"Last night of all,
When yon same star, that's westward from the pole,
Had made its course to illume that part of heaven
Where now it burns, Marcellus, and myself
The bell then beating one--"
"Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!"
Hamlet.
It is our duty, as faithful historians of the events recorded in this
homely legend, to conceal no circumstance which may throw the necessary
degree of light on its incidents, nor any opinion that may serve for the
better instruction of the reader in the characters of its actors. In order
that this obligation may be discharged with sufficient clearness and
precision, it has now become necessary to make a short digression from the
immediate action of the tale.
Enough has been already shown, to prove that the Heathcotes lived at a
time, and in a country, where very quaint and peculiar religious dogmas
had the ascendancy. At a period when visible manifestations of the
goodness of Providence, not only in spiritual but in temporal gifts, were
confidently expected and openly proclaimed, it is not at all surprising
that more evil agencies should be thought to exercise their power in a
manner that is somewhat opposed to the experience of our own age. As we
have no wish, however, to make these pages the medium of a theological or
metaphysical controversy, we shall deal tenderly with certain important
events, that most of the writers, who were cotemporary with the facts,
assert took place in the Colonies of New-England, at and about the period
of which we are now writing. It is sufficiently known that the art of
witchcraft, and one even still more diabolical and direct in its origin,
were then believed to flourish, in that quarter of the world, to a degree
that was probably in a very just proportion to the neglect with which most
of the other arts of life were treated.
There is so much grave and respectable authority, to prove the existence
of these evil influences, that it requires a pen hardier than any we
wield, to attack them without a suitable motive. "Flashy people," says the
learned and pious Cotton Mather, Doctor of Divinity and Fellow of the
Royal Society, "may burlesque these things; but when hundreds of the most
sober people, in a country where they have as much mother wit, certainly,
as the rest of mankind, _know them to be true_, nothing but the absurd and
froward spirit of Sadducism can question them." Against this grave and
credited authority, we pretend to raise no question of scepticism. We
submit to the testimony of such a writer as conclusive, though as
credulity is sometimes found to be bounded by geographical limits, and to
possess something of a national character, it may be prudent to refer
certain readers, who dwell in the other hemisphere, to the Common Law of
England, on this interesting subject, as it is ingeniously expounded by
Keeble and approved by the twelve judges of that highly civilized and
enlightened island. With this brief reference to so grave authorities, in
support of what we have now to offer, we shall return to the matter of the
narrative, fully trusting that its incidents will throw some additional
light on the subject of so deep and so general concern.
Content waited respectfully until his father had taken his seat, and then
perceiving that the venerable Puritan had no immediate intention of moving
personally in the affair, he commenced the examination of his dependant as
follows; opening the matter with a seriousness that was abundantly
warranted by the gravity of the subject itself.
"Thou hast spoken of one met in the forest," he said: "proceed with the
purport of that interviews and tell us of what manner of man it was."
Thus directly interrogated, Eben Dudley disposed himself to give a full
and satisfactory answer. First casting a glance around, so as to embrace
every curious and eager countenance, and letting his look rest a little
longer than common on a half-interested, half-incredulous, and a somewhat
ironical dark eye, that was riveted on his own from a distant corner of
the room, he commenced his statement as follows:
"It is known to you all," said the borderer, "that when we had gained the
mountain-top, there was a division of our numbers, in such a fashion that
each hunter should sweep his own range of the forest, in order that
neither moose, deer, nor bear, might have reasonable chance of escape.
Being of large frame and it may be of swifter foot than common, the young
Captain saw fit to command Reuben Ring to flank one end of the line, and a
man, who is nothing short of him in either speed, or strength, to do the
same duty on the other. There was nothing particularly worthy of mention
that took place on the flank I held, for the first two hours; unless
indeed the fact, that three several times did I fall upon a maze of
well-beaten deer-tracks, that as often led to nothing----"
"These are signs common to the woods, and they are no more than so many
proofs that the animal has its sports, like any other playful creature,
when not pressed by hunger or by danger," quietly observed Content.
