The Project Gutenberg EBook of Salem Witchcraft, Volumes I and II, by Charles W. Upham

Fourth Printing, 1969
Printed in the United States of America
Library of Congress Catalog Card No. 59-10887

CONTENTS.

DEDICATED

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES,

PROFESSOR OF ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY IN

HARVARD UNIVERSITY.

PREFACE.

THIS work was originally constructed, and in previous editions appeared, in the form of Lectures. The only vestiges of that form, in its present shape, are certain modes of expression. The language retains the character of an address by a speaker to his hearers; being more familiar, direct, and personal than is ordinarily employed in the relations of an author to a reader.

The former work was prepared under circumstances which prevented a thorough investigation of the subject. Leisure and freedom from professional duties have now enabled me to prosecute the researches necessary to do justice to it.

The "Lectures on Witchcraft," published in 1831, have long been out of print. Although frequently importuned to prepare a new edition, I was unwilling to issue again what I had discovered to be an insufficient presentation of the subject. In the mean time,[i.viii] it constantly became more and more apparent, that much injury was resulting from the want of a complete and correct view of a transaction so often referred to, and universally misunderstood.

The first volume of this work contains what seems to me necessary to prepare the reader for the second, in which the incidents and circumstances connected with the witchcraft prosecutions in 1692, at the village and in the town of Salem, are reduced to chronological order, and exhibited in detail.

As showing how far the beliefs of the understanding, the perceptions of the senses, and the delusions of the imagination, may be confounded, the subject belongs not only to theology and moral and political science, but to physiology, in its original and proper use, as embracing our whole nature; and the facts presented may help to conclusions relating to what is justly regarded as the great mystery of our being,—the connection between the body and the mind.

It is unnecessary to mention the various well-known works of authority and illustration, as they are referred to in the text. But I cannot refrain from bearing my grateful testimony to the value of the "Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society" and the "New-England Historical and Genealogical Register." The "Historical Collections" and the "Proceedings" of the Essex Institute have afforded me inestimable assistance. Such works as these are providing the materials[i.ix] that will secure to our country a history such as no other nation can have. Our first age will not be shrouded in darkness and consigned to fable, but, in all its details, brought within the realm of knowledge. Every person who desires to preserve the memory of his ancestors, and appreciate the elements of our institutions and civilization, ought to place these works, and others like them, on the shelves of his library, in an unbroken and continuing series. A debt of gratitude is due to the earnest, laborious, and disinterested students who are contributing the results of their explorations to the treasures of antiquarian and genealogical learning which accumulate in these publications.

A source of investigation, especially indispensable in the preparation of the present work, deserves to be particularly noticed. In 1647, the General Court of Massachusetts provided by law for the taking of testimony, in all cases, under certain regulations, in the form of depositions, to be preserved in perpetuam rei memoriam. The evidence of witnesses was prepared in writing, beforehand, to be used at the trials; they to be present at the time, to meet further inquiry, if living within ten miles, and not unavoidably prevented. In a capital case, the presence of the witness, as well as his written testimony, was absolutely required. These depositions were lodged in the files, and constitute the most valuable materials of history. In our[i.x] day, the statements of witnesses ordinarily live only in the memory of persons present at the trials, and are soon lost in oblivion. In cases attracting unusual interest, stenographers are employed to furnish them to the press. There were no newspaper reporters or "court calendars" in the early colonial times; but these depositions more than supply their place. Given in, as they were, in all sorts of cases,—of wills, contracts, boundaries and encroachments, assault and battery, slander, larceny, &c., they let us into the interior, the very inmost recesses, of life and society in all their forms. The extent to which, by the aid of William P. Upham, Esq., of Salem, I have drawn from this source is apparent at every page.

A word is necessary to be said relating to the originals of the documents that belong to the witchcraft proceedings. They were probably all deposited at the time in the clerk's office of Essex County. A considerable number of them were, from some cause, transferred to the State archives, and have been carefully preserved. Of the residue, a very large proportion have been abstracted from time to time by unauthorized hands, and many, it is feared, destroyed or otherwise lost. Two very valuable parcels have found their way into the libraries of the Massachusetts Historical Society and the Essex Institute, where they are faithfully secured. A few others have come to light among papers in the possession of individuals. It is to be[i.xi] hoped, that, if any more should be found, they will be lodged in some public institution; so that, if thought best, they may all be collected, arranged, and placed beyond wear, tear, and loss, in the perpetual custody of type.

The papers remaining in the office of the clerk of this county were transcribed into a volume a few years since; the copyist supplying, conjecturally, headings to the several documents. Although he executed his work in an elegant manner, and succeeded in giving correctly many documents hard to be deciphered, such errors, owing to the condition of the papers, occurred in arranging them, transcribing their contents, and framing their headings, that I have had to resort to the originals throughout.

As the object of this work is to give to the reader of the present day an intelligible view of a transaction of the past, and not to illustrate any thing else than the said transaction, no attempt has been made to preserve the orthography of that period. Most of the original papers were written without any expectation that they would ever be submitted to inspection in print; many of them by plain country people, without skill in the structure of sentences, or regard to spelling; which, in truth, was then quite unsettled. It is no uncommon thing to find the same word spelled differently in the same document. It is very questionable whether it is expedient or just to perpetuate[i.xii] blemishes, often the result of haste or carelessness, arising from mere inadvertence. In some instances, where the interest of the passage seemed to require it, the antique style is preserved. In no case is a word changed or the structure altered; but the now received spelling is generally adopted, and the punctuation made to express the original sense.

It is indeed necessary, in what claims to be an exact reprint of an old work, to imitate its orthography precisely, even at the expense of difficulty in apprehending at once the meaning, and of perpetuating errors of carelessness and ignorance. Such modern reproductions are valuable, and have an interest of their own. They deserve the favor of all who desire to examine critically, and in the most authentic form, publications of which the original copies are rare, and the earliest editions exhausted. The enlightened and enterprising publishers who are thus providing facsimiles of old books and important documents of past ages ought to be encouraged and rewarded by a generous public. But the present work does not belong to that class, or make any pretensions of that kind.

My thanks are especially due to the Hon. Asahel Huntington, clerk of the courts in Essex County, for his kindness in facilitating the use of the materials in his office; to the Hon. Oliver Warner, secretary of the Commonwealth, and the officers of his department; and to Stephen N. Gifford, Esq., clerk of the Senate.[i.xiii]

David Pulsifer, Esq., in the office of the Secretary of State, is well known for his pre-eminent skill and experience in mastering the chirography of the primitive colonial times, and elucidating its peculiarities. He has been unwearied in his labors, and most earnest in his efforts, to serve me.

Mr. Samuel G. Drake, who has so largely illustrated our history and explored its sources, has, by spontaneous and considerate acts of courtesy rendered me important help. Similar expressions of friendly interest by Mr. William B. Towne, of Brookline, Mass.; Hon. J. Hammond Trumbull, of Hartford, Conn.; and George H. Moore, Esq., of New-York City,—are gratefully acknowledged.

Samuel P. Fowler, Esq., of Danvers, generously placed at my disposal his valuable stores of knowledge relating to the subject. The officers in charge of the original papers, in the Historical Society and the Essex Institute, have allowed me to examine and use them.

I cordially express my acknowledgments to the Hon. Benjamin F. Browne, of Salem, who, retired from public life and the cares of business, is giving the leisure of his venerable years to the collection, preservation, and liberal contribution of an unequalled amount of knowledge respecting our local antiquities.

Charles W. Palfray, Esq., while attending the General Court as a Representative of Salem, in 1866,[i.xiv] gave me the great benefit of his explorations among the records and papers in the State House.

Mr. Moses Prince, of Danvers Centre, is an embodiment of the history, genealogy, and traditions of that locality, and has taken an active and zealous interest in the preparation of this work. Andrew Nichols, Esq., of Danvers, and the family of the late Colonel Perley Putnam, of Salem, also rendered me much aid.

I am indebted to Charles Davis, Esq., of Beverly, for the use of the record-book of the church, composed of "the brethren and sisters belonging to Bass River," gathered Sept. 20, 1667, now the First Church of Beverly; and to James Hill, Esq., town-clerk of that place, for access to the records in his charge.

To Gilbert Tapley, Esq., chairman of the committee of the parish, and Augustus Mudge, Esq., its clerk, and to the Rev. Mr. Rice, pastor of the church, at Danvers Centre, I cannot adequately express my obligations. Without the free use of the original parish and church record-books with which they intrusted me, and having them constantly at hand, I could not have begun adequately to tell the story of Salem Village or the Witchcraft Delusion.

C.W.U.

[i.xv]

MAP AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

The map, based upon various local maps and the Coast-Survey chart, is the result of much personal exploration and perambulation of the ground. It may claim to be a very exact representation of many of the original grants and farms. The locality of the houses, mills, and bridges, in 1692, is given in some cases precisely, and in all with near approximation. The task has been a difficult one. An original plot of Governor Endicott's Ipswich River grant, No. III., is in the State House, and one of the Swinnerton grant, No. XIX., in the Salem town-books. Neither of them, however, affords elements by which to establish its exact location. A plot of the Townsend Bishop grant, No. XX., as its boundaries were finally determined, is in the State House, and another of the same in the court-files of the county. This gives one fixed and known point, Hadlock's Bridge, from which, following the lines by points of compass and distances, as indicated on the plot and described in the Colonial Records, all the sides of the grant are laid out with accuracy, and its place on the map determined with absolute certainty. A very perfect and scientifically executed plan of a part of the boundary between Salem and Reading in[i.xvi] 1666 is in the State House; of which an exact tracing was kindly furnished by Mr. H.J. Coolidge, of the Secretary of State's office. It gives two of the sides of the Governor Bellingham grant, No. IV., in such a manner as to afford the means of projecting it with entire certainty, and fixing its locality. There are no other plots of original or early grants or farms on this territory; but, starting from the Bishop and Bellingham grants thus laid out in their respective places, by a collation of deeds of conveyance and partition on record, with the aid of portions of the primitive stone-walls still remaining, and measurements resting on permanent objects, the entire region has been reduced to a demarkation comprehending the whole area. The locations of then-existing roads have been obtained from the returns of laying-out committees, and other evidence in the records and files. The construction of the map, in all its details, is the result of the researches and labors of W.P. Upham.

The death-warrant is a photograph by E.R. Perkins, of Salem. The original, among the papers on file in the office of the clerk of the courts of Essex County, having always been regarded as a great curiosity, has been subjected to constant handling, and become much obscured by dilapidation. The letters, and in some instances entire words, at the end of the lines, are worn off. To preserve it, if possible, from further injury, it has been pasted on cloth. Owing to this circumstance, and the yellowish hue to which the paper has faded, it does not take favorably by photograph; but the exactness of imitation, which can only thus be obtained with absolute certainty, is more important than any other consideration. Only so much as contains the body of the warrant, the sheriff's return, and the seal, are given.[i.xvii] The tattered margins are avoided, as they reveal the cloth, and impair the antique aspect of the document. The original is slowly disintegrating and wasting away, notwithstanding the efforts to preserve it; and its appearance, as seen to-day, can only be perpetuated in photograph. The warrant is reduced about one-third, and the return one-half.

The Townsend Bishop house and the outlines of Witch Hill are from sketches by O.W.H. Upham. The English house is from a drawing made on the spot by J.R. Penniman of Boston, in 1822, a few years before its demolition, for the use of which I am indebted to James Kimball, Esq., of Salem. The view of Salem Village and of the Jacobs' house are reduced, by O.W.H. Upham, from photographs by E.R. Perkins.

The map and other engravings, including the autographs, were all delineated by O.W.H. Upham.

[Transcriber's Note: The map was missing from the volume used to prepare this e-text. The map image below was reproduced from a scan at the University of Virginia's Salem Witch Trials Documentary Archive and Transcription Project, http://etext.virginia.edu/salem/witchcraft/maps.]

Map of Salem Village.
1692.

View large map (566K)

[i.xix]

INDEX TO THE MAP.

DWELLINGS IN 1692.

[The Map shows all the houses standing in 1692 within the bounds of Salem Village; some others in the vicinity are also given. The houses are numbered on the Map with Arabic numerals, 1, 2, 3, &c., beginning at the top, and proceeding from left to right. In the following list, against each number, is given the name of the occupant in 1692, and, in some cases, that of the recent occupant or owner of the locality is added in parenthesis.]

ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THIS LIST.

s.	The same house believed to be still standing.
s.m.	The same house standing within the memory of persons now living.
t.r.	Traces of the house remain.
c.	The site given is conjectural.

1. John Willard. c.

2. Isaac Easty.

3. Francis Peabody. c.

4. Joseph Porter. (John Bradstreet.)

5. William Hobbs. t.r.

6. John Robinson.

7. William Nichols. t.r.

8. Bray Wilkins. c.

9. Aaron Way. (A. Batchelder.)

10. Thomas Bailey.

11. Thomas Fuller, Sr. (Abijah Fuller.)

12. William Way.

13. Francis Elliot. c.

14. Jonathan Knight. c.

15. Thomas Cave. (Jonathan Berry.)

16. Philip Knight. (J.D. Andrews.)

17. Isaac Burton.

18. John Nichols, Jr. (Jonathan Perry and Aaron Jenkins.) s.

19. Humphrey Case. t.r.

20. Thomas Fuller, Jr. (J.A. Esty.) s.

21. Jacob Fuller.

22. Benjamin Fuller.

23. Deacon Edward Putnam. s.m.

24. Sergeant Thomas Putnam. (Moses Perkins.) s.

25. Peter Prescot. (Daniel Towne.)

26. Ezekiel Cheever. (Chas. P. Preston.) s.m.

27. Eleazer Putnam. (John Preston.) s.m.

28. Henry Kenny.

29. John Martin. (Edward Wyatt.)

30. John Dale. (Philip H. Wentworth.)

31. Joseph Prince. (Philip H. Wentworth.)

32. Joseph Putnam. (S. Clark.) s.

33. John Putnam 3d.

34. Benjamin Putnam.

35. Daniel Andrew. (Joel Wilkins.)[i.xx]

36. John Leach, Jr. c.

37. John Putnam, Jr. (Charles Peabody.)

38. Joshua Rea. (Francis Dodge.) s.

39. Mary, wid. of Thos. Putnam. (William R. Putnam.) s.

[Birthplace of Gen. Israel Putnam. Gen. Putnam also lived in a house, the cellar and well of which are still visible, about one hundred rods north of this, and just west of the present dwelling of Andrew Nichols.]

