The Irish Witch rb-11

by Dennis Wheatley

  "Twas in the winter of '90/91 that I first met him. Rising twenty-eight he was then and already a well-known figure in Dublin. At both Mr. Greig's school and later at Trinity College he had been incorrigibly idle, yet he seemed to acquire knowledge as lesser men breathe in air. In the middle of the eighties he eloped with and mar­ried a girl of fifteen called Matilda Witherington. Martha he called her, but had not enough money to keep her, so they had to live with her family. Finding that insupport­able, he went off to London and became a student-at-law in the Middle Temple. There he loafed again until he became reconciled to his father-in-law, returned to Dublin and in '89 took his degree of L.L.B. He practised as a barrister for a while on the Leinster circuit, but he detested the law and threw himself into politics.

  'In 1790 there occurred the affair of Nootka Sound, about which I doubt you have ever heard. The place was a sheltered anchorage thousands of miles away on the Pacific coast of Canada. Both Spain and England claimed it and came to the verge of war. Wolfe's pamphlet on the subject, published under the name of "Hibernicus", first drew the attention of other patriots to him. In it he argued that Ireland was not bound by any declaration of war on the part of England, and ought to insist on remaining neutral.

  'It was during the following winter that we secretly became lovers. I conceived so great a passion for him that I ceased to go with any other men and, when I knew myself to have become pregnant by him, refused to let my grandmother abort me. My greatest regret is that I failed to persuade Wolfe to join my grandmother's coven, for had he done so we could have invoked power to further his projects and protect him personally. It was no case of his being a bigoted Catholic. On the contrary, his secret intention was, when Ireland had become free, to work for a general revolt against all Christian creeds; although, in order to first achieve political freedom, he strove to unite Catholics and Protestants. His rejection of my pleas was due to the fact that he was fully occupied in forming a club with William Drennan, Peter Burrowes, Thomas Addis Emmet and other patriots.

  'The news of the success of the French Revolution enor­mously increased the urge among our people to throw off the yoke of England—especially among the Scottish Pres­byterians in northern Ireland. On July 14th they celebrated in Belfast with great rejoicing the anniversary of the fall of the Bastille. It was then that Wolfe issued his great manifesto, which ran, "My objects are to sub­vert the tyranny of our execrable government, to break the connection with England, the never-failing source of all our political evils, and to assert the independence of my country" And, although himself nominally a Catholic, he had the honour of being elected an honorary member of the first company of the Belfast Green Volunteers. It was in Belfast, too, that he assisted in the formation of a union of Irishmen of every religious persuasion; then he returned to Dublin and, with James Tandy, founded the club of United Irishmen, which became the mainspring of all endeavours to achieve the Republican principles of liberty and equality.

  'All over Ireland there were demonstrations against the English but, by '94, Wolfe and his friends realised that if our tyrants were to be overthrown armed help was needed from France. He prepared a memorandum declar­ing Ireland ripe for revolution, which was to have been taken to Paris by the Reverend William Jackson, but Jack­son was caught, tried as a traitor and died in prison. Wolfe then emigrated to the United States and in Philadelphia secured from the French Minister there an introduction to the Committee of Public Safety which then ruled Revo­lutionary France. Although he could speak hardly a word of French, he convinced the famous Carnot, who was Minister for War, that, given armed support, a rebellion by the Irish would prove successful, and Ireland could then be made a base for the invasion of England.

  'General Hoche was nominated by the Directory to command the expedition, and Wolfe given a commision as Adjutant-General. The preparations met with long delays, but at length, in December '96, they sailed with forty-three ships and fourteen thousand men. Alas, those delays brought ruin to our hopes. Mid-winter tempests four times dispersed the fleet, and it straggled back to Brest.

