1
_A Trap is set for two Tender Souls._
Doll never thought the demon would wait until her death-bed to come
to her. Every moonlight night and every sunny day she looked for him
and thought, ‘Perhaps this day or this night he will come to me.’ She
always wore even quite commonly her prettiest, most worldly clothes,
and she kept her shaggy black hair as neat as she was able. She
thought, ‘He sees me always, everything I do, everything I wear,’ and
she kept herself comely for him. She guessed he even knew her thoughts,
and so she dedicated them to him.
In her own chamber she daily worshipped and prayed to Satan, as the
fiend had taught her; that is, by foul blasphemies, such as the
reversal of the Lord’s Prayer, etc. She even wrote little hymns to
Satan and entuned them for him. She felt that she should be about some
harm, such, for instance, as the bewitchment of the godly, but she
received no command, so she did, for some time at least, no devilment.
She was happy and grew sleek.
The widow was already courted by three men, all reputable widowers and
church members. Now that the windows were opened and Doll sang as she
worked, and her own mind was taken up with her suitors, she did not
fear her so much. Each went her own way.
Doll had always shown a dawdling and trifling attitude towards honest
labour. And in this offence Bilby had encouraged her. For he had had
her out in the woods and the fields (where there was nothing a young
female could do) with himself, instead of leaving her at home to serve
Hannah, as would have been more proper.
Now that he was gone, Doll still continued in her childish and
frivolous wanderings. She often sat herself on the stone fence by the
willow brook which divided the lands of the Bilbys and the Thumbs. The
bonded boys upon the farm said they often saw her sitting upon the
stone fence and feeding small rotten apples to Ahab (whose ferocity
now had grown hideous). Yet this girl patted him freely, talking to
him, laying her face against his cheek, and all these attentions Ahab
accepted of. She wished him for her familiar, but the creature (so she
told Mr. Zelley) would never do one of the things she asked of him,
except to pursue and render ridiculous young Thumb.
Mrs. Thumb heard that her black bull was often down on the boundary
with Bilby’s Doll. She asked that he be penned, for she guessed that
Doll was at the bottom of Ahab’s remarkable dissatisfaction in Titus.
She wished the bull withdrawn from the young woman’s influence. By so
doing and thus making these fields by the willow brook safe to cross,
she did great harm to her own household, for now it was Labour and
Sorrow who came daily (if they could) to see Doll. Undoubtedly she
had been waiting for the twins to come and play with her. She must
have seen in these weak and disobedient little girls fit matter for
her to work upon to the further enlargement of the Kingdom of Hell.
For she lay in wait there, and finally they came to her. They came
slyly. No one at first knew they came, and they played at ungodly
games, furtively, where no one of either house could know. Thus passed
September, and October, and the half of November.
2
_The Horrible Example of the Thumb Twins, or to what a Pass
Disobedience may bring a Child._
Doubtless some who read these words will recall how in childhood they
were brought to obedience and wholesome respect for authority by
hearing a mother, or grannie, or aunt, or servant tell them the awful
story of the Thumb twins, and to what their disobedience brought them.
It is true that these children had never been well, and for them to
fall from health to point of death was not a long fall. Nor when one
considers what good use has been made of their example, and how many
other children have learned decent docility from their story, can one
wholly regret the incident which occurred as follows.
On the twentieth day of November (the day had been a mellow, warm,
yellow day) the disobedient Labour and Sorrow went to the willow brook,
and there found, as they hoped to find, the witch-woman awaiting them.
She was all in fine scarlet as her fancy was. The children said they
dared not stay and play—their mother had sent them to Goody Greene’s to
buy mints. She would wonder if they did not return within the hour.
They said (a long time later) that Doll smiled at them in a terrible
fashion and suggested to them that what their mother wanted was of no
importance. But the twins for once were mindful of their good mother’s
wishes. They said again they could not stay. They had only come to tell
her that they could not stay. ‘Well, take that then,’ said the witch,
and angrily tossed across the brook and to their feet two dolls that
she had contrived out of corn husks and pumpkin seeds. So she went
away, and the twins went to Greene’s.
[Illustration: Woman with two kids and a cow]
They came home again and they were late as usual, or rather as always,
for they were dawdling, mischievous children. Their mother was angry
with them. She could not whip nor even shake them. She dared not,
they were too feeble. She put them to bed without their dinner and
there they lay to supper-time, talking and whispering, laughing to each
other. She bade them get up for supper. They would not, but lay in
their bed. No one thought further of them until morning. The truth is
that, having no dinner and no supper, they grew hungry and so they ate
the dollies, which were made mostly of pumpkin seeds. The pumpkin in
all its parts, even the seeds of it, is wholesome food. It could not be
this that sickened the children, yet from that day they sickened.
