Mrs. Kate Batts and the Witch

It is proper that the reader should, before perusing "Our Family Trouble" and other accounts of the witch, be introduced to Mrs. Kate Batts, who was a noted lady in that community, remarkable for her eccentricities, who survived long after John Bell and is well remembered by many citizens still living.  There were two Batts families, who were in no way related.  Jerry Batts was a very prominent man, and his descendants make up part of the present good citizenship of that community.

Frederick Batts and wife Kate had three children, Jack, Calvin and Mary.  They had no relatives and lived very much unto themselves.  Their children died in advance of the turn of life and the family has become extinct.  The boys were all, spindling and gawky, and very droll, and did not take in society. Mary, however, was a beautiful bright girl and very popular.  Frederick Batts was an invalid, a helpless cripple, the greater part of his life, and his wife Kate assumed control of the farm, the family and all business affairs, and was successful in accumulating by her management, keeping the one idea of money making before her.  They were well to do people, owned a very good farm, a number of Negroes, and were forehanded, having always some money to lend.  Nothing of a disreputable nature attached to the family character.  They were respectable people, except for Mrs. Batts' eccentricity, which made many hold the family at as great a distance as possible.  She was a large fleshy woman, weighing over two hundred pounds, and was headstrong and very exacting in her dealings with men.  She was exceedingly jealous of her rights, not always knowing what they were, conceiving the idea that everybody was trying to beat her out of something.  Her tongue was fearful.  She did not hesitate to tackle any man who came under the ban of her displeasure, with a scourge of epithets. This, however, was tolerated as a weakness, and excited the sympathy of the better class, who humored her whims, but no one cared to encounter her organ of articulation when she was in a bad humor, and especially the ladies, who were generally afraid of her, and could not endure her methods and dominating spirit.  The superstitious believed that she was a witch, and this conjecture was strengthened by her habit of begging a brass pin from every woman she met, which trifle was supposed to give her power over the donor, and some ladies were careful to put their pins far away when "Old Kate" came in sight.  Notwithstanding Mrs. Batts was around every few days, traveling her circuit once a week, trading and gossiping, the superstitious were careful to keep their apprehensions concealed from her.  They were all smiles and joy, and spared no opportunity to make "Aunt Kate" happy in everything but one - and were exceedingly regretful that there was not a pin on the place.

Mrs. Batts kept her Negro women employed mostly at spinning, weaving cotton, flax and wool, making jeans, linsey, linen, etc., and knitting stockings after night until late bed time, and always had something to sell, and would buy all the surplus wool rolls and other raw material wanted in her business, and this furnished her an excuse for visiting regularly over the neighborhood.  Mrs. Batts was very aristocratic in her own conceit, believing that her property entitled her to move in the highest circle of society, and she put on extraordinary airs and used high sounding bombastic words, assimilating, as she thought, aristocracy, which subjected her to much ridicule and made her the laughing stock of the community.  Moreover, she was anxious to give her timid boy, Calvin, a matrimonial boost, and never hesitated to invade the society of young people, who were amused by her quaint remarks.  The girls, however, dreaded her presence in mixed company, lest she should unwittingly say something to cause a blush.  However she never neglected to put in a word for her noble boy, who resembled a bean pole.  "Girls, keep your eyes on Calvin; he's all warp and no filling, but he'll weave a yard wide" - referring to her own large proportions.

Mrs. Batts kept an old gray horse expressly for the saddle.  Old Gray was saddled every morning as regular as the sun shone, though Aunt Kate was never known to ride.  She invariably walked, carrying a copperas riding skirt on her left arm, two little Negro boys walking by her side, and Phillis, her waiting maid, in front leading the old gray horse. This caravan was known as "Kate Batts' troop."  No difference where she went, if entering the finest parlor in the country, Aunt Kate would habitually spread the copperas skirt over the seat offered her, and set on it.  With all of these peculiarities and eccentricities, "Sister Kate" was an enthusiastic Christian, always expatiating on the Scripture and the goodness of God, and would have her share of rejoicing in every meeting, and it never required an excess of spiritual animation to warm her up to business.  She was a member of Red River Church and a regular attendant, always late, but in time to get happy before the meeting closed.

Kate Batts and Her "Troop"

On one occasion, Rev. Thomas Felts was conducting a revival meeting, which had been in progress several days, and a deep religious feeling had been awakened, the house being crowded every day with anxious people.  Just as Parson Felts had concluded a rousing sermon awakening sinners to repentance, and called the mourners to the front, and the whole audience engaged in singing rapturous praise and transporting melody, the Batts’ troop arrived.  Phillis observed "Old Missus" had already caught the spirit and was filling up on glory, hurriedly hitched Old Gray and made a rush for the house.  The meeting had reached its highest tension, the house was packed, and the congregation on foot singing with the spirit.  The interest centered around Joe Edwards, who was down on his all fours at the mourner's bench, supplicating and praying manfully.  Joe Edwards was a good citizen, but a desperately wicked and undone sinner, and everybody was anxious to have him converted.  Especially were his religious friends in deep sympathy, sharing the burden of sorrow he was trying to throw off, as he seemed to be almost at the point of trusting, and the brethren had gathered around, instructing and urging him on.  Just at this critical moment Sister Batts rushed in, and elbowing her way into the circle, she deliberately spread her copperas riding skirt all over Joe Edwards and sat down on him. The poor man did not know what had happened; he felt that he was in the throes of the last desperate struggle with Satan and that the devil was on top.  He shouted and yelled the louder, “Oh I am sinking, sinking. Oh take my burden Jesus and make the devil turn me loose or I will go down, down, and be lost forever in torment.  Oh save me, save me, blessed Lord."

