University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.

It is not a little remarkable that within a few days after
the death of Sarah Good, a part of her pretended
prophecy, that which was directed by her to the man
who called her a witch at the place of death, was verified
upon him, letter by letter, as it were.

He was way-laid by a party of the Mohawks, and carried
off to answer to the tribe for having reported of
them that they ate the flesh of their captives.—It would
appear that he had lived among them in his youth, and
that he was perfectly acquainted with their habits and
opinions and with their mode of warfare; that he had
been well treated by their chief, who let him go free at
a time when he might lawfully have been put to death,
according to the usages of the tribe, and that he could
not possibly be mistaken about their eating the flesh of
their prisoners. It would appear too, that he had been
watched for, a long while before he was carried off; that
his path had been beset hour after hour, and week after
week, by three young warriors of the tribe, who might
have shot him down, over and over again if they would,
on the step of his own door, in the heart of a populous
village, but they would not; for they had sworn to trap
their pray alive, and to bring it off with the hide and the
hair on; that after they had carried him to the territory
of the Mohawks, they put him on trial for the charge
face to face with a red accuser; that they found him
guilty, and that, with a bitter laugh, they ordered him to

eat of the flesh of a dead man that lay bleeding on the
earth before him; that he looked up and saw the old
chief who had been his father when he belonged to the
tribe, and that hoping to appease the haughty savage,
he took some of the detestable food into his mouth, and
that instantly—instantly—before he could utter a prayer,
they fell upon him with clubs and beat him to death.

Her prophecy therefore did appear to the people to
be accomplished; for had she not said to this very man,
that for the work of that day, “He should breathe blood
and eat blood?”

Before a week had passed over, the story of death,
and the speech of the prophetess took a new shape, and
a variety of circumstances which occurred at the trial,
and which were disregarded at the time, were now
thought of by the very judges of the land with a secret
awe; circumstances that are now to be detailed, for they
were the true cause of what will not be forgotten for
ages in that part of the world....the catastrophe of our
story.

At the trial of Sarah Good, while her face was turned
away from her accuser, one of the afflicted gave a loud
scream, and gasping for breath, fell upon the floor at
the feet of the judges, and lay there as if she had been
struck down by the weight of no mortal arm; and being
lifted up, she swore that she had been stabbed with a
knife by the shape of Sarah Good, while Sarah Good
herself was pretending to be at prayer on the other side
of the house; and for proof, she put her hand into her
bosom and drew forth the blade of a penknife which was
bloody, and which upon her oath, she declared to have
been left sticking in her flesh a moment before, by the
shape of Sarah Good.

The Judges were thunderstruck. The people were
mute with terror, and the wretched woman herself covered

her face with her hands; for she knew that if she
looked upon the sufferers, they would shriek out, and
foam at the mouth, and go into fits, and lie as if they
were dead for a while; and that she would be commandded
by the judges to go up to them and lay her hands
upon their bodies without speaking or looking at them,
and that on her doing so, they would be sure to revive,
and start up, and speak of what they had seen or suffered
while they were in what they called their agony.

The jury were already on their way out for consultation—they
could not agree, it appeared; but when they
saw this, they stopped at the door, and came back one
by one to the jury box, and stood looking at each other,
and at the judges, and at the poor old woman, as if they
no longer thought it necessary to withdraw even for
form sake, afraid as they all were of doing that, in a case
of life and death, for which they might one day or other
be sorry. A shadow was upon every visage of the twelve
—the shadow of death; a look in the eyes of everybody
there, a gravity and a paleness, which when the poor
prisoner saw, she started up with a low cry—a cry of
reproach—a cry of despair—and stood with her hands
locked, and her mouth quivering, and her lips apart before
God—lips white with fear, though not with the
fear of death; and looked about her on every side, as if
she had no longer a hope left—no hope from the jury, no
hope from the multitude; nay as if while she had no
longer a hope, she had no longer a desire to live.

There was a dead preternatural quiet in the house—
not a breath could be heard now, not a breath nor a murmur;
and lo! the aged foreman of the jury stood forth
and laid his hands upon the Book of the Law, and lifted
up his eyes and prepared to utter the verdict of death;
but before he could speak so as to he heard, for his

heart was over-charged with sorrow, a tumult arose
afar off like the noise of the wind in the great woods of
America; or a heavy swell on the sea-shore, when a surge
after surge rolls booming in from the secret reservoir of
waters, like the tide of a new deluge. Voices drew near
with a portentous hoof-clatter from every side—east,
west, north and south, so that the people were mute with
awe; and as the dread clamor approached and grew
louder and louder every moment, they crowded together
and held their breath, they and the judges and the
preachers and the magistrates, every man persuaded in
his own soul that a rescue was nigh. At last a smothed
war-whoop was heard, and then a sweet cheerful
noise like the laugh of a young child high up in the air—
and then a few words in the accent of authority, and a
bustle outside of the door, which gave way as if it were
spurned with a powerful foot; and a stranger appeared
in the shadow of the huge trees that over-hung the door-way
like a summer cloud—a low, square-built swarthy
man with a heavy tread, and a bright fierce look, tearing
his way through the crowd like a giant of old, and
leading a beautiful boy by the hand.

