Heed and harken you well, Lend your hearts to our spell, Let the soul of the Past hold you thrall.

Radiant, mystical, free Unseen spirits were we As we guarded the Manse long ago; Moving soft through each room In the twilight's gray gloom While the fire on the hearth flickered low.

Hope and joy--these we brought; Peace and fair dreams we wrought For the Manse whose bright hearth was our goal.

Oh, then harken you well!

Lend your hearts to our spell, Let the tide of the years backward roll.

PROLOGUE (_Spoken by the Muse of Hawthorne_)

Ye who have known the great Enchanter's art, Whose magic fired your brain and stirred your heart, Whose touch, more potent than King Midas' gold, Wrought Tales of Tanglewood and Tales Twice Told, Whose Marble Faun and Mosses from the Manse Still hold the lasting colors of Romance; Who built 'for you the Hall of Fantasy Through whose bright portals you might pa.s.s and see Hester and Miriam and Goodman Brown And Pyncheron, who dwelt in Salem Town-- Malvin and Endicott and Ethan Brand, John Inglefield and that old crone whose hand Was lent to fashioning Scarecrows built of straw-- All these through the Enchanter's eyes you saw, Strange folk who trod the bleak New England sh.o.r.es, t.i.thingmen, Sachems, Witches, Sagamores, Puritans, Soldiers, Scholars, Quaker maids, Royalists splendid in their rich brocades!

To-day the past has opened wide her door, Scenes long since gone return to us once more, Touched with the alchemy of history's gold.

First, ancient Salem, as it was, behold In the grim days when "Witchcraft!" was the cry, When folk declared that they saw witches fly On devil's broomsticks straight across the moon, While the wind piped by night a witch's tune; When, e'en by day, intrepid witch-wives spoke, Then vanished upward through the chimney smoke!

The Witches' Wood--this our first scene will show, And all that once transpired there long ago.

Our second scene will picture Merrymount Where lived gay royalists who took no count Of Puritanic manners, and who sang And laughed till all the woods about them rang With outlaw merriment. These you will see Engaged in maypole dance and minstrelsy, While Puritans with grave and somber mien Condemn such light-foot revels on the green!

These have you known on Hawthorne's living page.

Now shall you see them pictured on our stage.

Grant us your patience: lend your ears as well.

The rest our pageant now will strive to tell.

IN WITCHCRAFT DAYS

CHARACTERS

GOODY GURTON PHILIPPE BEAUCOEUR VIGILANT WINTHROP HOLDFAST BRADFORD JOHN GILES GOODWIFE PRUDENCE HUBBARD MERCY HUBBARD BARBARA WILLIAMS, her playmate DORCAS WORDELL ANNE BROWN REPENTANCE FOLGER ROGER BLACKTHORNE FEAR-NOUGHT CALDWELL RENOUNCE WILTON TABITHA BRETT FAWNFOOT, an Indian maiden GOODWIFE ABIGAIL WILLIAMS

The scene is an open glade near Salem, 1692.

Trees right, left, and background. Flowers, Ferns. Berry-vines. Herbs.

Tabitha Brett, a Puritan child, enters from left. She carries a quaint pewter bowl, and looking about her spies berries, whereupon she calls back over her shoulder to Renounce Wilton.

TABITHA (calling).

Renounce! There are berries here! Yet not so many as Goodwife Prudence Hubbard bade us bring. Perhaps 'tis too near the edge of the town, and others have been before us.

RENOUNCE (entering from left).

Others before us--Do you mean witches, Tabitha?

TABITHA.

Hush! Speak not that word! There are no witches flying in the daytime!

RENOUNCE (wide-eyed).

But at night, Tabitha, who can tell how many witches may be abroad?

Dost thou not know that this is ofttimes called the "Witches' Wood" and Holdfast Bradford says that on the stroke of midnight 'tis here that they foregather. Canst thou not picture them whirling over the tree- tops?

TABITHA (with a cry).

Be still, Renounce Wilton! Oh, what was that? (Clutches her.) A shadow?

(With more composure.) If you do talk of witches we shall lose half the berries we have gathered, and Goodwife Hubbard will scold us roundly.

[Eats a few berries.

RENOUNCE.

You should not eat the berries, Tabitha.

TABITHA.

I know. But they are so sweet. As sweet as the barley sugar Goody Gurton gives us.

RENOUNCE.

I marvel that our mothers let us hunt for berries at all.

TABITHA (childishly).

Aye, 'tis not often they are minded to let us stray to the edge of the forest. I think there is something stirring that we are not to hear, and that is why our fingers are kept busy. My mother and Goodwife Prudence Hubbard were deep in talk together; but when I pa.s.sed they put their fingers on their lips.

RENOUNCE (pretending to be vastly impressed).

Did they so!

TABITHA (looking about her).

I wish I knew where some wild plums grew.

RENOUNCE (as they continue to gather berries).

Philippe Beaucoeur could tell us, did he but wish to.

TABITHA.

Renounce Wilton! I am ashamed of thee! Thou dost not mean that thou hast held converse with Philippe Beaucoeur, who is half French and lives in the woods like an Indian.

RENOUNCE (with spirit).

I will hold converse with whom I please, Tabitha Brett. French or no French, Philippe Beaucoeur is a brave lad, and there is naught about the wild things that he does not know. 'Twas because he lives in the forest and not in Salem Town as we do.

TABITHA (in an awed voice).

Have you ever seen the place where Philippe lives? Barbara Williams says it a fearsome spot. The forests about it are all black and solemn, and the pines seem to whisper together, and there Philippe dwells in a hut he himself hath builded.

RENOUNCE (sagely).

They say he hath dwelt alone there ever since his father died. Think of it! In the forest! I should fear the Indians! But then, I am not like Betty Hubbard, who hath no fears at all. And as for Philippe Beaucoeur, there is naught that can make _him_ tremble. He says that 'tis on account of his "ancestree." And then he laughs and makes a gesture: "Blue blood of France is never chilled by terror, Mistress."

TABITHA.

"Blue blood of France--!" Who ever heard the like? I never saw blue blood, nor didst thou! The color of blood is scarlet, as thou knowest right well. p.r.i.c.k thy finger and see!

DORCAS WORDELL (off stage, left).

Tabitha Brett! Tabitha Brett! Where are you?

TABITHA (calling in answer).

Here, Dorcas, here! Renounce Wilton and I are gathering berries.

DORCAS (entering excitedly).

You'll gather no more berries when you've heard the news. Sure, there be stirring things afoot this day in Salem. What dost think? Barbara Williams hath been bewitched!

RENOUNCE.

Dorcas!