CHAPTER VII

1

JUSTICE _arrives. She will not be stayed nor thrown from her scent, although the morning wears slowly and some fear_ JUSTICE _will be balked._

On the twenty-seventh day of December, 1672, Judge Lollimour and Judge Bride, of the Court of Assistants, Boston, entered with pomp into Salem. They were escorted by the Boston marshal, by constables, aides, etc., in full regalia. This pretty cavalcade drew rein by the horse-block of the Black Moon, where ordinarily preliminary hearings were conducted.

Judge Bride (this was the great Judge Bride) said to Judge Lollimour, his colleague, ‘Sir, what will we do with this great crowd gathered hereabout, waiting to hear the findings of Justice?’

‘Sir,’ said Judge Lollimour, ‘the tap-room of the Black Moon could not accommodate one fifth of this great multitude. Let us move on to the Meeting-House.’

After them straggled the populace of some five villages—yes, and learned men, elders, doctors, jurists, etc., out from Boston. The crowd was black with the gowns of the clergy.

Every seat in the Meeting-House was quickly taken. The aisles were filled. Body pressed close to body, rendering breathing difficult. In this way a stale heat was engendered, and a fear, and an expectation. One said to another it was a fatal day. Some would have left if it had been allowed them, but the room being filled the Judges ordered the constables to permit neither egress nor entry. They feared a milling about and a turmoil that would be a detriment to the dignity of the Court.

The magistrates were set in great chairs before the pulpit. At their feet were pallets whereon the sick children should be laid when their time came to testify. The constables pulled a table (a heavy oak table) close to the magistrates. Upon this the accused should stand in the sight of all men—yes, and in the sight of God.

Certain men cried out, ‘Make way! Make way!’ and in came Captain Buzzey and the prisoner. She looked most wild and shaggy and of a touchingly small size. Captain Buzzey lifted her to the table set for her, and then, addressing the Court, showed true warrant for her arrest and swore that as commanded he had diligently searched the house for poppets, images, etc.; having found what he found, he now produced these things in the bundle which he laid at their honours’ feet.

Judge Bride, looking about him at the many black-robed clergy, said, ‘Gentlemen of the ministry, who among you officiating in these parts is senior?’ He was told Mr. Zelley was senior in these parts, but that the famous Mr. Increase Mather was present. ‘Sir,’ said Judge Bride, ‘will you, Mr. Zelley, offer up a prayer?’ Mr. Zelley prayed, begging God to discover evil where there was evil and innocency where there was innocency. He prayed that the prisoner confess if she might be guilty, but if she were innocent, God strengthen her not to confess merely to save her life. To this prayer the magistrates gave fervent amen.

Judge Lollimour thus addressed the prisoner at the bar: ‘You understand, Doll Bilby, whereof you are now charged, that is, to be guilty of sundry acts of witchcraft, more specifically the wasting and afflicting of twin sisters, Labour and Sorrow Thumb. What say you to it?’

‘I am as innocent as the babe unborn.’

‘You are now in the hands of authority and, God helping, you shall have justice, and the afflicted shall have justice. May God help us all.’

Then Judge Lollimour called on many witnesses. He called on Mr. Kleaver the surgeon, and the older doctor from Salem whose name was Bunion. He called upon the Thumbs and upon Widow Bilby. This latter woman showed such spite and malice in her testimony that Judge Bride frowned upon her and reproved her. Thus, instead of hurting the accused, she helped her, for the Judges felt some pity for the tousled, wild child (she seemed but a child) perched upon the table in the sight of all men—yes, and in the sight of God.

Mr. Zelley was called. He was a bony man of fifty years, and his hair was white. In contrast to the big fine presence of Mr. Mather and many another clergyman then present, he seemed a poor thing; that is, uncertain, ill at ease. He spoke in a low voice, saying how good had been this young woman as a child. How in earliest womanhood she had shown a most exemplary piety. How she was often at her prayers, and came to him for religious comfort, etc. As he spoke, he twisted his hands in his sleeves as a boy might. Then he said in a defiant voice that the girl had since childhood endured the most cruel abuse from her foster mother—that is, from this same Widow Bilby, who had but lately been heard. This last statement had much weight with the Judges, who thereafter did not permit Widow Bilby to testify, or, if they did, they took her words with knowing glance. By this dismissal of Hannah they also dismissed the earlier tales of Doll’s witchcraft. Although they heard how the green fruit of Hannah’s womb was blasted, how she had suffered a wretched and unaccountable illness, it was evident they were not impressed—rather were they bored. To the death of Mr. Bilby they listened with more attention, questioning a number (especially Mr. Kleaver and Mr. Zelley) with some pains. When they heard that the dying man with his last breath denied any witchcraft, they would not permit Hannah to explain how it may be that an evil spirit enter a corpse and then cry out.

[Illustration: Two men talking]

At noon, while they ate their bloaters and drank their rum punch at the Black Moon, the barmaid heard Judge Bride say to Judge Lollimour that it was easy to see through the whole miserable affair. _In primo_: This rustic town was so tedious they had to patch up an excitement—he would begin seeing devils himself if he lived there. _Secundo_: This jealous, scolding widow was at the bottom of it. _Tertio_: The wench indeed looked like a goblin, and, no matter how pious a life she might lead, village gossips would always speak ill of her—especially, as in her own ungodly way she was a pretty mouse. _Quarto_: They would both of them be back in Boston within the three-day, the case being dismissed and the local people reproved for their gullibility. Said Judge Lollimour, ‘Sir, we have not as yet seen these afflicted children.’ Judge Bride said, ‘Blah,’ draining the last of his rum punch.

2

_From Noon to Sundown rages a famous battle, with Righteousness and Justice on the one hand and Witchcraft and Evil upon the other._

On the afternoon of the same day, Doll Bilby was set again upon the table. The crowd within the Meeting-House was even greater than it had been in the morning. Many had not even gone out for dinner, so ravenous was their hunger to hear the findings of Justice and to observe the conduct of a witch.

_Judge Bride_: Once again are we assembled in the eyes of all men and in the eyes of God to administer justice as well as mortal man (a puny, weak, and miserable creation) is able. Mr. Mather, of Boston, sir, we beg your blessing and your prayers.

Then Mr. Mather prayed most decently, and as if in sight of God’s most awful throne. To this prayer the Judges gave amen and bade the sheriff go and fetch the bodies of the Thumb twins, who should next be questioned. Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings wise men may be instructed, and an innocent child may speak with greater knowledge than is given to the cloudy heart of maturity. Mrs. Thumb was asked to tell all she might concerning the health and humour of these twins since birth. These things she told. She told of the past-nature love her son Titus bore this woman now accused, and at the moment the sheriff entered and the cry ‘Make way!’ went up. After him was Deacon Thumb, and he bore Sorrow Thumb, and after him was Titus. He bore Labour Thumb. It was explained that the children were taken in fits at the threshold of the courtroom. They lay in a swoon as though dead, their faces green with pallor, their eyes closed. The bearers laid them on the pallets.

