Author's Note: Again, my research indicates that I am being accurate in how I depict the taverns and stuff, but if I am wrong, please correct me politely. Most of my research was done online, and sometimes websites can be wrong, after all.
Chapter II
When we reached Boston, Father led the way to a tavern he frequently stayed in during his visits to the city for the General Court, because he regarded it as respectable enough, which essentially meant that there was not too much drinking or carousing there.
After we had settled into our room, which we shared with a merchant and his apprentice in Boston for business, we headed over to the General Court, where my father introduced me to the other gentlemen who served on the Court, all of whom made a point of teasing me about college or women. Therefore, I was more than a little relieved when the governor called the Court to order and all that was required of me was to attend to the proceedings.
When the day's work had concluded, my father questioned me about the business accomplished in the General Court that day on the way back to the tavern. He seemed pleased with my answers, and the following day passed in much the same manner, although I had to endure less genial taunts from Father's fellow legislators.
On the third day of the General Court's session, a courier burst unceremoniously into the room, announcing, "Magistrates Corwin and Hathorne, I have been sent from Salem with the somber task of informing you that the daughter and niece of Reverend Parris have become afflicted in the spirit so that they have dreadful visions and scream in agony. The Reverend and the doctor have pronounced that the evil hand is upon the pair of them."
"Mean you that there is a witch in Salem, then?" asked Magistrate Corwin, offering my own fear-filled inquiry.
The messenger nodded grimly. "Indeed, yes, Magistrate Corwin. A witch has come to Salem to visit horrors upon us. For this reason, sir, you and Magistrate Hathorne have been asked to return to Salem with all possible haste, for when the witch is uncovered, we will have need of your expertise."
At this revelation, my father and Magistrate Corwin exchanged significant glances that I had no prayer of reading. Then, my father turned to the messenger and ordered, "Please ride back to Salem and inform them that Magistrate Corwin and I will begin our journey home as soon as this day's business is concluded if the governor will be gracious enough to offer his assent."
"Granted." The governor nodded and waved a dismissive hand at the courier. "Go and do Magistrate Hathorne's bidding, man."
"Yes, sir. Immediately, sir." The messenger bowed and departed in a flurry.
As soon as the courier had disappeared, Father called, "Johnathan!"
"Yes?" I sat up a little straighter, preparing to do whatever task he requested of me.
"Kindly return to our room and pack up our belongings," he replied. "Do the same with Magistrate Coriwn's if he will allow it. We've no time to waste when it comes to the corrupting evil of witchcraft." He gazed questioningly at Magistrate Corwin. "You don't mind if my son packs up your things, do you, sir? It will permit us to leave with considerably more haste."
"Of course I have no objection, and I would appreciate it if your lad does so, as long as it is not too much trouble for him," Magistrate Corwin responded with admirable speed.
"It's no bother, none at all," Father reassured him before looking piercingly at me. "Is it, Johnathan?"
"No, sir." As I wasn't certain if I should address Magistrate Corwin or my father, I determined that an all-purpose "sir" would suffice.
"Then you have my permission to go." Father nodded, and I bowed before taking my leave.
That day, after the conclusion of the General Court, which was finished hours after I had packed everything, Father, Magistrate Corwin, and I rode out of Boston about an hour before sunset, or as much of a sunset as there can be during winter in Massachusetts.
For awhile, the three of us rode in silence. When I was confident that magistrate Corwin and my father were not about to strike up a conversation, probably having figured out their next step in the witchcraft business already, I asked, "Father, what are you and Magistrate Corwin going to do about this witchcraft business?"
As I posed this inquiry, I suppressed the overwhelming compulsion to shutter, since I was too much of a man now to display such signs of cowardice. Witchcraft was a horrible thing rendered all the more terrifying because it was real. Everyone knew that if he had the intelligence of a boulder. Some made a covenant with God; others entered into a similar contract with Satan, and those who did became witches.
"We'll set up a court and have Betty and Abigail name the one who torments them," my father educated me heavily. Obviously, he took no more delight in this witchcraft matter than I did.
"What shall you do when the tormenter is named, if I may ask?" I was afraid that I was pressing my luck. Father was not fond of incessant questions, although he had always been more tolerant of my inquiries than of my sisters' since curiosity was a more grievous flaw in a female than a male, and he didn't want his son to the be Salem Town's idiot, after all. My number of questions was undeniably limited, though.
"I'll do exactly as God bids me, as always, son," Father explained. "Magistrate Corwin and I will examine the Scriptures closely for any references to witches. Armed with the knowledge of how God desires us to proceed, we shall punish Salem's witch as He, in all his infinite wisdom, decrees. Together, we will be able to execute God's commandments."
Upon our return to Salem, I immersed myself in my books when I wasn't doing my chores, busying myself with my preparations for Harvard. I tried not to consider Susanna English, because she turned my insides into butter. The mere thought of her made me lose my concentration so much that I almost longed for my tutor to return to smack my hands with his ruler. The threat of smarting palms was undoubtedly a more effective disciplinarian than my own pathetic attempts at chiding myself.
I had decided not to visit Susanna, after all. I would probably melt faster than an ice crystal in Barbados if I did that. Besides, I did not feel like forcing my attentions on the girl, and I had no interest in experiencing any more rejection, anyway.
At any rate, I was not the only being in the Hathorne house who was constantly buried in some tome. My father, who normally split his days between his work as a merchant and a magistrate, was now spending most of his days reading carefully through the Holy Bible with Magistrate Corwin, who frequently joined Father in his research.
