Other Worlds (4 page)

Vicious threats against John Bell constituted part of the performance, and Mr. Bell seriously considered abandoning his
home and moving away. Useless, jeered the "witch family"; they would follow Old Jack to the ends of the earth.

The Bells' friends did not desert them during this dreadful period. Every night there were at least four persons present, listening in horror and expostulating with the vile voices. The evening usually ended with Blackdog threatening the other spirits with murder unless they desisted, and thrashing them if they refused to obey. On one occasion all four were beastly drunk, singing maudlin songs and filling the house with the stench of whiskey. They got it, Blackdog explained, at the still house of John Gardner, one of the neighbors.

Fortunately for Mr. Bell's sanity, this period did not last long. The witch family took to singing pious hymns instead of drinking songs, and finally departed, leaving "Kate"—the old familiar Spirit—in possession.

The inquirers never learned the answer to one of their questions. The Spirit did not explain its origin or give any clue as to how it could be dismissed. The second question—its purpose in coming—was answered. The Spirit was such a congenital liar that the inquirers failed to take this reply seriously at first, but in this, if in no other respect, it had told the simple truth. It had come to torment John Bell to death.

From the drunken
vulgarities of the witch family to the sweet singing of hymns, from malicious gossip to pious debates about religion, the Spirit displayed what may seem a striking inconsistency of character. Yet I venture to assert that it was no more inconsistent than most men or women, who are also susceptible to changes in personality—particularly when under the influence of liquor. If we examine its behavior, we will discover an underlying pattern.

From start to finish it was with the Bells for almost four years. I need not remind you, gentlemen, that this is one of the unique features of the case. Consider some of the implications. Through sheer familiarity the Bells came to regard the incredible presence as an old acquaintance—not one they would have cultivated by choice, perhaps, but no more vexatious in many ways than a grumpy, senile old relation. It is not surprising that after a year or two they accepted it with the same resignation they would have displayed toward any unmannerly human guest.

We must remember too that during this long period of time the mysterious voice was heard and investigated by dozens of people, some of them skeptical, educated men. Several of the
Bells were suspected of fraud by investigators, but they were never caught. One visitor even clapped his hand over Betsy's mouth to see if this would inhibit the Spirits voice. We can be sure that one or more of these skeptics would have proclaimed his triumph to the world if he had solved the mystery. None of them ever did.

I said that the Spirit demonstrated a certain consistency of personality, and this is nowhere better shown than in its attitude toward visitors. There were not dozens, but hundreds of these, most of them curiosity seekers who came from long distances to watch the show. Mr. Bell bore this with saintly patience, offering food and lodging to as many of the callers as he could accommodate, and never accepting a cent in payment. At times the Bell farm must have resembled a traveling circus, with carriages and wagons hitched to every fencepost, and tents covering the meadows.

The Spirit enjoyed company and seldom failed to perform. It put on some of its best shows for a certain mysterious "English gentlemen" mentioned by John Junior, who described him as "a high class man of great intelligence." Perhaps John had simply forgotten the gentleman's name; but he seems to hint at private reasons for keeping it a secret. If the Englishman really existed, he left no record of his encounters with the Spirit, although, according to John Junior, he stayed with the Bells for several months.

The most memorable of the Spirit's performances involved two of the ministers whom we have already met. This occurred on a Sunday evening, and both pastors had carried out their duties that morning. Reverend Fort had preached at the Baptist church, Reverend Gunn at the Methodist. The services both began at the traditional hour of eleven
a.m.,
and the churches were some thirteen miles apart.

As the assembled company sat relaxing after the evening meal, the Spirit made its presence known and began questioning Reverend Gunn about certain fine points of doctrine in his sermon.

"How do you know what I preached about?" the astonished pastor inquired.

"I was there and heard you," was the reply The voice then repeated the text, the sermon, and the closing prayer, in an excellent imitation of the preacher's very tones.

"Well," said one of the visitors jokingly, "Brother Fort has the advantage this time. The witch cannot criticize his sermon, since it was listening to Brother Gunn."

"Oh yes I can," said the Spirit.

"How do you know?'

"I was present and heard him." Whereupon followed an exact repetition of the Baptist ministers sermon, in his own voice.

None of the listeners ever forgot this tour de force. The visiting Englishman was treated to additional demonstrations of the Spirit's powers. One evening it claimed to have visited his far-off home and conversed with his family. It repeated the conversation, imitating the voices of the gentleman's mother and brother. Though the Spirit only wanted to assure the English family that their absent loved one was well and carry back any messages they might care to send, its visit was not a success. The gentleman's mother dismissed it with the remark that she had heard and seen enough, adding, "We do not want any more visits like that here."

Well, we can hardly blame her.

Not all the visitors came to be entertained. Some had hopes of solving the mystery. A certain Jack Busby, known as the Witch Killer, offered to destroy the Spirit with charmed silver bullets, a well-known weapon for dealing with evil spirits. The Bells welcomed him courteously, though I suspect that confirmed rationalist John Bell had little faith in Busby's boasts.

At first, however, the Witch Killer's presence seemed to intimidate the Spirit. Nothing was heard from it for a week. Busby claimed all the credit and prepared to leave, saying he had other business to attend to. "But," he added magnanimously, "I will return if the Witch comes back."