_Judge Bride_: Titus Thumb, stand up and answer me. You see this woman who stands thus before and above you all. Now is she charged with crimes which, if proven, shall cost her her life, yet a year and a little more and she was your dear heart and you were about to wed with her. You have heard your mother say that this Bilby won you by wicked spells, that once she assumed the shape of an Indian and you shot her through the heart—yet she did not suffer for it. That again she perversely set upon you, tempting and staying you beyond the puny endurance of our sex, and you struck her a blow that would have killed an ox, yet _she_ rose up unharmed. We have listened to some length of how violent and beyond the usual wants of nature was your desire for her. Your flesh fell away, etc. What do you now say? Are these things true?

_Thumb_: Sir, as God hears me, these things are true.

_Judge Bride_: There has been no enlargement upon fact?

_Thumb_: None.

_Judge Bride_: It does not seem to you that you mistook for enchantment what another would call lust? Possibly you are a young man of gross sensual nature, who might strike what he loved?

_Thumb_: God knows I am the least sensual of all men. I have never sought out women. Ask any here.

At that a girl was possessed and now a demon began manifestly to speak in her. The demon belched forth most horrid and nefarious blasphemies. The constable took her out. A dozen cried to the Judges, begging to vouch for the young man’s purity. All were silenced.

_Judge Bride_: Thumb, I see your eyes avoid to look towards this young woman. Perhaps your heart regrets that you give testimony most like to lead her in the halter. Look upon her now. Is she not your enemy? Tell her she is a witch and that you wish her hanged for it.

_Thumb_ (after a most tedious pause, looked to her feet): You are a witch.

_Judge Bride_: Better than that, louder and firmer. Come, you shall look upon her face. You shall not mock this Court.

_Thumb_: Sir, I cannot.

_Judge Bride_: What, are you still bewitched, or is it that you still love her and will not harm her?

_Thumb_: I love her. (He put his arm across his eyes. He wept.)

_Judge Bride_: Get to your chair again. How can you who love her give good and valid testimony? Get to your chair again. Your mother, she is made of sterner stuff. I see the children stir. They are about to be recovered to consciousness. Sheriff, cover the face and body of the accused so that they may not see her until the time comes.

Captain Buzzey took off his scarlet cape. It was a good new cape that had cost him two pounds. Within the month it rotted mysteriously, and the Assistants bought him another one. With this scarlet cape he now covered Bilby’s Doll from head to foot.

_Labour_: Oh, for Christ’s dear sake, sister, where are we now? Oh, for God’s sake....

_Sorrow_: Oh, my back, oh, my bowels!

The children aroused themselves a little, sat up, and gazed about the court. Now it is noticeable that Judge Lollimour took to himself the questioning of the children. The reason is he had seven such at home, while the great Judge Bride had none.

_Judge Lollimour_: Children, do not be afraid, for is there none among us but wish you well. You are only to speak the truth as your good mother has taught you—the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

_Sorrow_ (in loud, bold voice): There is one here who does not wish us well. I can feel her presence.

The Judge gave no heed, although many were amazed that the child had not seen Doll, yet knew there was one there who did not wish her well.

_Judge Lollimour_: You have been strangely sick, and I see you are not well. What, think you, caused this sickness?

_Sorrow_: Oh, sir, have you not heard? We are bewitched. She gave us our own vitals to eat, and she comes at night and torments us.

_Judge Lollimour_: You say ‘she,’ yet half the world are ‘she.’ To whom do you refer?

_Sorrow_: I can’t say her name, oh-oh-oh....

She gagged and went purple in the face, she clawed at her windpipe.

_Labour_: Oh, don’t you see, don’t you see, the witch has her by the throat? She won’t let her answer. Oh, sir, she’ll die. (The puny child struck the air above her sister’s head.) Go away, you wicked witch, go away!

_Judge Lollimour_: Now that you are restored, I shall name some to you, and when you reach the name of her whom you think torments you, you shall make a sign. Abigail Stone, Sarah Black, Obedience Lovejoy, Alice May, Delilah Broadbent, Doll Bilby....

Then the afflicted did cry out, and fell back weak and dumb.

_Judge Lollimour_: So you accuse Doll Bilby, that she bewitches you, causing your sickness? What else does she do to you?

_Sorrow_: She will have us sign in the Black Book.

_Judge Lollimour_: Come, you contrive a fancy. I do not believe she comes with a black book. Tell me how.

_Sorrow_: She comes with devils and imps and hideous animals, and they torment us, pressing out our lives, sticking pins and knives into us, and while they torment us she presses close to us, bidding us sign her book. But we will none of her, and God helps us and will save us.

_Judge Lollimour_: You claim that this woman comes to you by night, bringing such with her as prick and torment you. How does she come, in her own proper form?

_Sorrow_: At first she would come as a great tawny cat, and then again as a pig, or as a mouse, and once I remember she came as a black dog. And she brings fiends with her, hairy little black men, and these torment us. Of late I think she comes only in her own proper form. Sometimes it is hard to tell, for she can at will assume any shape. And sometimes a hand puts into the bed amongst us and pulls at our vitals.

_Judge Lollimour_: When this woman came to you and offered you a book to sign (as you claim), what would she say?

_Sorrow_: She would say, ‘Sign.’

_Judge Lollimour_: And no other word?

_Sorrow_: Sometimes she would say, ‘Sign, or I’ll squeeze your vitals for you.’

_Judge Lollimour_: But you, being good and Christian girls, would not sign?

_Labour_: Oh, sir, once a most awful and majestic voice spoke out, and I do believe it was the voice of God, and He bade us not to sign. Then the fiend flew away in a clap and did not return for a three-day.

Their mother said, yes, this was true. She herself heard the clap and it was three days before the affliction again commenced.

_Judge Lollimour_: And if you sign, what does she promise you?

_Sorrow_: Prettiest things to play with—little goats, no larger than a cat and a cat as small as a kit, and brooms to ride on through the sky—and her own pretty babe to play with.

_Judge Lollimour_: And when you refuse to sign?

_Sorrow_: Oh, she pinches and torments us, or lets her fiends and familiars torment us. They but do her bidding and I do not think are as wicked as she. Once she set my father’s great black bull Ahab upon us. He tramples us like to break our bones.

The mother interrupted to say, yes, this was true. The bull was a witch’s familiar beyond good doubt, and they but waited the finding of the Court before they butchered him.

_Sorrow_: Sometimes the witch shakes us cruelly.

_Thumb_: Sir, it is true. Those small and puny girls were so shaken two strong men could not hold them in their beds.