What, ho! cried he to the chief judge, walking up to
him, and standing before him, and speaking to him with
a loud clear voice. What ho! captain Robert Sewall!
why do ye this thing? What ho, there! addressing himself
to the foreman of the jury—why speed ye so to the
work of death? and you, master Bailey! and you governor
Phips! and you doctor Mather, what business
have ye here? And you ye judges, who are about to become
the judges of life and death, how dare ye! Who
gave you power to measure and weigh such mystery? Are
ye gifted men—all of you—every man of you—specially
gifted from above? Are you Thomas Fisk—with your

white hair blowing about your agitated mouth and your
dim eyes, are you able to see your way clear, that you
have the courage to pronounce a verdict of death on your
aged sister who stands there! And you Josh Carter, senior!
and you major Zach Trip! and you Job Saltonstall!
Who are ye and what are ye, men of war, that ye
are able to see spirits, or that ye should become what ye
are—the judges of our afflicted people! And who are we,
and what were our fathers, I beseech you, that we should
be base enough to abide upon earth but by your leave!

The judges looked at each other in consternation.

Who is it!....who is it! cried the people as they
rushed forward and gathered about him and tried to get
a sight of his face. Who can it be!

Burroughs—Bur—Bur—Burroughs, I do believe!
whispered a man who stood at his elbow, but he spoke
as if he did not feel very sure of what he said.

Not George Burroughs, hey?

I'd take my oath of it neighbour Joe, my Bible-oath
of it, leaning forward as far as he could reach with safety,
and shading his eyes with his large bony hand—

Well, I do say! whispered another.

I see the scar!—as I live, I do! cried another, peering
over the heads of the multitude, as they rocked to the
heavy pressure of the intruder.

But how altered he is!....and how old he looks!....
—and shorter than ever! muttered several more.

Silence there! cried the chief judge—a militia-captain,
it is to be observed, and of course not altogether so
awyer-like as a judge of our day would be.

Silence there! echoed the High Sheriff.

Never see nobody so altered afore, continued one of
the crowd, with his eye fixed on the judge—I will say
that much, afore I stop, Mr. Sheriff Berry, an' (dropping

his voice) if you dont like it, you may lump it.... who
cares for you?

Well—an' who cares for you, if you come to that.

Officer of the court, how now! cried the chief judge
in a very loud sharp voice.

Here I be mister judge—I ain't deef.

Take that man away.

I say....you! cried the High-Sheriff, getting up and
fetching the man a rap over the head with his white-oak
staff....do you hear that?

Hear what?

What Mr. judge Sewall says.

I don't care for Mr. judge Sewall, nor you nyther.

Away with him Sir! out with him! are we to suffer
this outrage on the dignity of the court.... in the House
of the Lord—away with him, Sir.

Here's the devil to pay and no pitch hot—whispered
a sailor-looking fellow, in a red baize shirt.

An' there's thirteen-pence for you to pay, Mr. Outlandishman,
said a little neighbour, whose duty it was
to watch for offenders in a small way, and fine them for
swearing, drinking, or kissing their wives on the sabbath
day.

What for?

Why, for that air oath o'yourn.

What oath?

Why, you said here's the devil to pay!

Ha—ha—ha—and there's thirteen-pence for you to
pay.

You be darned!

An' there's thirteen-pence more for you, my lad—ha
—ha—ha—

The officer now drew near the individual he was ordered
to remove; but he did so as if a little afraid of his

man—who stood up face to face with the judge, and
planted his foot as if he knew of no power on earth able
to move him, declaring he would'nt budge a peg, now
they'd come to that; for the house they were in had been
paid for out of the people's money, and he'd as much
right there as they had; but havin' said what he had to
say on the subject, and bein' pooty considr'ble easy on
that score now, if they'd mind their business he'd mind
his; and if they'd behave, he would.

Very well, said the chief judge, who knew the man to
be a soldier of tried bravery. Very well! you may stay
where you are; I thought we should bring you to your
senses, neighbour Joe.

Here the stranger broke away from the crowd and
leaped upon the platform, and setting his teeth and smiting
the floor with a heavy iron-shod staff, he asked the
judges why they did not enforce the order? why with
courage to take away life, they had no courage to defend
their authority. How dare ye forgive this man!
said he; how dare you bandy words with such a fellow!
What if you have been to the war with him? Have
ye not become the judges of the land? With hardihood
enough to undertake the awful representation of majesty,
have ye not enough to secure that majesty from outrage?

We know our own duty sir.

No such thing sir! you do not—if you do, it shall be
the worse for you. You are afraid of that man—

Afraid sir!—Who are you!

Yes—you are afraid of that man. If you are not, why
allow him to disturb the gravity of such an hour as this?
Know your own power—Bid the High-sheriff take him
into custody.

A laugh here from the sturdy yeoman, who having paid
his quota for building the house, and fought his share of

the fight with the Indians, felt as free as the best of
them.

Speak but the word, Sirs, and I will do what I see
your officer hath not valor enough to do. Speak but the
word, Sirs! and I that know your power, will obey it,
(uplifting the staff as he spoke, while the fire flashed
from his eyes, and the crowd gave way on every side as
if it were the tomahawk or the bow of a savage)—speak
but the word I say! and I will strike him to the earth!

George Burroughs—I pray thee! said a female, who
sat in a dark part of the house with her head so muffled
up that nobody could see her face—I pray thee, George!
do not strike thy brother in wrath.

Speak but the word I say, and lo! I will stretch him
at your feet, if he refuse to obey me, whatever may be
the peril to me or mine.

I should like to see you do it, said the man. I care
as little for you, my boy,—throwing off his outer-garb as
he spoke, and preparing for a trial of strength on the
spot—as little for you, George Burroughs, if that is your
name, as I do for your master.

Will you not speak! You see how afraid of him
they all are, judges; you know how long he has braved
your authority—being a soldier forsooth. Speak, if ye
are wise; for if ye do not—

George! George!....No, no, George! said somebody
at his elbow, with a timid voice, that appeared to belong
to a child.

The uplifted staff dropped from his hand.