A Candle in the Dark

By Connie Vines

CSI, Forensic Science--all modern marvels, or are they? Take a journey with Sarah English to visit the 1690's Salem Witchcraft Trials and see..

The three women seemed unaware of what was happening. Like sleep-walkers, they were helped into a wooden cart. A plank, angled from the dirt road to the cart's back, formed a ramp. Several of the men clothed in somber coats and breeches pushed the women up the temporary walkway to the floor of the vehicle. As the cart lunged forward, the women clung weakly to its sides. Their eyes were blank and expressionless. Their minds were minds were unable to grasp the meaning of the words shouted from the crowd gathered around them.

"Repeant, repent ye wicked witches. Ye shall burn with fire and brimstone!"
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Sarah English closed her book with a snap. She had to hurry or she'd be late for dinner. But her imagination was greatly stirred by the haunting events of which she'd just read. And this was no science fiction horror story, but a history book--an account of the witchcraft trials that took place in Salem, Massachusetts, in the 1690s.

Sarah had checked out several library books, and did research online about the Salem trails after her history teacher, Mr. Alexander, had told her history class about a theory he had. It concerned the strange behavior of the women who'd been accused of witchcraft during the trials.

"Historic research and scientific evidence suggest that many of the people in Salem who were accused of witchcraft were actually poisoned by a chemical in the rye that they ate," Mr. Alexancder had said at the end of class. "Their hallucinations and strange behavior were actually caused by a poison closely related to an hallucinogenic drug you've all heard of."

Sarah ahd been born in Salem and her ancestors had helped to sesttle the town in the early 1600s, so she felt she she knew more about it than her Arizona-born history teacher. This was the wildest theory she'd ever heard--the Salem witches on drugs. No way. So she began studying her research materials, certain that she would find evidence to prove her teacher wrog.

"Sarah," her mother called from downstairs, "come and eat your supper NOW, before it gets cold!"

Gathering up several of her books, Sarah stood up, ran out of the bedroom, and rushed down the steps. "Have to hurry, Mom," she said breathlessly as she slid into her chair at the table. "I've still got to finish these chapters. I know there's something here that'll prove Mr. Alexander wrong."

"Wrong about what?" Mrs. English asked, as she placed a dish heaped with chicken and fried rice in front of her daughter.

"Oh, he's got some dumb theory about Salem and the witch trial," Sarah answered.

"Too bad you father's great-aunt Mercy's not around."

"Aunt Mercy?" Sarah asked.

"Well, that's what he calls her," Mrs. English explained. "She lived in Salem during the trials. Was almost accused of being a witch herself, I think. Your dad supposedlyl inherited her diaries when we got all of those papers from Grandpa's house last month."

"Where are they?" Sarah asked excitedly.

"In the attic, I guess," Sarah's mother replied. "Your father hasn't been through all the papers yet. Maybe he'll help you look this weekend."

Sarah started shoveling food into her mouth.

"Stop gulping your food, Sarah," her mother said in exasperation. Sarah and her projects, she thought. Whenever her daughter's mind was on something new at school, everything else took a back seat, including proper meals and eating habits.

When Sarah had finished, she picked up her books and headed back upstairs.

"Don't forget, Sarah," Mrs. English called after her, "I'm going to Timmy's Open House tonight, and your dad's going to be late, so make sure the doors are locked and don't let anyone in till we get home."

"Sure, Mom," was Sarah's distant reply from halfway up the steps.

The next hour passed quickly as she scanned the books. Still, she was unable to gather enough informatin to disprove Mr. Alexander's theory. Then an idea come to her: the family attic probably help more information in diaries and personal letters from the 1600s than did all these books. I'll look up there, she thought. And maybe, with enough luck, I'll be able to find something tonight.

As she darted up the stairs to the attic, Sarah was glad she was home alone. This way she could pick through the documents without having to worry about her younger brother's tattling. Not that she wasn't old enough to be in the attic alone. After all, Sarah was 13. But since the attic had never been wired for electricity, her parents were uneasy about her or Timmy's going up there alone.

A narrow beam of light from the moon streamed in the room through a small window. A howling, late autumn wind blew a cool draft through the air, adding to the eeriness of the place. Sarah was beginning to feel a little uneasy herself about being here, but she was determined to find Mercy Hobb's diary. She found an old candle in its holder and a box of matches on a dust-covered dest. Carefully she lit the wick, cupping her hand around the flame as she walked slowlly around the room. The flickerig light sent threatening shadows leaping around the walls, and arah remembered a childhood chant: Hark, hark, a candle in the dark. Show me the future. Show me the past. Give me the wisdom of centuries past."

Bent over the light, she searched through the drawers and cubbyholes of the attic. But she found nothing . If only I could get my hands on that diary, she thought, I'd lean all I need to know about the trials.

