Complete Works of Howard Pyle

by Howard Pyle

  I am afraid this seems a little ridiculous to readers nowadays; but to the men and women of two hundred years ago it was grim and sober earnest, honestly and earnestly believed in.

  Who, in the face of such wonderful changes in our religious views, can venture to predict what will be the belief of our descendants two hundred years hence?

  CHAPTER V.

  Leah Herrick’s Position and Feelings.

  I have classed Leah Herrick among the domestics; but her position was rather above that. She had lived with the Widow Sands, Jethro’s aunt, since she had been twelve years old, assisting in the housework, and receiving her board and clothing in return. Now, at the age of twenty, she was worth more than that recompense; but she still remained on the old terms, as if she were a daughter instead of a servant.

  She remained, asking nothing more, because she had made up her mind to be Jethro’s wife. She had a passion for Jethro, and she knew that Jethro reciprocated it. But his aunt, who was ambitious, wished him to look higher; and therefore did not encourage such an alliance. Leah was however too valuable and too cheap an assistant to be dispensed with, and thus removed from such a dangerous proximity, besides the widow really had no objection to her, save on account of her poverty.

  Leah said nothing when she saw that Jethro’s attentions were directed in another direction; but without saying anything directly to Dulcibel, she contrived to impress her with the fact that she had trespassed upon her rightful domain. For Leah was a cat; and amidst her soft purrings, she would occasionally put out her velvety paw, and give a wicked little scratch that made the blood come, and so softly and innocently too, that the sufferer could hardly take offence at it.

  Between these sharp intimations of Leah, and the unpleasant revelations of the innate hardness of the young man’s character, which resulted from the closer intimacy of a betrothal, Dulcibel’s affection had been gradually cooling for several months. But although the longed-for estrangement between the two had at length taken place, Leah did not feel quite safe yet; for the Widow Sands was very much put out about it, and censured her nephew for his want of wisdom in not holding Dulcibel to her engagement. “She has a good house and farm already, and she will be certain to receive much more on the death of her bachelor uncle in England,” said the aunt sharply. “You must strive to undo that foolish hour’s work. It was only a tiff on her part, and you should have cried your eyes out if necessary.”

  And so Leah, thinking in her own heart that Jethro was a prize for any girl, was in constant dread of a renewal of the engagement, and ready to go to any length to prevent it.

  Although a member of the “circle” that met at the minister’s house, Leah was not so regular an attendant as the others; for there were no men there and she never liked to miss the opportunity of a private conversation with Jethro, opportunities which were somewhat limited, owing to the continual watchfulness of her mistress. Still she went frequently enough to be fully imbued with the spirit of their doings, while not becoming such a victim as most of them were to disordered nerves, and an impaired and confused mental and moral constitution.

  CHAPTER VI.

  A Disorderly Scene in Church.

  If anything were needed to add to the excitement which the condition of the “afflicted children,” as they were generally termed, naturally produced in Salem village and the adjoining neighborhood, it was a scene in the village church one Sunday morning.

  The church was a low, small structure, with rough, unplastered roof and walls, and wooden benches instead of pews. The sexes were divided, the men sitting on one side and the women on the other, but each person in his or her regular and appointed seat.

  It was the custom at that time to select a seating committee of judicious and careful men, whose very important duty it was to seat the congregation. In doing this they proceeded on certain well-defined principles.

  The front seats were to be filled with the older members of the congregation, a due reverence for age, as well as for the fact that these were more apt to be weak of sight and infirm of hearing, necessitated this. Then came the elders and deacons of the church; then the wealthier citizens of the parish; then the younger people and the children.

  The Puritan fathers had their faults; but they never would have tolerated the fashionable custom of these days, whereby the wealthy, without regard to their age, occupy the front pews; and the poorer members, no matter how aged, or infirm of sight or hearing are often forced back where they can neither see the minister nor hear the sermon. And one can imagine in what forcible terms they would have denounced some city meeting-houses of the present era where the church is regarded somewhat in the light of an opera house, and the doors of the pews kept locked and closed until those who have purchased the right to reserved seats shall have had the first chance to enter.

