The Lancashire Witches by William Harrison Ainsworth

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Her handmaidens, both of whom were simple girls, and though not
destitute of some pretensions to beauty themselves, in nowise to be
compared with her, were at the moment employed in knotting the ribands
in her hair, and adjusting the azure surcoat.

Attentively watching these proceedings sat on a stool, placed in a
corner, a little girl, some nine or ten years old, with a basket of
flowers on her knee. The child was very diminutive, even for her age,
and her smallness was increased by personal deformity, occasioned by
contraction of the chest, and spinal curvature, which raised her back
above her shoulders; but her features were sharp and cunning, indeed
almost malignant, and there was a singular and unpleasant look about the
eyes, which were not placed evenly in the head. Altogether she had a
strange old-fashioned look, and from her habitual bitterness of speech,
as well as from her vindictive character, which, young as she was, had
been displayed, with some effect, on more than one occasion, she was no
great favourite with any one. It was curious now to watch the eager and
envious interest she took in the progress of her sister's adornment--for
such was the degree of relationship in which she stood to the May
Queen--and when the surcoat was finally adjusted, and the last riband
tied, she broke forth, having hitherto preserved a sullen silence.

[Illustration: THE MAY QUEEN.]

"Weel, sister Alizon, ye may a farrently May Queen, ey mun say" she
observed, spitefully, "but to my mind other Suky Worseley, or Nancy
Holt, here, would ha' looked prottier."

"Nah, nah, that we shouldna," rejoined one of the damsels referred to;
"there is na a lass i' Lonkyshiar to hold a condle near Alizon Device."

"Fie upon ye, for an ill-favort minx, Jennet," cried Nancy Holt; "yo're
jealous o' your protty sister."

"Ey jealous," cried Jennet, reddening, "an whoy the firrups should ey be
jealous, ey, thou saucy jade! Whon ey grow older ey'st may a prottier
May Queen than onny on you, an so the lads aw tell me."

"And so you will, Jennet," said Alizon Device, checking, by a gentle
look, the jeering laugh in which Nancy seemed disposed to indulge--"so
you will, my pretty little sister," she added, kissing her; "and I will
'tire you as well and as carefully as Susan and Nancy have just 'tired
me."

"Mayhap ey shanna live till then," rejoined Jennet, peevishly, "and when
ey'm dead an' gone, an' laid i' t' cowld churchyard, yo an they win be
sorry fo having werreted me so."

"I have never intentionally vexed you, Jennet, love," said Alizon, "and
I am sure these two girls love you dearly."

"Eigh, we may allowance fo her feaw tempers," observed Susan Worseley;
"fo we knoa that ailments an deformities are sure to may folk fretful."

"Eigh, there it is," cried Jennet, sharply. "My high shoulthers an sma
size are always thrown i' my feace. Boh ey'st grow tall i' time, an get
straight--eigh straighter than yo, Suky, wi' your broad back an short
neck--boh if ey dunna, whot matters it? Ey shall be feared at onny
rate--ay, feared, wenches, by ye both."

"Nah doubt on't, theaw little good-fo'-nothin piece o' mischief,"
muttered Susan.

"Whot's that yo sayn, Suky?" cried Jennet, whose quick ears had caught
the words, "Tak care whot ye do to offend me, lass," she added, shaking
her thin fingers, armed with talon-like claws, threateningly at her, "or
ey'll ask my granddame, Mother Demdike, to quieten ye."

At the mention of this name a sudden shade came over Susan's
countenance. Changing colour, and slightly trembling, she turned away
from the child, who, noticing the effect of her threat, could not
repress her triumph. But again Alizon interposed.

"Do not be alarmed, Susan," she said, "my grandmother will never harm
you, I am sure; indeed, she will never harm any one; and do not heed
what little Jennet says, for she is not aware of the effect of her own
words, or of the injury they might do our grandmother, if repeated."

"Ey dunna wish to repeat them, or to think of em," sobbed Susan.

"That's good, that's kind of you, Susan," replied Alizon, taking her
hand. "Do not be cross any more, Jennet. You see you have made her
weep."

"Ey'm glad on it," rejoined the little girl, laughing; "let her cry on.
It'll do her good, an teach her to mend her manners, and nah offend me
again."

"Ey didna mean to offend ye, Jennet," sobbed Susan, "boh yo're so
wrythen an marr'd, a body canna speak to please ye."

"Weel, if ye confess your fault, ey'm satisfied," replied the little
girl; "boh let it be a lesson to ye, Suky, to keep guard o' your tongue
i' future."

"It shall, ey promise ye," replied Susan, drying her eyes.