40. Alexander Osburn and James Prince. (Stephen Driver.) s.

41. Jonathan Putnam. (Nath. Boardman.) s.

42. George Jacobs, Jr.

43. Peter Cloyse. t.r.

44. William Small. s.m.

45. John Darling. (George Peabody.) s.m.

46. James Putnam. (Wm. A. Lander.) s.m.

47. Capt. John Putnam. (Wm. A. Lander.)

48. Daniel Rea. (Augustus Fowler.) s.

49. Henry Brown.

50. John Hutchinson. (George Peabody.) t.r.

51. Joseph Whipple. s.m.

52. Benjamin Porter. (Joseph S. Cabot.)

53. Joseph Herrick. (R.P. Waters.)

54. John Phelps. c.

55. George Flint. c.

56. Ruth Sibley. s.m.

57. John Buxton.

58. William Allin.

59. Samuel Brabrook. c.

60. James Smith.

61. Samuel Sibley. t.r.

62. Rev. James Bayley. (Benjamin Hutchinson.)

63. John Shepherd. (Rev. M.P. Braman.)

64. John Flint.

65. John Rea. s.m.

66. Joshua Rea. (Adam Nesmith.) s.m.

67. Jeremiah Watts.

68. Edward Bishop, the sawyer. (Josiah Trask.)

69. Edward Bishop, husbandman.

70. Capt. Thomas Rayment.

71. Joseph Hutchinson, Jr. (Job Hutchinson.)

72. William Buckley.

73. Joseph Houlton, Jr. t.r.

74. Thomas Haines. (Elijah Pope.) s.

75. John Houlton. (F.A. Wilkins.) s.

76. Joseph Houlton, Sr. (Isaac Demsey.)

77. Joseph Hutchinson, Sr. t.r.

78. John Hadlock. (Saml. P. Nourse.) s.m.

79. Nathaniel Putnam. (Judge Putnam.) t.r.

80. Israel Porter. s.m.

81. James Kettle.

82. Royal Side Schoolhouse.

83. Dr. William Griggs.

84. John Trask. (I. Trask.) s.

85. Cornelius Baker.

86. Exercise Conant. (Subsequently, Rev. John Chipman.)

87. Deacon Peter Woodberry. t.r.

88. John Rayment, Sr. (Col. J.W. Raymond.)

89. Joseph Swinnerton. (Nathl. Pope.)

90. Benjamin Hutchinson. s.m.

91. Job Swinnerton. (Amos Cross.)

92. Henry Houlton. (Artemas Wilson.)

93. Sarah, widow of Benjamin Houlton. (Judge Houlton.) s.

94. Samuel Rea.

95. Francis Nurse. (Orin Putnam.) s.

96. Samuel Nurse. (E.G. Hyde.) s.

97. John Tarbell. s.

98. Thomas Preston.

99. Jacob Barney.

100. Sergeant John Leach, Sr. (George Southwick.) s.m.

101. Capt. John Dodge, Jr. (Charles Davis.) t.r.

102. Henry Herrick. (Nathl. Porter.)

[This had been the homestead of his father, Henry Herrick.]

[i.xxi]

103. Lot Conant.

[This was the homestead of his father, Roger Conant.]

104. Benjamin Balch, Sr. (Azor Dodge.) s.

[This was the homestead of his father, John Balch.]

105. Thomas Gage. (Charles Davis.) s.

106. Families of Trask, Grover, Haskell, and Elliott.

107. Rev. John Hale.

108. Dorcas, widow of William Hoar.

109. William and Samuel Upton. c.

110. Abraham and John Smith. (J. Smith.) s.

[This had been the homestead of Robert Goodell.]

111. Isaac Goodell. (Perley Goodale.)

112. Abraham Walcot. (Jasper Pope.) s.m.

113. Zachariah Goodell. (Jasper Pope.)

114. Samuel Abbey.

115. John Walcot.

116. Jasper Swinnerton. s.m.

117. John Weldon. Captain Samuel Gardner's farm. (Asa Gardner.)

118. Gertrude, widow of Joseph Pope. (Rev. Willard Spaulding.) s.m.

119. Capt. Thomas Flint. s.

120. Joseph Flint. s.

121. Isaac Needham. c.

122. The widow Sheldon and her daughter Susannah.

123. Walter Phillips. (F. Peabody, Jr.)

124. Samuel Endicott. s.m.

125. Families of Creasy, King, Batchelder, and Howard.

126. John Green. (J. Green) s.

127. John Parker.

128. Giles Corey. t.r.

129. Henry Crosby.

130. Anthony Needham, Jr. (E. and J.S. Needham.)

131. Anthony Needham, Sr.

132. Nathaniel Felton. (Nathaniel Felton.) s.

133. James Houlton. (Thorndike Procter.)

134. John Felton.

135. Sarah Phillips.

136. Benjamin Scarlett. (District Schoolhouse No. 6.)

137. Benjamin Pope.

138. Robert Moulton. (T. Taylor.) c.

139. John Procter.

140. Daniel Epps. c.

141. Joseph Buxton. c.

142. George Jacobs, Sr. (Allen Jacobs.) s.

143. William Shaw.

144. Alice, widow of Michael Shaflin. (J. King.)

145. Families of Buffington, Stone, and Southwick.

146. William Osborne.

147. Families of Very, Gould, Follet, and Meacham.

+ Nathaniel Ingersoll.

¶ Rev. Samuel Parris. t.r.

□ Captain Jonathan Walcot. t.r.

[i.xxii]

TOWN OF SALEM.

[For the sites of the following dwellings, &c., referred to in the book, see the small capitals in the lower right-hand corner of the Map.]

A. Jonathan Corwin.
B. Samuel Shattock, John Cook, Isaac Sterns, John Bly.
C. Bartholomew Gedney.
D. Stephen Sewall.
E. Court House.
F. Rev. Nicholas Noyes.
G. John Hathorne.
H. George Corwin, High-sheriff.
I. Bridget Bishop.
J. Meeting-house.
K. Gedney's "Ship Tavern."
L. The Prison.
M. Samuel Beadle.
N. Rev. John Higginson.
O. Ann Pudeator, John Best.
P. Capt. John Higginson.
Q. The Town Common.
R. John Robinson.
S. Christopher Babbage.
T. Thomas Beadle.
U. Philip English.
W. Place of execution, "Witch Hill."

GRANTS.

Note.—The grants are numbered on the Map with Roman numerals, the bounds being indicated by broken lines. They were all granted by the town of Salem, unless otherwise stated.

I. John Gould.

Sold by him to Capt. George Corwin, March 29, 1674; and by Capt. Corwin's widow sold to Philip Knight, Thomas Wilkins, Sr., Henry Wilkins, and John Willard, March 1, 1690.

II. Zaccheus Gould.

Sold by him to Capt. John Putnam before 1662; owned in 1692 by Capt. Putnam, Thomas Cave, Francis Elliot, John Nichols, Jr., Thomas Nichols, and William Way.

The above, together, comprised land granted by the General Court to Rowley, May 31, 1652, and laid out by Rowley to John and Zaccheus Gould.[i.xxiii]

III. Gov. John Endicott.

Ipswich-river Farm, 550 acres, granted by the General Court, Nov. 5, 1639; owned in 1692 by his grandsons, Zerubabel, Benjamin, and Joseph.

The General Court, Oct. 14, 1651, also granted to Gov. Endicott 300 acres on the southerly side of this farm, in "Blind Hole," on condition that he would set up copper-works. As the land appears afterwards to have been owned by John Porter, it is probable that the copper-mine was soon abandoned; but traces of it are still to be seen there.

IV. Gov. Richard Bellingham.

Granted by the General Court, Nov. 5, 1639.

V. Farmer John Porter.

Owned in 1692 by his son, Benjamin Porter. This includes a grant to Townsend Bishop, sold to John Porter in 1648; also 200 acres granted to John Porter, Sept. 30, 1647. That part in Topsfield was released by Topsfield to Benjamin Porter, May 2, 1687.

VI. Capt. Richard Davenport.

Granted Feb. 20, 1637, and Nov. 26, 1638; sold, with the Hathorne farm, to John Putnam, John Hathorne, Richard Hutchinson, and Daniel Rea, April 17, 1662.

VII. Capt. William Hathorne.

Granted Feb. 17, 1637; sold with the above.

VIII. John Putnam the Elder.

This comprises a grant of 100 acres to John Putnam, Jan. 20, 1641; 80 acres to Ralph Fogg, in 1636; 40 acres (formerly Richard Waterman's) to Thomas Lothrop, Nov. 29, 1642; and 30 acres to Ann Scarlett, in 1636. The whole owned by James and Jonathan Putnam in 1692.

IX. Daniel Rea.

Granted to him in 1636; owned by his grandson, Daniel Rea, in 1692.

X. Rev. Hugh Peters.

Granted Nov. 12, 1638; laid out June 15, 1674, being then in the possession of Capt. John Corwin; sold by Mrs. Margaret Corwin to Henry Brown, May 22, 1693.

XI. Capt. George Corwin.

Granted Aug. 21, 1648; sold (including 30 acres formerly John Bridgman's) to Job Swinnerton, Jr., and William Cantlebury, Jan. 18, 1661.[i.xxiv]

XII. Richard Hutchinson, John Thorndike, and Mr. Freeman.

Granted in 1636 and 1637; owned in 1692 by Joseph, son of Richard Hutchinson, and by Sarah, wife of Joseph Whipple, daughter of John, and grand-daughter of Richard Hutchinson.

XIII. Samuel Sharpe.

Granted Jan. 23, 1637; sold to John Porter, May 10, 1643; owned by his son, Israel Porter, in 1692.

XIV. John Holgrave.

Granted Nov. 26, 1638; sold to Jeffry Massey and Nicholas Woodberry, April 2, 1652; and to Joshua Rea, Jan. 1, 1657.

XV. William Alford.

Granted in 1636; sold to Henry Herrick before 1653.

XVI. Francis Weston.

Granted in 1636; sold by John Pease to Richard Ingersoll and William Haynes, in 1644.

XVII. Elias Stileman.

Granted in 1636; sold to Richard Hutchinson, June 1, 1648.

XVIII. Robert Goodell.

504 acres laid out to him, Feb. 13, 1652: comprising 40 acres granted to him "long since," and other parcels bought by him of the original grantees; viz., Joseph Grafton, John Sanders, Henry Herrick, William Bound, Robert Pease and his brother, Robert Cotta, William Walcott, Edmund Marshall, Thomas Antrum, Michael Shaflin, Thomas Venner, John Barber, Philemon Dickenson, and William Goose.

XIX. Job Swinnerton.

300 acres laid out, Jan. 5, 1697, to Job Swinnerton, Jr.; having been owned by his father, by grant and purchase, as early as 1650.

XX. Townsend Bishop.

Granted Jan. 11, 1636; sold to Francis Nurse, April 29, 1678.

XXI. Rev. Samuel Skelton.

Granted by the General Court, July 3, 1632; sold to John Porter, March 8, 1649; owned by the heirs of John Porter in 1692.[i.xxv]

XXII. John Winthrop, Jr.

Granted June 25, 1638; sold by his daughter to John Green, Aug. 9, 1683.

XXIII. Rev. Edward Norris.

Granted Jan. 21, 1640: sold to Elleanor Trusler, Aug. 7, 1654; to Joseph Pope, July 18, 1664.

XXIV. Robert Cole.

Granted Dec. 21, 1635; sold to Emanuel Downing before July 16th, 1638; conveyed by him to John and Adam Winthrop, in trust for himself and wife during their lives, and then for his son, George Downing, July 23, 1644; leased to John Procter in 1666; occupied by him and his son Benjamin in 1692.

XXV. Col. Thomas Reed.

Granted Feb. 16, 1636; sold to Daniel Epps, June 28, 1701, by Wait Winthrop, as attorney to Samuel Reed, only son and heir of Thomas Reed.

XXVI. John Humphrey.

Granted by the General Court, Nov. 7, 1632, May 6, 1635, and March 12, 1638, 1,500 acres, part in Salem and part in Lynn; sold, on execution, to Robert Saltonstall, Dec. 6, 1642, and by him sold to Stephen Winthrop, June 7, 1645, whose daughters—Margaret Willie and Judith Hancock—owned it in 1692: that part within the bounds of Salem is given in the Map according to the report of a committee, July 11, 1695.

Orchard Farm.

Granted by the General Court to Gov. Endicott; owned by his grandsons, John and Samuel, in 1692.

The Governor's Plain.

Granted to Gov. Endicott, Jan. 27, 1637, Dec. 23, 1639, and Feb. 5, 1644; including land granted under the name of "small lots."

Johnson's Plain.

Granted to Francis Johnson, Jan. 23, 1637.

[i.xxvi]

FARMS.

[The bounds of farms are indicated by dotted lines, except where they coincide with the bounds of grants. The following are those given on the Map.]

1st, Between grants No. XI. and VII., and extending north of the Village bounds, and south as far as Andover Road,—about 500 acres; bought by Thomas and Nathaniel Putnam of Philip Cromwell, Walter Price and Thomas Cole, Jeffry Massey, John Reaves, Joseph and John Gardner, and Giles Corey; owned, in 1692, by Edward Putnam, Thomas Putnam, and John Putnam, Jr. This includes also 50 acres granted to Nathaniel Putnam, Nov. 19, 1649.

2d, At the northerly end of Grant No. VII., and extending north of the Village bounds,—100 acres, known as the "Ruck Farm;" granted to Thomas Ruck, May 27, 1654, and sold to Philip Knight and Thomas Cave, July 24, 1672.

3d, North of the "Ruck Farm,"—100 acres; sold by William Robinson to Richard Richards and William Hobbs, Jan. 1, 1660, and owned, in 1692, by William Hobbs and John Robinson.

4th, Next east, bounded northeast by Nichols Brook, and extending within the Village bounds,—200 acres; granted to Henry Bartholomew, and sold by him to William Nichols before 1652.

5th, East of the "Ruck Farm," and extending across the Village bounds,—about 150 acres; granted to John Putnam and Richard Graves. Part of this was sold by John Putnam to Capt. Thomas Lothrop, June 2, 1669, and was owned by Ezekiel Cheever in 1692: the rest was owned by John Putnam.

6th, East of the above, and south of the Nichols Farm,—60 acres, owned by Henry Kenny; also 50 acres granted to Job Swinnerton, given by him to his son, Dr. John Swinnerton, and sold to John Martin and John Dale, March 20, 1693.

7th, South of the above, and east of Grant No. VII.,—150 acres; granted to William Pester, July 16, 1638, and sold by Capt. William Trask to Robert Prince, Dec. 20, 1655.

8th, East of Grant No. VI., and extending north to Smith's Hill and south to Grant No. IX.,—about 400 acres; granted to Allen Kenniston, John Porter, and Thomas Smith, and owned, in 1692, by Daniel Andrew and Peter Cloyse.[i.xxvii]

9th, East and southeast of Smith's Hill,—500 acres; granted to Emanuel Downing in 1638 and 1649, and sold by him to John Porter, April 15, 1650. John Porter gave this farm to his son Joseph, upon his marriage with Anna daughter of William Hathorne.

10th, East of Frost-fish River, including the northerly end of Leach's Hill, and extending across Ipswich Road,—about 250 acres, known as the "Barney Farm;" originally granted to Richard Ingersoll, Jacob Barney, and Pascha Foote.

11th, South of the "Barney Farm,"—about 200 acres; granted to Lawrence, Richard, and John Leach; owned, in 1692, by John Leach.

12th, North of the "Barney Farm," and between grants No. XIII. and XIV.,—about 250 acres, known as "Gott's Corner;" granted to Charles Gott, Jeffry Massey, Thomas Watson, John Pickard, and Jacob Barney, and by them sold to John Porter. (Recently known as the "Burley Farm.")

13th, Eastward of the "Barney Farm,"—40 acres; originally granted to George Harris, and afterwards to Osmond Trask; owned, in 1692, by his son, John Trask.

14th, Next east, and extending across Ipswich Road,—40 acres; granted to Edward Bishop, Dec. 28, 1646; owned, in 1692, by his son, Edward Bishop, "the sawyer."

15th, At the northwest end of Felton's Hill, and extending across the Village line,—about 60 acres; owned by Nathaniel Putnam.

16th, Southeast of Grant No. XXIII.,—a farm of about 150 acres; owned by Giles Corey, including 50 acres bought by him of Robert Goodell, March 15, 1660, and 50 acres bought by him of Ezra and Nathaniel Clapp, of Dorchester, heirs of John Alderman, July 4, 1663.

17th, Northeast of the above,—150 acres granted to Mrs. Anna Higginson in 1636; sold by Rev. John Higginson to John Pickering, March 23, 1652; and by him to John Woody and Thomas Flint, Oct. 18, 1654; owned in 1692 by Thomas and Joseph Flint.

[i.xxix]

GENERAL INDEX.

A.

Abbey, Thomas, 129.

Abbey, Samuel, ii. 200, 272.

Abbot, Joseph, 123.

Abbot, Nehemiah, ii. 128, 133, 208.

Aborn, Samuel, Jr., ii. 272.

Addington, Isaac, ii. 102, 474.

Afflicted children, ii. 112, 384, 465.

Age, reverence for, 217.

Agrippa, Henry Cornelius, 367.

Alford, William, 66.

Alden, John, ii. 208, 243-247, 255, 453.