  'It was not until '98 that another attempt was made. In May of that year the Wexford insurrection took place, and Wolfe used the news of it to re-arouse French interest in Ireland. General Bonaparte had sailed to Egypt with the finest regiments of the French Army and the greater part of the French Navy, so Wolfe could be given only inferior ships and a few thousand men. Again misfortune befell our hero. The expedition arrived off Lough Swilly early in October but, before the troops could be landed, a powerful English squadron arrived on the scene. Wolfe commanded one of the batteries in his ship and fought it for four hours most gallantly; but she was then forced to surrender and he, with the other survivors, was made prisoner.

  'He was taken to Dublin, tried and condemned to death by his enemies. As an officer in the French Army, wearing the uniform of that country, he insisted on his right to be shot; but the vindictive English decreed that he should be hanged as a traitor. Rather than suffer such a disgrace, he took his own life. So ended the life of the valiant man who, for a brief season, I was privileged to have as a lover and whose daughter you are.'

  The account of Wolfe Tone's ceaseless endeavours to free his country had brought Jemima to tears. Dabbing at her fine eyes with a wisp of handkerchief, she mur­mured. 'Thank you, dear mother, for revealing to me that my father was so splendid a man. How I wish I had had the opportunity to throw myself at his feet in admiration, and aid him in some way.'

  The beautiful witch smiled. 'Although it is long dead that he is, you aid the cause for which he died. As indeed I have done for many years. France still remains Ireland's only hope, and may yet free our people. In his ill-starred attempt to conquer Russia, the Emperor lost a great army, but I know him to be back in Paris and, with his bound­less energy, now raising another army. The coming sum­mer may well see a revival of his fortunes and the defeat of his enemies on the Continent. We must continue to aid him by sending to Paris all the intelligence we can glean of England's plans and resources. You are well placed for such work and, through Maureen, have sent me many useful items of information. Monsignor Damien was prais­ing your efforts only a week ago.'

  'Monsignor Damien? Who is he?' Jemima asked with quick interest.

  'I first met him in Ireland some years ago, and brought him to England with me. He is a Frenchman who came over to escape the Terror, and was later unfrocked for insufflating pretty women who came to his confessional, in order to seduce them.'

  'Insufflating. What is that?'

  'Breathing upon them. The practice arouses sexual desire. When I learned of this I decided that he might be the very man to act as High Priest for me, and he readily agreed. He already had contacts with the French in Dub­lin, through whom he was sending information, and has since made contact with a Dutchman, through whom we correspond with Paris.'

  ' After a moment's silence, Jemima said, 'Tell me now, dear mother, can you aid me in the matter of Charles St. Ermins?'

  'The Powers help those who help themselves. He is an honourable young man. If you could seduce him . . .'

  Jemima shook her head. 'In the limited time I have at my disposal, 'tis most unlikely that an occasion will arise when I'd have the chance.'

  'Then you must procure something for me impregnated with his essence.'

  'Lady Luggala suggested a snippet of his pubic hair, but I can think of no means of procuring it. We are not sufficiently intimate for me to request it of him without his thinking me immoderately immodest, and so unfitted to become his wife.'

  'True; and to give him any such idea would be fatal to our plans. Nail parings or a handkerchief he had used would have no such suggestive association, but are second best. Even something he has worn could be used by me to cast a spell of sorts upon him. But something impregnated with his emanations I must have if I am to aid you. Eager as I am to help you, child, I must leave it to your ingen­uity to get possession of some such thing and bring it to me.'


  For another hour the mother and daughter talked on. They had not only the features but minds that had much in common, so they delighted in each other, and when they parted it was with expressions of deep affection.

  One week later Jemima came to the witch's house again. She had seen Charles only twice since her last visit, as their mutual attraction had not reached a point of meeting in secret. Much as Jemima would have welcomed an afternoon drive alone with Charles, it was for the man to suggest any such rendezvous, and Charles had done no more than pay special attention to her in society, express his admiration for her and, on several occasions, embrace and snatch kisses from her when sitting out in secluded corners during dances.

  But the previous night Lady Luggala had given a rout at her house in Soho Square. On the excuse of giving Charles some Irish linen handkerchiefs to take away with him, Jemima had got him up to her boudoir. She had hoped that he would take the opportunity to seduce her there, but his code forbade him to go so far with a young lady of breeding; so they had got no further than a pas­sionate session on a sofa, which had left them both pant­ing.