A good brother invited Sister Batts to another seat, but she politely declined with a flourish of big words, as was her custom when putting on dignified airs. "No I thank you; this is so consoling to my disposition that I feel amply corrugated.''   "But," insisted the good deacon, "you are crowding the mourner."  "Oh that don't disburse my perspicuity; I'm a very plain woman and do love to homigate near the altar whar th'r Lord am making confugation among th'r sinners."  "But, Sister Batts, the man is suffocating," still interposed the deacon.  Yes, bless Jesus, let him suffocate; he's getting closer to th'r Lord," exclaimed Sister Batts.

The situation had now become serious.  The whole house had caught on, and was bursting with tittering laughter.  Sister Batts felt the foundation beneath her giving away, and was caught by two brethren just as she threw up her hands, in time to prevent a still more ludicrous scene.  Joe Edwards rose up shouting joyously for his deliverance, as if some unknown spirit had snatched him from the vasty deep.  Sister Batts clasped her hands and shouted, "Bless th’r Lord, bless my soul, Jesus am so good to devolve His poor critters from the consternation of Satan's mighty dexterity."  The affair had reached such a comical and extremely ludicrous stage, that the audience could no longer restrain its resistibility to a simper, and many left the house hurriedly for au outdoor open air free laugh.  This ended the service, breaking up the meeting. The preacher could do nothing but dismiss the remainder of the congregation, who were suffering from a suppressed tittering sensation, holding their sides out of respect for the minister and religion.

Phillis was a strong believer in “Ole Missus.”  Describing the incident she said: "I neber seed Satan whipped outen er meetin so quick in all'er my bawn days.  Sooner an Ole Missus sot down on dat man de devil tuck out under der flo an de man hollered glory, glory, lemme up, lemme up.  Ole Miss paid no tention tu enybody.  She sat dar, an menced gittin happy herself, an all de folks in de house menced shoutin'.  De man he got so full of glory he ware gwinter git up anyhow an menced drawing hiz hine legs up sorter like er cow, an den drapped back, kase Ole Miss ware still dar, an she want’er gwineter git up tell ole Satan wuz mashed clean outen him.  Hit made Mister Joe Edwards sweat like er hoss, but he am got mighty good ligion now, dat will last him tell der next meetin.”

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As soon as the loquacious visitor developed the propensity for articulation, people became importunate in their entreaties, begging the mysterious voice to disclose its character, nature, who or what it was, and what its mission, to which importunities various answers were given, but no explanation that seemed to satisfy the anxious curiosity.  Finally Rev. James Gunn undertook in a conversation with the gnome to draw out the information.  The goblin declared that it could not trifle with a preacher or tell Brother Gunn a lie, and if he must know the truth, it was nothing more nor less than old Kate Batts’ witch, and was determined to haunt and torment old Jack Bell as long as he lived.  This announcement seemed to fit the case precisely and satisfy a certain element to a fraction.  Less superstitious and more considerate persons did not expect the witch to divulge the truth, and of course did not believe a word concerning Mrs. Batts' agency in the matter; that was impossible.  But the explanation pleased those, who wanted it so.  It served for a brand new and most startling sensation in the mysterious developments, and all tongues were set to wagging.  Men and women looked aghast, and said that was just what they had believed all the while.  Various suspicious circumstances were recalled to confirm the witch's statement.  The most inconvertible evidence was that a certain girl in the vicinity was given the task of churning, and after working the dasher diligently for two hours without reward, and no signs of butter coming, she declared that old Kate Batts had bewitched the milk and she was determined to burn her.  Carrying out this decision, she stuck an iron poker in the fire, and after it had come to a white heat, she soused the iron into the milk, setting the churn away; then making some excuse for the visit, she called on Aunt Kate to ascertain the result of her experiment, and found Mrs. Baits sitting in the corner nursing a burnt hand, which had been badly blistered through a mistake in taking the poker by the hot end that morning.

Another circumstance, Mrs. Batts had been heard to speak harshly of John Bell in regard to a transaction she had with him years back when he first moved to the settlement, declaring that she would get even with him.  Mrs. Batts was not in the habit of saying many good things about any one, unless she got the best end of a bargain in her dealings, but it is most probable that the old transaction referred to had been for­gotten by both parties until brought out by the witch, and John Bell hardly believed Mrs. Batts capable or culpable in the mystery.  However, many were satisfied with the explanation, and from this time on the witch was called "Kate," and to this name the incomprehensible voice was always pleased to answer.  But there was music in the breeze when this new sensation reached the ears of Mrs. Batts.  Her eyes flashed fire, and her tongue was let loose at both ends, rolling off epithets like streaks of lightning.  She kept every path in the neighborhood hot for a month trying to find the “corrigendum who dared to splavicate her character with the spirifications of John Bell's witch.  She would show him the perspicuity in the constipation of the law.”  Sister Batts, how­ever, never found the author of her discomfiture.  The corrigendum was a shapeless, invisible, irresponsible thing, and not subject to the law.