Allen, James, 78-84; ii. 89, 309, 494, 550-553.

Allin, James, ii. 226.

America, the peopling of, 395.

Amsterdam, 460.

Andover, ii. 247.

Andrew, Daniel, 155, 214, 251, 270, 296, 319; ii. 59, 187, 272, 497, 550.

Andrews, Ann, ii. 170, 319.

Andrews, John, ii. 306.

Andrews, John, Jr., ii. 306.

Andrews, Joseph, ii. 306.

Andrews, William, ii. 306.

Andrews, Robert, 123.

Andros, Sir Edmund, ii. 99, 154.

Appleton, Samuel, 119; ii. 102, 250.

Apon, Peter, 342.

Arnold de Villa Nova, 342.

Arnold, Margaret, 356.

B.

Babbage, Christopher, ii. 184.

Bachelder, Mark, 123.

Bacheler, John, ii. 475.

Bacon, Francis, 383.

Bacon, Roger, 341.

Badger, John, 445.

Baker, Eben, 123.

Bailey, John, ii. 89, 310.

Balch, John, 129.

Balch, Joseph, 105.

Baptism: its subjects, 307.

Barbadoes, 287.

Barker, Abigail, ii. 349, 404.

Barnard, Thomas, ii. 477.

Barnes, Benjamin, ii. 499.

Barney, Jacob, 40, 140.

Barrett, Thomas, ii. 353.

Bartholomew, Henry, 206.

Bartholomew, William, 428.

Barton, Elizabeth, 343.

Bassett, William, ii. 207.

Batter, Edmund, 40, 46, 57.

Baxter, Richard, 352, 353, 355, 401, 459.

Bayley, James, 245-255, 278;
autograph, 280; ii. 514.

Bayley, Joseph, ii. 417.

Bayley, Thomas, 105.

Beadle, Samuel, 132; ii. 164, 181.

Beadle, Thomas, ii. 164, 170, 172.

Beale, William, ii. 141.

Beard, Thomas, 360.

Bears, 210.

Becket, John, ii. 267.

Beers, Richard, 104.

Bekker, Balthasar, 371.

Belcher, Jonathan, ii. 481.

Bellingham, Richard, 144.

Bentley, Richard, 372.

Bentley, William, ii. 143, 365, 377.

Best, John, ii. 329.

Best, John, Jr., ii. 329.

Bibber, Sarah, ii. 5, 205, 287.

Billerica, 9.

[i.xxx]Bishop, Bridget, 143, 191-197; ii. 114, 125-128, 253;
trial and execution, 256-267;
her house, 463.

Bishop, Edward, 142; ii. 272.

Bishop, Edward, 142, 191; ii. 253, 267, 466.

Bishop, Edward, 141, 143; ii. 128, 135, 383, 465, 478.

Bishop, Edward, 143.

Bishop, John, 8.

Bishop, Richard, 142.

Bishop, Sarah, ii. 128, 135.

Bishop, Thomas, 206.

Bishop, Townsend, 40, 66;
his house, 69-74, 96, 97;
autograph, 279; ii. 294, 467.

Black, Mary, ii. 128, 136.

Blackstone, Sir William, ii. 517.

Blazdell, Henry, 430.

Blazed trees, 43.

Bly, John, ii. 261, 266.

Bly, William, ii. 266.

Bloody Brook, 105.

Booth, Elizabeth, ii. 4, 465.

Bowden, Michael, ii. 467.

Bowditch, Nathaniel, 172.

Boyle, Robert, 359.

Boynton, Joseph, ii. 553.

Bradbury, Thomas, ii. 224, 450.

Bradbury, Mary, ii. 208, 224-238;
trial and condemnation, 324, 480.

Bradford, William, 122.

Bradstreet, Dudley, ii. 248, 347.

Bradstreet, John, 428.

Bradstreet, John, ii. 248, 347.

Bradstreet, Simon, 124, 139, 147;
autograph 279, 451, 454; ii. 99, 455, 456.

Braman, Milton P., ii. 516.

Brattle, William, ii. 450.

Braybrook, Samuel, ii. 30, 72, 202.

Bridges, Edmund, 186; ii. 94.

Bridges, Mary, ii. 349.

Bridges, Sarah, ii. 349.

Bridgham, Joseph, ii. 553.

Bridle-path, 43.

Britt, Mary, ii. 38.

Broom-making, 202.

Browne, Charles, 429.

Browne, Christopher, 438.

Browne, Henry, Jr., 55.

Browne, Sir Thomas, 357.

Browne, William, Jr., 226, 271.

Buckley, Sarah, ii. 187, 199, 349.

Buckley, Thomas, 105.

Buckley, William, ii. 199.

Burial of those executed, ii. 266, 293, 301, 312, 320.

Burnham, John, ii. 306.

Burnham, John, Jr., ii. 306.

Burroughs, Charles, ii. 478.

Burroughs, George, 255, 278;
autograph, 280;
arrest and examination, ii. 140-163;
trial and execution, 296-304, 319, 480, 482, 514.

Burt, Goody, 437.

Burton, John, 151.

Burton, Isaac, 152, 241.

Burton, Warren, 152.

Butler, Samuel, 352, 367.

Butler, William, ii. 306.

Buxton, Elizabeth, ii 272.

Buxton, John, 154, 262.

Byfield, Nathaniel, ii. 455.

C.

Calamy, Edmund, 283, 352.

Calef, Robert, ii. 32, 461, 490.

Candy, ii. 208, 215, 349.

Canoes, 61.

Cantlebury, William, 154.

Cantlebury, Ruth, ii. 18.

Capen, Joseph, ii. 326, 478.

Capital punishment, 377.

Cary, Elizabeth, ii. 208, 238, 453, 456.

Cary, Jonathan, ii. 238.

Carr, Ann, 253; ii. 465.

Carr, George, ii. 229.

Carr, James, ii. 232.

Carr, John, ii. 234.

Carr, Mary, 253.

Carr, Richard, ii. 230.

Carr, Sir Robert, 220.

Carr, William, ii. 234, 465.

Carrier, Martha, arrest and examination, ii. 208-215;
trial and execution, 296, 480.

Carrier, Sarah, ii. 209.

Carter, Bethiah, ii. 187.

Cartwright, George, 220.

Casco, 256.

Case, Humphrey, 154.

Castle Island, 102.

Cave, Thomas, 154.

Chapman, Simon, ii. 219.

Charter of Massachusetts, 15.

Checkley, Samuel, ii. 553.

Cheever, Ezekiel, 111.

Cheever, Ezekiel, Jr., 113, 117, 226, 299; ii. 15, 40, 550.

Cheever, Peter, 226.

Cheever, Samuel, 113; ii. 193, 478, 550.

[i.xxxi]Cheever, Thomas, 113.

Chickering, Henry, 74.

Chipman, John, 130.

Choate, John, ii. 306.

Choate, Thomas, ii. 306.

Church, Benjamin, 123.

Church-of-England Canon, 347.

Churchill, Sarah, ii. 4, 166, 169.

Clark, Peter, 171; ii. 513, 516.

Clark, Thomas, 425.

Clark, William, 40.

Cleaves, William, ii. 38, 336.

Clenton, Rachel, ii. 198.

Cloutman, William, ii. 267.

Cloyse, Peter, 269; ii. 9, 59, 94, 465, 485.

Cloyse, Sarah, ii. 60, 94, 101, 111, 326.

Cobbye, Goodman, 431.

Code, Roman, 374.

Cogswell, John, ii. 306.

Cogswell, John, Jr., ii. 306.

Cogswell, Jonathan, ii. 306.

Cogswell, William, ii. 306.

Cogswell, William, Jr., ii. 306.

Coldum, Clement, ii. 191.

Cole, Eunice, 437.

Colman, Benjamin, ii. 505.

Colson, Elizabeth, ii. 187.

Conant, Lot, 133.

Conant, Roger, 60, 63, 129.

Confessors, ii. 350, 397.

Constables, 21.

Cook, Elisha, ii. 497.

Cook, Elizabeth, ii. 272.

Cook, Henry, 57.

Cook, John, ii. 261.

Cook, Isaac, ii. 272.

Cook, Samuel, 230.

Copper mine, 45.

Corey, Giles, 181-191, 205; ii. 38, 44, 52, 114, 121, 128;
pressed to death, 334-343;
excommunicated, 343, 480, 483.

Corey, Martha, 190; ii. 38-42;
examination, 43-55, 111;
trial and execution, 324, 458, 507.

Corlet, Elijah, 111.

Corwin, George, 57, 98, 226.

Corwin, George, ii. 252, 470, 472.

Corwin, George, ii. 484.

Corwin, John, 55.

Corwin, Jonathan, 101; ii. 11, 13;
autograph, (29, 50, 69, 314,) 89, 101, 116, 157, 165, 250, 345;
letter to, 447, 485, 538.

Court House, ii. 253.

Court, Special, ii. 251, 254.

Court, Superior, of Judicature, ii. 349.

Cox, Mary, ii. 198.

Cox, Robert, 123.

Cradock, Matthew, 17.

Crane River Bridge, 194.

Cranmer, Archbishop, 343.

Creesy, John, 141.

Crosby, Henry, ii. 38, 45, 50, 124.

Cullender, Rose, 355.

D.

Daland, Benjamin, 230.

Dane, Francis, ii. 223, 330, 459, 478.

Dane, Deliverance, ii. 404.

Dane, John, ii. 475.

Dane, Nathaniel, ii. 460.

Danforth, Thomas, 461; ii. 101, 250, 349, 354, 455, 456.

Darby, Mrs., 260.

Darling, James, ii. 201.

Davenport, John, 385.

Davenport, Nathaniel, 121, 125-128.

Davenport, Richard, 100-103.

Davenport, True Cross, 101, 126.

Davis, Ephraim, 429.

Davis, James, 429.

De La Torre, 361.

Deane, Charles, 50.

Death-warrant, ii. 266.

Deland, Thorndike, ii. 267.

Demonology, 325, 327.

Dennison, Daniel, 147.

Derich, Mary, ii. 208.

Devil, 325, 338, 387.

Dexter, Henry M., 123.

Dodge, Granville M., 232.

Dodge, John, 129.

Dodge, Josiah, 105.

Dodge, William, 130.

Dodge, William, Jr., 129.

Dole, John, 444.

Dolliver, Ann, ii. 194.

Dolliver, William, ii. 194.

Douglas, Ann, ii. 179.

Dounton, William, ii. 274.

Downer, Robert, ii. 413.

Downing, Emanuel, 38-46;
autograph, 279.

Downing, Lucy, 39;
autograph, 279.

Downing, Sir George, 46.

Drake, Samuel G, ii. 26.

Dreams, ii. 411.

Druillettes, Gabriel, 37.

Dudley, Joseph, ii. 480.

Dudley, Thomas, 23.

[i.xxxii]Dugdale, Richard, 354.

Dummer, Jeremiah, ii. 553.

Dunny, Amey, 355.

Dunton, John, ii. 90, 471.

Dustin, Hannah, 9.

Dustin, Lydia, ii. 208.

Dustin, Sarah, ii. 208.

Dutch, Martha, ii. 179.

E.

Eames, Daniel, ii. 331.

Eames, Rebecca, ii. 324, 480.

Easty, Isaac, 241; ii. 56, 478.

Easty, John, 241.

Easty, Mary, ii. 60;
arrest, 128;
examination, 137;
re-arrest, 200-205;
trial and execution, 324-327, 480.

Education, 111, 213-216, 280, 284; ii. 221.

Eliot, Andrew, ii. 475.

Eliot, Daniel, ii. 191.

Eliot, Edmund, ii. 412.

Eliot, Elizabeth, 126.

Emerson, John, 444, 462.

Emory, George, 57.

Endicott, John, 16-20, 23, 32-38, 45, 50, 74-79, 95, 454.

Endicott, John, Jr., 74-78.

Endicott, Samuel, 32; ii. 231, 272, 307.

Endicott, Zerubabel, 32, 35, 58, 84-95.

Endicott, Zerubabel, ii. 230.

English, Mary, ii. 128, 136;
autograph, 313.

English, Philip, ii. 128, 140, 255;
autograph, 313, 470, 473, 478, 482.

Essex, Flower of, 104.

Eveleth, Joseph, ii. 306, 475.

F.

Fairfax, Edward, 347.

Fairfield, William, ii. 267.

Farmer, Hugh, 335, 390.

Farrar, Thomas, ii. 187.

Farrington, John, 123.

Faulkner, Abigail, ii. 330, 476, 480.

Fellows, John, ii. 306.

Felt, David, ii. 267.

Felton, Benjamin, 56.

Felton, John, 236; ii. 307.

Felton, Nathaniel, ii. 272, 307.

Felton, Nathaniel, Jr., ii. 307.

Filmer, Sir Robert, 373.

Fireplaces, 202.

First Church in Salem, 243, 246, 271; ii. 257, 290, 483.

Fisk, Thomas, ii. 284, 475.

Fisk, Thomas, Jr., ii. 475.

Fisk, William, ii. 475.

Fitch, Jabez, ii. 477.

Fletcher, Benjamin, ii. 242.

Flint, John, 141, 154.

Flint, Samuel, 229.

Flint, Thomas, 123, 188, 226, 270.

Flood, John, ii. 208, 331.

Fogg, Ralph, 57.

Forests, 7, 27.

Fosdick, Elizabeth, ii. 208.

Foster, Abraham, ii. 384.

Foster, Ann, ii. 351, 398, 480.

Foster, Isaac, ii. 306.

Foster, John, ii. 466.

Foster, Reginald, ii. 306.

Fowler, Joseph, ii. 206.

Fowler, Philip, ii. 206.

Fowler, Samuel P., ii. 206.

Fox, Rebecca, ii. 188.

Foxcroft, Francis, ii. 455.

Frayll, Samuel, ii. 307.

Fuller, Benjamin, ii. 177.

Fuller, Jacob, 227.

Fuller, John, ii. 280.

Fuller, Samuel, ii. 177.

Fuller, Thomas, 187, 227, 250, 288; ii. 25.

Fuller, Thomas, Jr., 288; ii. 173.

G.

Gallop, John, 122.

Game, pursuit of, 208.

Gammon, ——, ii. 354.

Gardiner, Sir Christopher, 68.

Gardner, Joseph, 45, 122, 123, 124.

Gardner, Samuel, 45.

Gardner, Thomas, 45, 117.

Gaskill, Edward, ii. 307.

Gaskill, Samuel, ii. 307.

Gaule, John, 363.

Gedney, Bartholomew, 271; ii. 89, 243, 244, 250, 251, 254, 496.

Gedney, John, 158, 258; ii. 254.

Gedney, John, Jr., ii. 254.

Gedney, Susannah, ii. 254, 264.

General Court responsible for the executions, ii. 268.

Gerbert (Sylvester II.), 339.

Gerrish, Joseph, ii. 478, 550.

Gidding, Samuel, ii. 306.

Gifford, Margaret, 437.

[i.xxxiii]Gingle, John, 144.

Glover, Goody, 454.

Gloyd, John, 186, 189.

Godfrey, John, 428-436.

Good, Dorcas, examination of, ii. 71, 111.

Good, Sarah, ii. 11;
examination of, 12-17;
trial and execution, 268, 269, 480.

Good, William, ii. 12, 481.

Goodell, Abner C., 141.

Goodell, Robert, 141.

Goodhew, William, ii. 306.

Goodwin, Mr., 454.

Governors of Massachusetts, time of election by charter, 17.

Governor's Plain, 24.

Gould, Nathan, 432.

Gould, Thomas, 188.

Grants, policy of, 22.

Gray, William, 130.

Graves, Thomas, ii. 455.

Green, Joseph, 9, 146, 170; ii. 199, 477, 506, 516.

Greenslit, John, ii. 298.

Greenslit, Thomas, ii. 298.

Griggs, William, ii. 4, 6.

Griggs, Goody, ii. 111.

Grover, Edmund, 31.

H.

Hakins, Nicholas, 123.