Magistrate Corwin, however, wasn't my father's only visitor, for on the third evening after our arrival in Salem, Father's older sister Elizabeth Porter joined us for supper with her husband, my uncle Israel.
"Brother, you have heard that Mary Walcott, Elizabeth Both, Susannah Sheldon, and Ann Putnam are afflicted as well, haven't you?" Aunt Elizabeth chattered away as was her habit. Not that it was my place to evaluate my superiors, but I had never had an issue with her talkative nature, although now I found myself wishing fervently that she would be quiet or switch to a more suitable mealtime topic. "No doubt you also are aware that Reverend Lawson has declared that the girls are bewitched, and Mary Walcott and the other afflicted girls are displaying their torments publically at Ingersoll's. Shameful and scandalous, if you ask me."
"Elizabeth, of course I am aware of all this," my father responded shortly. "I am also well aware of where you and your husband stand in regards to this witchcraft affair. Still, you should bow to my greater experience in dealing with legal matters."
"And what have you, with all your legal experience, decided to do, John?" pressed Aunt Elizabeth with more than a little mockery in her voice.
" I have only found a single reference to witchcraft in the Good Book: 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,'" Father stated. "Therefore, Magistrate Corwin and I have agreed that any convicted witch shall hang."
"How shall a witch be convicted?" Aunt Elizabeth's eyes were narrowed.
"Through standard evidence, spectral evidence, or any mischief that follows disagreements betwixt neighbors, Sister," Father returned.
At this, unease filtered across Aunt Elizabeth's face, and I wondered why she was so distraught. "Brother, there have been so many disputes in Salem between neighbors."
It took me a minute to work out her meaning. She was implying that people might try to avenge themselves on their neighbors by attempting to blame them for mysterious occurrences after a falling-out, leading to charges of witchcraft. Yet, surely, that would not happen. Salem was full of virtuous individuals, who would never contemplate manipulating the fear resulting from the grave problem of witchcraft like that. Doing so was as immoral as shouting "Fire" when there was none. People would certainly only accuse those who they truly knew to be witches, wouldn't they?
"Disputes have been known to provoke witches," Father countered.
Aunt Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, but Mother cut her off with, "Elizabeth, dear, perhaps we could discuss something less controversial at the table."
"Very well then," Aunt Elizabeth agreed. Then, to my discomfiture, she looked at me and demanded, "Johnathan Hathorne, guess who I met while out shopping this day?"
"A majority of Salem Town," I answered. That was my typical reply to such vexing inquiries, even if Father insisted it was impudent.
"Yes, but I met a charming young lady of particular interest to you, nephew." Aunt Elizabeth's eyes twinkled at me like stars in the nighttime sky. "I believe she calls herself Susanna English, although if you had your way she would be Susanna Hathorne."
"Elizabeth, don't tease him so," Mother chided gently, and I thanked God for giving me such a compassionate mother, because I was sure you could have cooked a feast on my blazing cheeks. "Don't plant such notions in his head. He's yet to start his education at Harvard, and his father won't hear of him wedding until he has completed college at least."
Aunt Elizabeth elected to continue badgering me about Susanna anyhow, because she was as cruel as Honora. "I was talking to Susanna of you, Johnathan."
"Do you think it polite to admit that you were gossiping about me to my face, Aunt Elizabeth?" I felt like hiding under the table as I sued to do when I was humiliated like this.
"She says that you haven't called upon her recently," Aunt Elizabeth went on, utterly unfazed by my remark.
To embarrass me even further no doubt, Father intervened at this point. "What's this, Johnathan? You haven't called on Susanna yet? I thought you told me you would call on her upon our return from Boston."
Apparently, he had been too engrossed in his work to notice that I had done little except study since I had gotten home.
"I haven't had time to call upon her, Father," I said, praying to God to forgive my half-truth. "I've been studying."
"I see." Father paused, and then went on, "You're a good lad to study so much, but you may visit Susanna. It won't do you harm to work on a marriage prospect."
"That's certainly true, and Johnathan's a fine, clever young man, but there's no denying he requires a push when it comes to the fairer sex," Aunt Elizabeth agreed, and I fought the urge to hide my head in my hands.
"I have a suspicion that my wide is here to give you one, my boy." Uncle Israel raised his goblet of ale in a toast to me, and I returned the gesture, my lips twisting wryly.
"It's true that I'm here to do just that," Aunt Elizabeth confirmed, completely unabashed. Listening to her, I cringed, sensing that this gentle push was akin to shoving Daniel into the lions' den. "Why won't you call upon Susanna, nephew?"
"She doesn't have an interest in me, Aunt, and I'll not put both her and me through a humiliating ordeal if it's all the same to you." I sighed. How many times must I endure this? How often would I have to explain my inadequacy in the Susanna affair to others?
Lord, have mercy on me, I prayed, because none of Your people seem willing to offer me any.
"Well, if that's all there is to prevent you from calling on her, I expect you to visit her as soon as you can, young man," Aunt Elizabeth declared. By some miracle, I managed not to groan, even though I knew that she was not to be refused. She must have sensed my despair, for her manner softened. "Susanna herself admits that you are a handsome lad and quick of mind. She even blushed when I mentioned your name. Your case with her is far from foregone, which is why you must not play with her affections. You must call upon her if you are serious about her. If you are not, move onto someone else, but don't keep her waiting like this. It's cruel."
"I'll call upon her when I'm able to, ma'am," I promised, wondering how I would ever be able to face Susanna now. My life was getting more and more complicated with every passing day, it seemed.