENE I. — COREY’S farm as in Act II., Scene I. Enter RICHARD GARDNER, looking round him.
GARDNER.
HERE stands the house as I remember it,
The four tall poplar-trees before the door;
The house, the barn, the orchard, and the well,
With its moss-covered bucket and its trough;
The garden, with its hedge of currant-bushes; 5
The woods, the harvest-fields; and, far beyond,
The pleasant landscape stretching to the sea.
But everything is silent and deserted!
No bleat of flocks, no bellowing of herds,
No sound of flails, that should be beating now; 10
Nor man nor beast astir. What can this mean?
Knocks at the door.
What ho! Giles Corey! Hillo-ho! Giles Corey
! —
No answer but the echo from the barn,
And the ill-omened cawing of the crow,
That yonder wings his flight across the fields, 15
As if he scented carrion in the air.
Enter TITUBA with a basket.
What woman ‘s this, that, like an apparition,
Haunts this deserted homestead in broad day?
Woman, who are you?
TITUBA.
I ‘m Tituba.
I am John Indian’s wife. I am a Witch. 20
GARDNER.
What are you doing here?
TITUBA.
I am gathering herbs, —
Cinquefoil, and saxifrage, and pennyroyal.
GARDNER (looking at the herbs).
This is not cinquefoil, it is deadly night-shade!
This is not saxifrage, but hellebore!
This is not pennyroyal, it is henbane! 25
Do you come here to poison these good people?
TITUBA.
I get these for the Doctor in the Village.
Beware of Tituba. I pinch the children;
Make little poppets and stick pins in them,
And then the children cry out they are pricked. 30
The Black Dog came to me, and said, “Serve me!”
I was afraid. He made me hurt the children.
GARDNER.
Poor soul! She ‘s crazed, with all these Devil’s doings.
TITUBA.
Will you, sir, sign the Book?
GARDNER.
No, I ‘ll not sign it.
Where is Giles Corey? Do you know Giles Corey? 35
TITUBA.
He ‘s safe enough. He ‘s down there in the prison.
GARDNER.
Corey in prison? What is he accused of?
TITUBA.
Giles Corey and Martha Corey are in prison
Down there in Salem Village. Both are Witches.
She came to me and whispered, “Kill the children!” 40
Both signed the Book!
GARDNER.
Begone, you imp of darkness!
You Devil’s dam!
TITUBA.
Beware of Tituba! [Exit.
GARDNER.
How often out at sea on stormy nights,
When the waves thundered round me, and the wind
Bellowed, and beat the canvas, and my ship 45
Clove through the solid darkness, like a wedge,
I ‘ve thought of him, upon his pleasant farm,
Living in quiet with his thrifty housewife,
And envied him, and wished his fate were mine!
And now I find him shipwrecked utterly, 50
Drifting upon this sea of sorceries,
And lost, perhaps, beyond all aid of man! [Exit.
SCENE II. — The prison. GILES COREY at a table on which are some papers.
COREY.
Now I have done with earth and all its cares;
I give my worldly goods to my dear children;
My body I bequeath to my tormentors, 55
And my immortal soul to Him who made it.
O God! who in thy wisdom dost afflict me
With an affliction greater than most men
Have ever yet endured or shall endure,
Suffer me not in this last bitter hour 60
For any pains of death to fall from thee!
MARTHA is heard singing.
Arise, O righteous Lord!
And disappoint my foes;
They are but thine avenging sword,
Whose wounds are swift to close. 65
COREY.
Hark, hark! it is her voice! She is not dead!
She lives! I am not utterly forsaken!
MARTHA, singing.
By thine abounding grace,
And mercies multiplied,
I shall awake, and see thy face; 70
I shall be satisfied.
COREY hides his face in his hands. Enter the JAILER, followed by RICHARD GARDNER.
JAILER.
Here ‘s a seafaring man, one Richard Gardner,
A friend of yours, who asks to speak with you.
COREY rises. They embrace.
COREY.
I ‘m glad to see you, ay, right glad to see you.