Hale, John, 195-197, 299, 452; ii. 43, 70, 257, 345, 475, 478, 550.

Hale, Sir Matthew, 355; ii. 269.

Halliwell, Henry, 364.

Handwriting, 214, 277-281; ii. 55.

Harding, Edward, 123.

Hardy, George, 443.

Harris, Benjamin, ii. 90.

Harris, George, 63.

Harsnett, Samuel, 369.

Hart, Thomas, ii. 352.

Hart, Elizabeth, ii. 187.

Harwood, John, ii. 275.

Hathorne, John, 40, 99, 271; ii. 11, 13, 20, 28;
autograph, (29, 50, 69, 314), 43, 60, 89, 101, 102, 116, 241, 250.

Hathorne, William, 46, 57, 99.

Haverhill, 9.

Hawkes, Mrs., ii. 216, 349.

Haynes, John, 139.

Haynes, Richard, 138, 140.

Haynes, Thomas, 139, 260, 431; ii. 132, 465.

Haynes, William, 40, 138.

Hazeldon, John, 429.

Herrick, George, ii. 49, 60, 71, 202, 252, 274, 471.

Herrick, Henry, 66, 153.

Herrick, Henry, ii. 475.

Herrick, Joseph, 129, 141, 269, 270; ii. 12, 28, 272.

Hibbert's Philosophy of Apparitions, ii. 518.

Hibbins, Ann, 420-427, 453.

Higginson, John, 271, 273; ii. 89, 193, 478, 550.

Highways, 43, 212.

Highways, surveyors of, 21.

Hill, Captain, ii. 244.

Hoar, Dorcas, ii. 140, 144, 384, 480.

Hobbs, Abigail, ii. 114, 128, 480, 481.

Hobbs, Deliverance, ii. 128, 161.

Hobbs, William, ii. 114, 128, 130.

Holgrave, John, 63.

Holyoke, Edward, 156.

Holyoke, Edward Augustus, 156; ii. 377.

Hopkins, Matthew, 351.

Horace, 366.

Horse Bridge, 234.

Houchins, Jeremiah, 74.

Houlton, Benjamin, ii. 275, 280, 281.

Houlton, James, ii. 307.

Houlton, Joseph, 86, 147, 243, 270; ii. 272, 496.

Houlton, Joseph, Jr., 123; ii. 272.

Houlton, Samuel, 148, 223.

Houlton, Sarah, ii. 281, 495, 506.

Houlton, town of, 151.

Houses, 184.

How, Elizabeth, ii. 208;
examination of, 216-223;
trial and execution, 268, 270, 480.

How, James, Sr., ii. 221.

How, John, 241.

Howard, John, ii. 198.

Howard, Nathaniel, 141.

Hubbard, Elizabeth, ii. 4, 191.

Hubbard, William, ii. 193, 477.

Hudson, William, 425.

Hungerford, Earl of, 343.

Hunniwell, Richard, ii. 298.

Hunt, Ephraim, ii. 553.

Huskings, 201.

Hutchinson, Benjamin, 172; ii. 151, 197, 201.

Hutchinson, Edward, 425.

Hutchinson, Elisha, ii. 150.

Hutchinson, Israel, 223, 228.

[i.xxxiv]Hutchinson, Joseph, 243, 250, 270, 285, 319; ii. 11, 28, 33, 272, 393, 545, 550.

Hutchinson, Lydia, ii. 272.

Hutchinson, Richard, 27, 40, 86, 137.

Hutchinson, Thomas, History of Massachusetts, 415.

I.

Indians, 7, 25, 62, 286.

Ingersoll, Hannah, 166, 261; ii. 192.

Ingersoll, John, 40, 172; ii. 171.

Ingersoll, Joseph, ii. 129.

Ingersoll, Nathaniel, 35, 86, 165-179, 225, 244, 249, 251, 259, 261;
autograph, 280, 288, 294, 301, 303;
ordination as deacon, 305; ii. 11, 33, 42, 60, 73, 100, 112, 114, 128, 132, 140, 499.

Ingersoll, Sarah, ii. 169.

Ingersoll, Richard, 36, 40, 138.

Ingersoll's Point, 138.

Inquest, jury of, ii. 178.

Ipswich road, 43.

Ireson, Benjamin, ii. 208.

Iron works, 147.

Izard, Ann, ii. 520.

J.

Jackson, John, ii. 198, 223.

Jackson, John, Jr., ii. 198, 223.

Jacobs, George, 198; ii. 4;
arrest and examination, 164-172, 274;
execution, 296, 312, 382, 480.

Jacobs, George, Jr., 198; ii. 187.

Jacobs, Margaret, ii. 164, 172, 315, 349, 353, 466.

Jacobs, Rebecca, ii. 187, 349.

Jacobs, Thomas, ii. 207.

James I., 368, 375, 410.

Jewell, John, 345.

Jewett, Nehemiah, ii. 553.

Joan of Arc, 343.

Jones, Hugh, 91.

Jones, Margaret, 415, 453.

John Indian, ii. 2, 95, 106, 241.

Johnson, Elizabeth, ii. 349.

Johnson, Elizabeth, Jr., ii. 349.

Johnson, Francis, 40.

Johnson, Isaac, 121, 122.

Johnson, Samuel, 357.

Johnson, Captain, 425.

Jovius Paulus, 367.

Judges, ii. 354.

Jury to examine the bodies of prisoners, ii. 274.

Jury of trials, ii. 284, 474.

K.

Kembal, John, ii. 412.

Kenny, Henry, 251; ii. 61.

Kepler, John, 345.

King, Daniel, ii. 181.

King, Joseph, 105.

King, Margaret, 196.

Kircher, Athanasius, 388.

Kitchen, John, 205.

Knight, Charles, 123.

Knight, John, 138.

Knight, Jonathan, ii. 177.

Knight, Philip, ii. 177.

Knight, Walter, 35.

Knowlton, Joseph, ii. 220.

L.

Lacy, Mary, ii. 400, 480.

Lacy, Mary, Jr., ii. 349, 401.

Lamb, Dr., 348.

Land, policy concerning, 16, 22;
given up to towns, 20;
clearing of, 26;
disposition of, to children, 158;
value of, 159.

Landlord, 218.

Laodicea, Council of, 375.

Law under which the trials took place, ii. 256, 268, 360.

Lawson, Deodat, 268-284;
autograph, 280; ii. 7, 70, 73;
his sermon, 76-92, 515, 525-537.

Lawson, Thomas, 283.

Law-suits, 232.

Layman, Paul, 361.

Leach, John, 141.

Leach, Lawrence, 141.

Leach, Robert, 129.

Leach, Sarah, ii. 272.

Lecture-day, 313, 450; ii. 76.

Lewis, Mercy, ii. 4, 287;
autograph, 313.

Lewis, Rev. Mr., 353.

Lexington, 229.

Lightning, 72.

Locke, John, 372.

Locker, George, ii. 12, 307.

Lothrop, Ellen, 111.

Lothrop, Thomas, 100, 103-117.

Louder, John, ii. 264.

[i.xxxv]Lovkine, Thomas, ii. 306.

Low, Thomas, ii. 306.

Luther, Martin, 344.

M.

Mackenzie, Sir George, 350.

Magistrates, ii. 354.

Manning, Jacob, ii. 142.

Maple-sugar, 203.

Marblehead, ii. 519.

March, John, ii. 234.

Marriage, early, 160; ii. 236.

Marsh, Samuel, ii. 307.

Marsh, Zachariah, ii. 307.

Marshall, Benjamin, ii. 306.

Marshall, Samuel, 122.

Marston, Mary, ii. 349.

Martin, Susannah, 427;
arrest and examination, ii. 145;
trial and execution, 268.

Mascon, Devil of, 359.

Mason, Thomas, ii. 267.

Maverick, Samuel, 220.

Maverick, Samuel, Jr., ii. 228.

Mather, Cotton, 112, 384, 391, 454; ii. 89, 211, 250, 257, 299, 341, 366, 487, 494, 503, 553.

Mather, Increase, ii. 89, 299, 308, 345, 404, 494, 553.

Mechanical occupations, 224.

Mede, Joseph, 394.

Medical profession, ii. 361.

Meeting, intermission of, on the Lord's Day, 207.

Meeting-house of Salem Village, 243, 244, 285.

Meeting-house of Salem Village, scenes at, 263; ii. 34, 60, 94, 510.

Meeting-house of First Church in Salem, scenes at, ii. 111, 257, 290.

Melancthon, Philip, 344.

Middlecot, Richard, ii. 553.

Milton, John, 387, 467.

Ministers, ii. 267, 362.

Minot, Stephen, 125.

Mirage, 386.

Mitchel, Jonathan, 434, 437.

Moody, Lady Deborah, 57, 183.

Moody, Joshua, ii. 309.

Moore, Captain, 187.

Moore, Caleb, 188.

Moore, Jane, 188.

More, Henry, 400.

Morrel, Robert, ii. 153, 191.

Morrell, Sarah, ii. 140, 144.

Morse, Anthony, 447.

Morse, Elizabeth, 449-453.

Morse, William, 438.

Morton, Charles ii. 89.

Mosely, Samuel, 121.

Moulton, John, ii. 38, 336, 478.

Moulton, Robert, 40.

Moulton, Robert, Jr., 40.

Moxon, George, 419.

N.

Narragansett expedition, 118-135.

Narragansett townships, 133.

Nauscopy, 386.

Navigation, early New-England, 440.

Neal, Joseph, ii. 164, 274.

Needham, Anthony, 155, 184, 226, 236; ii. 48.

Newbury, 9.

New-Haven Phantom-ship, 384.

New-York Negro Plot, ii. 437.

Newman, Antipas, 58.

New Salem, 149.

Newton, Thomas, ii. 254;
autograph, 314.

Nichols, Isaac, ii. 177.

Nichols, John, 241, ii. 133.

Nichols, Richard, 220.

Nichols, William, 154.

Norfolk, old county of, ii. 228.

Norris, Edward, 57, 237.

Norris, Edward, Jr., 205.

Norton, John, 423, 425; ii. 450.

Noyes, Nicholas, 117, 271, 299; ii. 43, 48, 55, 89, 170, 172, 184, 245, 253, 269, 290, 292, 365, 485, 550;
autograph, 314.

Numa Pompilius, 330.

Nurse, Francis, 79, 84, 91, 214, 287, 319, 320; ii. 9, 467.

Nurse, Rebecca, 80;
her arrest and examination, ii. 56-71, 111, 136;
trial, 268, 270-289;
excommunication, 290;
execution, 292, 480, 483.

Nurse, Samuel, 80; ii. 57, 288, 479, 485, 497, 506, 545-553.

Nurse, Sarah, 80; ii. 287, 467.

O.

Obinson, Mrs., ii. 456.

Ocular fascination, 412; ii. 520.

Oliver, Christian, ii. 267.

Oliver, Mary, 420.

Oliver, Peter, 425.

[i.xxxvi]Oliver, Thomas, 143, 191; ii. 253, 267.

Orchard Farm, 24, 87.

Orne, John, 57.

Osborne, Hannah, ii. 272.

Osborne, William, 152, 227; ii. 272.

Osburn, Alexander, ii. 18.

Osburn, John, ii. 19.

Osburn, Sarah, ii. 11, 17;
examination, 20;
death, 32.

Osgood, Mary, ii. 349, 404, 406.

Osgood, William, 432.

P.

Page, Abraham, 139.

Paine, Elizabeth, ii. 208.

Paine, Stephen, ii. 208.

Paine, Robert, 423; ii. 449.

Palfrey, Peter, 63, 129.

Palfrey, John G., 125.

Palisadoes, 31.

Parker, Alice, ii. 179-185;
trial and execution, 324.

Parker, John, ii. 179, 181.

Parker, John, 189; ii. 38, 48, 124.

Parker, Mary, trial and execution, ii. 324, 325, 480.

Parris, Elizabeth, ii. 3.

Parris, Samuel, 170, 172, 278;
autograph, 280, 286-320; ii. 1, 7, 9, 25, 31, 43, 49, 55, 92, 275, 290, 485-503, 515, 545-553.

Parris, Thomas, 286; ii. 499.

Parsonage of Salem Village, 243, 386; ii. 74, 466, 493.

Parsons, Hugh, 419.

Parsons, Mary, 418.

Partridge, John, ii. 150.

Payson, Edward, ii. 218, 494, 553.

Peabody, John, ii. 475.

Peach, Barnard, ii. 414.

Pease, Robert, ii. 208.

Peele, William, ii. 267.

Peine forte et dure, ii. 338, 484.

Peirce, Joseph, 123.

Pendleton, Bryan, 256.

Penn, William, 414.

Perkins, Isaac, ii. 306.

Perkins, Nathaniel, ii. 306.

Perkins, Thomas, ii. 475.

Perkins, William, 362.

Perley, Samuel, ii. 216.

Perley, Thomas, ii. 475.

Peters, Elizabeth, 50-53, 57.

Peters, Hugh, 47, 50, 51-59.

Pettingell, Richard, 40.

Phelps, Henry, 237.

Phelps, John, 187.

Phips, Sir William, 131, 451; ii. 99, 250;
autograph, 314, 345.

Phips, Spencer, ii. 482.

Phillips, Margaret, ii. 272.

Phillips, Samuel, 299; ii. 218, 494, 553.

Phillips, Tabitha, ii. 272.

Phillips, Walter, ii. 272.

Pickering, John, 46.

Pickering, Timothy, 46, 227.

Pierpont, James, 384.

Pike, John, ii. 226, 229.

Pike, Robert, ii. 226, 228, 250, 449, 538-544.

Pikeworth, 123; ii. 329.

Pitcher, Moll, ii. 521.

Pit-saw, 191.

Poindexter, ii. 185.

Poland, James, 188.

Pope, Gertrude, 236.

Pope, Joseph, 237, 238; ii. 65, 496.

Pope Innocent VIII., 342.

Porter, Benjamin, 141.

Porter, Elizabeth, ii. 272.

Porter, Israel, 141; ii. 59, 272, 550.

Porter, John, 40, 136.

Porter, John, Jr., 219.

Porter, John, ii. 207.

Porter, Joseph, 270, 296, 319.

Porter, Moses, 223, 230.

Post, Hannah, ii. 349.

Post, Mary, ii. 349, 480.

Powell, Caleb, 439.

Pratt, Francis, 428.

Prescott, Peter, 129, 316; ii. 153.

Preston, Thomas, 80, 91; ii. 11, 57, 496, 550.

Price, Walter, 226.

Prince, James, ii. 17.

Prince, Joseph, ii. 17.

Prince, Robert, ii. 17.

Prison, ii. 254.

Procter, Benjamin, ii. 207.

Procter, Elizabeth, arrest and examination, ii. 101-111;
trial and condemnation, 296, 312, 466.

Procter, John, 179, 184, 227; ii. 4, 106, 111;
trial and execution, 296, 304-312;
autograph, 313, 458, 480.

Procter, Joseph, ii. 306.

Procter, Sarah, ii. 207.

Procter, William, ii. 208, 311.

Procter's Corner, 49.

Pronunciation, ii. 233.

Pudeator, Ann, ii. 179, 185, 300;
trial and execution, 324, 329.

Pudeator, Jacob, ii. 185, 329.

[i.xxxvii]Puppets, 408, ii. 12, 266.

Putnam, Ann, 253; ii. 5, 61, 69, 74, 177, 229, 236, 276, 282, 465, 495, 506.

Putnam, Ann, Jr., 214; ii. 3, 8, 40, 190;
autograph, 313, 341, 511, 509-512.

Putnam, Archelaus, 164.

Putnam, Benjamin, 164; ii. 72, 272, 481.

Putnam, Daniel, 164.

Putnam, David, 227.

Putnam, Edward, 8, 161-164, 288, 302; ii. 11, 40, 44, 60, 71, 203, 288, 465.

Putnam, Eleazer, 132; ii. 152.

Putnam, Enoch, 229.