_Judge Bride_: What, young Thumb, is this girl, even though proved a witch, so strong, she can best two strong men—how think you?

_Thumb_: Sir, I think the Devil helps her and he gives her strength.

_Judge Bride_: You who were once her lover—you should know her strength. Was she then so brawny-strong those times you bundled her?

Titus was confused. He believed the Court to be against him. The congregation was angry, for bundling is a pleasantry for yokels, and no more likely to occur in Salem than in Boston, nor in the Thumb house than in the house of Bride or Lollimour. It was felt the Judge intended an insult. Some feared the magistrates might dismiss the whole case but from caprice. But Judge Bride was a godly man, who would not lift his nose from a scent until Justice herself was satisfied, although those who knew him best said he often seemed to pause and idly bay the moon.

_Thumb_: I never got such favour from her.

_Judge Bride_: One more thing you shall tell us, although you are not a likely witness. Is it true, as your mother has said, that you shot silver bullets up the fire hole, and that upon occasion you think you struck the accused?

_Thumb_: It is true, sir, but I shot only three silver bullets—these were buttons from my coat. My sisters cried, ‘There she goes up the flue.’ I fired where they pointed and they exclaimed that I had struck her on the wrist. Some here will tell you that there was indeed the next day a bullet-gouge on her wrist, nor has it yet healed—to this day. I saw it when you bade me look at her. You may see this mark yourself. Her apparition came commonly to afflict my sisters in an old black riding-hood.

Captain Buzzey said he had the very one with him in the bundle at their honours’ feet. He took it out, and Labour and Sorrow both said, yes, it was the very one. Captain Buzzey held it up before the magistrates. It was riddled with bullet holes.

_Captain Buzzey_: Widow Bilby gave me this coat. See, it is burnt with fire, shot full of holes as a sieve, and still smells of soot from the Thumb chimney, and gunpowder from Thumb’s musket.

_A boy_ (crying out from the back of the court): I know that coat, sir, well.

_Judge Bride_: And who may you be?

_The boy_: Jake Tulley, bonded man to Widow Bilby, and I know that coat for the one our scarecrow has worn these three years, and but yesterday I saw the coat gone and the scarecrow naked. Mate and I (that is the other farmhand) often shot at it for practice. Why, it means nothing that it is full of holes.

_Judge Bride_: And are you and Mate such miserable poor shots you must press your pieces into the very belly of the scarecrow to be assured of your aim? Look, how the powder has burned the cloth.

The Judges took the coat up between them and discussed in low voices. Jake sat down in confusion.

_Judge Bride_: Mr. Kleaver, you have already given generously of your knowledge. You have told us in what way the maladies arising from witchcraft differ from those arising from the proper body—in other words, what are the differences between diseases inflicted by the Devil for wicked ends, and those by Jehovah for our own good. And you have told us how you came to recognize the case in hand as one provoked by art. Will you tell us further?

_Mr. Kleaver_: Invisible hands often clutched the twins by the throat. I have seen them.

_Judge Bride_: The invisible hands?

_Mr. Kleaver_: No. I have seen the throats. And I have also taken the needles, pins, and such from their flesh. These children have vomited strange things—fur, insects, glass, long hanks of hair—blue beads.... (He stooped to the bundle at their honours’ feet.) Sirs, here is the basket in which the young woman sent poisoned or possessed food to the afflicted—mark the blue beads on the handle. Three days earlier, the one of them spewed forth these blue beads I now take from my pocket—mark, gentlemen—they are identical.

_Mrs. Thumb_: There was never a bead like that before in my house.

She wept. The children screamed out in gibberish at sight of the beads, and fell back upon their pallets.

_Judge Bride_: Mark the children, Mr. Kleaver, are they now, in your opinion, possessed?

_Mr. Kleaver_: Not exactly possessed. (He whispered to the magistrates.) They are conscious of a malignant presence. They know the witch is in the room.

_The twins_: Oh, oh, oh, God help us, oh, oh, oh!

_Judge Bride_: Sheriff, uncover to us the accused. Now, children, stand up, if able, and look there at the table above you.

The room was filled with their piercing din. Labour fell in a fit, foaming, rolling her eyes. She was stretched out stark and dead. Sorrow flung herself in hideous terror upon the feet of the Judges, crying out piteously that they save her. Then she fell back stark and dumb. Judge Lollimour was touched by her plight, her fear, and the appeal she made to him. He raised her up, felt of her hands and face. They were dank with a cold sweat which both Judges knew no art could imitate. Her pulse scarce moved. Her tongue was tied in her throat. She could not speak. She looked up out of tortured eyes.

_Mr. Mather_: Here, sir, if ever, is demoniacal possession.

_Judge Bride_: Here is witchcraft—now to find the witch.

_Mr. Mather_: It has been proved an hundred times in English courts that a spell cast by a witch’s eye must return to the witch’s body—if the witch touch the afflicted.

_Judge Bride_: Sheriff, carry the body of this Labour Thumb to the prisoner. She shall touch her. We shall see. Observe. The child is utterly lifeless now.

_Captain Buzzey_: She has no pulse, sir.

_Mrs. Thumb_: Sir, sir, you have let her slay my child before my eyes. Oh, God, oh, God!...

_Judge Bride_: No one can say that this child knows who touches her. Sheriff, take her, alive or dead, to the prisoner.

Captain Buzzey took her up. The witch readily assented. She reached down and touched the child. The colour returned to the child’s face. Captain Buzzey felt her pulse leap in her wrist. He felt her heart stir under her hand. The child turned in his arms, smiling prettily, as though in sleep. With a smile she woke. She glanced to the Judges, noted her sister (still in semi-trance). She smiled at her mother. Her eyes went up, and there on the table beside and above her was the awful vision of Bilby’s Doll. With a wail of terror no art could simulate, she clung to Captain Buzzey. At that moment all in the courtroom realized how hideous had been her weeks of anguish. No one could so fear a person who had never done her harm.

_Judge Bride_: Lay the child upon her pallet—and you, Sorrow, go you now and lie upon your pallet.

_Sorrow_ (her tongue still tied): Gar, gar, gah, gah, gah.

_Judge Bride_: Labour and Sorrow, as you fell into these fits, tell me what occurred. Did a fiend or familiar come to torment you? Did the accused send her apparition to you, there before your very eyes—leaving her body, as it were, vacant upon the table? Tell us.

Now was Labour also taken with dumbness. All saw how the lower lips of the afflicted were sucked in, and the teeth were clamped down upon them. Mr. Kleaver essayed to break the lock on their teeth. He could not.

_Widow Bilby_: Look to the witch, look, look!

It was seen the witch bit her lip—thus locking the jaws of the children. Captain Buzzey struck her slightly, and bade her loose her lip. Then the children were released. They said it was her own devil came to them.