  The Reverend Master Lawson, a visiting elder, was the officiating minister on the Sunday to which we have referred. The psalm had been sung after the opening prayer and the minister was about to come forward to give his sermon, when, before he could rise from his seat, Abigail Williams, the niece of the Reverend Master Parris, only twelve years old, and one of the “circle” cried out loudly:— “Now stand up and name your text!”

  When he had read the text, she exclaimed insolently, “It’s a long text.” And then when he was referring to his doctrine, she said:— “I know no doctrine you mentioned. If you named any, I have forgotten it.”

  And then when he had concluded, she cried out, “Look! there sits Goody Osburn upon the beam, suckling her yellow-bird betwixt her fingers.”

  Then Ann Putnam, that other child of twelve, joined in; “There flies the yellow-bird to the minister’s hat, hanging on the pin in the pulpit.”

  Of course such disorderly proceedings produced a great excitement in the congregation; but the two children do not appear to have been rebuked by either of the ministers, or by any of the officers of the church; it seeming to have been the general conclusion that they were not responsible for what they said, but were constrained by an irresistible and diabolical influence. In truth, the children were regarded with awe and pity instead of reproof and blame, and therefore naturally felt encouraged to further efforts in the same direction.

  I have said that this was the general feeling, but that feeling was not universal. Several of the members, notably young Joseph Putnam, Francis Nurse and Peter Cloyse were very much displeased at the toleration shown to such disorderly doings, and began to absent themselves from public worship, with the result of incurring the anger of the children, who were rapidly assuming the role of destroying angels to the people of Salem village and its vicinity.

  As fasting and prayer were the usual resources of our Puritan fathers in difficulties, these were naturally resorted to at once upon this occasion. The families to which the “afflicted children” belonged assembled the neighbors — who had also fasted — and, under the guidance of the Reverend Master Parris, besought the Lord to deliver them from the power of the Evil One. These were exciting occasions, for, whenever there was a pause in the proceedings, such of the “afflicted” as were present would break out into demoniac howlings, followed by contortions and rigid trances, which, in the words of our manuscript, were “enough to make the devil himself weep.”

  These village prayers, however, seeming to be insufficient, Master Parris called a meeting of the neighboring ministers; but the prayers of these also had no effect. The “children” even surpassed themselves on this occasion. The ministers could not doubt the evidence of their own reverend eyes and ears, and united in the declaration of their belief that Satan had been let loose in this little Massachusetts village, to confound and annoy the godly, to a greater extent than they had ever before known or heard of. And now that the ministers had spoken, it was almost irreligious and atheistical for others to express any doubt. For if the ministers could not speak with authority in a case of this kind, which seemed to be within their peculiar field and province, what was their jud
gment worth upon any matter?

  CHAPTER VII.

  A Conversation with Dulcibel.

  As Dulcibel sat in the little room which she had furnished in a pretty but simple way for a parlor, some days after the meeting of the ministers, her thoughts naturally dwelt upon all these exciting events which were occurring around her. It was an April day, and the snow had melted earlier than usual, and it seemed as if the spring might be an exceptionally forward one. The sun was pleasantly warm, and the wind blowing soft and gently from the south; and a canary bird in the rustic cage that hung on the wall was singing at intervals a hymn of rejoicing at the coming of the spring. The bird was one that had been given her by a distinguished sea-captain of Boston town, who had brought it home from the West Indies. Dulcibel had tamed and petted it, until she could let it out from the cage and allow it to fly around the room; then, at the words, “Come Cherry,” as she opened the little door of the cage, the bird would fly in again, knowing that he would be rewarded for his good conduct with a little piece of sweet cake.