For forty-eight hours they were afflicted in their stomachs. This
passing a little, an even more grievous malady seized their bowels,
which seemed to rot away. Their very bones gave out from within them,
refusing to support their weight, etc. They pined, would not eat
because of the pain they were in. First it was ‘My belly, mamma, oh,
my belly!’ and the next, ‘My throat, mamma!’ or ‘My head, mamma, my
miserable bowels! My vitals are decaying within me.’ These frightful
pains were the result of their disobedience, for if they had done as
bidden—that is, if they had eschewed the young woman and received no
presents from her—they never would have so suffered.
They had thus sickened and suffered for a week, and then Mrs. Thumb,
putting fresh linen upon their bed, found, between bed and wall, all
that remained of the pumpkin-seed poppets. It was plain that these
two poppets were intended to represent the twins. They were all but
identical, yet was the one (Sorrow) plumper than the other (Labour).
They had dark eyes, made from little buttons, and light hair fashioned
from corn silk. In this respect they simulated the brown eyes and
yellow hair of the twins. The one was tied about the waist with a red
rag, and the other with a blue, and it was thus in these two colours
Mrs. Thumb habitually dressed them.
The twins gaped at their mother as she found these things, and their
eyes were guilty eyes. She asked them from whence came these dollies.
They swore they did not know. Perhaps a cat had brought them in. They
were sure a cat had brought them in. Their mother told them they were
lying and they said nothing. She said she would shake them, and they
said that they were far too sick, and Labour offered to fall into a
spasm. Well, if they would not tell from whence these things were,
would they tell who it was that had eaten out the pumpkin seeds that
had made their vitals. The twins responded heartily, yes, it was they
themselves who had eaten up the vitals. The woman cried out in anguish,
‘My children, oh, my poor children, it is your own vitals that you have
eaten, God help us all!’ And she rushed from the sick-room, weeping,
wringing her hands, screaming to her husband, her son.
For three days the twins would not say from whence were these poppets.
Their mother fancied it was old Goody Greene had given them, because
she knew that the girls had been to her evil hut on the very day they
sickened. Now Greene, as well as Mr. Kleaver, had been called in every
few days to advise in the care of the twins. Mrs. Thumb was enraged
to think that she had thus allowed the woman access to her darlings.
But Widow Bilby told her to look to Doll, for she knew that she had in
her own room pumpkin seeds with red and blue rags, and corn silk. She
warned her, ‘Look to Doll.’
In her heart the woman was convinced that her little ones suffered
from witchcraft. Mr. Zelley, who showed at that time a most stubborn
disbelief in such infernal manifestations, or perhaps wishing to
protect the wicked, pooh-poohed the idea. Mr. Kleaver also said that
such wasting fevers were indeed far from rare. By the New Year he
promised the twins would be well or in their coffins. He himself had
seen no signs of demoniacal possession.
The woman asked the children—for who should know as well as they? At
first they stoutly denied the idea and then weakened, admitting that it
was possible. When their mother pressed them further, they put their
heads under the bedclothing and remained mute. The mother decided to
spy upon them to see if between themselves they might not prove more
honest.
She told them she was going abroad. And she left the door of the
chamber open into the fire-room. Having bid them farewell and slammed
the front door, she returned on tiptoe to the stool she had set herself
behind the chamber door. There she listened. They talked little and
but casually. And then at last Labour said, ‘I wish we had not eaten
the pretty poppets Mistress Dolly made us. I wish we had them to play
with.’ So she knew that in truth the poppets were from Doll. Nothing
more of consequence was said.
That very night, however, they woke up the whole house, screaming that
a great tawny cat had come down the chimney and had sat upon their
chests, kneading its paws and purring most hideous. Father, mother, and
brother flew to them. They saw no cat, but there were two red fresh
scratches on the face of Labour. Their father reproved them for their
fancies, reminding his wife how since early childhood they had been
subject to night fears. The children were ashamed. They put their heads
under the bedclothing. From then on, however (when their father was
not present), they often spoke of this cat, and suggested even more
horrible visions that came to torment them. Every day their plight was
more piteous.
Almost in the middle of December, close to the shortest day of the
year, the woman sat by her hearth, pondering these things. She was
determined to find the truth for herself. Husband, doctor, and minister
were all wilfully blind.
