Witchcraft A tragedy, in five acts |
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| 3. | SCENE III. |
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 | Witchcraft |  |
SCENE III.
—Landscape and House. Old Man, Pudeater, Citizens.Pudeater.
As I qualify to you, I was sorely troubled by this Black Cat: wheresoever I went it crossed me up and down, was on the road now, now gliding through the orchard—and being in much fear, at length, was forced to keep a light burning, nights, and a sword by me as I lay in bed, least it should come upon me unawares—and snatch me, a poor officer of this place, to utter darkness.
Old Man.
[Ironically.]
Could you make out who it was by the features?
Pudeater.
I'm pretty sure I could, and suspicioned strongly a certain widow-woman.
Topsfield.
Not Ambla Bodish?
Pudeater.
No, another—a journeywoman of the Fiend's; and you shall know how I trapped her; this morning, as I walked abroad, bearing my gun for sport or business as might happen—this hideous creature I espied again, and muttered to myself, “Curse that Black Cat— what means she by sitting on the prison window there?” At that she scuttled down and scudded from me—by a bare chance, in these slow times, I had a silver sixpence in my pocket, which, in Deacon Perfect Gidney's name, I popped into the gun—knowing my lead would go for nothing—and gave it, with the trigger, to the ugly fugitive. She limped away, I tracked her boldly by the blood-stains, (my spirit was up, my men!) and into yonder house—
Topsfield.
Mercy Short's?
Pudeater.
Ay—Mercy Short's.
She has lain sick a month, with sore delirium.
Pudeater.
Her troubles and deliriums, as you call them, will soon find an end—for hither comes his worship, Justice Fisk, to take her, now under condemnation, to be pressed to death.
Enter Justice Fisk, with Jarvis Dane and Goodwife Prawl.
Jarvis.
I doubt it not—she has been seen, this Mercy Short, conferring in her sickness, with Ambla Bodial close at her bed-side.
Justice F.
Pudeater, bring forth this wretched person.
[Exit Pudeater
Old Man.
Stay, men! Remember,
This is but a poor delirious woman,
As you know she is!
[Woman brought out by Pudeater and Citizen.
Crowd.
To prison with her, and the place of torture!
Old Man.
Back with her, rather, ye inhuman creatures;
To her own house and couch of sickness lead her,
Gently, as mournful suffering gives her right;
Around her there in sympathy assembling,
Let all the goodness of the place show what it is—
Justice! and ye most excellent citizens!—
By soothing with the kindly hand, and helping
With the firm voice of true consoling prayer,
And duty lawful—calm her poor estate!
Justice F.
We cannot stay to hear this stuff—stand from our path—I have not time to tarry here upon this little paltry case: there 's more important business coming!
Though single, I will stop your way,
To this outrageous cruelty!
Blacksmith.
On with her—the Justice is right.
Old Man.
Me you may overbear—there 's One above
You cannot overbear!
Carpenter.
'Way with her to death.
Blacksmith.
To death with her—she'll not confess.
Exeunt Just. F., Pudeater, Mercy Short, Topsfield Old Man, Citizens, leaving Jarvis Dane and Good wife Prawl.
Jarvis.
'T is Ambla Bodish does all this mischief, Goodwife.
Good. Prawl.
I begin to be afeard of her—and go long journeys round the distant corners to escape her walks.
Jarvis.
She means to level Salem with the ground.
Good. Prawl.
Meeting-house and all?
Jarvis.
Meeting-house and all—and that the first (after good Deacon Gidney's house); she has arranged this, I know from a sure source: there were stones cast from the top—if you go that way you may see them—last Tuesday night by her and her familiar un-masoners.
Good Prawl.
Horrible! and will they not spare such little huts as that I live in?
Jarvis.
Not one—their hurricane will sweep the very sheds.
Good Prawl.
When will they begin, Master Jarvis?
Jarvis.
That we shall know soon. Go you home, and tell your neighbors this, and bid them keep a shrewd eye on Ambla Bodish and her son Gideon.
Good. Prawl.
With many thanks to you, kind Master Dane, I will.
I'll see you soon again, and let you know how the work goes on.
[Exit Good. Prawl.The old fool slides, fish-like, into this net:—
I have some other work for her to do, betimes—
I would not care should she too, get her feet
Tangled—for she is one of many village simpletons,
Who, by their free praises of the beauty
Of young Gideon Bodish's strange life,
His single, simple-hearted love for his old mother,
(And that shall be my instrument to conquer him)
His walking of a path apart, more beautiful,
They think, than we poor common herding youth—
Has helped to draw Susanna's love from me;
And she is glad as any deer to take the summer brook,
In this high flood of all confusion, boldly
To let be seen above the stream her head—
And show, and speak, and make most manifest
The love she has kept secret many days;
I fear, for many years—from the rash force
With which it breaks forth now. But I will so
Mix up these elements, that each, the mother
And the son, and this upbraiding girl
Shall drain the bitter cup!
Re-enter Topsfield and Old Man.
Old Man.
It is not so!
Topsfield.
It is—I say she has confessed.
Jarvis.
She has? I'm glad to know it; it must have been
A great relief to her.
Old Man.
In her last dreadful agony—
The eye-balls starting from her brow, and every limb
Many things confusedly.