When he mounted his horse the animal rolled its eyes and refused to budge. Busby urged it on with kicks and cries, but to no avail. All at once the animal began to rear.

"I can make that horse go, old quack Busby," shouted the voice of the Spirit. "Let me get on behind."

The horse galloped off at full speed, while Busby desperately clutched his hat and fought to stay on. Needless to say, he did not return.

Another visitor, who called himself a "professional detective," had a different approach. The Bells had never seen or heard of this Mr. Williams until the day he walked into the house and offered his services, but they received him as they received everyone, with courtesy and open minds.

Williams was a portly, handsome man and a foppish dresser, but his manners were not so attractive as his appearance. After several days, during which time the Spirit was modestly silent, he informed another visitor that he had solved the mystery. As he had suspected, there was nothing supernatural about the case. The Bells were playing the tricks themselves, wanting a sensation—though why they should want something that deprived them of rest, privacy, and peace of mind he did not explain.

When Mr. Bell learned of the detective's theory, his indignation flared. He felt his hospitality had been violated and expressed his intention of evicting the slanderer.

"Never mind, Old Jack," said the Spirit. "I will take care of it."

So Mr. Bell said nothing. It was getting late, and he hated to throw a guest out into the dark with no other lodging close at
hand. Besides, by that time he was well acquainted with the Spirit's methods, and he would not have been human if he had not rather looked forward to seeing the traducer "taken care of."

The Spirit bided its time until after the family had gone to bed. The house was so full of sightseers that Mrs. Bell had been forced to place straw mattresses on the floor of the reception room. The "professional detective" had one of these luxurious pallets to himself; he was too stout to share with anyone. No sooner had the lights been put out than the other guests heard unearthly cries from Williams. The Spirit was holding him down, pounding him, and cursing.

A candle was brought. The pounding stopped, but the Spirit's profane comments on Williams's character continued. The terrified detective spent the rest of the night sitting up in a chair with a lighted candle at his side. He left at daybreak, refusing the Bells' kind invitation to breakfast.

The most famous of the curiosity seekers was General Andrew Jackson, who had been John Junior's commander-in-chief at New Orleans. "Old Hickory" was no stranger to scandal; his violent temper had led to several duels, and his impetuous emotions had caused him to marry a lady before her divorce from her former husband was final.

The distinguished military man came with a large entourage and a wagon loaded with equipment. The cavalcade had almost reached the house when the horses came to a stop and could not be persuaded to move, though there was nothing impeding their progress.

"It's the witch," one of the party exclaimed.

From the bushes along the roadside a voice called, "All right. They can go on now, General."

And they did.

The Bells welcomed their honored guest and gave him a good dinner. There was no question of the General pitching a tent in the meadow; the best guest room was none too good for such a man. Before retiring, the company gathered around the fire, and we need not wonder what the subject of the conversation must have been.

One of the General's followers was in the same profession as Jack Busby—witch killing. He was a big man with fiery eyes and a hawklike nose. Like Busby, he relied on silver bullets. Boastfully he displayed his pistol and said he could hardly wait to try it out.

There was no comment from the Spirit, and the braggart's boasts grew louder. Jackson, never a patient man, began to fidget. He wanted some action. Suddenly the skeptic jumped up and grabbed the seat of his trousers.

"Boys, I am being stuck with a thousand pins," he yelled.

"I am in front of you," said a mocking voice. "Shoot."

The witch hunter drew his pistol, aimed it, and tried to pull the trigger. The weapon would not fire.

"It's my night for fun," the Spirit said, chuckling. The victim's head rolled from side to side and the sound of loud slaps was heard. Then, "It is pulling my nose off," screamed the witch hunter. He made a break for the door, which obligingly opened for him. As he ran screaming toward the wagon the voice jeered and hooted at him.

Jackson roared with laughter. "I have never heard or seen of anything so funny and mysterious," he exclaimed in delight. "I'd like to stay a week."

Though Mr. Bell must have resented being regarded as a source of entertainment, he assured his tactless guest that he was welcome to stay as long as he liked.

The Spirit was agreeable, too. "There is another fraud in your party, General," it commented. "I'll get him tomorrow night. It is getting late now; go to bed."

During the night General Jackson had a change of heart. One can hardly suspect the hero of New Orleans of being a coward, so it must have been someone else in the party who was afraid of being found out, and who persuaded the General to abandon the visit. However, he later admitted that he had felt a few qualms.

"By the Eternal, I saw nothing; but I heard enough to convince me that I'd rather fight the British than deal with this torment they call the Bell Witch."

N
OW
I
will admit,
gentlemen, that these stories have a questionable air about them—an aura of the apocryphal, one might say. Yet they offer several important clues. Note, if you please, that some of the visitors came with the avowed intention of exposing the fraud, and that they failed to do so. Note also that in its treatment of the callers the Spirit was far from inconsistent. It reserved its jeers and slaps for the skeptics, and treated courteous visitor with courtesy.

The pattern is even clearer when we turn to its relations with close friends—I almost said
"its
close friends." Some of the Bells' neighbors got to be on excellent terms with the Spirit. It "enjoyed the gab," as the saying went, and was less apt to play nasty tricks when it was busy talking. Thus it was a true act of kindness for one of John Bell's friends to offer to chat with the Spirit for a few hours. The poor man probably took advantage of the peace and quiet to snatch a little sleep.