University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.

Here the venerable Increase Mather stood up, and
after a short speech to the people and a few words to the
court, he begged to know if the individual he saw before
him was indeed the George Burroughs who had formerly
been a servant of God.

Formerly, sir! I am so now, I hope.

The other sat down, with a look of inquietude. You
appear to be much perplexed about me. You appear
even to doubt the truth of what I say. Surely....surely
....there are some here that know me. I know you,
Doctor Mather, and you, Sir William Phips, and you....
and you....and you; addressing himself to many that
stood near—it is but the other day that we were associated
together; and some of us in the church, and others
in the ministry; it is but the other day that—

Here the Judges began to whisper together.

—That you knew me as well as I knew you. Can I
be so changed in a few short years? They have been
years of sorrow to be sure, of uninterrupted sorrow, of
trial and suffering, warfare and wo; but I did not suppose
they had so changed me, as to make it over-hard
for my very brothers in the church to know me—

It is Burroughs, I do believe, said another of the
judges.—But who is that boy with you, and by what
authority are you abroad again, or alive, I might say,
if you are the George Burroughs that we knew?

By what authority, Judges of Israel! By authority

of the Strong Man who broke loose when the spirit of
the Lord was upon him! By authority of one that hath
plucked me up out of the sea, by the hair of my head,
breathed into my nostrils the breath of new life, and endowed
me with great power—

The people drew back.

You have betrayed me; I will be a hostage for you
no longer.

Betrayed you!

Yes! and ye would have betrayed me to death, if I
had not been prepared for your treachery—

The man is mad, brother Sewall.

You have broken the treaty I stood pledged for; you
have not been at peace for a day. You do not keep
your faith. We do keep ours. You are churchmen...
we are savages; we I say, for you made me ashamed
years and years ago of my relationship to the white
man; years and years ago! and you are now in a fair
way to make me the mortal and perpetual foe of the
white man. The brave Iroquois are now ready for battle
with you. War they find to be better than peace
with such as you—

Who is that boy?

Ask him. Behold his beauty. Set him face to face,
if you dare, with the girl that spoke to the knife just
now.

And wherefore? said one of the jury.

Wherefore, Jacob Elliot—wherefore! Stay you in
that box, and watch the boy, and hear what he has to
say, and you shall be satisfied of the wherefore.

Be quick Sir. We have no time to lose—

No time to lose—How dare ye! Is there indeed
such power with you; such mighty power....and you not
afraid in the exercise of it! No time to lose! Hereafter,
when you are upon your death-bed, when every

moment of your life is numbered as every moment of
her life is now....the poor creature that stands there,
what will you say if the words of that very speech ring
in your ears? Believe me—there is no such hurry. It
will be time enough to-morrow, judges, a week hence or
a whole year to shed the blood of a miserable woman
for witchcraft. For witchcraft! alas for the credulity
of man! alas for the very nature of man!

Master Burroughs! murmured a compassionate-looking
old man, reaching over to lay his hand on his arm,
as if to stop him, and shaking his head as he spoke.

Oh but I do pity you; sages though you are—continued
Burroughs, without regarding the interposition.—
For witchcraft! I wonder how you are able to keep
your countenances! Do you not perceive that mother
Good, as they call her, cannot be a witch?

How so? asked the judge.

Would she abide your search, your trial, your judgment,
if she had power to escape?

Assuredly not brother, answered a man, who rose up
as he spoke as if ready to dispute before the people, if
permitted by the judges.... assuredly not, brother, if
she had power to escape. We agree with you there.
But we know that a period must arrive when the power
that is paid for with the soul, the power of witchcraft
and sorcery shall be withdrawn. We read of this and
we believe it; and I might say that we see the proof
now before us—

Brother, I marvel at you—

—If the woman be unexpectedly deserted by the
Father of lies, and if we pursue our advantage now, we
may be able both to succeed with her and overthrow him,
and thereby (lowering his voice and stooping toward
Burroughs) and thereby deter a multitude more from
entering into the league of death.

Speak low.... lower—much lower, deacon Darby,
or we shall be no match for the Father of lies: If he
should happen to overhear you, the game is up, said
another.

For shame, Elder Smith—

For shame! cried Burroughs. Why rebuke his levity,
when if we are to put faith in what you say, ye are
preparing to over-reach the Evil One himself? You
must play a sure game, (for it is a game) if you hope to
convict him of treachery in a case, where according to
what you believe, his character is at stake.

Brother Burroughs!

Brother Willard!

Forbear, I beseech you.

I shall not forbear. If the woman is a witch, how do
you hope to surprise her?.... to entrap her?.... to
convict her? And if she is not a witch, how can she
hope to go free? None but a witch could escape your
toils.