Putnam, Holyoke, 9.

Putnam, Israel, 160, 164, 227, 238.

Putnam, James, ii. 506.

Putnam, Jeremiah, 229.

Putnam, John, 34, 40, 155.

Putnam, John, 34, 155, 157, 241, 250, 251, 258, 267, 270, 284, 287, 316, 317; ii. 272, 359, 496, 550.

Putnam, John, Jr., 259; ii. 4, 172, 202, 506.

Putnam, John, 3d, ii. 506.

Putnam, Jonathan, 269; ii. 60, 71, 201, 272.

Putnam, Joseph, 160, 296, 319; ii. 9, 272, 457, 497.

Putnam, Lydia, ii. 272.

Putnam, Miriam, ii. 295.

Putnam, Nathaniel, 84, 86, 155, 157, 186, 198, 236, 250, 288, 296; ii. 33, 128, 178, 271.

Putnam, Orin, ii. 295.

Putnam, Perley, 230.

Putnam, Phinehas, ii. 295.

Putnam, Rebecca, 267; ii. 272, 359.

Putnam, Rufus, 227.

Putnam, Samuel, 223.

Putnam, Sarah, ii. 272.

Putnam, Susannah, 143.

Putnam, Thomas, 155, 226, 250, 251, 259;
autograph, 279.

Putnam, Thomas, 129, 225, 227, 236, 253;
autograph, 279, 281, 316; ii. 3, 4, 11, 28, 55, 140, 232, 341, 464, 465, 506.

Putnam, William Lowell, 232.

Q.

Queen Elizabeth, 345.

Quick, John, 283.

R.

Rabbits, 209.

Raising of a house, 201.

Rawson, Edward, 425, 450.

Raymond, John, 66.

Raymond, John, 129, 134; ii. 465.

Raymond, John W., 232.

Raymond, Richard, 141.

Raymond, Thomas, 129, 133, 141.

Raymond, William, 129, 132, 143.

Raymond, William, Jr., ii. 192.

Rea, Bethiah, 113, 116.

Rea, Daniel, 40, 113, 140.

Rea, Daniel, Jr., 288; ii. 272.

Rea, Hepzibah, ii. 272.

Rea, Joshua, 114, 140, 141, 287, 288; ii. 272, 545.

Rea, Sarah, ii. 272.

Read, Christopher, 123.

Read, Thomas, 49.

Records of Salem Village, 269, 272, 273-278.

Redemptioners, ii. 18.

Reed, Nicholas, 8.

Reed, Philip, 437.

Reed, Wilmot, arrest, ii. 208;
trial and execution, 324, 325.

Reinolds, Alexius, 91.

Remigius, 344.

Rice, Charles B., ii. 513.

Rice, Sarah, ii. 208.

Richards, John, ii. 251, 349.

Richardson, Mr., 442.

Richardson, Mary, 448.

Ring, Jarvis, ii. 414.

Rist, Nicholas, ii. 352.

Roads, 43.

Robinson, John, ii. 181, 184.

Rogers, John, ii. 477.

Rogers, Thomas, 443.

Rolfe, Benjamin, 9; ii. 478.

Roots, Susannah, ii. 207.

Ropes, Nathaniel, 237.

Rose, Richard, ii. 171.

Royal Neck, 58.

Ruck, Thomas, 57.

Rule, Margaret, ii. 489.

Russell, James, ii. 102.

Russell, William, 80.

S.

Salem Farms, 136.

Salem Village, 199, 216, 223, 224, 233, 234, 242, 248, 269-278, 298, [i.xxxviii]312, 321, 322; ii. 485, 513.

Saltonstall, Nathaniel, ii. 251, 455.

Satan, 325, 338.

Sargent, Peter, ii. 251.

Savage, James, 50, 384.

Saw-pit, 191.

Sawyers, 191.

Sayer, Samuel, ii. 475.

Scarlett, Benjamin, 32.

Science, physical, 380.

Scott, Margaret, trial and execution, ii. 324, 325.

Scott, Reginald, 368, 410.

Scott, Sir Walter, 335.

Scottow, Joshua, 424, 425; ii. 298.

Scriptures, King James's Translation of, 375.

Scruggs, Margery, 66.

Scruggs, Rachel, 65.

Scruggs, Thomas, 64, 130.

Sears, Ann, ii. 208.

Seating the meeting-house, 217; ii. 506.

Seely, Robert, 122.

Settlers, provision of land for, 16.

Sewall, Mitchel, ii. 481.

Sewall, Samuel, ii. 102, 111, 157, 251, 441, 497.

Sewall, Samuel, ii. 481.

Sewall, Stephen, 57; ii. 3, 230, 384, 487, 497.

Shakespeare, William, 379, 467.

Sharp, Samuel, 46, 57, 388.

Shattuck, Samuel, 193; ii. 180, 259.

Shaw, Israel, ii. 465.

Sheldon, Godfrey, 8.

Sheldon, Susannah, ii. 4, 322.

Shepard, John, ii. 465.

Shepard, Rebecca, ii. 275, 280.

Sherringham, Robert, 356.

Shippen, Mr., 261.

Ship Tavern, ii. 254.

Shirley, William, ii. 482.

Shovel-board, 196, 204.

Sibley, John, 141, 154.

Sibley, John L., 141.

Sibley, Mary, ii. 95, 97.

Sibley, Samuel, 259, 262; ii. 97, 465.

Sibley, William, 262; ii. 18.

Silsbee, Nathaniel, ii. 267.

Sinclair, George, 350.

Singletary, Jonathan, 433.

Skelton, Samuel, 57, 85.

Skerry, Henry, 259.

Sleighs, 203.

Small, Thomas, 154; ii. 19.

Smith, George, ii. 307.

Smith, Thomas, 105.

Soames, Abigail, ii. 208.

Soames, Joseph, 123.

Spaulding, Willard, 237.

Spencer, John, 432.

Spenser, Edmund, 346, 365.

Sprenger, James, 361.

Stacy, William, ii. 263.

Stearns, Isaac, ii. 263.

Stileman, Elias, 40, 86.

Stone, Samuel, ii. 307.

Story, Joseph, ii. 440.

Story, William, ii. 306.

Stoughton, William, 125; ii. 157, 250, 301, 349, 355.

Sunday patrol, 40.

Surey Demoniac, 354.

Sweden, King of, 344.

Swinnerton, Esther, ii. 272.

Swinnerton, Job, 140, 270.

Swinnerton, Job, ii. 272.

Swinnerton, Ruth, ii. 495.

Switchell, Abraham, 123.

Syllogism, 381.

Symmes, Thomas, ii. 478.

Symmes, Zachariah, ii. 478.

Symonds, John, ii. 377.

Symonds, Samuel, 433.

Symonds, William, 433.

T.

Tanner, Adam, 361.

Tarbell, John, 80, 91, 288; ii. 57, 287, 486, 497, 506, 545-553.

Taylor, Benjamin, 182.

Taylor, Zachary, 124.

Tears, trial by, 409.

Thacher, Mrs., ii. 345, 448, 453.

Thomasius, Christian, 373.

Thompson, William, ii. 306.

Tibullus, Elegy, 337.

Titcomb, Elizabeth, 444.

Tituba, ii. 2, 11;
examination and confession, 23, 32, 255.

Tookey, Job, arrest, ii. 208;
examination, 223, 349.

Toothacre, Mrs., ii. 208.

Topsfield, controversy with, 238.

Torrey, Samuel, ii. 494, 553.

Torrey, William, 450; ii. 553.

Towne, Jacob, 241; ii. 56.

Towne, John, 241; ii. 56.

Towne, Joseph, 241; ii. 56.

Towne, William, ii. 466.

Towns, 20.

Train-band, 100, 224.

Training-field, 176, 178, 225.

[i.xxxix]Trask, Edward, 105.

Trask, William, 34, 64, 129.

Travel, modes of, 43, 61, 203.

Troopers, company of, 226.

Trusler, Eleanor, 237.

Tucker, John, 444.

Tucker, Mary, 448.

Tufts, James, 105.

Turner, Sharon, 375.

Twiss, William, 395.

Tycho Brahe, 345.

Tyler, Hannah, ii. 349, 404.

Tyler, Mary, ii. 349, 404.

Tyng, Edward, 125.

U.

Upham, Phinehas, 118, 122.

Upton family, 155.

Urbain Grandier, 348.

Usher, Hezekiah, ii. 453.

V.

Varney, Thomas, ii. 306.

Verrin, Hilliard, 40.

Verrin, Joshua, 40.

Verrin, Nathaniel, 156, 287.

Verrin, Philip, 40, 63.

Verrin, Philip, Jr., 40.

Vigilance Committee, ii. 286.

Villalpando, Don Francisco Torreblanca, 361.

Virgil, 336, 413.

W.

Wade, Thomas, ii. 337.

Wadsworth, Benjamin, ii. 505.

Wadsworth, Benjamin, ii. 516.

Wagstaff, John, 370.

Wainwright, Simon, 9.

Walcot, Abraham, 188.

Walcot, Jonathan, 155, 225, 270; ii. 3, 100, 140, 464, 466.

Walcot, Jonathan, Jr., ii. 125, 550.

Walcot, Mary, ii. 3, 465.

Walker, Richard, ii. 207.

Walley, John, ii. 553.

Ward, George A., 98.

Wardwell, Mary, ii. 349.

Wardwell, Samuel, trial and execution, ii. 324, 384, 480.

Wardwell, Sarah, ii. 349.

Warren, Mary, ii. 4, 114, 128.

Warren, Sarah, ii. 17.

Wassalbe, Bridget, 191.

Waterman, Richard, 60.

Watson's Annals of Philadelphia, 414.

Watts, Isaac, ii. 516.

Watts, Jeremiah, 179.

Way, Aaron, 145; ii. 68, 177.

Way, William, ii. 493.

Weld, Daniel, 57.

Wells, town of, 256.

Wesley, John, ii. 518.

Westgate, John, ii. 181.

Weston, Francis, 60.

Wheelwright, John, ii. 228.

Whitaker, Abraham, 429.

White, James, ii. 306.

White, John, 389.

Whittier, John G., ii. 444.

Whittredge, Mary, ii. 187, 197, 199.

Wierus, John, 368, 376.

Wilds, John, ii. 128, 135.

Wilds, Sarah, arrest and examination, ii. 135;
trial and execution, 268, 480.

Wilds, William, 143; ii. 135.

Wilderness, opening of, 26.

Wilkins, Benjamin, 227; ii. 173, 550.

Wilkins, Bray, 143-146, 214, 309; ii. 173, 174.

Wilkins, Daniel, ii. 174, 179.

Wilkins, Hannah, 309.

Wilkins, Henry, ii. 174.

Wilkins, Samuel, ii. 173.

Wilkins, Thomas, 154, 227, 316; ii. 491-495, 506, 546-553.

Willard, John, arrest, ii. 172-179;
trial and execution, 321, 480.

Willard, Margaret, ii. 466.

Willard, Samuel, ii. 89, 289, 309, 494, 550-553.

Willard, Simon, ii. 210.

Williams, Abigail, ii. 3, 7, 46, 393.

Williams, Nathaniel, ii. 553.

Williams, Roger, 50, 56, 68.

Wilson, Robert, 105.

Wilson, Sarah, ii. 404.

Wills, 65, 75, 78, 92, 137, 162, 175, 425; ii. 304, 312, 511.

Wills Hill, 26, 144.

Winslow, Josiah, 119.

Winthrop, Fitz John, 54.

Winthrop, John, 17, 23, 39, 95, 454.

Winthrop, John, Jr., 39, 50, 58.

Winthrop, Wait, 54; ii. 251, 349, 497.

Wise, John, ii. 304, 306;
autograph, 314, 477, 494.

[i.xl]Witch, 402.

Witchcraft, 337;
law relating to, ii. 256, 516.

Witch-imp, 406.

Witch-mark, 405.

Witch-puppets, 408.

Witch Hill, ii. 376-380.

Witch of Endor, 333.

Wood, Anthony, 370.

Woodbridge, John, 438.

Wooden Bridge, 234.

Woodbury, Humphrey, 141.

Woodbury, John, 129.

Woodbury, Nicholas, 98.

Woodbury, Peter, 105.

Woodbury, William, 141.

Wooleston River, 23.

Wolf-pits, 212.

Wolves, 211.

Y.

Young, William, 51.

[i.1]

INTRODUCTION.

IT is one of the distinguishing characteristics of the human being, that he loves to contemplate the scenes of the past, and desires to have his own history borne down to the future. This, like all the other propensities of our nature, is accompanied by faculties to secure its gratification. The gift of speech, by which the parent can convey information to the child—the old transmit intelligence to the young—is an indication that it is the design of the Author of our being that we should receive from those passing away the narrative of their experience, and communicate the results of our own to the generations that succeed us. All nations have, to a greater or less degree, been faithful to their trust in using the gift to fulfil the design of the Giver. It is impossible to name a people who do not possess cherished traditions that have descended from their early ancestors.

Although it is generally considered that the invention of a system of arbitrary and external signs to communicate thought is one of the greatest and most[i.2] arduous achievements of human ingenuity, yet so universal is the disposition to make future generations acquainted with our condition and history,—a disposition the efficient cause of which can only be found in a sense of the value of such knowledge,—that you can scarcely find a people on the face of the globe, who have not contrived, by some means or other, from the rude monument of shapeless rock to the most perfect alphabetical language, to communicate with posterity; thus declaring, as with the voice of Nature herself, that it is desirable and proper that all men should know as much as possible of the character, actions, and fortunes of their predecessors on the stage of life.

It is not difficult to discern the end for which this disposition to preserve for the future and contemplate the past was imparted to us. If all that we knew were what is taught by our individual experience, our minds would have but little, comparatively, to exercise and expand them, and our characters would be the result of the limited influences embraced within the narrow sphere of our particular and immediate relations and circumstances. But, as our notice is extended in the observation of those who have lived before us, our materials for reflection and sources of instruction are multiplied. The virtues we admire in our ancestors not only adorn and dignify their names, but win us to their imitation. Their prosperity and happiness spread abroad a diffusive light that reaches us, and brightens our condition. The wisdom that[i.3] guided their footsteps becomes, at the same time, a lamp to our path. The observation of the errors of their course, and of the consequent disappointments and sufferings that befell them, enables us to pass in safety through rocks and ledges on which they were shipwrecked; and, while we grieve to see them eating the bitter fruits of their own ignorance and folly as well as vices and crimes, we can seize the benefit of their experience without paying the price at which they purchased it.

In the desire which every man feels to learn the history, and be instructed by the example, of his predecessors, and in the accompanying disposition, with the means of carrying it into effect, to transmit a knowledge of himself and his own times to his successors, we discover the wise and admirable arrangement of a providence which removes the worn-out individual to a better country, but leaves the acquisitions of his mind and the benefit of his experience as an accumulating and common fund for the use of his posterity; which has secured the continued renovation of the race, without the loss of the wisdom of each generation.

These considerations suggest the true definition of history. It is the instrument by which the results of the great experiment of human action on this theatre of being are collected and transmitted from age to age. Speaking through the records of history, the generations that have gone warn and guide the generations that follow. History is the Past, teaching Philosophy to the Present, for the Future.[i.4]

Since this is the true and proper design of history, it assumes an exalted station among the branches of human knowledge. Every community that aspires to become intelligent and virtuous should cherish it. Institutions for the promotion and diffusion of useful information should have special reference to it. And all people should be induced to look back to the days of their forefathers, to be warned by their errors, instructed by their wisdom, and stimulated in the career of improvement by the example of their virtues.

The historian would find a great amount and variety of materials in the annals of this old town,—greater, perhaps, than in any other of its grade in the country. But there is one chapter in our history of pre-eminent interest and importance. The witchcraft delusion of 1692 has attracted universal attention since the date of its occurrence, and will, in all coming ages, render the name of Salem notable throughout the world. Wherever the place we live in is mentioned, this memorable transaction will be found associated with it; and those who know nothing else of our history or our character will be sure to know, and tauntingly to inform us that they know, that we hanged the witches.