_Judge Bride_: Doll Bilby, I have asked several the meaning of the manifestation of evil, so recent among us. Mr. Kleaver and Mr. Mather have both explained it to the satisfaction of many—is it to your satisfaction?

_Doll Bilby_: I am an ignorant woman. I cannot explain.

_Judge Bride_: Now you are to talk freely, deny the truth of the statements which you have heard made, explain and elucidate for us—or, if you wish, you may confess.

She was silent.

_Judge Bride_: At least you can concur with the judgement of those wiser than yourself. At least say this, Was it or was it not a devil who tied the children’s tongues for them?

_Doll Bilby_: That I do know—it was not.

_Judge Bride_: How do you know? No one else can claim to be so wise.

_Doll Bilby_: If it were a demon, I would have seen him.

_Judge Bride_: You have, then, so nice a sight you can see devils?

_Mr. Zelley_: May I speak?

_Judge Bride_: Speak.

_Mr. Zelley_: If this young woman could command a devil to serve her, would he then be so unmindful of her safety as to come into this court and work tricks so likely to hurt her cause?

_Mr. Mather_: Cannot God as well as this wretched girl or Satan command devils? Has it not been proved often and often that it sometimes pleases Him to suffer them to do such things in this world as shall stop the mouths of gainsayers and exhort a Christian confession from those who will believe only the most obvious of His truths?

_Judge Bride_: Bilby, give us your thoughts on the matter. These Divines have spoken wisely.

_Doll Bilby_: I think it was perhaps an angel—come to do me a mischief.

_Judge Bride_: Do angels come to do mischief to good and baptized women?

The defendant saw she was in difficulty. She twisted her hands in the folds of her gown. Then were the children afflicted.

_Judge Bride_: Bilby, if these are indeed your tricks, keep them for more seemly time. Constable, seize her hands. And if, as you suggest, these manifestations are the actions of angels, I pray God to spare us His angels until the Court is adjourned.

A woman was taken in a fit. She fell down laughing and sobbing, and was passed out through a window.

_Judge Bride_: Do you think those who are afflicted suffer voluntarily or involuntarily?

_Doll Bilby_: I cannot tell.

_Judge Bride_: That is strange; every one may judge for himself.

_Doll Bilby_: I must be silent.

_Judge Bride_: You have heard this morning two learned medici explain in what way witchcraft is like to resemble natural ailment, and in what ways it differs. Keep this counsel in your mind, and tell me what you would say of the illness of these children.

_Doll Bilby_: It would seem they suffer from witchcraft.

_Judge Bride_: So it would seem to many here. And where there is a witchcraft there must be a witch.

_Doll Bilby_: Yes.

_Judge Bride_: Where is that witch?

_Doll Bilby_: God knows I do not know. God knows I never hurt a child. I know of no witch that would afflict these children.

Captain Buzzey stood up. He said that when he and his men came to arrest this woman, now standing trial for witchcraft, he and his men heard her deny clearly the afflicting of the Thumb twins, and yet she had said—most meaningly—‘’Tis the work of _another witch_.’

_Judge Bride_: You shall explain this for us, Bilby.

_Doll Bilby_: How shall I explain?

_Judge Bride_: Confess now, as you did then, that you are a witch.

She was silent.

_Judge Bride_: Confess now, and your life shall be spared.

She was silent.

_Judge Bride_: Confess now and turn against these other witches—for it is possible that many are about—and I swear to you your life will be spared.

She was silent.

_Judge Lollimour_: Will the prisoner at the bar recite the Lord’s Prayer?

Doll began readily enough. As she spoke the Holy Words, Mr. Zelley covered his face in his hands, and made them with his lips as though he would help her. She went on without chance or mishap till she came to the last sentence, which begins, ‘Lead us not into temptation.’ She got no further. Mr. Zelley clenched his hands until his knuckles went white. He turned up his eyes to God. Then quickly she began and said, to the horror and consternation of all, ‘Ever for, glory the and, power the, kingdom the, is thine for, evil from us deliver, but temptation into not us lead—Amen.’ She did not know what she had done. She looked about with assurance. There was an incessant and horrid silence in the court. The Judges looked to each other. Clergyman looked to clergyman, then turned eyes to God. So was she utterly undone, but the Court was not yet satisfied.

_Judge Bride_: You have responded to my colleague’s request to the satisfaction of all, but there are some small matters yet to clear. Be of good heart, soon we will let you go. I see you are pale and distrait. Constable, see to it she does not fall from the table. What did you mean when you said the bewitchment of the Thumb twins was ‘the work of another witch’?

_Doll Bilby_: Sir, how can I explain?

_Judge Bride_: There is nothing you cannot either confess to, or explain.

_Doll Bilby_: Sir, I am confused and amazed.

_Judge Bride_: Answer but a few minutes with frankness, and you shall go to your own cell—we are not your enemies—open your heart to us.

She was mute.

_Judge Bride_: Be stubborn, and you shall stand there all night—yes, and the next day. Come, have you ever seen a devil?

She nodded her head.

_Judge Bride_: Ah, then you have seen a devil. Do not feel ashamed of that. Did not Christ Himself see Satan? Was not Luther often tormented by his presence? Some of the best of men have been the most foully pursued. Feel no shame, Doll Bilby. Speak out freely. When was it first?

_Doll Bilby_: I was a child in Brittany; my mother took me to see him in a great wood.

_Judge Bride_: An instructive and remarkable experience—and have you seen him since?

_Doll Bilby_: Last spring I saw him—he came to me again.

_Judge Bride_: In proper human form?

_Doll Bilby_: He came to me by night. Yes, he came in form of proper man. He wore seaman’s clothes and with him was an imp—a black-faced imp with a long ringed tail. He wore this imp upon his bosom.

There was a commotion at the back of the hall.

_Judge Bride_: When did he come last spring to you?

_Doll Bilby_: The last night in May—the night the Thumbs’ barn burned. Oh, sir, I am sick, let me go to my cell.

Captain Buzzey held her up.

_A high, wild voice from the midst of the confusion_: I will speak, sirs, you shall hear me.

_Judge Bride_: Who cries out?

_Voice_: I am Jonet Greene, the tinker’s wife. There are things I know....

_Judge Bride_: Stand back, all, from the woman. Dame Greene, deliver yourself of these things.

The crowd drew back. Goody Greene, an old woman and of great dignity, was revealed to the Judges. Mr. Kleaver whispered to the Judges that she was an evil woman.

_Goody Greene_: This girl never saw a devil. She saw my own son Shadrach. He was wanted for piracy—Heaven help me, I hid him by day, but he prowled by night. He had a monkey, he wore seaman’s clothes. He saw in my house the girl and lusted after her. I speak....

_A man from back_: Her husband says she lies—she never had no son.