"I pretend not to take those deceitful tracks much into the account,"
resumed Dudley; "but shortly after losing the sound of the conchs, I
roused a noble buck from his lair beneath a thicket of hemlocks, and
having the game in view, the chase led me wide-off towards the wilderness,
it may have been the distance of two leagues."
"And in all that time, had you no fitting moment to strike the beast?"
"None whatever; nor, if opportunity had been given, am I bold to say that
hand of mine would have been hardy enough to aim at its life."
"Was there aught in the deer, that a hunter should seek to spare it?"
"There was that in the deer, that might bring a Christian man to much
serious reflection."
"Deal more openly with the nature and appearance of the animal," said
Content, a little less tranquil than usual; while the youths and maidens
placed themselves in attitudes still more strongly denoting attention.
Dudley pondered an instant, and then he commenced a less equivocal
enumeration of what he conceived to be the marvels of his tale.
"Firstly," he said, "there was no trail, neither to nor from the spot
where the creature had made its lair; secondly, when roused, it took not
the alarm, but leaped sportingly ahead, taking sufficient care to be
beyond the range of musket, without ever becoming hid from the eye; and
lastly its manner of disappearance was as worthy of mention as any other
of its movements."
"And in what manner didst thou lose the creature?"
"I had gotten it upon the crest of a hillock, where true eye and steady
hand might make sure of a buck of much smaller size, when--didst hear
aught that might be accounted wonderful, at a season of the year when the
snows are still lying on the earth?"
The auditors regarded one another curiously, each endeavoring to recall
some unwonted sound which might sustain a narrative that was fast
obtaining the seducing interest of the marvellous.
"Wast sure, Charity, that the howl we heard from the forest was the yell
of the beaten hound?" demanded a handmaiden of Ruth, of a blue-eyed
companion, who seemed equally well disposed to contribute her share of
evidence in support of any exciting legend.
"It might have been other," was the answer "though the hunters do speak of
their having beaten the pup for restiveness."
"There was a tumult among the echoes, that sounded like the noises which
follow the uproar of a falling tree," said Ruth, thoughtfully. "I remember
to have asked if it might not be that some fierce beast had caused a
general discharge of the musketry, but my father was of opinion that death
had undermined some heavy oak."
"At what hour might this have happened?"
"It was past the turn of the day; for it was at the moment I bethought me
of the hunger of those who had toiled since light, in the hills."
"That then was the sound I mean. It came not from falling tree, but was
uttered in the air, far above all forests. Had it been heard by one better
skilled in the secrets of nature----"
"He would say it thundered;" interrupted Faith Ring, who, unlike most of
the other listeners, manifested little of the quality which was expressed
by her name. "Truly, Eben Dudley hath done marvels in this hunt; he hath
come in with a thunderbolt in his head, instead of a fat buck on his
shoulders!"
"Speak reverently, girl, of that thou dost not comprehend," said Mark
Heathcote, with stern authority. "Marvels are manifested equally to the
ignorant and to the learned; and although vain-minded pretenders to
philosophy affirm, that the warring of the elements is no more than nature
working out its own purification, yet do we know, from all ancient
authorities, that other manifestations are therein exhibited. Satan may
have control over the magazines of the air; he can 'let off the ordnance
of Heaven.' That the Prince of the Powers of Darkness hath as good a share
in chemistry as goes to the making of Aurum Fulminans, is asserted by one
of the wisest writers of our age."
From this declaration, and more particularly from the learning
discovered in the Puritan's speech, there was no one so hardy as to
dissent. Faith was glad to shrink back among the bevy of awe-struck
maidens; while Content, after a sufficiently respectful pause, invited
the woodsman, who was yet teeming with the most important part of his
communication, to proceed.
