Word: witch
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...Witch. If her lines or "business" contain any dramatic quality at all, Alice Brady conveys it surely and deftly over the footlights. Her work in The Witch is one of the season's brilliant feats...
...play, translated by John Masefield from the Norwegian of Wiers-Jenssen, is not so happily inspired. It seems amorphous in character. Starting with the revelation that witchcraft was a medie val actuality, it proceeds to trace the growth of witch-power in young Anne Pedersdotter, second wife of the old village pastor, guilty sweet heart of his son. To satisfy her love, she casts the spell of death upon her old husband. Accused by her mother-in-law, she shrinks from the trial by touch and oath, confesses with a wail of misery and despair her witchcraft, goes to feed...
...small surprising lines that never reveal what they are about until they have done it. Some are firm lines with tiny hairs on them, like a cricket's thigh. Some are more delicate and hesitant, like timid creatures creeping from crannies. Some are wry and perverse, like a witch's pin or a bat's flight. None are straightforward or prosaic. Together, colored over and shaded in with pale washes, they create pictures of a world, half small-animal, half fairy, in which no one could fail to believe, if only because it is quaint, beautiful, impossible...
...middle of the jungle, at midnight, near Eshowe, capital of Zululand, a lean witch-doctor pranced around a naked black woman while tom-toms rustled and torches veered. A clay pot filled with earth from a slain chief's grave lay in a pit above which the woman was stretched on a hide; the witch-man leaped high, making medicine for war while tom-toms rustled and torches veered. A chief had been murdered; now the tribe, protected by strong medicine against bad luck, would move through the jungle to kill his killers. They would move safely...
...front of the Turf Club; they shouted a name that shook itself out like a battle-banner in the grey autumnal air: "Crusader." He-Man O'War's bravest son, best three-year old of the year-was in front. At one flank humped a dark witch-rabbity horse named Mars; at the other a little brown three-year old, William Ziegler's Espino. The bookies had Crusader at 4 to 5; Mars, they thought, was out of the running, and any poor fool who had a dollar to put on Espino could get ten back...