_Goody Greene_: Believe me, for Christ’s dear sake, believe me. I had a son and I hid him ... but they found him just the same ... God found out his sin. They hanged him; he was called the Bloody Shad.

_The man_: The woman’s husband, sir, says she never had no son. Time has broken her memory.

_Goody Greene_: Husband, you are afraid. You coward, who will not confess to the son of your own loins, lest you come to shame—now is Doll indeed undone....

_Judge Lollimour_: The woman is lunatic. See how she rolls her eyes.

_Judge Bride_: Could you have had a son of which your husband knew nothing—why did you never speak of him to your neighbours? How can we believe your fables? You are lunatic.

_Goody Greene_: God help me! God help me.... May God help Doll!

_Judge Bride_: Constable, throw out this ancient—let her learn to be a sager hag—and her husband after her.

A confusion and clamour of tongues rose from all parts of the courtroom. Some wished to say what they knew of the Greenes; others had stories to tell of lunacy, devils, etc. And there was laughing and crying among women, and children wailed and would be taken home. Judge Bride stood up in a noble wrath.

_Judge Bride_: Clear the court! Clear the court! What, shall Justice find her house in Bedlam? Constables, pick up and carry out—if they are too weak to walk—the Thumb twins, and you, madame, who are their mother, go with them. Every one shall now be turned out into the snow except those who are the witnesses and proper officers of the law, and the six that I shall name. Mr. Increase Mather, Mr. Seth Dinsmore, Dr. Zerubbabel Endicott, Mr. Zacharias Zelley, Mr. John Wilson, and you, sir, also, Colonel Place Peabody. Gentlemen, the case shall be continued _in camera_. I beg of you few, however, to stay to the end.

3

_From Sundown to black Night the battle continues. The Witch is thrown to confusion. Justitia triumphans. Deus regnat._

Now was the courtroom, empty and vast, silent as the grave. Only twenty remained in the room where a minute before had been many hundreds. The day had worn to sunset and the room was dark. Flares were lighted and candles were set where there was need. But the light of flare and candle made the far reaches of the room and the dark corners behind the scaffold even blacker. Such humanity as was present were huddled about the platform and the great chairs of the Judges. By candlelight Judge Bride glanced over the notes that he had taken, and by candlelight Titus Thumb looked to the witch upon the table. She stood there ghastly pale and like to swoon. Her eyes were round and struck terror to all. She did not look again to Titus, only to Judge Bride, whom she in her simplicity thought to be her friend.

Judge Bride bade the sheriff fetch a chair—a good chair with a back to it, for he said he saw that the accused was tired past human strength. Captain Buzzey got a chair. It was a great chair similar to those in which the Judges sat. Judge Bride had it placed on the platform between himself and Judge Lollimour. The three sat thus for a moment in silence, a judge, and next a witch, and then a judge. So they sat in great chairs and upon crimson damask cushions. The witch’s feet could not reach the floor. Judge Bride gave her wine to drink from the silver goblet set out for his own use. She drank the wine and was grateful to him.

Little by little—tenderly—he questioned her. And little by little she told him all. Of the Thumb twins he asked no word, he asked her only of her own self, and of that demon who had but so recently gone from her. She told in so low a voice those but a few yards away could not hear, and Mr. Mather several times cried out, ‘Louder—an it please the wench.’ She told of her father and mother in Brittany, and the night that Mr. Bilby died. She told of the long winter, and the expectations of the spring and the fulfilment of these expectations—for the messenger had come, a most vigorous and comely fiend. Sometimes she reddened and turned away as might a modest Christian woman. Sometimes she sighed, and once or twice she smiled a small and secret smile. And three times she said she loved and did not fear the demon, and that he had been kind and pitiful to her.

_Judge Bride_: You say this devil was your lover and that he conducted himself as has many a shameless mortal man to many a woman, for he loved you, and when he had stayed himself of you he went away, whistling, we may presume, and shrugging his shoulders—ah, gentlemen, how shocking is the conduct of the male, be he demon or tomcat! And now, Doll Bilby, we are almost to the end. Do not fear to weary us with the length and detail of your history. Come, tell us more. The ears of Justice must ever be long and patient ears.

She told more. There was nothing left untold, and where she would have turned aside, Judge Bride encouraged and helped her. Mr. Zelley moaned and cried out, and his head was in his hands. Titus went ghostly white and, trembling, staggered from the room.

_Judge Bride_: But did not your conscience hurt? Did you not know that you lived with this strange lover of yours in sin?

_Doll Bilby_: I begged him to marry me. So he did.

_Judge Bride_: A most virtuous and homely fiend. And did you find clerk or magistrate to register your vows?

_Doll Bilby_: No, we married ourselves.

_Judge Bride_: Ah, the Governor of Connecticut but recently gave you example.

And he pointed out to Judge Lollimour with much leisure how evil is bad example in high places. He questioned Doll further. She told him all there was to tell about the marriage, and it humiliated her to tell that she had accepted this fiend before marriage.

_Judge Bride_: Come, come, is it then so sorry a sin for two young people to be too hot and previous in their love? Surely honest marriage may be considered salve to such misconduct.

He glanced through his notes. There was not a sound in the room, not the scamper of a mouse, not the taking of breath, no sound except the fiery rustle of the flares and the crackle of the paper.

_Judge Bride_: Doll Bilby, I notice that the children spoke often of a pretty babe—which they called yours. Now to what do they refer?

_Doll Bilby_: Sir, I cannot be sure.

_Judge Bride_: You may guess, perhaps?

_Doll Bilby_: Oh, sir, sir....

Her eyes sought Mr. Zelley, but his face was in his hands.

_Judge Bride_: Speak freely.

_Doll Bilby_: I think it was to my own babe they referred.

_Judge Bride_: And where now is this child?

_Doll Bilby_: It is not yet born.

_Judge Bride_: And to whom the honour of its paternity?

_Doll Bilby_: Who else would it be but the fiend who came to comfort me?

_Judge Bride_: Do not hang your head, young Bilby, for to conceive is natural to woman. Rather should you redden and look down if after such expenditure of infernal ardour you had proved sterile. Conception is the glory of woman.

He stood up and dismissed the hearing. Then Captain Buzzey in a great sweat of fear took the witch back to her cell, and all others went home. That night the Boston Judges lay at the Black Moon. The barmaid heard Judge Lollimour say to Judge Bride, as these two sat by the hearth and drank their sack-posset: ‘Sir, this hearing is done as quickly as ever you prophesied. We will be back to Boston on the third day. I warrant the finding is more than any expected. There is enough against the wench to hang her three times over—but that is yet for the magistrates of the Superior Court to decide. We, at least, shall hold her without bail or bond.’ Then he said in wonder, ‘To think that God has vouchsafed to our eyes the sight of a woman who has embraced a demon....’ The Judges whispered. The barmaid would not repeat what they said.