At this moment a door opened, and a woman entered from an inner room,
having a high-crowned, conical-shaped hat on her head, and broad white
pinners over her cheeks. Her dress was of dark red camlet, with
high-heeled shoes. She stooped slightly, and being rather lame,
supported herself on a crutch-handled stick. In age she might be between
forty and fifty, but she looked much older, and her features were not at
all prepossessing from a hooked nose and chin, while their sinister
effect was increased by a formation of the eyes similar to that in
Jennet, only more strongly noticeable in her case. This woman was
Elizabeth Device, widow of John Device, about whose death there was a
mystery to be inquired into hereafter, and mother of Alizon and Jennet,
though how she came to have a daughter so unlike herself in all respects
as the former, no one could conceive; but so it was.

"Soh, ye ha donned your finery at last, Alizon," said Elizabeth. "Your
brother Jem has just run up to say that t' rush-cart has set out, and
that Robin Hood and his merry men are comin' for their Queen."

"And their Queen is quite ready for them," replied Alizon, moving
towards the door.

"Neigh, let's ha' a look at ye fust, wench," cried Elizabeth, staying
her; "fine fitthers may fine brids--ey warrant me now yo'n getten these
May gewgaws on, yo fancy yourself a queen in arnest."

"A queen of a day, mother; a queen of a little village festival; nothing
more," replied Alizon. "Oh, if I were a queen in right earnest, or even
a great lady--"

"Whot would yo do?" demanded Elizabeth Device, sourly.

"I'd make you rich, mother, and build you a grand house to live in,"
replied Alizon; "much grander than Browsholme, or Downham, or
Middleton."

"Pity yo're nah a queen then, Alizon," replied Elizabeth, relaxing her
harsh features into a wintry smile.

"Whot would ye do fo me, Alizon, if ye were a queen?" asked little
Jennet, looking up at her.

"Why, let me see," was the reply; "I'd indulge every one of your whims
and wishes. You should only need ask to have."

"Poh--poh--yo'd never content her," observed Elizabeth, testily.

"It's nah your way to try an content me, mother, even whon ye might,"
rejoined Jennet, who, if she loved few people, loved her mother least of
all, and never lost an opportunity of testifying her dislike to her.

"Awt o'pontee, little wasp," cried her mother; "theaw desarves nowt boh
whot theaw dustna get often enough--a good whipping."

"Yo hanna towd us whot yo'd do fo yurself if yo war a great lady,
Alizon?" interposed Susan.

"Oh, I haven't thought about myself," replied the other, laughing.

"Ey con tell ye what she'd do, Suky," replied little Jennet, knowingly;
"she'd marry Master Richard Assheton, o' Middleton."

"Jennet!" exclaimed Alizon, blushing crimson.

"It's true," replied the little girl; "ye knoa ye would, Alizon, Look at
her feace," she added, with a screaming laugh.

"Howd te tongue, little plague," cried Elizabeth, rapping her knuckles
with her stick, "and behave thyself, or theaw shanna go out to t' wake."

Jennet dealt her mother a bitterly vindictive look, but she neither
uttered cry, nor made remark.

In the momentary silence that ensued the blithe jingling of bells was
heard, accompanied by the merry sound of tabor and pipe.

"Ah! here come the rush-cart and the morris-dancers," cried Alizon,
rushing joyously to the window, which, being left partly open, admitted
the scent of the woodbine and eglantine by which it was overgrown, as
well as the humming sound of the bees by which the flowers were invaded.