The children lay sick in the next room, and often seemed like to die.
The one said to the other, ‘She will come again to-night.’ At the
word ‘she’ the woman pricked her ears. It was only of the cat they had
spoken before, and this cat they called ‘he.’ The child said, ‘She will
bring her baby and let us play with it.’ The other said, ‘Oh, I hope
she will not come. Although she seems kind to us, I am afraid that it
is she who hurts us, for God knows we are bewitched.’ (She vomited a
little.)
The woman went to the door, saying, ‘Pretty pets, who comes to you,
and of whom is this baby?’ She spoke quietly. They hid their heads and
would not answer. The woman went again to the fireplace and listened.
‘I think,’ said one, ‘it is her cat that comes to hurt us,’ and the
children whispered together. The woman trembled with excitement. She
did not go immediately to the children! Instead she sat close by the
fire and listened. Sorrow said, ‘And the little black man with the
little black hat....’ She could hear no more. But later Sorrow was
saying, ‘Little people came, no bigger than my finger. They ate a
little feast of honey and suet, served out to them in acorn cups—like
those Mistress Dolly makes for us....’ And later, ‘There was a tiny
queen. She looked just like Mistress Dolly, only smaller, a Mistress
Dolly you could put away in a teacup, and her baby was no bigger than a
thumb nail....’ The mother now felt she had proof. She hurried to her
children, begging them to tell her all. Could Mistress Dolly, then,
shrink no bigger than a poppet? And who was the little black man? At
first the children would not speak, but, as was usual, stubbornly hid
their heads.
She wept and prayed over them, begging them to be frank with her, for,
if it were only known who bewitched them and how, they might be cured.
As it was they would grow sicker and weaker, and finally languish and
die. They protested they did not want to die, and began to weep and
cast themselves about. And at last they confessed to everything (but
in the midst, Labour was thrown into a grievous fit). They told how it
was Bilby’s Doll had given them the poppets; how she came to them every
night—not cruelly using them, but amusing and diverting them. ‘And she
had with her a book ...’ said Sorrow. ‘My children, my poor miserable
children ... was it a black book, and have you signed?’ Yes, it was a
black book. No, they had not signed.
Then the pious woman got out the Bible, and she made them kiss it and
swear that no matter how ill-used they were, or how delicately they
were tempted by the witch, they would remain fast-sealed to God and not
sign away their souls to Hell—no matter if devils did come and pull
their vitals up by the roots and run needles through their eyeballs
and brain-pans. The children, lamenting, shrieking, and yet for once
obedient, promised and swore as they were bid.
3
_A Hideous Malady and a Bridle for it._
From the day mentioned above Doll made no further pretence at kindness,
for she began to come to these twins in hideous and cruel aspect. The
deacons of the Church, the elders, the constables, the neighbours, took
turn and turn about, in praying with them. These good words would often
frighten away the witch, with her black book and infernal troop, and
the little ones would rest a little or even sleep.
At last was the godly father of the haunted children convinced that
this was witchcraft. He or his son Titus sat night and day with a
bastard musket in the hand and a silver bullet in it.
At last was Mr. Kleaver convinced, and the doctor from Salem was
convinced, and Mr. Increase Mather from Boston was convinced, that
here at Cowan Corners was being enacted the most heinous and wicked
witchcraft ever practised by any one in the New World. Here was indeed
a witchcraft. Where was the witch?
Doll Bilby claimed that at this time she knew the children to be sick,
but because week in and week out no one spoke to her (she went no more
to Meeting) she had not guessed they were bewitched nor that she was
talked about. She said she was sorry for what she mockingly called ‘her
little friends.’ So she made a junket, and a fowl being killed she made
a broth and put expensive cloves and nutmegs in this broth. She laid
these things in a basket and asked the youngest of the farm servants to
go present this basket to the Thumb twins, but not to say from whom it
was.
When the mother saw the basket she cried out. Upon the handle of the
basket in pretty Indian fashion were strung blue beads, identical
with those the poor little wretches had but lately spewed forth.