These learned men called for ink-horn, sand, and pens. By ten o’clock they had written thus:

Doll Bilby of Cowan Corners, (Essex County,) being this day brought before us upon suspicion of witchcraft and upon the specific charge of afflicting Labour and Sorrow Thumb, twin daughters of Deacon Ephraim Thumb, we heard the aforesaid, and seeing what we did see, together with hearing charges of the persons then present, we committed this same Doll Bilby (she denying the matter of fact, yet confessing herself a witch, also confessing having had carnal knowledge of a fiend, also to being at this time pregnant by him, also to being married to him by the ceremony of Max Pax Fax) unto their majesties’ jail at Salem, as per mittimus then given out in order to further examination.

ADAM BRIDE } RALPH LOLLIMOUR } Magistrates

By eleven they slept upon their beds.

4

_Doll having cooked her goose, now must sit to eat it. And one who later proves a warlock comes to sit by her side._

Next day Doll rose early, thinking she would be called again before the magistrates. Judge Bride had talked kindly to her and at the end nothing had been said about the Thumb twins. She had not guessed his mind to be made up against her.

She rose early, an hour before dawn, and by a rushlight prepared herself for court. The jailor, John Ackes, could watch her through a chink in the masonry. He saw her put on hat and cloak and set out wooden pattens. He ran in fear to the Black Moon where Mr. Zelley that night lay, and begged him—if he dared—to come a-running, for he believed the witch was about to fly though the roof. She was all dressed and set to go.

Mr. Zelley went to the dungeon and found her waiting to be taken before the magistrates. He sat upon her straw bed by her side, and he took her hands. He said, ‘Poor child, lay by your hat and riding-gear, for ’tis all done.’

Done? She had thought they were but started. The matter of the Thumb twins was not yet proven—Judge Bride himself had confessed as much. Mr. Zelley said that now there was another warrant for her and another _mittimus_. But Mr. Zelley must have heard Judge Bride say there was no offence in having seen a devil—had not even Christ talked with Lucifer? And obviously the magistrates had approved her marriage and had even forgiven her that she had been too pliant to her lover’s desires. How, therefore, could the Court be done with her—unless they were about to set her free?

‘You are to be held for a jury—a jury, my poor Doll, of your own angry neighbours, and for the February sessions of the Superior Court of Judicature.’ He explained that Judges Bride and Lollimour could only examine her and hold her over to a higher court. It is true they could have dismissed her as innocent—if it had pleased them; but they could not give sentence of death.... He wished her to think of death and it might be to prepare her mind and more especially her soul (if she had a soul) against this likely contingence.

‘Death?’ she said. ‘How can I die? God, God, oh, God! I do not want to die.’ At the first moment she was afraid of death like any other wicked woman. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the masonry of her cell, remaining a long, long time silent, but her lips moved. Mr. Zelley sat beside her. His head was in his hands. When next she spoke she had conquered fear of death. She spoke bravely in a clear, strong voice. Then she told Mr. Zelley more concerning the fiend whom Hell had sent to love her. She said that he had promised her that, when she should come to die, he would stand at her bed’s head. After death he would be with her and she with him forever and ever. She said boldly that she did not fear to die. But she flung herself to her knees and laid her tousled head in Mr. Zelley’s lap and then confessed that she had a most hideous horror of gallows and halter. As he could he comforted her. Tears streamed from his eyes, though hers were always dry. He knelt and seemed to pray to God.

John Ackes at his chink saw him pray and heard his prayer. He said it was an unseemly prayer—not like those one hears in church—not like the majestic and awful utterances of Mr. Increase Mather. Zelley talked to God as you might talk to a friend. So many thought that it was not to the true God that he prayed, but to some demon whom he privately worshipped. When his own day came to hang, this thing was remembered against him.

The witch-woman crouched upon her straw bed the while he prayed. She had put her hat on her head again and was wrapped in her scarlet riding-coat. She stared out of round cat’s eyes at the man who prayed for her.

5

_Abortive attempts to save a_ SOUL _and more infernal manifestations of the Demon Lover_.

Now was her physical body in sore plight, for she was bound in irons heavier than a strong man might bear. The jailors feared her, and, although an eye was forever at the chink, they did as little for her as might be. The Court permitted only these to go to her: her jailors; the two ministers of God, labouring in Salem, and Mr. Increase Mather whose mind was at that time big with a demonology. He wished to study and examine her. It was three weeks before Mr. Zelley got a permit from Boston to visit her. He guessed by the cold, tardy manner in which his request was answered that he himself had fallen into ill-repute. This was true. His people thought him a warlock and feared and hated him.

When twenty years later, in the days of the great witch-hunting and hanging in Salem, Mr. Zelley himself came to be tried, John Ackes was commanded to tell the Court (if he could remember) of what it was the witch and the warlock had talked through those long hours they had sat side by side upon the witch’s straw bed. He testified (swearing to his truth upon the Bible) that they talked but little. Zelley’s head was forever in his hands. He did not see the witch-woman’s face—nor her eyes. He did not see how constantly she gaped at empty corners; how she smiled and nodded into space; how sometimes she would close her eyes and raise her mouth for the empty air to kiss. All this she did behind Mr. Zelley’s back. They asked John Ackes if Mr. Zelley made no attempt to save the woman’s soul. No, he only sat. Sometimes he talked a little to Doll and sometimes he talked to one whom he designated as ‘god.’ But he did not really pray at all—not as Mr. Mather prayed—him you could hear through stone walls and up and down the street. The crowd would gather outside the jail when Mr. Mather prayed. He was a most fearful and righteous suppliant before the Throne of God. After his prayers the wonder was no lightning came to destroy the young witch where she sat—grimacing and leering at spectres. When one considered Mr. Mather, one could not say that Zelley prayed at all.

However, it was true that Zelley would sometimes seem to beg Doll Bilby to turn to God before it was too late. She would always explain to him that she wanted no other God than Lucifer and no Heaven, for where her parents were and her foster father and her dear husband—there with them was her Paradise, not in Heaven with the cold angels singing psalms forever to an angry and awful God; not in Heaven where doubtless Hannah Bilby would be found and all her cruel neighbours—no, no, a thousand times no. Hell was her true home—her Paradise.

Sometimes he would read to her from a stout big book, and John Ackes swore he thought it was a Bible, although it was possible that the book was a book of magic—perhaps this was even probable. Still the stories he read to her from this book sounded to him like Bible stories. What would he read to her? He read to her of Mary of Magdala, how she laid her head upon our Saviour’s feet and wiped them with her hair. He read to her the holy promises of John. It was evident, said John Ackes, that Zelley was not for a long time conscious of the fiend which lurked forever in the witch’s cell.