Ah Sir.... Sir! O, Mr. Burroughs! cried the poor
woman. There you have spoken the truth sir; there
you have said just what I wanted to say. I knew it....
I felt it.... I knew that if I was guilty it would be better
for me, than to be what you know me to be, and what
your dead wife knew me to be, and both of your dead
wives, for I knew them both—a broken-hearted poor
old woman. God forever bless you Sir! whatever may
become of me—however this may end, God forever
bless you, Sir!

Be of good faith Sarah. He whom you serve will be
nigh to you and deliver you.

Oh Sir—Sir—Do not talk so. They misunderstand
you—they are whispering together—it will be the death
of me; and hereafter, it may perhaps be a trouble to
you. Speak out, I beseech you! Say to them whom it

is that you mean, whom it is that I serve, and who it is
that will be nigh to me and deliver me.

Who it is, poor heart! why whom should it be but
our Father above! our Lord and our God, Sarah?
Have thou courage, and be of good cheer, and put all
thy trust in him, for he hath power to deliver thee.

I have—I do—I am no longer afraid of death sir.
If they put me to death now—I do not wish to live—I
am tired and sick of life, and I have been so ever since
dear boy and his poor father—I told them how it would
be if they went away when the moon was at the full—
they were shipwrecked on the shore just underneath the
window of my chamber—if they put me to death
now, I shall die satisfied, for I shall not go to my grave
now, as I thought I should before you came, without a
word or a look of pity, nor any thing to make me comfortable.

Judges—may the boy speak?

Speak? speak? to be sure he may, muttered old Mr.
Wait Winthrop, addressing himself to a preacher who
sat near with a large Bible outspread upon his knees.
What say you? what say you Brother Willard, what
says the Book?—no harm there, I hope; what can he
have to say though, (wiping his eyes) what can such a
lad have to say? What say you major Gidney; what
say you—(half sobbing) dreadful affair this, dreadful
affair; what can he possibly have to say?

Not much, I am afraid, replied Burroughs, not very
much; but enough I hope and believe, to shake your
trust in the chief accuser. Robert Eveleth—here—this
way—shall the boy be sworn, Sir?

Sworn—sworn?—to be sure—why not? very odd
though—very—very—swear the boy—very odd, I confess—never
saw a likelier boy of his age—how old is he?

Thirteen Sir—

Very—very—of his height, I should say—what can
he know of the matter though? what can such a boy
know of—of—however—we shall see—is the boy sworn?
—there, there—

The boy stepped forth as the kind-hearted old man—
too kind-hearted for a judge—concluded his perplexing
soliloquy, one part of which was given out with a very
decided air, while another was uttered with a look of
pitiable indecision—stepped forth and lifted up his right
hand according to the law of that people, with his large
grey eyes lighted up and his fine yellow hair blowing
about his head like a glory, and swore by the Everlasting
God, the Searcher of Hearts, to speak the truth.

Every eye was riveted upon him, for he stood high
upon a sort of stage, in full view of everybody, and face
to face to all who had sworn to the spectre-knife, and
his beauty was terrible.

Stand back, stand back.... what does that child do
there? said another of the judges, pointing to a poor
little creature with a pale anxious face and very black
hair, who had crept close up to the side of Robert Eveleth,
and sat there with her eyes lifted to his, and her
sweet lips apart, as if she were holding her breath.

Why, what are you afeard of now, Bridgee Pope? said
another voice. Get away from the boy's feet, will you
.... why don't you move?.... do you hear me?

No.... I do not, she replied.

You do not! what did you answer me for, if you didn't
hear me?

Why.... why.... don't you see the poor little
thing's bewitched? whispered a bystander.

Very true.... very true.... let her be, therefore, let
her stay where she is.

Poor babe! she don't hear a word you say.

O, but she dooze, though, said the boy, stooping down

and smoothing her thick hair with both hands; I know
her of old, I know her better than you do; she hears
every word you say.... don't you be afeard, Bridgee
Pope; I'm not a goin' to be afeard of the Old Boy himself....

Why Robert Eveleth! was the reply.

Well, Robert Eveleth, what have you to say? asked
the chief-judge.