The children set up a great clamour at the sight of this food, for,
although so hard to tempt, this particular food they would eat. She
consulted Mr. Zelley (it was the last time she ever consulted him). He
said it was good food and let the children eat. So they ate and quickly
fell to sleep. That night they woke in horrid writhing fits, and almost
died. Not only did they see Doll Bilby as she floated about over their
bed, but Deacon Pentwhistle saw her and three others. Also Mr. Minchon,
on going to the horse barn to get out his horse and ride home (for it
was late), was bitten mysteriously in the arm. Lot Charty, a poor boy,
that same night saw a fiery rat, and he said to this same rat, ‘Who are
you?’ The rat said, ‘I am who I am.’ And he said, ‘Whom serve you?’ And
the creature replied, ‘I serve Hell and the will of Bilby’s Doll.’ Then
with a clap like thunder he was up the fire hole.
A woman by the Ipswich Road that selfsame night sat nursing a feeble
babe. She said the room grew light and there before her stood an
awful female form. She never had set an eye upon Bilby’s Doll, but by
description she knew that this was she or her apparition. The child
in her arms gave a great screech and the female form made off. Then
(although it was midwinter) to the mother’s apprehension, lightning
came and struck the babe, squeezing it flat as a plank so it died.
Doubtless there were many devils abroad. The blessed God permitted
their escapement from Hell that they might give bodily confutation to
all atheists who should say ‘there is no God.’ So must ever the Prince
of Lies and his servants serve the will of God. Because of the powers
of an invisible Kingdom manifested in the years 1671-72, the churches
were gorged with the pious and the entire community awoke to an awful
realization of the potency of God.
_Non est religio ubi omnia patent._ (Which might be translated, Where
there is no mystery there is no religion.)
All in all there seemed no proof lacking that Cowan Corners and more
particularly the Thumb twins were suffering from a cruel demoniacal
tormentation. Mr. Kleaver and the Salem doctor, the deacons, the
elders, Captain Buzzey, the marshal, and others gave affidavit in
writing to the magistrates that the woman Bilby was a witch of provable
perversity and that she should be set in jail. Mr. Zelley alone among
all the men of standing had nothing to do with the signing and
drawing-up of this paper. In fact, such was his strange, distrait, and
heretical attitude, no one asked him to assist. Already it was bruited
abroad that he was a man to be looked at, for, after all, have not some
of the most potent wizards done their blasphemies under a cloak of
piety?
[Illustration: People on horseback]
So Captain Tom Buzzey, of the Train-Band troop (and he was also
sheriff), taking two constables with him, rode to the house of Widow
Bilby and there served warrant upon the young woman. She showed neither
surprise nor terror, but looked up at her captors fearlessly. She
wanted to know of what she was accused. She was primarily accused of
afflicting the Thumb twins. Why, then she was as innocent as a babe
unborn. She would have explained to the sheriff that she had been the
friend of these little ones ever since they could toddle. The sheriff
told her that all were agreed that they were bewitched. If not she, who
was it? Then she became confused and in the end said, ‘It was the work
of _another witch_,’ thereby denying all and confessing all.
Captain Buzzey, as he had been instructed, searched her chamber and the
house. He did not find the pumpkin seeds, corn husks, etc., etc., that
Widow Bilby said the girl kept under her bed to work evil out of. It is
likely the young woman really did know that her name was talked about
and had rid herself of them.
She rode upon a pillion back of Captain Buzzey. A great jeering crowd
had gathered to see her off to Salem jail. Widow Bilby laughed loudly
from where she stood in the crowd between two of her suitors, ‘You’ve
got it now, you jade, you jade!’ she cried.
Captain Buzzey said the girl bowed her head and he heard her whisper,
‘He has not abandoned me. My god, my god, protect me and save me.’
Thinking that she was referring to our Lord Jesus Christ and to the
true God, he, in his heart, pitied her. She begged Captain Buzzey to
hurry. ‘Oh, for pity’s sake take me out of this crowd.’ He clapped
spurs to his stallion, and the young horse, in spite of his double
load, put off at a gallop. The day was a winter day, crisp and cold,
and the snow was fresh and spotless under the horses’ hooves. So at a
tremendous pace the cavalcade of armed men and the one prisoner passed
through dark woods and by a winter sea. They rode for six miles and
came to Salem, where again they encountered angry faces, hoots, gibes,
and threats of instant death.
That night she lay upon straw and without a mattress. The dungeon was
so cold the water froze in the jug. She could not sleep for cold, but
spent hours upon her knees in prayer (as the jailor later reported),
yet now it is known it was to her demon or to Satan that she prayed. At
last a heavenly quiet descended upon her and she slept.
Concurrent to her jailing, the Thumb twins were a little eased in their
misery. It would seem that the witch had been put to fright at the fear
of bodily incarceration and pain, and that she had diminished the force
and malignancy of her spells.