  Having failed to entrap her quarry to a point where she could afterwards say to him with starry-eyed inno­cence, 'Charles, my love, we must let my mother and yours know that we are now engaged,' Jemima had had to resort to her second string. When they had got back their breath, she said with a deep sigh :

  'Charles, I am desolate at your going away. I shall miss you most terribly. I pray you, give me something of yours that I may treasure in your absence.'

  'I'll do so willingly, sweet Jemima,' he replied. 'But what?'

  After a moment's apparent thought, she exclaimed, 'I have it! Let me cut off a lock of your dark hair. I'll put it in a locket, then wear it between my breasts at night and dream of you.'

  Pleased and flattered to find her feeling for him deeper than that he had aroused in his other flirts, Charles readily agreed. Then, as they would not be seeing each other again before he left two days later, they embraced again in affectionate farewell.

  The following afternoon, when Jemima related to her mother all that had taken place, and produced a small, enamelled box in which reposed a dark curl snipped from the back of Charles's head, the witch took it and said :

  'In the circumstances, you have done well, my daugh­ter. Were this his pubic hair, mingled with some of yours, I could bind him to you. That I cannot now do. But at least I can use this hair for his protection, so that he is neither killed nor injured while he is at the war. While there 'tis most unlikely that he will meet with anyone he wishes to marry; so, on his return, you will have another chance to make him yours. Come here again late tomor­row night; by then I will have kneaded his hair into wax and formed a puppet of it upon which we will perform a magic'

  When Jemima came again to the house, her mother showed her a wax figure, about nine inches high. Etched down the back was the name, Charles St. Ermins. They

  talked affectionately for some time while drinking a bottle of wine, then, a little before midnight, the witch took Jemima down to the temple.

  It was lit as it had been for the New Year's Eve meet­ing. But in front of the altar there stood, instead of the curiously-shaped stool, a brazier filled with glowing coals, above which was an iron pan on a tripod. Both women stripped themselves naked, then performed certain curious rites that included the use of a leather phallus.

  The witch then set the wax puppet upright in the iron pan and, while it melted, recited an invocation to the figure of Bast. The intention was to preserve Jemima's image in Charles's mind, and give him protection from all the normal hazards of war: from, sword^ lance, pike and bayonet, from lead bullets, fragments of iron cannon balls and explosions.

  But they failed to include rope, and by rope a man may be hanged.

  6

  The End of the Road

  On February 28th Roger and Mary landed in New York. For him, having all his life been a bad sailor, the voyage had been one of almost unmitigated misery. Sometimes for days on end the winter storms had churned the ocean into great masses of water, seeming mountain-high, that threatened to engulf the ship as easily as a whale swallows a herring. For hour after hour she slithered up the long green slopes until the crests of huge waves broke over her, then plunged at terrifying speed down into watery valleys. While she ran, often with bare masts and hatches battened down, before such storms, Roger rolled, sick and weak, on his narrow berth in the little cabin.

  During the worst storms Mary had also been seasick, but she proved the better sailor and had tended him most of the time like a ministering angel. On days when the weather was less inclement she bullied him into stagger­ing up on deck to exchange the stuffy air of the cabin for freezing wind and sometimes driving rain. On such occa­sions Silas van Wyck helped her with him and at other times, when Roger could not be persuaded to leave the cabin, gave her his arm on the heaving deck and proved a most pleasant companion.

  For most of the time Roger had eaten very little and, when he did feel well enough to join the others at table, he found the fare meagre and unappetising. This was because the ship had not been provisioned for an Atlantic crossing, so during the last weeks of the voyage both pas­sengers and crew had to make do mainly on weevilly bis­cuits and brackish water.

  Added to these discomforts Roger was greatly worried about what would happen to Mary and himself when they reached America. His expenses in getting out of Russia and while in Stockholm had sadly reduced the consider­able sum he normally carried on him when abroad. In his money belt he had now only a dozen gold pieces and the little wash-leather bag containing a few small diamonds that he always kept there against emergencies. But how long would such slender resources last? And, above all, how could he and Mary possibly get home from a country at war with Britain ?