The boy stood up in reply, and threw back his head
with a brave air, and set his foot, and fixed his eye on
the judge, and related what he knew of the knife. He
had broken it a few days before, he said, while he and
the witness were playing together; he threw away a part
of the blade, which he saw her pick up, and when he
asked her what she wanted of it, she wouldn't say....
but he knew her well, and being jest outside o' the door
when he heard her screech, and saw her pull a piece of
the broken blade out of her flesh and hold it up to the
jury, and say how the shape of old mother Good, who
was over tother side o' the house at the time, had stabbed
her with it, he guessed how the judge would like to
see the tother part o' the knife, and hear what he had to
say for himself, but he couldn't get near enough to speak
to nobody, and so he thought he'd run off to the school-house,
where he had left the handle o' the knife, an' try
to get a mouthful o' fresh air; and so.... and so....
arter he'd got the handle, sure enough, who should he
see but that are man there (pointing to Burroughs)
stavin' away on a great black horse with a club—that
very club he had now.—“Whereupon,” added the boy,
“here's tother part o' the knife, judge—I say.... you
.... Mr. judge.... here's tother part o' the knife....
an' so he stopped me an' axed me where the plague I
was runnin to; an' so I up an' tells him all I know about
the knife, an' so, an' so, an' so, that air feller, what

dooze he do, but he jounces me up on that air plaguy
crupper and fetches me back here full split, you see, and
rides over everything, and makes everybody get out o'
the way, an' will make me tell the story whether or no
.... and as for the knife now, if you put them are two
pieces together, you'll see how they match.... O, you
needn't be makin' mouths at me, Anne Putnam! nor you
nyther, Marey Lewis! you are no great shakes, nyther
on you, and I ain't afeard o' nyther on you, though the
grown people be; you wont make me out a witch in a
hurry, I guess.

Boy.... boy.... how came you by that knife?

How came I by that knife? Ax Bridgy Pope; she
knows the knife well enough, too—I guess—don't you,
Bridgy?

I guess I do, Robert Eveleth, whispered the child, the
tears running down her cheeks, and every breath a sob.

You've seen it afore, may be?

That I have, Robert Eveleth; but I never expected to
see.... to see.... to see it again.... alive.... nor you
neither.

And why not, pray? said one of the judges.

Why not, Mr. Major! why, ye see 'tis a bit of a keep-sake
she gin me, jest afore we started off on that are
vyage arter the goold.

The voyage when they were all cast away, sir....
after they'd fished up the gold, sir....

Ah, but the goold was safe then, Bridgy—

But I knew how 'twould be Sir, said the poor girl
turning to the judge with a convulsive sob, and pushing
away the hair from her face and trying to get up, I never
expected to see Robert Eveleth again Sir—I said so
too—nor the knife either—I said so before they went
away —.

So she did Mr. Judge, that's a fact; she told me so
down by the beach there, just by that big tree that
grows over the top o'the new school-house there—You
know the one I mean—that one what hangs over the
edge o'the hill just as if 'twas a-goin' to fall into the water—she
heard poor mother Good say as much when
her Billy would go to sea whether or no, at the full o'the
moon —.

Ah!

That she did, long afore we got the ship off.

Possible!

Ay, to be sure an' why not?—She had a bit of a
dream ye see—such a dream too! such a beautiful
dream you never heard—about the lumps of goold, and
the joes, and the jewels, and the women o'the sea, and
about a—I say, Mr. Judge, what if you ax her to tell it
over now—I dare say she would; would'n't you Bridgy?
You know it all now, don't you Bridgy?

No, no Robert—no, no; it's all gone out o'my head
now.

No matter for the dream, boy, said a judge who was
comparing the parts of the blade together—no matter
for the dream—these are undoubtedly—look here brother,
look—look—most undoubtedly parts of the same
blade.

Of a truth?

Of a truth, say you?

Yea verily, of a truth; pass the knife there—pass the
knife. Be of good cheer woman of sorrow —.

Brother! brother! —.

Well brother, what's to pay now?

Perhaps it may be well brother—perhaps I say, to
have the judgment of the whole court before we bid the
prisoner be of good cheer.

How wonderful are thy ways, O Lord! whispered

Elder Smith, as they took the parts of the blade for him
to look at.

Very true brother—very true—but who knows how
the affair may turn out after all?

Pooh—pooh!—if you talk in that way the affair is
all up; for whatever should happen, you would believe
it a trick of the father of lies—I dare say now —.

The knife speaks for itself, said a judge.

Very true brother—very true. But he who had power
to strive with Aaron the High Priest, and power to
raise the dead before Saul, and power to work prodigies
of old, may not lack power to do this—and more,
much more than this—for the help of them that serve
him in our day, and for the overthrow of the righteous
—.

Pooh, pooh Nathan, pooh, pooh—there's no escape
for any body now; your devil-at-a-pinch were enough
to hang the best of us.

Thirteen pence for you, said the little man at the
desk.

Here a consultation was held by the judges and the
elders which continued for half the day—the incredible
issue may be told in few words. The boy, Robert Eveleth,
was treated with favor; the witness being a large
girl was rebuked for the lie instead of being whipped;
the preacher Burroughs from that day forth was regarded
with unspeakable terror, and the poor old woman—she
was put to death in due course of law.