Almost immediately afterwards a frolic troop, like a band of masquers,
approached the cottage, and drew up before it, while the jingling of
bells ceasing at the same moment, told that the rush-cart had stopped
likewise. Chief amongst the party was Robin Hood clad in a suit of
Lincoln green, with a sheaf of arrows at his back, a bugle dangling from
his baldric, a bow in his hand, and a broad-leaved green hat on his
head, looped up on one side, and decorated with a heron's feather. The
hero of Sherwood was personated by a tall, well-limbed fellow, to whom,
being really a forester of Bowland, the character was natural. Beside
him stood a very different figure, a jovial friar, with shaven crown,
rubicund cheeks, bull throat, and mighty paunch, covered by a russet
habit, and girded in by a red cord, decorated with golden twist and
tassel. He wore red hose and sandal shoon, and carried in his girdle a
Wallet, to contain a roast capon, a neat's tongue, or any other dainty
given him. Friar Tuck, for such he was, found his representative in Ned
Huddlestone, porter at the abbey, who, as the largest and stoutest man
in the village, was chosen on that account to the part. Next to him came
a character of no little importance, and upon whom much of the mirth of
the pageant depended, and this devolved upon the village cobbler, Jack
Roby, a dapper little fellow, who fitted the part of the Fool to a
nicety. With bauble in hand, and blue coxcomb hood adorned with long
white asses' ears on head, with jerkin of green, striped with yellow;
hose of different colours, the left leg being yellow, with a red
pantoufle, and the right blue, terminated with a yellow shoe; with bells
hung upon various parts of his motley attire, so that he could not move
without producing a jingling sound, Jack Roby looked wonderful indeed;
and was constantly dancing about, and dealing a blow with his bauble.
Next came Will Scarlet, Stukely, and Little John, all proper men and
tall, attired in Lincoln green, like Robin Hood, and similarly equipped.
Like him, too, they were all foresters of Bowland, owning service to the
bow-bearer, Mr. Parker of Browsholme hall; and the representative of
Little John, who was six feet and a half high, and stout in proportion,
was Lawrence Blackrod, Mr. Parker's head keeper. After the foresters
came Tom the Piper, a wandering minstrel, habited for the occasion in a
blue doublet, with sleeves of the same colour, turned up with yellow,
red hose, and brown buskins, red bonnet, and green surcoat lined with
yellow. Beside the piper was another minstrel, similarly attired, and
provided with a tabor. Lastly came one of the main features of the
pageant, and which, together with the Fool, contributed most materially
to the amusement of the spectators. This was the Hobby-horse. The hue of
this, spirited charger was a pinkish white, and his housings were of
crimson cloth hanging to the ground, so as to conceal the rider's real
legs, though a pair of sham ones dangled at the side. His bit was of
gold, and his bridle red morocco leather, while his rider was very
sumptuously arrayed in a purple mantle, bordered with gold, with a rich
cap of the same regal hue on his head, encircled with gold, and having a
red feather stuck in it. The hobby-horse had a plume of nodding feathers
on his head, and careered from side to side, now rearing in front, now
kicking behind, now prancing, now gently ambling, and in short indulging
in playful fancies and vagaries, such as horse never indulged in before,
to the imminent danger, it seemed, of his rider, and to the huge delight
of the beholders. Nor must it be omitted, as it was matter of great
wonderment to the lookers-on, that by some legerdemain contrivance the
rider of the hobby-horse had a couple of daggers stuck in his cheeks,
while from his steed's bridle hung a silver ladle, which he held now and
then to the crowd, and in which, when he did so, a few coins were sure
to rattle. After the hobby-horse came the May-pole, not the tall pole so
called and which was already planted in the green, but a stout staff
elevated some six feet above the head of the bearer, with a coronal of
flowers atop, and four long garlands hanging down, each held by a
morris-dancer. Then came the May Queen's gentleman usher, a fantastic
personage in habiliments of blue guarded with white, and holding a long
willow wand in his hand. After the usher came the main troop of
morris-dancers--the men attired in a graceful costume, which set off
their light active figures to advantage, consisting of a slashed-jerkin
of black and white velvet, with cut sleeves left open so as to reveal
the snowy shirt beneath, white hose, and shoes of black Spanish leather
with large roses. Ribands were every where in their dresses--ribands and
tinsel adorned their caps, ribands crossed their hose, and ribands were
tied round their arms. In either hand they held a long white
handkerchief knotted with ribands. The female morris-dancers were
habited in white, decorated like the dresses of the men; they had
ribands and wreaths of flowers round their heads, bows in their hair,
and in their hands long white knotted kerchiefs.

In the rear of the performers in the pageant came the rush-cart drawn by
a team of eight stout horses, with their manes and tails tied with
ribands, their collars fringed with red and yellow worsted, and hung
with bells, which jingled blithely at every movement, and their heads
decked with flowers. The cart itself consisted of an enormous pile of
rushes, banded and twisted together, rising to a considerable height,
and terminated in a sharp ridge, like the point of a Gothic window. The
sides and top were decorated with flowers and ribands, and there were
eaves in front and at the back, and on the space within them, which was
covered with white paper, were strings of gaudy flowers, embedded in
moss, amongst which were suspended all the ornaments and finery that
could be collected for the occasion: to wit, flagons of silver, spoons,
ladles, chains, watches, and bracelets, so as to make a brave and
resplendent show. The wonder was how articles of so much value would be
trusted forth on such an occasion; but nothing was ever lost. On the top
of the rush-cart, and bestriding its sharp ridges, sat half a dozen men,
habited somewhat like the morris-dancers, in garments bedecked with
tinsel and ribands, holding garlands formed by hoops, decorated with
flowers, and attached to poles ornamented with silver paper, cut into
various figures and devices, and diminishing gradually in size as they
rose to a point, where they were crowned with wreaths of daffodils.

