Dulcibel in Danger.
The terrible excitement of these days was enough to drive the more
excitable portion of the inhabitants of Salem almost crazy. The work of
the house and of the farm was neglected; a large number of suspected
persons and their relatives were sunk in the deepest grief, the families
of some of the imprisoned knew not where to get their daily food; for
their property was generally taken possession of by the officers of the
law at the time of the arrest, the accused being considered guilty until
they were proved to be innocent. Upon conviction of a capital offence
the property of the condemned was attainted, being confiscated by the
state; and the constables took possession at once, in order that it
might not be spirited away.
And no one outside of the circle of the accusers knew whose turn might
come next. Neither sex, nor age, nor high character, as we have seen,
was a bar against the malice, or the wantonness of the "afflicted." The
man or woman who had lived a righteous life for over eighty years, the
little child who wondered what it all meant, the maiden whose only
fault might be to have a jealous rival, all were alike in danger.
Especially were those in peril, however, who dared to take the side of
any of the accused, and express even the faintest disbelief in the
justice of the legal proceedings, or the honesty of the witnesses. These
would be surely singled out for punishment. Again and again, had this
been done until the voices of all but the very boldest were effectually
silenced. Those arrested now, as a general thing, would confess at once
to the truthfulness of all the charges brought against them, and even
invent still more improbable stories of their own, as this mollified the
accusers, and they often would be let off with a solemn reprimand by the
magistrates.
Joseph Putnam and his male servants went constantly armed; and two
horses were kept saddled day and night, in his stable. He never went to
the village unaccompanied; and made no secret of his determination to
resist the arrest of himself or, as he had phrased it, "any one within
his gates," to the last drop of his blood.
Living with the Goodman Buckley who had leased the Burton property, was
a hired man named Antipas Newton. He was a good worker though now
getting old, and had in one sense been leased with the place by
Dulcibel's father.
Antipas's history had been a sad one. Adopted when left an orphan by a
benevolent farmer who had no children, he managed by diligence and
strict economy to acquire by the age of thirty, quite a comfortable
property of his own. Then the old couple that he called Father and
Mother became converts to Quakerism. Fined and imprisoned, deprived of
their property, and, after the expiration of their term of imprisonment,
ordered to leave the colony, they had been "harbored" by the man for
whom they had done so much in his early years.
Antipas was a person of limited intelligence, but of strong affections
and wide sympathies. Again and again, he harbored these persecuted ones,
who despite their whippings and banishment would persist in returning to
Salem. Finally, Antipas himself was heavily fined, and his property sold
to pay the fines. His wife had died early, but a young daughter who kept
his house in order, and who had failed in her attendance at the church
which was engaged in persecuting her father, was also fined heavily. As
her father's property was all gone, and she had no money of her own,
she could not pay the fine, and was put in prison, to be sent to
Barbados, and sold as a slave, that thus the fine might be collected.
But the anguish, and the exposure of her prison, were too much for the
young girl; and she died before means of transportation could be found.
As a result of these persecutions, Antipas became demented. As his
insanity grew evident, the prosecutions ceased; but he was still in
danger of starvation, so few would give him employment, both on account
of his impaired mind, and of the odium which attached to any friend of
the abhorred Quakers.
Captain Burton, Dulcibel's father, came to the village at this time. He
had been one of the sea-captains who had indignantly refused to take the
Southwick children, or any other of the Salem children, to Barbados;
and he pitied the poor insane man, and gave him employment. Not only did
he do this, but, as we have said, made it an article of the lease of his
property, that the Buckleys should also keep Antipas as a farm servant.
Antipas, to the general surprise of the villagers had proved to be an
excellent servant, notwithstanding his insanity. Only on training days
and other periods of excitement, did his insanity obtrude itself. At
all other times he seemed to be a cheerful, simple-hearted, and very
capable and industrious "hand."
To Dulcibel, as was natural, Antipas always manifested the greatest
devotion. Her little black mare was always groomed to perfection, he
never being satisfied until he took a white linen handkerchief that he
kept for the purpose, and, passing it over the mare's shining coat, saw
that no stain or loose black hair remained on it.
"You think that Mistress Dulcibel is an angel, do you not?" said one of
the female servants to him about this time, a little scornfully.
"No, I know what she is," he replied. "Shall I tell you--but if I do,
you will not believe"--and he looked at the girl a little doubtfully.
"Oh, yes, I will," said the girl.
"Come here then and I will whisper it to you. I heard the minister read
about her once, she is the woman that is 'clothed with the sun and has
the moon under her feet, and upon her head a crown of twelve stars.'"
"That is wicked, Antipas. If Master Parris heard that you said things
like that, he would have you whipped and put in the stocks."
"Master Parris? you mean Beelzebub! I know Beelzebub when I see him."
And Antipas gave one of his unnatural, insane laughs, which were getting
very frequent of late.
For the general excitement was proving too much for Antipas. Fie stopped
frequently in his work, and muttered to himself; and then laughed
wildly, or shed tears. He talked about the witches and the Devil and
evil spirits, and the strange things that he saw at night, in the insane
fashion that characterized the "afflicted children."