Towards the end no one but Mr. Zelley dared go to her dungeon. They were all afraid. It was remembered and marked against him that, where other and more godly men felt fear, he felt no fear. At last even Mr. Zelley knew that he and the witch were never alone. There was another and more awful presence about.

Now he would look up quickly from his reading and catch her eyes as they sought those of some one or something close behind his own shoulder. When their eyes met, she would smile so softly and happily he knew that the invisible presence must be that of the one she loved. Mr. Zelley confessed that this consciousness of a third and unseen party in the cell sadly upset and confused him. He sweated, he could not read. One afternoon she gave him such close attention he decided that the fiend had left, so he closed his book and asked her abruptly if her demon lover had come back again. She was surprised that he asked this question. ‘Of course he is back,’ she said. ‘Now he will not leave me until the end.’ It was not he, she said, whom the Thumb twins saw at the trial, and Doll again wickedly said that perhaps that creature had been an angel. ‘My fiend never came near me as I stood all day on trial. Now he has sworn to stay with me. If I go to Gallows Hill, he will go with me. If I die here first, he will hold my hands.’

Zelley asked her if she could really see this demon. For instance, was he at that very moment in the room? Oh, yes. He sat yonder by the cupboard. His head, she said, rested upon his bosom. ‘Last night I had a fearful fit of terror. I thought I could not face the gallows. He held me in his arms and sang to me until sunrise. Now he sleeps.’

‘Is he now in seaman’s clothes and has he the likeness of proper man?’ (Mr. Zelley whispered. He feared to wake the demon.)

‘No. He has returned in shape of true fiend. For he is horned, naked, scaly, black. His feet are cloven. He has vast leathery bat-pinions. His tail is long and spiked.’

‘How, then, can you know that this is your own fiend and not another one?’

‘By his eyes and by his loving voice. These things have not changed.’

‘How is it he returned to you? In what manner did he make himself manifest?’

‘You recall that day after the trial when you came to me and let me know beyond a doubt that I must die? All the next day I felt him in the cell with me. Then little by little he took visible form. At first he was a vapour that seemed to rise between the flags of the dungeon floor, and then I could see the shadow of his great and most awful form—a transparent shadow through which one could look, even as one looks through smoke. But daily he gained more and more in body and he now is as hard and sturdy as mortal man. At first seeing horns, tail, and so fearsome a scaly black body, I cried out in my disappointment and despair. I, in my simplicity, had imagined he would always be to me as he had been—shaped, dressed, and coloured like comely, mortal man. He seemed monstrous to me—more likely to inspire fear than love. At last I could see his eyes and they were unchanged. And his voice (for, having gained complete actuality, he could speak) was the same. So I knew him as my own husband, and now I love him more in his present infernal majesty than I did in seaman’s form. This shape is fairer to me.’ (Thus twenty years later Mr. Zelley testified in court as to his conversation with Doll Bilby.)

On being pressed, Mr. Zelley confessed still further. He said he asked her why it was that no one—not even the jailors—dared go to her cell. Did they fear the spectral presence? She was amazed that he had heard no gossip. Surely the village must by now be buzzing with the tricks her demon had performed. Had he not heard what had befallen her peeping jailors? They used (to her unutterable torment and vexation) to watch her through a chink in the masonry. But the demon punished them by blowing into their eyes. This had given them the pink-eye. Surely he must have noticed that her jailors suffered from pink-eye? Now that she mentioned it he said he believed he had noticed it. And she was to tell him further. Why did the great Mr. Mather come no more? She clapped her hands, laughing and purring. Her demon had hated Mr. Mather so bitterly, and had so resented his long, loud prayers, that he had several times been on the point of strangling him. In his utter foolishness the man had dared to read the story of Tobit to her—how Sara was beloved of the fiend Asmodeus and how this fiend strangled her many husbands upon their marriage beds, but how at the last this fine fiend Asmodeus had been driven to farthest Egypt by the stench of a burning fish’s liver. This story the wicked witch claimed to be utterly false—it made no jot of difference to her that it was found in Holy Writ. She said it was a black lie that did much to minimize that dignity of Prince Asmodeus—who was a close friend to her own lover. She put up her hand and whispered to Mr. Zelley that, although her fiend had never told her his own true name, she had reason to suspect that he himself was none other than this same Asmodeus, for he was touchy beyond all reason for the dignity of the Prince and he had told her at some length how dull, tedious, and complaining a woman Sara had been, and how gladly her lover had surrendered her in the end to the young Jew. The burning fish’s liver had never driven him forth—he went as it pleased himself. The stench had almost expelled the bride from her bridal chamber, but it had had no effect upon the stalwart demon Prince.

Mr. Mather had insisted on reading this story thrice over to her, and on the last reading he had also endeavoured to burn the large liver of a cod-fish. Then her husband rushed at the fire. His tail stood up rigid in rage; he shook his horns like an angry bull; he rustled his vast pinions, and, as he snuffed out the fire that made the stench with his two horny hands, Mr. Mather looked up and of a sudden saw him there and was close to dying of terror. Doll begged the fiend again to assume invisibility and not to strangle the distinguished Divine. So Mr. Mather went away and never came again. But surely, surely Mr. Zelley had heard this thing spoken of? And how her demon had served the two Salem clergymen—the tricks he had put on them—surely these things were common gossip? No, of these things he had heard never a word. No one gossiped with him—now.

It was then at that moment he first came to know he was under suspicion. Doll knew this too. She told him how she had never heard that the Thumb twins were bewitched until the very day Captain Buzzey rode up and accused her of their bewitchment. She said she pitied Mr. Zelley and he said his life grew strange. Every one in all the world was far removed, and even God had turned His face away from him. He said (foolishly) that all his life he had felt that if he believed in witches, demons, etc., he could not believe in God; for that God Whom he worshipped would not tolerate such evil things. Yet now had he seen the proof that such things were true—and, if true, where, then, was that great and good God whom he had long worshipped? ‘My Doll,’ he said, ‘you have taken away my reason and my God—now I have nothing. I have not even one man I may call “friend.”’

She comforted him, not by words, but by putting her small hands (now thin as a bird’s claws) upon his bent head. She kissed his forehead. He got up and went away. He did not stay as he should have stayed with his flock in Cowan Corners. He slept at the Black Moon, for such was the bewitchment that Doll had set upon him he must see her again and that early upon the next day.

6

_The Labours of a Witch and the Prayers of the Godly._

The year was nine days old and no more. Then was Doll Bilby taken in labour and brought prematurely to bed.

The Salem midwife—ancient Nan Hackett—would have none of her, and it seemed that, whatever it was she must bear, she should bear alone. Nor did she ask for mortal aid. She was content with that phantom which stood night and day (as many saw) at her bed’s head. Mr. Zelley remembered that Goody Goochey, when first she came to Cowan Corners, had served the beginning as well as the end of life—that is, she had been a midwife as well as a layer-out of the dead. He went to the woman and begged her, in pity’s name and partly commanded her in the name of the General Court, to get herself to Salem jail and there give such service as might be.