An hour later she gave up. Filthy and angry, Sarah sat down on the large trunk. "Where is it?" she moaned in frustration, bringing her small fist firmly down at her side and slamming it hand against the trunk. "Ouch!" she cried. "Stupid trunk." Stupid TRUNK! Suddenly her anger turned to ecstasy. And to think, she'd just been sitting right on top of the secrets. Of course she'd looked at the trunk's contents, but shes had forgotten it wasn't a modern trunk. These old trunks usually had false bottoms or hidden compartments, just like the old desk in her room. If ony she could find the triggering device.

Placing the candle near the trunk, she ran her hands lightly over the splintered wood. A shout of glee left her lips as she felt part of the trunk give way to release it long-hidden treasure. She'd found it! She had the diary!

February, 1692, the first entry read. 'Tis another gray and gloomy winter. The rye crop was meager and poor. Still Mother granted me free time to visit my friend Good Tyler.

Sarah knew that Goody was the short form of goodwife, which was a form of address for a woman of lower station in those times. And there was mention of the rye crop. Quickly scanning the entries that followed, Sarah decided that life in Salem Village had not been easy. Gaiety was regarded as irreligious and education was almost non-existent. There was also an entry about the town preacher, Mr. Parris, and his sermons that were full of fury and usually about witches.

Reading on, Sarah learned that Nurse had been cried out on by the Proctor Girl. The child said that she saw Nurse sign the Devil's great black book. So Mercy knew about the trials, Sarah realized.

Another entry: April 4, 1692. I visited Goody Tyler today. She has been ill and unable to bake. I stayed and measured her rye and baked loaves for this week. Goody's cottage is damp, as most near the swamp are, but she has stayed warm.

The next entry was made the following day: All is not well. Goody is more ill today. Moaning and ingreat pain. She is unable to stand, and cries of a great yellow bird and a cat beside me with two-heads. I ran to the inn of Samuel Ingersoll to tell of Goody's sickness and bring aide...(If I had only known my folly.)

Sarah's excitement over finding Mr. Alexander's theory correct was mixed with sorrow for the fate of Goody Tyler as she read the next entries: My heart is heavy with knowledge of unknowingly harming my friend. The magistrate charged her with witchcraft and issued a warrant for her arrest. She and several others were sent to prison in the deputy constable's cart. I could only stand helplesly and watch. The crowd paid no heed to my cries--Goody Tyler had made no contract with the devil. She is falsely accused."

The Salem witchcraft trials: Sarah already knew the outcome. By the autumn of 1692 authorities had but to death 20 persons and imprisoned more than 150. Those accused of witchcraft had to pay for their maintenance in jail, even if they were acquitted or granted a reprieve. And the families of those who were found guilty and hanged were sent a bill for the services of the executioner!

Sarah could hear the taunting of the crowd howling, "Repeant," as the menacing shapes on the wall reached toward her. Suddenly she heard her name being called in the distance, as if being chanted by spritis from another time.

A sudden gust against the house blew out the candle. Sharah froze. She could hear steps in the house. "Dad?" she called out.

No answer.

"Mom?" she creid out with a trembling voice. Then she remembered--she'd forgotten to check the doors. Why hadn't she listened to her mother?

Sarah bent down behind the trunk as the footsteps drew nearer. Up the creaking attic steps and closer to the trunk. She could hear breathing now over the sound of the wind.

A firm hand touched her shoulder as a deep voice spoke, "Sarah."

She nearly jumped into his arms.

"Sarah," her father said, "you know better than to be up her alone."

Mr. Alexander was excited over Sarah's discovery and spent most of the time in history clas the next day explaiing his theory. "My ideas are based on studies conducted by University of Maryland historian Mary Matossian," he," he said. "She studied court transcripts, climate indicators, and diaries of 1692 Salem Village witchcraft incidents. All this led to some new findings: Rye was the staple food of the villages, and rye is particularly vulnerable to a fungus growth call ergot. Matossian discovered, after examining tree-ring widths, that the growing season in New England was adnormally cold in the winters of 1690 through 1692. Cold, damp weather is the ideal condition for the growth of ergot fungus. Diaries showed that the houses closest to the marshlands and swamps--those mostly likely to have had ergot in their rye--had the most cases of suspected witches.

Mr. Alexander continued: "When the fungus is eaten, it brings on convulsions and hallucinations. Twitching of the arms and legs, spasms of the tongue and facial muscles, along
with sensations of ants crawling on the skin are all complaints of victims of ergot poisoning. The same type of behavior was attributed to the people tried for suspected 'witchcraft'."

"But you said the people in Salem were affected by a drug we've all heard of, not by some weird rye poison, " Sarah said, making on last stab at Mr. Alexander's theory.

"Well, Sarah," the teacher said, "a chemical derivative of ergot can still be found today. Its biochemical name is llysergic acid. We know it better by the name LSD."