  Cherry would perch on her finger and sing his prettiest strains on some occasions; and at others eat out of her hand. But his prettiest feat was to kiss his mistress by putting his little beak to her lips, when she would say in a caressing tone, “Kiss me, pretty Cherry.”

  After playing with the canary for a little while, Dulcibel sighed and put him back in his cage, hearing a knock at the front door of the cottage. And she had just turned from the cage to take a seat, when the door opened and two persons entered.

  “I am glad to see you, friends,” she said calmly, inviting them to be seated.

  It was Joseph Putnam, accompanied by his friend and visitor, Ellis Raymond, the young man of whom Dulcibel had spoken to Jethro Sands.

  Joseph Putnam was one of that somewhat distinguished family from whom came the Putnams of Revolutionary fame; Major-General Israel Putnam, the wolf-slayer, being one of his younger children. He, the father I mean, was a man of fine, athletic frame, not only of body but of mind. He was one of the very few in Salem village who despised the whole witch-delusion from the beginning. He did not disbelieve in the existence of witches — or that the devil was tormenting the “afflicted children” — but that faith should be put in their wild stories was quite another matter.

  Of his companion, Master Ellis Raymond, I find no other certain account anywhere than in my Quaker friend’s manuscript. From the little that is there given of personal description I have only the three phrases “a comelie young man,” “a very quick-witted person,” “a very determined and courageous man,” out of which to build a physical and spiritual description. And so I think it rather safer to leave the portraiture to the imagination of my readers.

  “Do you expect to remain long in Salem?” asked Dulcibel.

  “I do not know yet,” was the reply. “I came that I might see what prospects the new world holds out to young men.”

  “I want Master Raymond to purchase the Orchard Farm, and settle down among us,” said Joseph Putnam. “It can be bought I think.”

  “I have heard people say the price is a very high one,” said Dulcibel.

  “It is high but the land is worth the money. In twenty years it will seem very low. My father saw the time when a good cow was worth as much as a fifty-acre farm, but land is continually rising in value.”

  “I shall look farther south before deciding,” said Raymond. “I am told the land is better there; besides there are too many witches here,” and he smiled.

  “We have been up to see my brother Thomas,” continued Joseph Putnam. “He always has had the reputation of being a sober-headed man, but he is all off his balance now.”

  “What does Mistress Putnam say?” asked Dulcibel.

  “Oh, she is at the bottom of all his craziness, she and that elfish daughter. Sister Ann is a very intelligent woman in some respects, but she is wild upon this question.”

  “I am told by the neighbors that the child is greatly afflicted.”

  “She came in the room while we were there,” responded Master Raymond. “I knew not what to make of it. She flung herself down on the floor, she crept under the table, she shrieked, she said Goody Osburn was sticking pins in her, and wound up by going into convulsions.”

  “What can it all mean? — it is terrible,” said Dulcibel.

  “Well, the Doctor says she is suffering under an ‘evil hand,’ and the ministers have given their solemn opinion that she is bewitched; and brother Thomas and Sister Ann, and about all the rest of the family agree with them.”

  “I am afraid it will go hard with those two old women,” interposed Ellis Raymond.

  “They will hang them as sure as they are tried,” answered Joseph Putnam. “Not that it makes much difference, for neither of them is much to speak of; but they have a right to a fair trial nevertheless, and they cannot get such a thing just now in Salem village.

  “I can hardly believe there are such things as witches,” said Dulcibel, “and if there are, I do not believe the good Lord would allow them to torment innocent children.”

  “Oh, I don’t know that it will do to say there are no witches,” replied Joseph Putnam gravely. “It seems to me we must give up the Bible if we say that. For the Old Testament expressly commands that we must not suffer a witch to live; and it would be absurd to give such a command if there were no such persons as witches.”

  “I suppose it must be so,” admitted Dulcibel, with a deep sigh.

  “And then again in the New Testament we have continual references to persons possessed with devils, and others who had familiar spirits, and if such persons existed then, why not now?”