  During a spell of bitter weather, a few days before they sighted land, Roger had talked over his problems with van Wyck, and the friendly American merchant had proved most helpful. He could offer no suggestion about the Brooks' securing a passage back to England, but he said that his house in New York was large and comfort­able, and insisted that they should be his guests there while exploring the possibilities of recrossing the ocean. In con­sequence, when they landed at the snow-covered dock in the Hudson river, they went ashore with him.

  Van Wyck had not exaggerated about his home. It was a three-storey, brownstone mansion some quarter of a mile from the tip of Manhattan Island, looking across the water to Brooklyn village. His wife and family were natur­ally surprised and delighted to see him. Mrs. van Wyck was a rosy-cheeked, buxom lady in her early forties, and there were three teenage daughters: Prudence, Guelda and Faith. While the mother made the Brooks welcome, the girls smiled at Mary and dropped curtseys, then two young negress house slaves were sent bustling off to light fires in the upstairs rooms and prepare them for the visi­tors.

  An hour later they all sat down to an excellent dinner to which, after their weeks of privation, the three voyagers did ample justice. Roger had lost nearly two stone in weight, and had come ashore in very poor shape; but after this hearty meal, washed down with an ample supply of red wine followed by port, he began to feci more like his old self.

  There was little to tell of the war. After the disaster to the American force under General Van Reusselaer in mid-October, winter had closed in, rendering further major land operations impossible, and it was not expected that they would be resumed until mid-April. At sea the Ameri­cans continued to harass British commerce, but the British had considerably increased their squadrons off the United States coast, and it was feared that, as the weather im­proved, the ports in the north would be as closely block­aded as those in the south already were.

  Roger had had no reason to fear that while in America any restriction would be placed on his liberty, because the States were at war with Britain. It was Napoleon who, after the brief Peace of Amiens in 1803, had originated the arrest and internment of all civilians who, later, were termed 'e
nemy aliens'. This innovation in warfare had profoundly shocked all other nations and had been gener­ally regarded as a most barbarous infliction on thousands of harmless people. But Roger had anticipated that, al­though van Wyck had so generously offered Mary and him hospitality, owing to their being English, the majority of Americans would not conceal their bitter resentment at having had to resort to war with Britain in defence of their right to trade freely.

  However, this proved far from being the case. During the next few days, having learned of van Wyck's unex­pected return, scores of his acquaintances came to call on him. When introduced to Mary and Roger, they con­doled with them on their plight, showed a warm friendli­ness and expressed the hope that they would be able to help in making the exiles' stay in New York enjoyable.

  This attitude was due largely to the fact that, although some forty years earlier they had had to fight Britain to gain their independence and were now fighting her again, their sympathies were still with her in the desperate war she had for so long been waging on the Continent against the French.

  Generals Lafayette and Rochambeau and numerous other French officers having come to the aid of the Ameri­cans during their revolution, had not materially altered the fact that, from the earliest times of settlement along the Eastern coast, in both the north and south, the French had been the hereditary enemy. Louis XIV had succeeded in establishing a thriving colony in New France, as Canada was first called, and another in Louisiana on the Gulf of Mexico. The former had not been conquered until fifty years earlier, when General Wolfe had scaled the heights of Abraham and defeated the Marquis de Mont­calm ; and the latter acquired by purchase from Napoleon as recently as 1803.

  Roger soon learned that the New Yorkers differed greatly from the population of all other States in the Union. In the earlier part of the seventeenth century the two major British settlements in America had for many years been separated. That in the north was inhabited by the Puritan New England farmers, that in the south by the sugar and cotton growers descended from Catholic Elizabethans and Stuart cavaliers. Between them had lain Dutch and Swedish colonies, known as the New Nether­lands, which consisted of Manhattan Island and the lands adjacent to the Hudson river, and New Sweden, north of Delaware Bay.