It is surely incumbent upon us to possess ourselves of correct and just views of a transaction thus indissolubly connected with the reputation of our home, with the memory of our fathers, and, of course, with the most precious part of the inheritance of our chil[i.5]dren. I am apprehensive that the community is very superficially acquainted with this transaction. All have heard of the Salem witchcraft; hardly any are aware of the real character of that event. Its mention creates a smile of astonishment, and perhaps a sneer of contempt, or, it may be, a thrill of horror for the innocent who suffered; but there is reason to fear, that it fails to suggest those reflections, and impart that salutary instruction, without which the design of Providence in permitting it to take place cannot be accomplished. There are, indeed, few passages in the history of any people to be compared with it in all that constitutes the pitiable and tragical, the mysterious and awful. The student of human nature will contemplate in its scenes one of the most remarkable developments which that nature ever assumed; while the moralist, the statesman, and the Christian philosopher will severally find that it opens widely before them a field fruitful in instruction.

Our ancestors have been visited with unmeasured reproach for their conduct on the occasion. Sad, indeed, was the delusion that came over them, and shocking the extent to which their bewildered imaginations and excited passions hurried and drove them on. Still, however, many considerations deserve to be well weighed before sentence is passed upon them. And while I hope to give evidence of a readiness to have every thing appear in its own just light, and to expose to view the very darkest features of the transaction, I am confident of being able to bring forward[i.6] such facts and reflections as will satisfy you that no reproach ought to be attached to them, in consequence of this affair, which does not belong, at least equally, to all other nations, and to the greatest and best men of their times and of previous ages; and, in short, that the final predominating sentiment their conduct should awaken is not so much that of anger and indignation as of pity and compassion.

Let us endeavor to carry ourselves back to the state of the colony of Massachusetts one hundred and seventy years ago. The persecutions our ancestors had undergone in their own country, and the privations, altogether inconceivable by us, they suffered during the early years of their residence here, acting upon their minds and characters, in co-operation with the influences of the political and ecclesiastical occurrences that marked the seventeenth century, had imparted a gloomy, solemn, and romantic turn to their dispositions and associations, which was transmitted without diminution to their children, strengthened and aggravated by their peculiar circumstances. It was the triumphant age of superstition. The imagination had been expanded by credulity, until it had reached a wild and monstrous growth. The Puritans were always prone to subject themselves to its influence; and New England, at the time to which we are referring, was a most fit and congenial theatre upon which to display its power. Cultivation had made but a slight encroachment on the wilderness. Wide, dark, unexplored forests covered the[i.7] hills, hung over the lonely roads, and frowned upon the scattered settlements. Persons whose lives have been passed where the surface has long been opened, and the land generally cleared, little know the power of a primitive wilderness upon the mind. There is nothing more impressive than its sombre shadows and gloomy recesses. The solitary wanderer is ever and anon startled by the strange, mysterious sounds that issue from its hidden depths. The distant fall of an ancient and decayed trunk, or the tread of animals as they prowl over the mouldering branches with which the ground is strown; the fluttering of unseen birds brushing through the foliage, or the moaning of the wind sweeping over the topmost boughs,—these all tend to excite the imagination and solemnize the mind. But the stillness of a forest is more startling and awe-inspiring than its sounds. Its silence is so deep as itself to become audible to the inner soul. It is not surprising that wooded countries have been the fruitful fountains and nurseries of superstition.

"In such a place as this, at such an hour,
If ancestry can be in aught believed,
Descending spirits have conversed with man,
And told the secrets of the world unknown."

The forests which surrounded our ancestors were the abode of a mysterious race of men of strange demeanor and unascertained origin. The aspects they presented, the stories told of them, and every thing connected with them, served to awaken fear, bewilder the imagination, and aggravate the tendencies of the general condition of things to fanatical enthusiasm.[i.8]

It was the common belief, sanctioned, as will appear in the course of this discussion, not by the clergy alone, but by the most learned scholars of that and the preceding ages, that the American Indians were the subjects and worshippers of the Devil, and their powwows, wizards.

In consequence of this opinion, the entire want of confidence and sympathy to which it gave rise, and the provocations naturally incident to two races of men, of dissimilar habits, feelings, and ideas, thrown into close proximity, a state of things was soon brought about which led to conflicts and wars of the most distressing and shocking character. A strongly rooted sentiment of hostility and horror became associated in the minds of the colonists with the name of Indian. There was scarcely a village where the marks of savage violence and cruelty could not be pointed out, or an individual whose family history did not contain some illustration of the stealth, the malice or the vengeance of the savage foe. In 1689, John Bishop, and Nicholas Reed a servant of Edward Putnam; and, in 1690, Godfrey Sheldon, were killed by Indians in Salem. In the year 1691, about six months previous to the commencement of the witchcraft delusion, the county of Essex was ordered to keep twenty-four scouts constantly in the field, to guard the frontiers against the savage enemy, and to give notice of his approach, then looked for every hour with the greatest alarm and apprehension.

Events soon justified the dread of Indian hostilities[i.9] felt by the people of this neighborhood. Within six years after the witchcraft delusion, incursions of the savage foe took place at various points, carrying terror to all hearts. In August, 1696, they killed or took prisoners fifteen persons at Billerica, burning many houses. In October of the same year, they came upon Newbury, and carried off and tomahawked nine persons; all of whom perished, except a lad who survived his wounds. In 1698, they made a murderous and destructive assault upon Haverhill. The story of the capture, sufferings, and heroic achievements of Hannah Dustin, belongs to the history of this event. It stands by the side of the immortal deed of Judith, and has no other parallel in all the annals of female daring and prowess. On the 3d of July, 1706, a garrison was stormed at night in Dunstable; and Holyoke, a son of Edward Putnam, with three other soldiers, was killed. He was twenty-two years of age. In 1708, seven hundred Algonquin and St. Francis Indians, under the command of French officers, fell again upon Haverhill about break of day, on the 29th of August; consigned the town to conflagration and plunder; destroyed a large amount of property; massacred the minister Mr. Rolfe, the commander of the post Captain Wainwright, together with nearly forty others; and carried off many into captivity. On this occasion, a troop of horse and a foot company from Salem Village rushed to the rescue; the then minister of the parish, the Rev. Joseph Green, seized his gun and went with them. They pursued the flying Indians for[i.10] some distance. So deeply were the people of Haverhill impressed by the valor and conduct of Mr. Green and his people, that they sent a letter of thanks, and desired him to come and preach to them. He complied with the invitation, spent a Sunday there, and thus gave them an opportunity to express personally their gratitude. On other occasions, he accompanied his people on similar expeditions.

These occurrences show that the fears and anxieties of the colonists in reference to Indian assaults were not without grounds at the period of the witchcraft delusion. They were, at that very time, hanging like a storm-cloud over their heads, soon to burst, and spread death and destruction among them.

There was but little communication between the several villages and settlements. To travel from Boston to Salem, for instance, which the ordinary means of conveyance enable us to do at present in less than an hour, was then the fatiguing, adventurous, and doubtful work of an entire day.

It was the darkest and most desponding period in the civil history of New England. The people, whose ruling passion then was, as it has ever since been, a love for constitutional rights, had, a few years before, been thrown into dismay by the loss of their charter, and, from that time, kept in a feverish state of anxiety respecting their future political destinies. In addition to all this, the whole sea-coast was exposed to danger: ruthless pirates were continually prowling along the shores. Commerce was nearly[i.11] extinguished, and great losses had been experienced by men in business. A recent expedition against Canada had exposed the colonies to the vengeance of France.

The province was encumbered with oppressive taxes, and weighed down by a heavy debt. The sum assessed upon Salem to defray the expenses of the country at large, the year before the witchcraft prosecutions, was £1,346. 1s. Besides this, there were the town taxes. The whole amounted, no doubt, inclusive of the support of the ministry, to a weight of taxation, considering the greater value of money at that time, of which we have no experience, and can hardly form an adequate conception. The burden pressed directly upon the whole community. There were then no great private fortunes, no moneyed institutions, no considerable foreign commerce, few, if any, articles of luxury, and no large business-capitals to intercept and divert its pressure. It was borne to its whole extent by the unaided industry of a population of extremely moderate estates and very limited earnings, and almost crushed it to the earth.

The people were dissatisfied with the new charter. They were becoming the victims of political jealousies, discontent, and animosities. They had been agitated by great revolutions. They were surrounded by alarming indications of change, and their ears were constantly assailed by rumors of war. Their minds were startled and confounded by the prevalence of prophecies and forebodings of dark and dismal[i.12] events. At this most unfortunate moment, and, as it were, to crown the whole and fill up the measure of their affliction and terror, it was their universal and sober belief, that the Evil One himself was, in a special manner, let loose, and permitted to descend upon them with unexampled fury.

The people of Salem participated in their full share of the gloom and despondency that pervaded the province, and, in addition to that, had their own peculiar troubles and distresses. Within a short time, the town had lost almost all its venerable fathers and leading citizens, the men whose councils had governed and whose wisdom had guided them from the first years of the settlement of the place. Only those who are intimately acquainted with the condition of a community of simple manners and primitive feelings, such as were the early New-England settlements, can have an adequate conception of the degree to which the people were attached to their patriarchs, the extent of their dependence upon them, and the amount of the loss when they were removed.

In the midst of this general distress and local gloom and depression, the great and awful tragedy, whose incidents, scenes, and characters I am to present, took place.

[i.13]

PART FIRST.

[i.14]

SALEM VILLAGE.

decoration

[i.15]

Salem Village, 1866.

PART FIRST.

SALEM VILLAGE.

IT is necessary, before entering upon the subject of the witchcraft delusion, to give a particular and extended account of the immediate locality where it occurred, and of the community occupying it. This is demanded by justice to the parties concerned, and indispensable to a correct understanding of the transaction. No one, in truth, can rightly appreciate the character of the rural population of the towns first settled in Massachusetts, without tracing it to its origin, and taking into view the policy that regulated the colonization of the country at the start.

"The Governor and Company of the Massachusetts Bay in New England" possessed, by its charter from James the First, dated Nov. 3, 1620, and renewed by Charles the First, March 4, 1629, the entire sovereignty over all the territory assigned to it. Some few conditions and exceptions were incorporated in the grant, which, in the event, proved to be merely nom[i.16]inal. The company, so far as the crown and sovereignty of England were concerned, became absolute owner of the whole territory within its limits, and exercised its powers accordingly. It adopted wise and efficient measures to promote the settlement of the country by emigrants of the best description. It gave to every man who transported himself at his own charge fifty acres of land, and lots, in distinction from farms, to those who should choose to settle and build in towns. In 1628, Captain John Endicott, one of the original patentees, was sent over to superintend the management of affairs on the spot, and carry out the views of the company. On the 30th of April, 1629, the company, by a full and free election, chose said Endicott to be "Governor of the Plantation in the Massachusetts Bay," to hold office for one year "from the time he shall take the oath," and gave him instructions for his government. In reference to the disposal of lands, they provided that persons "who were adventurers," that is, subscribers to the common stock, to the amount of fifty pounds, should have two hundred acres of land, and, at that rate, more or less, "to the intent to build their houses, and to improve their labors thereon." Adventurers who carried families with them were to have fifty acres for each member of their respective families. Other provisions were made, on the same principles, to meet the case of servants taken over; for each of whom an additional number of acres was to be allowed. If a person should choose "to build on the[i.17] plot of ground where the town is intended to be built," he was to have half an acre for every fifty pounds subscribed by him to the common stock. A general discretion was given to Endicott and his council to make grants to particular persons, "according to their charge and quality;" having reference always to the ability of the grantee to improve his allotment. Energetic and intelligent men, having able-bodied sons or servants, even if not adventurers, were to be favorably regarded. Endicott carried out these instructions faithfully and judiciously during his brief administration. In the mean time, it had been determined to transfer the charter, and the company bodily, to New England. Upon this being settled, John Winthrop, with others, joined the company, and he was elected its governor on the 29th of October, 1629. On the 12th of June, 1630, he arrived in Salem, and held his first court at Charlestown on the 28th of August.

There was some irregularity in these proceedings. The charter fixed a certain time, "yearly, once in the year, for ever hereafter," for the election of governor, deputy-governor, and assistants. Matthew Cradock had been elected accordingly, on the 13th of May, 1629, governor of the company "for the year following." He presided at the General Court of the company when Winthrop was elected governor. There does not appear to have been any formal resignation of his office by Cradock. In point of fact, the charter made no provision for a resignation of office, but only for cases where a vacancy might be occasioned[i.18] by death, or removal by an act of the company. It would have been more regular for the company to have removed Cradock by a formal vote; but the great and weighty matter in which they were engaged prevented their thinking of a mere formality. Cradock had himself conceived the project they had met to carry into effect, and labored to bring it about. He vacated the chair to his successor, on the spot. Still forgetting the provisions of the charter, they declared Winthrop elected "for the ensuing year, to begin on this present day," the 20th of October, 1629. By the language of the charter, he could only be elected to fill the vacancy "in the room or place" of Cradock; that is, for the residue of the official year established by the express provision of that instrument, namely, until the "last Wednesday in Easter term" ensuing. All usage is in favor of this construction. The terms of the charter are explicit; and, if persons chosen to fill vacancies during the course of a year could thus be commissioned to hold an entire year from the date of their election, the provision fixing a certain day "yearly" for the choice of officers would be utterly nullified. Whether this subsequently occurred to Winthrop and his associates is not known; but, if it did, it was impossible for them to act in conformity to the view now given; for, in the ensuing "last Wednesday of Easter term," he was at sea, in mid ocean, and the several members of the company dispersed throughout his fleet. When he arrived in Salem, he found Endicott—who, in the records of the[i.19] company before its transfer to New England, is styled "the Governor beyond the seas"—with his year of office not yet expired. The company had not chosen another in his place, and his commission still held good. It was so evident that the vote extending the term of Winthrop's tenure to a year from the day on which he was chosen, Oct. 20, 1629, was illegal, that when that year expired, in October, 1630, no motion was made to proceed to a new election. In the mean time, however, Endicott's year had expired; and, for aught that appears, there was not, for several months, any legal governor or government at all in the colony. When the next "last Wednesday of Easter term" came round, on the 18th of May, 1631, Winthrop was chosen governor, as the record says, "according to the meaning of the patent;" and all went on smoothly afterwards. If the difficulty into which they had got was apprehended by Winthrop, Endicott, or any of their associates, they were wise enough to see that nothing but mischief could arise from taking notice of it; that no human ingenuity could disentangle the snarl; and that all they could do was to wait for the lapse of time to drift them through. The conduct of these two men on the occasion was truly admirable. Endicott welcomed Winthrop with all the honors due to his position as governor; opened his doors to receive him and his family; and manifested the affectionate respect and veneration with which, from his earliest manhood to his dying day, Winthrop ever inspired all men in all circumstances. Winthrop per[i.20]formed the ceremony at Endicott's marriage. They each went about his own business, and said nothing of the embarrassments attached to their official titles or powers. After a few months, Winthrop held his courts, as though all was in good shape; and Endicott took his seat as an assistant. They proved themselves sensible, high-minded men, of true public spirit, and friends to each other and to the country, which will for ever honor them both as founders and fathers. They entered into no disputes—and their descendants never should—about which was governor, or which first governor.

The disposal of lands, at the expiration of Endicott's delegated administration, passed back into the hands of the company, and was conducted by the General Court upon the policy established at its meetings in London. On the 3d of March, 1635, the General Court relinquished the control and disposal of lands, within the limits of towns, to the towns themselves. After this, all grants of lands in Salem were made by the people of the town or their own local courts. The original land policy was faithfully adhered to here, as it probably was in the other towns.