"While my eye was searching for the lightning, which should in reason have
attended that thunder, had it been uttered in the manner of nature, the
buck had vanished; and when I rushed upon the hillock, in order to keep
the game in view, a man mounting its opposite side came so suddenly upon
me, that our muskets were at each other's breasts before either had time
for speech."
"What manner of man was he?"
"So far as human judgment might determine, he seemed a traveller, who was
endeavoring to push through the wilderness, from the towns below to the
distant settlements of the Bay Province; but I account it exceeding
wonderful, that the trail of a leaping buck should have brought us
together in so unwonted a manner!"
"And didst thou see aught of the deer, after that encounter?"
"In the first hurry of the surprise, it did certainly appear as if an
animal were bounding along the wood into a distant thicket; but it is
known how readily one may be led by seeming probabilities into a false
conclusion, and so I account that glimpse as delusion. No doubt, the
animal, having done that which it was commissioned to perform, did then
and there disappear, in the manner I have named."
"It might have been thus. And the stranger--had you discourse with him,
before parting?"
"We tarried together a short hour. He related much marvellous matter of
the experiences of the people, near the sea. According to the testimony
of the stranger, the Powers of Darkness have been manifested in the
Provinces in a hideous fashion. Numberless of the believers have been
persecuted by the invisibles, and greatly have they endured suffering,
both in soul and body."
"Of all this have I witnessed surprising instances, in my day," said Mark
Heathcote, breaking the awful stillness that succeeded the annunciation of
so heavy a visitation on the peace of the Colony, with his deep-toned and
imposing voice. "Did he, with whom you conferred, enter into the
particulars of the trials?"
"He spoke also of certain other signs that are thought to foretell the
coming of trouble. When I named the weary chase that I had made, and the
sound which came from the air, he said that these would be accounted
trifles in the towns of the Bay where the thunder and its lightnings had
done much evil work, the past season; Satan having especially shown his
spite, by causing them to do injury to the houses of the Lord."
"There has long been reason to think that the pilgrimage of the righteous,
into these wilds, will be visited by some fierce opposition of those
envious natures, which, fostering evil themselves, cannot brook to look
upon the toiling of such as strive to keep the narrow path. We will now
resort to the only weapon it is permitted us to wield in this
controversy, but which, when handled with diligence and zeal, never fails
to lead to victory."
So saying, without waiting to hear more of the tale of Eben Dudley, old
Mark Heathcote arose, and assuming the upright attitude usual among the
people of his sect, he addressed himself to prayer. The grave and
awe-struck but deeply confiding congregation imitated his example, and
the lips of the Puritan had parted in the act of utterance, when a low,
faltering note, like that produced by a wind instrument, rose on the
outer air, and penetrated to the place where the family was assembled. A
conch was suspended at the postern, in readiness to be used by any of the
family whom accident or occupation should detain beyond the usual hour of
closing the gates; and both by the direction and nature of this
interruption, it would seem that an applicant for admission stood at the
portal. The effect on the auditors was general and instantaneous.
Notwithstanding the recent dialogue, the young men involuntarily sought
their arms, while the startled females huddled together like a flock of
trembling and timid deer.
"There is, of a certainty, a signal from without!" Content at length
observed, after waiting to suffer the sounds to die away among the angles
of the buildings. "Some hunter, who hath strayed from his path, claimeth
hospitality."
Eben Dudley shook his head like one who dissented, but, having with all
the other youths grasped his musket, he stood as undetermined as the rest
concerning the course it was proper to pursue. It is uncertain how long
this indecision might have continued, had no further summons been given;
but he without appeared too impatient of delay to suffer much time to be
lost. The conch sounded again, and with far better success than before.
The blast was longer, louder, and bolder, than that which had first
pierced the walls of the dwelling, rising full and rich on the air, as
though one well practised in the use of the instrument had placed lips to
the shell.