A large crowd of rustics, of all ages, accompanied the morris-dancers
and rush-cart.

This gay troop having come to a halt, as described, before the cottage,
the gentleman-usher entered it, and, tapping against the inner door with
his wand, took off his cap as soon as it was opened, and bowing
deferentially to the ground, said he was come to invite the Queen of May
to join the pageant, and that it only awaited her presence to proceed to
the green. Having delivered this speech in as good set phrase as he
could command, and being the parish clerk and schoolmaster to boot,
Sampson Harrop by name, he was somewhat more polished than the rest of
the hinds; and having, moreover, received a gracious response from the
May Queen, who condescendingly replied that she was quite ready to
accompany him, he took her hand, and led her ceremoniously to the door,
whither they were followed by the others.

Loud was the shout that greeted Alizon's appearance, and tremendous was
the pushing to obtain a sight of her; and so much was she abashed by the
enthusiastic greeting, which was wholly unexpected on her part, that she
would have drawn back again, if it had been possible; but the usher led
her forward, and Robin Hood and the foresters having bent the knee
before her, the hobby-horse began to curvet anew among the spectators,
and tread on their toes, the fool to rap their knuckles with his bauble,
the piper to play, the taborer to beat his tambourine, and the
morris-dancers to toss their kerchiefs over their heads. Thus the
pageant being put in motion, the rush-cart began to roll on, its horses'
bells jingling merrily, and the spectators cheering lustily.

CHAPTER II.--THE BLACK CAT AND THE WHITE DOVE.

Little Jennet watched her sister's triumphant departure with a look in
which there was far more of envy than sympathy, and, when her mother
took her hand to lead her forth, she would not go, but saying she did
not care for any such idle sights, went back sullenly to the inner room.
When there, however, she could not help peeping through the window, and
saw Susan and Nancy join the revel rout, with feelings of increased
bitterness.

"Ey wish it would rain an spile their finery," she said, sitting down on
her stool, and plucking the flowers from her basket in pieces. "An yet,
why canna ey enjoy such seets like other folk? Truth is, ey've nah heart
for it."

"Folks say," she continued, after a pause, "that grandmother Demdike is
a witch, an con do os she pleases. Ey wonder if she made Alizon so
protty. Nah, that canna be, fo' Alizon's na favourite o' hern. If she
loves onny one it's me. Why dunna she make me good-looking, then? They
say it's sinfu' to be a witch--if so, how comes grandmother Demdike to
be one? Boh ey'n observed that those folks os caws her witch are afeard
on her, so it may be pure spite o' their pert."

As she thus mused, a great black cat belonging to her mother, which had
followed her into the room, rubbed himself against her, putting up his
back, and purring loudly.

"Ah, Tib," said the little girl, "how are ye, Tib? Ey didna knoa ye were
here. Lemme ask ye some questions, Tib?"

The cat mewed, looked up, and fixed his great yellow eyes upon her.

"One 'ud think ye onderstud whot wos said to ye, Tib," pursued little
Jennet. "We'n see whot ye say to this! Shan ey ever be Queen o' May,
like sister Alizon?"

The cat mewed in a manner that the little girl found no difficulty in
interpreting the reply into "No."

"How's that, Tib?" cried Jennet, sharply. "If ey thought ye meant it,
ey'd beat ye, sirrah. Answer me another question, ye saucy knave. Who
will be luckiest, Alizon or me?"

This time the cat darted away from her, and made two or three skirmishes
round the room, as if gone suddenly mad.

"Ey con may nowt o' that," observed Jennet, laughing.

All at once the cat bounded upon the chimney board, over which was
placed a sampler, worked with the name "ALIZON."

"Why Tib really seems to onderstond me, ey declare," observed Jennet,
uneasily. "Ey should like to ask him a few more questions, if ey durst,"
she added, regarding with some distrust the animal, who now returned,
and began rubbing against her as before. "Tib--Tib!"

The cat looked up, and mewed.

"Protty Tib--sweet Tib," continued the little girl, coaxingly. "Whot mun
one do to be a witch like grandmother Demdike?"

The cat again dashed twice or thrice madly round the room, and then
stopping suddenly at the hearth, sprang up the chimney.

"Ey'n frightened ye away ot onny rate," observed Jennet, laughing. "And
yet it may mean summot," she added, reflecting a little, "fo ey'n heerd
say os how witches fly up chimleys o' broomsticks to attend their
sabbaths. Ey should like to fly i' that manner, an change myself into
another shape--onny shape boh my own. Oh that ey could be os protty os
Alizon! Ey dunna knoa whot ey'd nah do to be like her!"