The following is a copy of the Act:—

"Whereas particular towns have many things which concern only themselves, and the ordering of their own affairs, and disposing of businesses in their own towns, it is therefore ordered, that the freemen of any town, or the major part of them, shall only have power to dispose of their own lands and woods, with all the privileges and appurtenances of the[i.21] said towns, to grant lots, and make such orders as may concern the well ordering of their own towns, not repugnant to the laws and orders here established by the General Court; as also to lay mulcts and penalties for the breach of these orders, and to levy and distress the same, not exceeding the sum of twenty shillings; also to choose their own particular officers, as constables, surveyors of the high-ways, and the like; and because much business is like to ensue to the constables of several towns, by reason they are to make distress, and gather fines, therefore that every town shall have two constables, where there is need, that so their office may not be a burthen unto them, and they may attend more carefully upon the discharge of their office, for which they shall be liable to give their accounts to this court, when they shall be called thereunto."

The reflecting student of political science will probably regard this as the most important legislative act in our annals. Towns had existed before, but were scarcely more than local designations, or convenient divisions of the people and territories. This called them into being as depositories and agents of political power in its mightiest efficacy and most vital force. It remitted to the people their original sovereignty. Before, that sovereignty had rested in the hands of a remote central deputation; this returned it to them in their primary capacity, and brought it back, in its most important elements, to their immediate control. It gave them complete possession and absolute power over their own lands, and provided the machinery for managing their own neighborhoods and making and[i.22] executing their own laws in what is, after all, the greatest sphere of government,—that which concerns ordinary, daily, immediate relations. It gave to the people the power to do and determine all that the people can do and determine, by themselves. It created the towns as the solid foundation of the whole political structure of the State, trained the people as in a perpetual school for self-government, and fitted them to be the guardians of republican liberty and order.

Large tracts were granted to men who had the disposition and the means for improving them by opening roads, building bridges, clearing forests, and bringing the surface into a state for cultivation. Men of property, education, and high social position, were thus made to lead the way in developing the agricultural resources of the country, and giving character to the farming interest and class. In cases where men of energy, industry, and intelligence presented themselves, if not adventurers in the common stock, with no other property than their strong arms and resolute wills, particularly if they had able-bodied sons, liberal grants were made. Every one who had received a town lot of half an acre was allowed to relinquish it, receiving, in exchange, a country lot of fifty acres or more. Under this system, a population of a superior order was led out into the forest. Farms quickly spread into the interior, seeking the meadows, occupying the arable land, and especially following up the streams.

I propose to illustrate this by a very particular enumeration of instances, and by details that will give[i.23] us an insight of the personal, domestic, and social elements that constituted the condition of life in the earliest age of New England, particularly in that part of the old township of Salem where the scene of our story is laid. I shall give an account of the persons and families who first settled the region included in, and immediately contiguous to, Salem Village, and whose children and grandchildren were actors or sufferers in, or witnesses of, the witchcraft delusion. I am able, by the map, to show the boundaries, to some degree of precision, of their farms, and the spots on or near which their houses stood.

The first grant of land made by the company, after it had got fairly under way, was of six hundred acres to Governor Winthrop, on the 6th of September, 1631, "near his house at Mystic." The next was to the deputy-governor, Thomas Dudley, on the 5th of June, 1632, of two hundred acres "on the west side of Charles River, over against the new town," now Cambridge. The next, on the 3d of July, 1632, was three hundred acres to John Endicott. It is described, in the record, as "bounded on the south side with a river, commonly called the Cow House River, on the north side with a river, commonly called the Duck River, on the east with a river, leading up to the two former rivers, known by the name of Wooleston River, and on the west with the main land." The meaning of the Indian word applied to this territory was "Birch-wood." At the period of the witchcraft delusion, and for some time afterwards, "Cow House River" was[i.24] called "Endicott River." Subsequently it acquired the name of "Waters River."

This grant constituted what was called "the Governor's Orchard Farm." In conformity with the policy on which grants were made, Endicott at once proceeded to occupy and improve it, by clearing off the woods, erecting buildings, making roads, and building bridges. His dwelling-house embraced in its view the whole surrounding country, with the arms of the sea. From the more elevated points of his farm, the open sea was in sight. A road was opened by him, from the head of tide water on Duck, now Crane, River, through the Orchard Farm, and round the head of Cow House River, to the town of Salem, in one direction, and to Lynn and Boston in another. A few years afterwards, the town granted him two hundred acres more, contiguous to the western line of the Orchard Farm. After this, and as a part of the transaction, the present Ipswich road was made, and the old road through the Orchard Farm discontinued. This illustrates the policy of the land grants. They were made to persons who had the ability to lay out roads. The present bridge over Crane River was probably built by Endicott and the parties to whom what is now called the Plains, one of the principal villages of Danvers, had been granted. The tract granted by the town was popularly called the "Governor's Plain." By giving, in this way, large tracts of land to men of means, the country was opened and made accessible to settlers who had no pecuniary ability to incur large[i.25] outlays in the way of general improvements, but had the requisite energy and industry to commence the work of subduing the forest and making farms for themselves. To them, smaller grants were made.

The character of the population, thus aided at the beginning in settling the country, cannot be appreciated without giving some idea of what it was to open the wilderness for occupancy and cultivation. This is a subject which those who have always lived in other than frontier towns do not perhaps understand.

How much of the land had been previously cleared by the aboriginal tribes, it may be somewhat difficult to determine. They were but slightly attached to the soil, had temporary and movable habitations, and no bulky implements or articles of furniture. They were nomadic in their habits. On the coast and its inlets, their light canoes gave easy means of transportation, for their families and all that they possessed, from point to point, and, further inland, over intervening territory, from river to river. They probably seldom attempted, in this part of the country, to clear the rugged and stony uplands. In some instances, they removed the trees from the soft alluvial meadows, although it is probable that in only a very few localities they would have attempted such a persistent and laborious undertaking. There were large salt marshes, and here and there meadows, free from timber. There were spots where fires had swept over the land and the trees disappeared. On such spots they probably planted their corn; the land being made at once fertile[i.26] and easily cultivable, by the effects of the fires. Near large inland sheets of water, having no outlets passable by their canoes, and well stocked with fish, they sometimes had permanent plantations, as at Will's Hill. With such slight exceptions, when the white settler came upon his grant, he found it covered by the primeval wilderness, thickly set with old trees, whose roots, as well as branches, were interlocked firmly with each other, the surface obstructed with tangled and prickly underbrush; the soil broken, and mixed with rocks and stones,—the entire face of the country hilly, rugged, and intersected by swamps and winding streams.

Among all the achievements of human labor and perseverance recorded in history, there is none more herculean than the opening of a New-England forest to cultivation. The fables of antiquity are all suggestive of instruction, and infold wisdom. The earliest inhabitants of every wooded country, who subdued its wilderness, were truly a race of giants.

Let any one try the experiment of felling and eradicating a single tree, and he will begin to approach an estimate of what the first English settler had before him, as he entered upon his work. It was not only a work of the utmost difficulty, calling for the greatest possible exercise of physical toil, strength, patience, and perseverance, but it was a work of years and generations. The axe, swung by muscular arms, could, one by one, fell the trees. There was no machinery to aid in extracting the tough roots, equal, often, in[i.27] size and spread, to the branches. The practice was to level by the axe a portion of the forest, managing so as to have the trees fall inward, early in the season. After the summer had passed, and the fallen timber become dried, fire would be set to the whole tract covered by it. After it had smouldered out, there would be left charred trunks and stumps. The trunks would then be drawn together, piled in heaps, and burned again. Between the blackened stumps, barley or some other grain, and probably corn, would be planted, and the lapse of years waited for, before the roots would be sufficiently decayed to enable oxen with chains to extract them. Then the rocks and stones would have to be removed, before the plough could, to any considerable extent, be applied. As late as 1637, the people of Salem voted twenty acres, to be added within two years to his previous grant, to Richard Hutchinson, upon the condition that he would, in the mean time, "set up ploughing." The meadow to the eastward of the meeting-house, seen in the head-piece of this Part, probably was the ground where ploughing was thus first "set up." The plough had undoubtedly been used before in town-lots, and by some of the old planters who had secured favorable open locations along the coves and shores; but it required all this length of time to bring the interior country into a condition for its use.

The opening of a wilderness combined circumstances of interest which are not, perhaps, equalled in any other occupation. It is impossible to imagine a[i.28] more exhilarating or invigorating employment. It developed the muscular powers more equally and effectively than any other. The handling of the axe brought into exercise every part of the manly frame. It afforded room for experience and skill, as well as strength; it was an athletic art of the highest kind, and awakened energy, enterprise, and ambition; it was accompanied with sufficient danger to invest it with interest, and demand the most careful judgment and observation. He who best knew how to fell a tree was justly looked upon as the most valuable and the leading man. To bring a tall giant of the woods to the ground was a noble and perilous achievement. As it slowly trembled and tottered to its fall, it was all-important to give it the right direction, so that, as it came down with a thundering crash, it might not be diverted from its expected course by the surrounding trees and their multifarious branches, or its trunk slide off or rebound in an unforeseen manner, scattering fragments and throwing limbs upon the choppers below. Accidents often, deaths sometimes, occurred. A skilful woodman, by a glance at the surrounding trees and their branches, could tell where the tree on which he was about to operate should fall, and bring it unerringly to the ground in the right direction. There was, moreover, danger from lurking savages; and, if the chopper was alone in the deep woods, from the prowling solitary bear, or hungry wolves, which, going in packs, were sometimes formidable. There were elements also, in the work, that awakened[i.29] the finer sentiments. The lonely and solemn woods are God's first temples. They are full of mystic influences; they nourish the poetic nature; they feed the imagination. The air is elastic, and every sound reverberates in broken, strange, and inexplicable intonations. The woods are impregnated with a health-giving and delightful fragrance nowhere else experienced. All the arts of modern luxury fail to produce an aroma like that which pervades a primitive forest of pines and spruces. Indeed, all trees, in an original wilderness, where they exist in every stage of growth and decay, contribute to this peculiar charm of the woods. It was not only a manly, but a most lively, occupation. When many were working near each other, the echoes of their voices of cheer, of the sharp and ringing tones of their axes, and of the heavy concussions of the falling timber, produced a music that filled the old forests with life, and made labor joyous and refreshing.

The length of time required to prepare a country covered by a wilderness, on a New-England soil, for cultivation, may be estimated by the facts I have stated. A long lapse of years must intervene, after the woods have been felled and their dried trunks and branches burned, before the stumps can be extracted, the land levelled, the stones removed, the plough introduced, or the smooth green fields, which give such beauty to agricultural scenes, be presented. An immense amount of the most exhausting labor must be expended in the process. The world looks with[i.30] wonder on the dykes of Holland, the wall of China, the pyramids of Egypt. I do not hesitate to say that the results produced by the small, scattered population of the American colonies, during their first century, in tearing up a wilderness by its roots, transforming the rocks, with which the surface was covered, into walls, opening roads, building bridges, and making a rough and broken country smooth and level, converting a sterile waste into fertile fields blossoming with verdure and grains and fruitage, is a more wonderful monument of human industry and perseverance than them all. It was a work, not of mere hired laborers, still less of servile minions, but of freemen owning, or winning by their voluntary and cheerful toil, the acres on which they labored, and thus entitling themselves to be the sovereigns of the country they were creating. A few thousands of such men, with such incentives, wrought wonders greater than millions of slaves or serfs ever have accomplished, or ever will.

It was not, therefore, from mere favoritism, or a blind subserviency to men of wealth or station, that such liberal grants of land were made to Winthrop, Dudley, Endicott, and others, but for various wise and good reasons, having the welfare and happiness of the whole people, especially the poorer classes, in view. In illustration of the one now under consideration, a few facts may be presented. They will show the amount of labor required to bring the "Orchard Farm" into cultivation, and which must have been procured[i.31] at a large outlay in money by the proprietor. In the court-files are many curious papers, in the shape of depositions given by witnesses in suits of various kinds, arising from time to time, showing that large numbers of hired men were kept constantly at work. Nov. 10, 1678, Edmund Grover, seventy-eight years old, testified, "that, above forty-five years since, I, this deponent, wrought much upon Governor Endicott's farm, called Orchard, and did, about that time, help to cut and cleave about seven thousand palisadoes, as I remember, and was the first that made improvement thereof, by breaking up of ground and planting of Indian-corn." The land was granted to Endicott in July, 1632; and the work in which Grover, with others, was engaged, commenced undoubtedly forthwith. Palisadoes were young trees, of about six inches in diameter at the butt, cut into poles of about ten feet in length, sharpened at the larger end, and driven into the ground; those that were split or cloven were used as rails. In this way, lots were fenced in. In some cases, the upright posts were placed close together, as palisades in fortifications, to prevent the escape of domestic animals, and as a safeguard against depredations upon the young cattle, sheep, and poultry, by bears, wolves, foxes, the loup-cervier, or wild-cat, with which the woods were infested. Grover seems to have wrought on the Orchard Farm for a short time. We find, that, a few years after the point to which his testimony goes back, he had a farm of his own. Some wrought there for a longer time, and were permanent[i.32] retainers on the farm. In 1635, the widow Scarlett apprenticed her son Benjamin, then eleven years of age, to Governor Endicott. The following document, recorded in Essex Registry of Deeds, tells his story:—

"To all christian people to whom these presents shall come, I, Benjamin Scarlett of Salem, in New England, sendeth Greeting—Know ye, that I, the said Benjamin Scarlett, having lived as a servant with Mr. John Endicott, Esq., sometimes Governor in New England, and served him near upon thirty years, for, and in consideration whereof, the said Governor Endicott gave unto me, the said Benjamin Scarlett, a certain tract of land, in the year 1650, being about 10 acres, more or less, the which land hath ever since been possessed by me, the said Benjamin Scarlett, and it lyeth at the head of Cow House River, bounded on the north with the land of Mr. Endicott called Orchard Farm, on the South with the high way leading to the salt water, on the West with the road way leading to Salem, on the East with the salt water, which tract of land was given to me, as aforesaid, during my life, and in case I should leave no issue of my body, to give it to such of his posterity as I should see cause to bestow it upon; Know ye, therefore, that I, the said Benjamin Scarlett, for divers considerations me thereunto moving, have given, granted, and by these presents do give and grant, assign, sett over, and bestow the aforesaid tract of land, with all the improvements I have made thereon, both by building, fencing, or otherwise, unto Samuel Endicott, second son to Zerubabel Endicott deceased, and unto Hannah his wife, to have and to hold the said ten acres of land, more or less, with all the privileges and appurtenances thereunto belonging, unto the said Samuel[i.33] Endicott and Hannah his wife, to his and her own proper use and behoof forever; and after their decease I give the said tract of land to their son Samuel Endicott. In case he should depart this life without issue, then to be given to the next heir of the said Samuel and Hannah.—In witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand and seal.—Dated the ninth of January one thousand six hundred and ninety one.—Benjamin Scarlett, his mark."

It is to be observed, that Governor Endicott had died twenty-six years, and his son Zerubabel seven years, before the date of the foregoing deed. No writings had passed between them in reference to the final disposition Scarlett was conditionally to make of the estate. There were no living witnesses of the original understanding. But the old man was true to the sentiments of honor and gratitude. The master to whom he had been apprenticed in his boyhood had been kind and generous to him, and he was faithful to the letter and spirit of his engagement. He evidently made a point to have the language of the deed as strong as it could be. He did not leave the matter to be settled by a will, but determined to enjoy, while living, the satisfaction of being true to his plighted faith. He was known, in his later years, as "old Ben Scarlett." He did not feel ashamed to call himself a servant. But humble and unpretending as he was, I feel a pride in rescuing his name from oblivion. Old Ben Scarlett will for ever hold his place among nature's nobles,—honest men.