Content would scarcely have presumed to disobey a mandate coming from his
father, had it been little in conformity with his own intentions. But
second thoughts had already shown him the necessity of decision, and he
was in the act of motioning to Dudley and Reuben Ring to follow, when the
Puritan bade him look to the matter. Making a sign for the rest of the
family to remain where they were, and arming himself with a musket which
had more than once that day been proved to be of certain aim, he led the
way to the postern which has already been so often mentioned.
"Who sounds at my gate?" demanded Content, when he and his followers had
gained a position, under cover of a low earthen mound erected expressly
for the purpose of commanding the entrance; "who summons a peaceful
family, at this hour of the night, to their outer defences?"
"One who hath need of what he asketh, or he would not disturb thy
quiet," was the answer. "Open the postern, Master Heathcote, without
fear; it is a brother in the faith, and a subject of the same laws, that
asketh the boon."
"Here is truly a Christian man without," said Content, hurrying to the
postern; which, without a moment's delay, he threw freely open, saying
as he did so, "enter of Heaven's mercy, and be welcome to that we have
to bestow."
A tall, and, by his tread, a heavy man, wrapped in a riding-cloak, bowed
to the greeting, and immediately passed beneath the low lintel. Every eye
was keenly fastened on the stranger, who, after ascending the acclivity a
short distance, paused, while the young men, under their master's orders,
carefully and scrupulously renewed the fastenings of the gate. When bolts
and bars had done their office; Content joined his guest; and after making
another fruitless effort, by the feeble light which fell from the stars,
to scan his person, he said, in his own meek and quiet manner--
"Thou must have great need of warmth and nourishment. The distance from
this valley to the nearest habitation is wearisome, and one who hath
journeyed it, in a season like this, may well be nigh fainting. Follow,
and deal with that we have to bestow as freely as if it were thine own."
Although the stranger manifested none of that impatience which the heir of
the Wish-Ton-Wish appeared to think one so situated might in all reason
feel, thus invited he did not hesitate to comply. As he followed in the
footsteps of his host, his tread, however, was leisurely and dignified;
and once or twice, when the other half delayed in order to make some
passing observation of courtesy, he betrayed no indiscreet anxiety to
enter on those personal indulgences which might in reality prove so
grateful to one who had journeyed far in an inclement season, and along a
road where neither dwelling nor security invited repose.
"Here is warmth and a peaceful welcome," pursued Content, ushering his
guest into the centre of a group of fearfully anxious faces. "In a little
time, other matters shall be added to thy comfort."
When the stranger found himself under the glare of a powerful light, and
confronted to so many curious and wondering eyes, for a single instant he
hesitated. Then stepping calmly forward, he cast the short riding-cloak,
which had closely muffled his features, from his shoulders, and discovered
the severe eye, the stern lineaments, and the athletic form of him who had
once before been known to enter the doors of Wish-Ton-Wish with little
warning, and to have quitted them so mysteriously.
The Puritan had arisen, with quiet and grave courtesy, to receive his
visiter; but obvious, powerful, and extraordinary interest gleamed
about his usually subdued visage, when, as the features of the other
were exposed to view, he recognised the person of the man who advanced
to meet him.
"Mark Heathcote," said the stranger, "my visit is to thee. It may, or it
may not, prove longer than the last, as thou shalt receive my tidings.
Affairs of the last moment demand that there should be little delay in
hearing that which I have to offer."
Notwithstanding the excess and nature of the surprise which the veteran
Mark had certainly betrayed, it endured just long enough to allow those
wondering eyes, which were eagerly devouring all that passed, to note
its existence. Then, the subdued and characteristic manner, which in
general marked his air, instantly returned, and with a quiet gesture,
like that which friends use in moments of confidence and security, he
beckoned to the other to follow to an inner room. The stranger complied,
making a slight bow of recognition to Ruth, as he passed her on the way
to the apartment chosen for an interview that was evidently intended to
be private.