Again the great black cat was beside her, rubbing against her, and
purring. The child was a good deal startled, for she had not seen him
return, and the door was shut, though he might have come in through the
open window, only she had been looking that way all the time, and had
never noticed him. Strange!

"Tib," said the child, patting him, "thou hasna answered my last
question--how is one to become a witch?"

As she made this inquiry the cat suddenly scratched her in the arm, so
that the blood came. The little girl was a good deal frightened, as well
as hurt, and, withdrawing her arm quickly, made a motion of striking the
animal. But starting backwards, erecting his tail, and spitting, the cat
assumed such a formidable appearance, that she did not dare to touch
him, and she then perceived that some drops of blood stained her white
sleeve, giving the spots a certain resemblance to the letters J. and D.,
her own initials.

At this moment, when she was about to scream for help, though she knew
no one was in the house, all having gone away with the May-day
revellers, a small white dove flew in at the open window, and skimming
round the room, alighted near her. No sooner had the cat caught sight of
this beautiful bird, than instead of preparing to pounce upon it, as
might have been expected, he instantly abandoned his fierce attitude,
and, uttering a sort of howl, sprang up the chimney as before. But the
child scarcely observed this, her attention being directed towards the
bird, whose extreme beauty delighted her. It seemed quite tame too, and
allowed itself to be touched, and even drawn towards her, without an
effort to escape. Never, surely, was seen so beautiful a bird--with such
milkwhite feathers, such red legs, and such pretty yellow eyes, with
crimson circles round them! So thought the little girl, as she gazed at
it, and pressed it to her bosom. In doing this, gentle and good thoughts
came upon her, and she reflected what a nice present this pretty bird
would make to her sister Alizon on her return from the merry-making, and
how pleased she should feel to give it to her. And then she thought of
Alizon's constant kindness to her, and half reproached herself with the
poor return she made for it, wondering she could entertain any feelings
of envy towards one so good and amiable. All this while the dove nestled
in her bosom.

While thus pondering, the little girl felt an unaccountable drowsiness
steal over her, and presently afterwards dropped asleep, when she had a
very strange dream. It seemed to her that there was a contest going on
between two spirits, a good one and a bad,--the bad one being
represented by the great black cat, and the good spirit by the white
dove. What they were striving about she could not exactly tell, but she
felt that the conflict had some relation to herself. The dove at first
appeared to have but a poor chance against the claws of its sable
adversary, but the sharp talons of the latter made no impression upon
the white plumage of the bird, which now shone like silver armour, and
in the end the cat fled, yelling as it darted off--"Thou art victorious
now, but her soul shall yet be mine."

Something awakened the little sleeper at the same moment, and she felt
very much terrified at her dream, as she could not help thinking her own
soul might be the one in jeopardy, and her first impulse was to see
whether the white dove was safe. Yes, there it was still nestling in her
bosom, with its head under its wing.

Just then she was startled at hearing her own name pronounced by a
hoarse voice, and, looking up, she beheld a tall young man standing at
the window. He had a somewhat gipsy look, having a dark olive
complexion, and fine black eyes, though set strangely in his head, like
those of Jennet and her mother, coal black hair, and very prominent
features, of a sullen and almost savage cast. His figure was gaunt but
very muscular, his arms being extremely long and his hands unusually
large and bony--personal advantages which made him a formidable
antagonist in any rustic encounter, and in such he was frequently
engaged, being of a very irascible temper, and turbulent disposition. He
was clad in a holiday suit of dark-green serge, which fitted him well,
and carried a nosegay in one hand, and a stout blackthorn cudgel in the
other. This young man was James Device, son of Elizabeth, and some four
or five years older than Alizon. He did not live with his mother in
Whalley, but in Pendle Forest, near his old relative, Mother Demdike,
and had come over that morning to attend the wake.

"Whot are ye abowt, Jennet?" inquired James Device, in tones naturally
hoarse and deep, and which he took as little pains to soften, as he did
to polish his manners, which were more than ordinarily rude and
churlish.

"Whot are ye abowt, ey sey, wench?" he repeated, "Why dunna ye go to t'
green to see the morris-dancers foot it round t' May-pow? Cum along wi'
me."

"Ey dunna want to go, Jem," replied the little girl.

"Boh yo shan go, ey tell ey," rejoined her brother; "ye shan see your
sister dawnce. Ye con sit a whoam onny day; boh May-day cums ony wonst a
year, an Alizon winna be Queen twice i' her life. Soh cum along wi' me,
dereckly, or ey'n may ye."