  “Oh, of course, it is so,” again admitted Dulcibel with even a deeper sigh than before.

  But even in that day, outside of the Puritan and other religious bodies, there were unbelievers; and Ellis Raymond had allowed himself to smile once or twice, unperceived by the others, during their conversation. Thus we read in the life of that eminent jurist, the Honorable Francis North, who presided at a trial for witchcraft about ten years before the period of which we are writing, that he looked upon the whole thing as a vulgar delusion, though he said it was necessary to be very careful to conceal such opinions from the juries of the time, or else they would set down the judges at once as irreligious persons, and bring in the prisoners guilty.

  “I am not so certain of it,” said Ellis Raymond.

  “How! What do you mean, Master Raymond?” exclaimed Joseph Putnam; like all his family, he was orthodox to the bone in his opinions.

  “My idea is that in the old times they supposed all distracted and insane people — especially the violent ones, the maniacs — to be possessed with devils.”

  “Do you think so?” queried Dulcibel in a glad voice, a light seeming to break in upon her.

  “Well, I take it for granted that there were plenty of insane people in the old times as there are now; and yet I see no mention of them as such, in either the Old or the New Testament.”

  “I never thought of that before; it seems to me a very reasonable explanation, does it not strike you so, Master Putnam?”

  “So reasonable, that it reasons away all our faith in the absolute truthfulness of every word of the holy scriptures,” replied Joseph Putnam sternly. “Do you suppose the Evangelists, when they spoke of persons having ‘familiar spirits,’ and being ‘possessed of devils,’ did not know what they were talking about? I would rather believe that every insane person now is possessed with a devil, and that such is the true explanation of his or her insanity, than to fly in the face of the holy scriptures as you do, Master Raymond.”

  Dulcibel’s countenance fell. “Yes,” she responded in reverential tones, “the holy Evangelists must know best. If they said so, it must be so.”

  “You little orthodox darling!” thought young Master Raymond, gazing upon her beautiful sad face. But of course he did not express himself to such an effect, except by his gaze; and Dulcibel happening to look up an
d catch the admiring expression of two clear brown eyes, turned her own instantly down again, while a faint blush mantled her cheeks.

  The young Englishman knew that in arousing such heterodox opinions he was getting on dangerous ground. For expressing not a greater degree of heresy than he had uttered, other men and even women had been turned neck and heels out of the Puritan settlements. And as he had no desire to leave Salem just at present, he began to “hedge” a little, as betting men sometimes say.

  “Insane people, maniacs especially, do sometimes act as if they were possessed of the devil,” he said frankly. “And no doubt their insanity is often the result of the sinful indulgence of their wicked propensities and passions.”

  “Yes, that seems to be very reasonable,” said Dulcibel. “Every sinful act seems to me a yielding to the evil one, and such yielding becoming common, he may at least be able to enter into the soul, and take absolute possession of it. Oh, it is very fearful!” and she shuddered.

  “But I find one opinion almost universal in Salem,” continued Raymond, “and that is one which I think has no ground to sustain it in the scriptures, and is very mischievous. It is that the devil cannot act directly upon human beings to afflict and torment them; but that he is forced to have recourse to the agency of other human beings, who have become his worshipers and agents. Thus in the cases of these children and young girls, instead of admitting that the devil and his imps are directly afflicting them, they begin to look around for witches and wizards as the sources of the trouble.”

  “Yes,” responded Joseph Putnam earnestly, “that false and unscriptural doctrine is the source of all the trouble. That little Ann Putnam, Abigail Williams and the others are bewitched, may perhaps be true — a number of godly ministers say so, and they ought to know. But, if they are bewitched, it is the devil and his imps that have done it. If they are ‘possessed with devils’ — and does not that scripture mean that the devils directly take possession of them — what is their testimony worth against others? It is nearly the testimony of Satan and his imps, speaking through them. While they are in that state, their evidence should not be allowed credence by any magistrate, any more than the devil’s should.”