GARDNER.
And I am most sorely grieved to see you thus. 75
COREY.
Of all the friends I had in happier days,
You are the first, ay, and the only one,
That comes to seek me out in my disgrace!
And you but come in time to say farewell.
They ‘ve dug my grave already in the field. 80
I thank you. There is something in your presence,
I know not what it is, that gives me strength.
Perhaps it is the bearing of a man
Familiar with all dangers of the deep,
Familiar with the cries of drowning men, 85
With fire, and wreck, and foundering ships at sea!
GARDNER.
Ah, I have never known a wreck like yours!
Would I could save you!
COREY.
Do not speak of that.
It is too late. I am resolved to die.
GARDNER.
Why would you die who have so much to live for? — 90
Your daughters, and —
COREY.
You cannot say the word.
My daughters have gone from me. They are married;
They have their homes, their thoughts, apart from me;
I will not say their hearts, — that were too cruel.
What would you have me do?
GARDNER.
Confess and live. 95
COREY.
That ‘s what they said who came here yesterday
To lay a heavy weight upon my conscience
By telling me that I was driven forth
As an unworthy member of their church.
GARDNER.
It is an awful death.
COREY.
‘T is but to drown, 100
And have the weight of all the seas upon you.
GARDNER.
Say something; say enough to fend off death
Till this tornado of fanaticism
Blows itself out. Let me come in between you
And your severer self, with my plain sense; 105
Do not be obstinate.
COREY.
I will not plead.
If I deny, I am condemned already,
In courts where ghosts appear as witnesses,
And swear men’s lives away. If I confess,
Then I confess a lie, to buy a life 110
Which is not life, but only death in life.
I will not bear false witness against any,
Not even against myself, whom I count least.
GARDNER (aside).
Ah, what a noble character is this!
COREY.
I pray you, do not urge me to do that 115
You would not do yourself. I have already
The bitter taste of death upon my lips;
I feel the pressure of the heavy weight
That will crush out my life within this hour;
But if a word could save me, and that word 120
Were not the Truth; nay, if it did but swerve
A hair’s-breadth from the Truth, I would not say it!
GARDNER (aside).
How mean I seem beside a man like this!
COREY.
As for my wife, my Martha and my Martyr, —
Whose virtues, like the stars, unseen by day, 125
Though numberless, do but await the dark
To manifest themselves unto all eyes, —
She who first won me from my evil ways,
And taught me how to live by her example,
By her example teaches me to die, 130
And leads me onward to the better life!
SHERIFF (without).
>
Giles Corey! Come! The hour has struck!
COREY.
I come!
Here is my body; ye may torture it,
But the immortal soul ye cannot crush! [Exeunt.
SCENE III. — A street in the Village. Enter GLOYD and others.
GLOYD.
Quick, or we shall be late!
A MAN.
That ‘s not the way. 135
Come here; come up this lane.
GLOYD.
I wonder now
If the old man will die, and will not speak?
He ‘s obstinate enough and tough enough
For anything on earth.
A bell tolls.
Hark! What is that?
A MAN.
The passing bell. He ‘s dead!
GLOYD.
We are too late. [Exeunt in haste. 140
SCENE IV. — A field near the graveyard. GILES COREY lying dead, with a great stone on his breast. The Sheriff at his head, RICHARD GARDNER at his feet. A crowd behind. The bell tolling. Enter HATHORNE and MATHER.
HATHORNE.
This is the Potter’s Field. Behold the fate
Of those who deal in Witchcrafts, and, when questioned,
Refuse to plead their guilt or innocence,
And stubbornly drag death upon themselves.
MATHER.
O sight most horrible! In a land like this, 145
Spangled with Churches Evangelical,
Inwrapped in our salvations, must we seek
In mouldering statute-books of English Courts
Some old forgotten Law, to do such deeds?
Those who lie buried in the Potter’s Field 150
Will rise again, as surely as ourselves
That sleep in honored graves with epitaphs;
And this poor man, whom we have made a victim,
Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Delphi Poets Series Book 13) Page 120