As for Dulcibel in these times, she kept pretty much to herself, going
out very little. As she could not sympathize with the general gossip of
the neighborhood, she remained at home, and consequently had very few
visitors. Joseph Putnam called whenever he came to the village, which,
as I have stated, was but seldom; and Ellis Raymond came every few days.
Yes, it was a courtship, I suppose; but one of a very grave and serious
character. The conversation generally turned upon the exciting events
continually occurring, some new arrest, some new confession, some new
and outrageously absurd charges.
Master Raymond's hand, if anyone accosted him suddenly, instinctively
sought the hilt of his rapier. He was better skilled in the use of that
weapon than was usual, and had no fear that he should be unable to
escape from the constables, if not taken at a disadvantage. Still, as
that would compel him to fly into the woods, and as it would separate
him from Dulcibel, he had been very careful not to express in public his
abhorrence of all the recent proceedings. I am afraid that he was guilty
of considerable dissimulation, even paying his court to some of the
"afflicted" maidens when he had the opportunity, with soft words and
handsome presents; and trying in this way to enlist a party in his
behalf, in case he or any of his friends should need supporters.
Joseph Putnam censured him one day for his double dealing, which was a
thing not only out of Master Joseph's line, but one which his frank and
outspoken nature rendered it very difficult for him to practise. But
Raymond with his references to King David's behavior towards Achish,
King of Gath, and to certain other scripture, especially Paul's being
"all things to all men that he might save all," was rather too weighty
for Joseph, whose forte was sensible assertion rather than ingenious
argument. And so Master Raymond persevered in his course, feeling no
more compunction in deceiving the Salemites, as he said to himself, than
he would in deceiving and cheating a pack of savage wolves, who were
themselves arrayed in sheep's clothing.
Jethro Sands had of late shown a disposition to renew his attentions to
Dulcibel; but, after two or three visits, in the last of which he had
given the maiden the desired opportunity, she had plainly intimated to
him that the old state of affairs between them could never be restored.
"I know the reason too," said Jethro, angrily "it is all owing to that
English popinjay, who rides about as if we colonists were not fit to
dust his pretty coat for him."
"He is a gentleman, and a friend of mine," replied Dulcibel warmly.
"Why do you not say a lover of yours, at once?"
"You have no right to talk to me in that manner. I will not endure it."
"You will not--how will you help it?" He was now thoroughly angry, and
all his native coarseness came to the surface.
"I will show you," said Dulcibel, the Norse blood of her father glowing
in her face. "Good evening, Sir!" and she left the room.
Jethro had not expected such a quiet, but effective answer. He sat
twirling his thumbs, for awhile, hoping that she would return. But
realizing at last that she would not, he took his departure in a
towering anger. Of course this was the last of his visits. But Dulcibel
had made a deadly enemy.
It was unfortunate, for the maiden already had many who disliked her
among the young people of the village. She was a superior person for one
thing, and "gave herself airs," as some said. To be superior, without
having wealth or an acknowledged high social position, is always to be
envied, and often to be hated. Then again, Dulcibel dressed with more
richness and variety of costume than was usual in the Puritan villages.
This set many of the women, both young and old, against her. Her scarlet
bodice, especially, was a favorite theme for animadversion; some even
going so far as to call her ironically "the scarlet woman." It is
curious how unpopular a perfectly amiable, sweet-tempered and
sweet-tongued maiden may often become, especially with her own sex,
because of their innate feeling that she is not, in spite of all her
courteous endeavors, really one of them. It is an evil day for the swan
when she finds herself the only swan among a large flock of geese.
Dulcibel's antecedents also were not as orthodox as they might be. Her
mother, it was granted, was "pious," and of a "godly" connection; but
her father, as he had himself once said, "had no religion to speak of."
He had further replied to the question, asked him when he first came to
Salem, as to whether he was "a professor of religion," that he was "only
a sea captain, and had no other profession." And a certain freedom of
thought characterized Dulcibel, that she could scarcely have derived
from her pious mother. In fact, it was something like the freedom of the
winds and of the clouds, blowing where they liked; and had been probably
caught up by her father in his many voyages over the untrammeled seas.
At first Dulcibel had been rather impressed by the sermons of Master
Parris and Master Noyes and the other ministers, to the effect that
Satan was making a deadly assault upon the "saints," in revenge for
their interference with his hitherto undisputed domination of the new
world. But the longer she thought about it, the more she was inclined to
adopt Joseph Putnam's theory, that his sister-in-law and niece and the
other "afflicted" persons were possessed by devils.
She inclined to this view in preference even to what she knew was Ellis
Raymond's real conviction, that they were a set of hysterical and
vicious girls and women who had rendered themselves half-insane by
tampering for a whole winter with their nervous and spiritual
organizations; until they could scarcely now distinguish the true from
the untrue, the real from the unreal, good from evil, or light from
darkness.
"They have become reprobates and given over to an evil mind," said
Master Raymond to her one day; clothing his thought as nearly as he
could in scriptural language, in order to commend it to her.
"Yes, this seems to be a reasonable explanation of their wicked
conduct," replied Dulcibel. "But I think after all, that it amounts to
about the same thing as Joseph Putnam says, only that his is the
stronger and more satisfactory statement."
And thinking of it, Master Raymond had to come to the same conclusion.
His own view and that of his friends were about the same, only they had
expressed themselves in different phrases.