She was afraid. She did not wish to be midwife to a witch and the first to welcome a black imp into the world. She drank three piggins of ale and took a leather bottle of brandy with her. She set upon her thumbs and fingers those iron rings with which she was accustomed to guard herself against the ghosts of the dead. She thought, after all, is not a live imp of greater danger to a good Christian’s soul than the body of a dead church elder? Mr. Zelley went with her to the jail.

The witch at the moment was not in pain. She lay with eyes black as the pits of Hell. Her white mouth was open. She roused herself a little and made Mr. Zelley a brief speech in which she said that she had, as he knew, sought God and spiritual peace, and now, let him look into her face and say that she had failed to find either. It was true, said Mr. Zelley. Her face was fulfilled of heavenly peace. He left her without a word.

Outside he found a conclave of idle men and women who laughed and joked coarsely. One big ruddy wench (who had already borne, to the embarrassment of the community, three fatherless children) was crying out loudly that God knew it was enough for woman to give birth to human child, which is round and sleek as a melon. God help the witch now in labour with an imp, for it would come into the world with spiked tail and horns. Such a thing would be the death of any mortal woman. All were afraid. Some believed a clap of thunder would come down from Heaven and destroy the woman. Others that a fiend would rise up from Hell to succour her. Some said that the witches and warlocks for an hundred miles had gathered together and now, mounting broomsticks, were about to charge down upon Salem. One said, ‘Have you not heard? Judge Bride has suffered an apoplexy. Judge Lollimour is at death’s door.’ This was not so.

Another said Captain Tom Buzzey’s hands (those hands that had held the witch) had withered. They had shrivelled to the size of a child’s. This was not so.

All said the witch is in labour. She’s with child by the Devil. God will burn her soul in Hell. This was so.

The day wore on. The sun, as sometimes may be in the midst of winter, was so warm the snow melted and water dripped from the eaves of the jail. It was tender as a day in spring. Planks and rugs were laid in the slush, for certain clergymen came to pray and must have dry land to kneel upon. They prayed that God recollect the number of good, pious Christian people there were at Salem and not destroy all, for they feared His wrath might blast the whole village. God made no sign, but the water dripped from the eaves and a sweet spring fragrance rose from the melting snow.

The multitude gaped and feared. Sometimes they smelt sulphur, saltpeter, brimstone, and the stench as of a sloughing serpent. They heard the crying of a phantom voice and the swishing of a thousand brooms. So they waited through the day expecting every moment to see crabbed Goody Goochey hobble out with a black imp upon a blanket to show them.

There was no sound from the cell. Not one cry nor moan from the witch, not one word from Goochey. The jailors would open the door. It stuck. Their keys would not fit it. They could not open the door, and believed devils were holding it fast. They dared not peek in the chink because of their pink-eye.

By sundown most went home.

7

_Mr. Zelley opens a Dungeon Door, and what came of it._

The next day dawned cold and grey over an icy sea, and the gulls and terns came in from the harbour crying and lamenting. There was now no tenderness in the air, and the water that had but yesterday melted under the rays of a genial sun froze to glassy ice. A wind sharp as needles came in off the sea and few if any watched the night out on their knees beside the dungeon walls. As soon as it was possible to see six feet ahead, the multitude again began to assemble, but this time they came without laughter or conversation. They were shrouded in hoods, shawls, etc., for warmth, and seemed a spectral band. Now and then one or another of them would raise a pious voice in prayer, lamentation, or thanksgiving, but for the most part they stood bowed and mute. All night there had been no sound from the witch’s cell—never a sound. Who was there so bold as to enter in to her and bring back a report, for John Ackes’s hand shook so he could not manage the key? Some said Mr. Zelley would go—he had no normal, wholesome fear of witches or demons. Others said, ‘Where does he lie to-night?’ Others, ‘Go, run and fetch him’; and a boy (it was Widow Hannah’s bonded boy Jake Tulley) said the man lay at the Black Moon and that he would run and fetch him. This he did.

Mr. Zelley came in a steeple hat and a greatcoat. He spoke to no one. No one spoke to him. He entered the jail and took the cell key from Ackes, and, after some shaking and effort, he turned the lock and pushed hard on the door, which swung in so suddenly he almost fell on his knees beside that straw bed where he had sat so many wicked hours with the witch-girl. A hundred had crowded down the passage and into the doorway after Mr. Zelley. All stopped at the threshold of the cell. They stood agape, some filled with curiosity, some with fear, others with pious ejaculations and elevated thoughts.

Goody Goochey (who indeed proved to be no woman, but a man) lay in a drunken fit in a corner. His face was purple and his throat twisted and bruised as though he had been half strangled—which he always averred to his dying day was the truth, for he had seen the scaly black demon come at him with great hands outstretched to his throat, and that was the last he could really remember until certain ones tumbled him out into the snow. He was sure, however, that, as he lay thus almost unconscious in a corner, a great concourse of spectrals and infernals had filled the cell. They had danced, sung, and made much of the witch, praising her, encouraging her, etc. Because the man was known to be an impostor (he had for many years made all think him a woman) and because of his swinish, drunken ways, many did not believe what he said.

All could see that Bilby’s Doll was dead. She lay with her round eyes open to the ceiling, and her expression was one of peace and content. Whatever she might have borne was dead within her.

8

_Without_ HELL _where is_ HEAVEN? _And without a Devil where is_ GOD? _Also the last of Doll Bilby and an end to these instructions._

There are court records, affidavits, etc.; there are diaries, letters and such; there is the memory of old gaffers and goodies to prove that once Doll Bilby flourished. But of physical, inanimate objects nothing that was associated with her evil life and awful end now exists. The house she lived in mysteriously rotted and fell into the cellar hole. The grave they dug her is now lost under a ploughed field (a sterile field that yields little). Where the dungeon was now is a brick house, a fine big house of red bricks had out from England. No one will live there. Yet any gamin, for a copper penny, and any courting couple, for wanton pleasure, will show you the very spot in the white birch thicket where Doll met her demon lover night after night under the moonlight, in that world of witchery which none to-day will ever see. For in those days there were sights and wonders that will not come again. In those days God was nearer to man than He is to-day, and where God is there also must be His Evil Opponent—the Prince of Lies, for show me Paradise, and there, around a corner, I will show you Hell.

_Finis coronat opus_

[Illustration: Demon and woman laying down]

Transcriber’s Notes

pg 12 Changed: (a thing she aways feared) to: (a thing she always feared)

pg 59 Changed: but here was nothing more to lock to: but there was nothing more to lock

pg 122 Changed: and how in Hartford to: and now in Hartford