Topsfield.
'T was plain enough to me, sir.
Jarvis.
How was it, Thomas?
Topsfield.
In her last hour, as this old man says,
When every one thought her last breath was going,
The worthy Justice, hastening to her side,
Called unto her in a loud voice, “Confess!”
Then staring wildly round her—she did acknowledge,
Before the breaking of the day, this morning,
She had been, at her chamber, visited
By the likeness of a little Indian child,
Which came to the window and conversed with her,
Appointing for her, this same Mercy Short,
To-night to be at Maple-Hill, to meet
Seven others in a witch-meeting.
Jarvis.
And who were these seven?
Topsfield.
She would not name but one, and said the others,
With herself, would not be seen.
Jarvis.
Who was the one she named—tell me, quickly,
Thomas.
Topsfield.
'T was Ambla Bodish.
Old Man.
You know that name was given to her to speak.
Jarvis.
Interrupt him not—let him tell on. What
Further passed?
Topsfield.
And then the child-like darkness, rattling the casement,
And striving, as it seemed to seize her on her bed,—
She heard the clanking of a chain, as though
And had no more of time or space allowed him,—
Cried out “Despair!” “Despair!” and left her.
Old Man.
And this, the raving of a dying woman,
Frenzied in mind and tortured in the body,
You would employ to work another murder—
Oh men, if men ye are—what would you do?
For the love of this fair earth we stand on,
I will upraise my voice. 'T is now as pure
As childhood's self—oh, would you keep it so!
That when another day in this new region's life
Comes on, when this young land goes free, as yet
It will, and walks this smiling wilderness,
Alone, and all apart from every other
Sovereignty, I would there might be then,
No stain on her fair robe. But you and such as you,
Will soil its beauty to the latest ages!
[Exit Old Man.
Jarvis.
That man 's no friend to Salem!—but Thomas,
You are Salem's friend and will not fail to keep so:
This witches' meeting must be watched, and Ambla
Be proven at its head!
Topsfield.
Gideon I love—but Salem more.
Jarvis.
That I know: and Gideon's mother and her dark
Confederates would by some o'erdevilish power,
Confuse and ruin it.
Topsfield.
That is their task?
Jarvis.
Delay you too long, they will compact
With powers that subtly walk in darkness,
So as to prove soon too strong for Salem
And her human strength.
Topsfield.
I go—I go.
Your spirit is slower, Thomas Topsfield,
Than your urgent queet demands.
Topsfield.
It well may be—for I begin to doubt
That I have pressed too fast—Gideon Bodish
Was my earliest friend; I loved him, as I love
The dawning of the day, when lies the harvest
Freshly to our scythes!
Jarvis.
But now you know him,
Hideous as the wild sooty fiend he serves—
Topsfield.
I do not know him that!
Though Gideon's mother may be touched—
And in God's fear I do believe she is—
Gideon is free, and shall be, if the power
To hold him so, lives in mine arm or eye,
Or all the faculty I have.
Jarvis.
Why linger, now—when know you Ambla's guilt,
As clearly doth appear by what you say
This woman hath confessed?
Topsfield.
Another time, I might
Have heard another way: the fearful cries
She raised, confused us all.
Jarvis.
Topsfield, you fail in duty, by delay—
Do you not see this dreadful witchcraft grows,
By night and day, in calm and storm, still swells
In power—and will descend o'erwhelmingly
On Salem?
Topsfield.
Aye, there it is:
'T is that which doth disturb and grieve me most!
Can I behold this Salem that I love,
Whose smoke I 've fondly watched from boyhood up,
And strength of growing roofs 'mid the green woods,
Mine eye has lived on, from the fields afar,
In all my toil—
Jarvis.
Laid flat upon the earth by one fell blast!
Topsfield.
Fair Salem—can I see thee in thy youth,
Confused and lost; by some o'erdevilish power,
Mis-matched thy daughters with thy sons,
Young maidens to the altar leading halt
Decrepitude, and grey-beard women luring boys
To vicious love; untimely births; thy streams
Of lovely waters dried—thy golden fields
To ashy darkness changed!
Jarvis.
Speed, Thomas Topsfield, or the ruin
You foresee is on us—none to save!
Topsfield.
I must—I see I must.
Jarvis.
You go not forth alone?
Topsfield.
No, Simon Braybrook joins me.
Jarvis.
On, Thomas, with a foot of lightning speed,
An eye of fire,—watch and encompass,
In your single self, this Hill of Sorcery,
And help to save the Salem that you love,
From everlasting overthrow.
Topsfield.
I'll cast all doubts away—'t is well I should.
Unswerving as heaven's fire shot 'gainst the guilty earth,
I sweep upon the track of this bad woman.
[Exit Topsfield.
Jarvis.
Aye—go, and like a hireling, strike your blow!—
The likeness of a little Indian child,
To the casement of the dead woman coming,
Cried out commandingly “Despair! Despair!”—
Stands by my side: and is my counsellor—
He recollects the past, the future hungers for,
And, smiling, sees the uproar swelling on—
With consternation for thy stormy help,
Revenge, thy thunderbolts shall fall in showers!
[Exit Jarvis.
| Witchcraft | |