# Oriental Scenes, Dramatic Sketches and Tales/The Witch's Ordeal

THE WITCH'S ORDEAL.
A DRAMATIC SKETCH.
Scene.—The outside of a hovel on the edge of a common. A village in the distance. A crowd of rustics assembled.
The Reputed Witch.
Ellinor, the Squire's Daughter.
Alice.}
Margaret.} Villagers.
A Traveller.
Farmers, Peasants, Labourers, &c.
First Rustic.
Off with the witch, I say we'll try the test—
I warrant me the hag will swim. The fiend
Will be at hand to help—come, neighbours, come,
Assist to hale her to the river's brink,
Then we shall see how like a cork she floats
Upon the rapid waters.
Second Rustic.
Down with her—
She has performed her wicked freaks too long;
The mildew hangs upon the corn; the earth
Teems with unwholesome damps; whole flocks of sheep Are smitten with disease; and she has wrought
These deadly plagues. Beneath the waning moon
I saw her gather poisonous herbs, and heard
The spells she inly muttered—off with her!
Croud.
Aye to the river straight—the witch shall swim.
Ellinor.
Nay, nay good people, hold your eager hands
The poor old dame is innocent—indeed
She cannot harm you if she would—so old,
So pressed by want—Oh! if she had the power
To work forbidden spells, she would not starve
Upon a morsel wrung from the cold hand
Of most reluctant charity. Then pause,
Nor for an idle prejudice commit
This cruel deed.
Third Rustic.
She hath been proved a witch,
A foul rank witch. 'Twas but a fortnight since
She passed our door, and out of wicked spite
Because the silly children set a cur
A snarling on her heels, to verjuice turned
A cask of stout October. 'Tis in vain
We nail the guardian horse-shoe o'er the porch;
And place witch-straws across the threshold,—still
Our cattle die, and still the noisome blight
Destroys the labourer's toil, the farmer's hope.
Alice.
I drove the cankered beldam from my gate,
And straight a loathsome toad dragged its foul length,
And shed its venom o'er the rosemary,
The thyme, and sage, drying for winter's store.
Margaret.
The hens break all the eggs, and we may churn
Until our arms, drop off—no butter comes.
Strange cats with glaring eyes; some of the brood
She nurtures in her hovel roam abroad
And dart at people's throats. She makes the owl
To hoot around our houses. Snakes and frogs
And slimy reptiles, birds of night, the bat,
The croaking raven and the hedgehog grim,
Creatures who fly from man, are with this hag
Familiar, and in her spite she sends
The will-o'wisp to guide the wanderer on
To some deep bog: our hind was lantern-led
But yesternight, and came home scared to death.
Alice.
She fears nor heaven nor earth, is never seen
At church or meeting: when she mumbles prayers,
She says them backwards: she is heard to talk
With mandrakes buried deep within the ground
Who do her bidding. Out upon the witch—
Ay to the river, down with her I say.
The Witch.
You will not be content until you have
My life, you greedy blood hounds. Can I stir
A step without a gibe? Pitfalls are set
About my path, and I am sorely bruised
By sticks and stones cast by the village fry
Whene'er I wander forth; your brats are taught
To maim my cats, I soon shall be without
A shed to screen me from the storms; the roof
Is pulled about my ears. The murrain take
Your beasts, the red plague hang on all!
Ellinor.
Stay! stay!
Nay do not curse good mother; you should strive
With meekness and with gentleness to turn
Their stubborn hearts.
The Witch.
Turn stones and rocks—'twould be
A task as easy. Preach not peace to me. I hate the canting vermin, and I'll spend
My latest breath in railing. Blisters be
Upon your slanderous lips! famine and pestilence
Feed on your vitals!
First Rustic.
Peace thou foul-mouthed witch!
Shall we stay tamely by, and hear her curse?
Seize her good neighbours, drag her to the stream.
Croud.
Down with the witch! down with the wicked hag.
Enter a Traveller on horseback. Ellinor runs up and accosts him.
Ellinor.
Oh Sir! for charity arrest the mad
And murderous purpose of these credulous
Inhuman peasants. They will put to death
A poor old harmless creature, something given
In truth to evil speaking; but indeed
Most wrongfully accused. The charge they bring
Would be a theme for merriment alone,
Were they not bent upon a cruel test,
They'll drown their wretched victim for a witch!
Traveller.
It were in vain,
To reason with a crowd so obstinate
And mischievous in their intentions—stand aside
And I will strive to lead them to adopt
A better ordeal. My good friends restrain
This violence; there is no need to drag
Yon wretched creature to the river's brink—
You have a surer test within your reach.
You all have Bibles? In a Christian land
'Twere sin to doubt it. Place within the scales
The sacred volume of the Scriptures, and
However small, however light it be, Nay should one leaf alone remain, 'twill sink
Like lead to earth while the convicted witch
Shall fly above the beam: but should the book
Be lightest in the scale, then be assured
That you have wronged this woman—who shall say
That she is guilty if this holy book
By Heaven inspired and most infallible,
Proclaim her innocent?
Rustics.
We'll try the test;
It must be true.
First Rustic (bringing a Bible)
This Bible's somewhat large,
'Twill weigh the beldam down, now neighbour Giles
Your scales are handy—
They weigh the witch, who proves the heaviest.
Second Rustic.
We have been to blame;
She has outweighed the sacred volume—see
It seems a feather in the balance.
Traveller.
Friends!
Go to your homes and ponder on the word
Of Him who graciously vouchsafed to give
That holy volume to a sinful world.
Oh know ye not that when the blessed Son
Of light and peace gave up his life for us
The power of evil spirits was destroyed?
Live not in ignorance of Him who chained
The fiends of darkness, and to all mankind
Offered a free redemption
Witch.
Has the Bible saved me?
Traveller.
The word of God has saved you! Oh repent,
And turn in humble thankfulness to Him
Who will preserve your soul. You now rejoice
Because your wretched body has escaped
From present peril, but a nobler boon
Courts your acceptance. Flee away from sin
And seek a blessed immortality.
Ellinor.
Thanks, thanks, good Sir; it was a happy thought.
Traveller.
Lady, in this my pilgrimage I've learned
In every evil chance of my sad life
To seek for aid, for comfort, and for strength,
From Holy Writ. Study with humble zeal
This blessed book, and you will never need
Another counsellor. Those rustics feared
The word of God: and lady, may I say
Your influence was weak, because they heard
Nothing save worldly wisdom to oppose
Their idle superstition.