The extent to which Endicott went in improving his[i.34] lands is shown in the particular department which gave the name to his original grant. In 1648, he bought of Captain Trask two hundred and fifty acres of land, in another locality, giving in exchange five hundred apple-trees, of three years' growth. Such a number of fruit-trees of that age, disposable at so early a period, could only be the result of a great expenditure of labor and money. So many operations going on under his direction and within his premises made his farm a school, in which large numbers were trained to every variety of knowledge needed by an original settler. The subduing of the wilderness; the breaking of the ground; the building of bridges, stone-walls, "palisadoes," houses, and barns; the processes of planting; the introduction of all suitable articles of culture; the methods best adapted to the preparation of the rugged soil for production; the rearing of abundant orchards and bountiful crops; the smoothing and levelling of lands, and the laying-out of roads,—these were all going at once, and it was quite desirable for young men to work on his farm, before going out deeper into the wilderness to make farms for themselves. There were many besides Grover who availed themselves of the advantage. John Putnam was a large landholder, and an original grantee; but we find his youngest son, John, attached to Endicott's establishment, and working on his farm about the time of his maturity. In a deposition in court, in a land case of disputed boundaries, August, 1705, "John Putnam, Sr., of full age, testifieth and saith that—being a re[i.35]tainer in Governor Endicott's family, about fifty years since, and being intimately acquainted with the governor himself and with his son, Mr. Zerubabel Endicott, late of Salem, deceased, who succeeded in his father's right, and lived and died on the farm called Orchard Farm, in Salem—the said Governor Endicott did oftentimes tell this deponent," &c. The same John Putnam, in a deposition dated 1678, says that he was then fifty years old, and that, thirty-five years before, he was at Mr. Endicott's farm, and went out to a certain place called "Vine Cove," where he found Mr. Endicott; and he testifies to a conversation that he heard between Mr. Endicott and one of his men, Walter Knight. I mention these things to show that a lad of fifteen, a son of a neighbor of large estate in lands, was an intimate visitor at the Orchard Farm; and that, when he became of age, before entering upon the work of clearing lands of his own, given by his father, he went as "a retainer" to work on the governor's farm. He went as a voluntary laborer, as to a school of agricultural training. This was done on other farms, first occupied by men who had the means and the enterprise to carry on large operations. It gave a high character, in their particular employment, to the first settlers generally.

I cannot leave this subject of Endicott on his farm, without presenting another picture, drawn from a wilderness scene. In 1678, Nathaniel Ingersol, then forty-five years of age, in a deposition sworn to in court, describes an incident that occurred on the east[i.36]ern end of the Townsend Bishop farm as laid out on the map, when he was about eleven years of age. His father, Richard Ingersol, had leased the farm. It was contiguous to Endicott's land, and controversies of boundary arose, which subsequently contributed to aggravate the feuds and passions that were let loose in the fury of the witchcraft proceedings. Nathaniel Ingersol says,—

"This deponent testifieth, that, when my father had fenced in a parcel of land where the wolf-pits now are, the said Governor Endicott came to my father where we were at plough, and said to my father he had fenced in some of the said Governor's land. My father replied, then he would remove the fence. No, said Governor Endicott, let it stand; and, when you set up a new fence, we will settle in the bounds."

This statement is worthy of being preserved, as it illustrates the character of the two men, exhibiting them in a most honorable light. The gentlemanly bearing of each is quite observable. Ingersol manifests an instant willingness to repair a wrong, and set the matter right; Endicott is considerate and obliging on a point where men are most prone to be obstinate and unyielding,—a conflict of land rights: both are courteous, and disposed to accommodate. Endicott was governor of the colony, and a large conterminous landowner; Ingersol was a husbandman, at work with his boys on land into which their labor had incorporated value, and with which, for the time being, he was identified. But Endicott showed no arrogance,[i.37] and assumed no authority; Ingersol manifested no resentment or irritation. If a similar spirit had been everywhere exhibited, the good-will and harmony of neighborhoods would never have been disturbed, and the records of courts reduced to less than half their bulk.

To his dying day, John Endicott retained a lively interest in promoting the welfare of his neighbors in the vicinity of the Orchard Farm.

Father Gabriel Druillettes was sent by the Governor of Canada, in 1650, to Boston, in a diplomatic character, to treat with the Government here. He kept a journal, during his visit, from which the following is an extract: "I went to Salem to speak to the Sieur Indicatt who speaks and understands French well, and is a good friend of the nation, and very desirous to have his children entertain this sentiment. Finding I had no money, he supplied me, and gave me an invitation to the magistrates' table." Endicott had undoubtedly received a good education. His natural force of character had been brought under the influence of the knowledge prevalent in his day, and invigorated by an experience and aptitude in practical affairs. There is some evidence that he had, in early life, been a surgeon or physician.

He was a captain in the military service before leaving England. Although he was the earliest who bore the title of governor here, having been deputed to exercise that office by the governor and company in England, and subsequently elected to that station[i.38] for a greater length of time than any other person in our history, had been colonel of the Essex militia, commandant of the expedition against the Indians at Block Island, and, for several years, major-general, at the head of the military forces of the colony, the title of captain was attached to him, more or less, from beginning to end; and it is a singular circumstance, that it has adhered to the name to this day. His descendants early manifested a predilection for maritime life. During the first half of the present century, many of them were shipmasters. In our foreign, particularly our East-India, navigation, the title has clung to the name; so much so, that the story is told, that, half a century ago, when American ships arrived at Sumatra or Java, the natives, on approaching or entering the vessels to ascertain the name of the captain, were accustomed to inquire, "Who is the Endicott?" The public station, rank, and influence of Governor Endicott required that he should first be mentioned, in describing the elements that went to form the character of the original agricultural population of this region.

The map shows the farm of Emanuel Downing. The lines are substantially correct, although precise accuracy cannot be claimed for them, as the points mentioned in this and other cases were marked trees, heaps of stones, or other perishable or removable objects, and no survey or plot has come down to us. A collation of conterminous grants or subsequent conveyances, with references in some of them to[i.39] permanent objects, enables us to approximate to a pretty certain conclusion. This gentleman was one of the most distinguished of the early New-England colonists. He was a lawyer of the Inner Temple. He married, in the first instance, a daughter of Sir James Ware, a person of great eminence in the learned lore of his times. His second wife was Lucy, sister of Governor Winthrop of Massachusetts, who was born July 9, 1601. They were married, April 10, 1622. There seems to have been a very strong attachment between Emanuel Downing and his brother Winthrop; and they went together, with their whole heart, into the plan of building up the colony. They devoted to it their fortunes and lives. Downing is supposed to have arrived at Boston in August, 1638, with his family. On the 4th of November, he and his wife were admitted to the Church at Salem. So great had been the value of his services in behalf of the colony, in defending its interests and watching over its welfare before leaving England, that he was welcomed with the utmost cordiality to his new home. His nephew, John Winthrop, Jr., afterwards Governor of Connecticut, was associated with John Endicott to administer to him the freeman's oath. The General Court granted him six hundred acres of land. He was immediately appointed a judge of the local court in Salem, and, for many years, elected one of its two deputies to the General Court. In anticipation of his arrival in the country, the town of Salem, on the 16th of July, granted him five hundred acres. He after[i.40]wards purchased the farm on which he seems to have lived, for the most part, until he went to England in 1652. The condition of public affairs, and his own connection with them, detained him in the mother-country much of the latter part of his life. While in this colony, he was indefatigable in his exertions to secure its prosperity. His wealth and time and faculties were liberally and constantly devoted to this end.

The active part taken by Mr. Downing in the affairs of the settlement is illustrated in the following extract from the Salem town records:—

"At a general Town meeting, held the 7^th day of the 5^th month, 1644—ordered that two be appointed every Lord's Day, to walk forth in the time of God's worship, to take notice of such as either lye about the meeting house, without attending to the word and ordinances, or that lye at home or in the fields without giving good account thereof, and to take the names of such persons, and to present them to the magistrates, whereby they may be accordingly proceeded against. The names of such as are ordered to this service are for the 1^st day, M^r. Stileman and Philip Veren J^r. 2^d day, Philip Veren S^r. and Hilliard Veren. 3^d day, M^r. Batter and Joshua Veren. 4^th day, M^r. Johnson and M^r. Clark. 5^th day, M^r. Downing and Robert Molton S^r. 6^th day, Robert Molton J^r. and Richard Ingersol. 7^th day, John Ingersol and Richard Pettingell. 8^th day, William Haynes and Richard Hutchinson. 9^th day, John Putnam and John Hathorne. 10^th day, Townsend Bishop and Daniel Rea. 11^th day, John Porter and Jacob Barney."

[i.41]

Each patrol, on concluding its day's service, was to notify the succeeding one; and they were to start on their rounds, severally, from "Goodman Porter's near the Meeting House."

The men appointed to this service were all leading characters, reliable and energetic persons. It was a singular arrangement, and gives a vivid idea of the state of things at the time. Its design was probably, not merely that expressed in the vote of the town, but also to prevent any disorderly conduct on the part of those not attending public worship, and to give prompt alarm in case of fire or an Indian assault. The population had not then spread out far into the country; and the range of exploration did not much extend beyond the settlement in the town. None but active men, however, could have performed the duty thoroughly, and in all directions, so as to have kept the whole community under strict inspection.

Mr. Downing probably expended liberally his fortune and time in improving his farm, upon which there were, at least, four dwelling-houses prior to 1661, and large numbers of men employed. He was a ready contributor to all public objects. His education had been superior and his attainments in knowledge extensive. He was of an enlightened spirit, and strove to mitigate the severity of the procedures against Antinomians and others. He seems to have had an ingenious and enterprising mind. At a General Court held at Boston, Sept. 6, 1638, it was voted that, "Whereas Emanuel Downing, Esq., hath brought[i.42] over, at his great charges, all things fitting for taking wild fowl by way of duck-coy, this court, being desirous to encourage him and others in such designs as tend to the public good," &c., orders that liberty shall be given him to set up his duck-coy within the limits of Salem; and all persons are forbidden to molest him in his experiments, by "shooting in any gun within half a mile of the ponds," where, by the regulations of the town, he shall be allowed to place the decoys. The court afterwards granted to other towns liberty to set up duck-coys, with similar privileges. What was the particular structure of the contrivance, and how far it succeeded in operation, is not known; but the thing shows the spirit of the man. He at once took hold of his farm with energy, and gathered workmen upon it. Winthrop in his journal has this entry, Aug. 2, 1645:—

"M^r. Downing having built a new house at his farm, he being gone to England, and his wife and family gone to the church meeting on the Lord's day, the chimney took fire and burned down the house, and bedding, apparel and household, to the value of 200 pounds."

This proves that his family resided on the farm; and it indicates, that, when he first occupied it, he had only such a house as could have been seasonably put up at the start, but that a more commodious one had been erected at his leisure: the expression "having built a new house" appears to carry this idea. On his return from England, he undoubtedly built again, and[i.43] had other houses for his workmen and tenants; for we find that one of them, in 1648, was allowed to keep an ordinary, "as Mr. Downing's farm, on the road between Lynn and Ipswich, was a convenient place" for such an accommodation to travellers. Public travel to and from those points goes over that same road to-day. That it was so early laid out is probably owing to the fact, that such men as Emanuel Downing were on its route, and John Winthrop, Jr., at Ipswich. Downing called his farm "Groton," in dear remembrance of his wife's ancestral home in "the old country."

Originally, travel was on a track more interior. The opening of roads did not begin until after the more immediate and necessary operations of erecting houses and bringing the land, on the most available spots near them at the points first settled, under culture. Originally, communication from farm to farm, through the woods, was by marking the trees,—sometimes by burning and blackening spots on their sides, and sometimes by cutting off a piece of the bark. The traveller found his way step by step, following the trees thus marked, or "blazed," as it was called whichever method had been adopted. When the branches and brush were sufficiently cleared away, horses could be used. At places rendered difficult by large roots, partly above ground, intercepting the passage, or by rough stones, the rider would dismount, and lead the horse. From this, it was called a "bridle-path." After the way had become sufficiently opened for ox-carts or other vehicles to pass, it would begin to receive the name of a[i.44] road. On reaching a cleared and fenced piece of land, the traveller would cross it, opening and closing gates, or taking down and replacing bars, as the case might be. There were arrangements among the settlers, and, before long, acts of the General Court, regulating the matter. This was the origin of what were called "press-roads," or "farm-roads," or "gate-roads." When a proprietor concluded it to be for his interest to do so, he would fence in the road on both sides where it crossed his land, and remove the gates or bars from each end. Ultimately, the road, if convenient for long travel, would be fenced in for a great distance, and become a permanent "public highway." In all these stages of progress, it would be called a "highway." The fee would remain with the several proprietors through whose lands it passed; and, if travel should forsake it for a more eligible route, it would be discontinued, and the road-track, enclosed in the fields to which it originally belonged, be obliterated by the plough. Many of the "highways," by which the farmers passed over each other's lands to get to the meeting-house or out to public roads, in 1692, have thus disappeared, while some have hardened into permanent public roads used to this day. When thus fully and finally established, it became a "town road," and if leading some distance into the interior, and through other towns, was called a "country road." The early name of "path" continued some time in use long after it had got to be worthy of a more pretentious title. The old "Boston Path," by which the country was originally[i.45] penetrated, long retained that name. It ran through the southern and western part of Salem Village by the Gardners, Popes, Goodales, Flints, Needhams, Swinnertons, Houltons, and so on towards Ipswich and Newbury.

On the 30th of September, 1648, Governor Winthrop, writing to his son John, says "they are well at Salem, and your uncle is now beginning to distil. Mr. Endicott hath found a copper mine in his own ground. Mr. Leader hath tried it. The furnace runs eight tons per week, and their bar iron is as good as Spanish." Whatever may be thought by some of the logic which infers that "all is well" in Salem, because they are beginning "to distil;" and however little has, as yet, resulted here from the discovery of copper-mines, or the manufacture of iron, the foregoing extract shows the zeal and enthusiasm with which the wealthier settlers were applying themselves to the development of the capabilities of the country.

Mr. Downing seems to have resided permanently on his farm, and to have been identified with the agricultural portion of the community. His house-lot in the town bounded south on Essex Street, extending from Newbury to St. Peter's Street. He may not, perhaps, have built upon it for some time, as it long continued to be called "Downing's Field." Two of his daughters married sons of Thomas Gardner: Mary married Samuel; and Ann, Joseph. They came into possession of the "Downing Field." Mary was the mother of John, the progenitor of a large branch of[i.46] the Gardner family. Mr. Downing had another large lot in the town, which, on the 11th of February, 1641, was sold to John Pickering, described in the deed as follows: "All that parcel of ground, lying before the now dwelling-house of the said John Pickering, late in the occupation of John Endicott, Esq., with all the appurtenances thereunto belonging, abutting on the east and south on the river commonly called the South River, and on the west on the land of William Hathorne, and on the north on the Town Common." The deed is signed by Lucy Downing, and by Edmund Batter, acting for her husband in his absence. On the 10th of February, 1644, he indorsed the transaction as follows: "I do freely agree to the sale of the said Field in Salem, made by my wife to John Pickering: witness my hand," &c. The attesting witnesses were Samuel Sharpe and William Hathorne. This land was then called "Broad Field." On his estate, thus enlarged, Pickering, a few years afterwards, built a house, still standing. The estate has remained, or rather so much of it as was attached to the homestead, in that family to this day, and is now owned and occupied by John Pickering, Esq., son of the eminent scholar and philologist of that name, and grandson of Colonel Timothy Pickering, of Revolutionary fame,—the trusted friend of Washington.

Emanuel Downing was the father of Sir George Downing, one of the first class that graduated at Harvard College,—a man of extraordinary talents and wonderful fortunes. After finishing his collegiate[i.47] course, in 1642, he studied divinity, probably under the direction of Hugh Peters; went to the West Indies, acting as chaplain in the vessel; preached and received calls to settle in several places; went on to England; entered the parliamentary service as chaplain to a regiment; was rapidly drawn into notice, and promoted from point to point, until he became scoutmaster-general in Cromwell's army. This office seems to have combined the functions of inspector and commissary-general, and head of the reconnoitering department. In 1654, he was married to Frances, sister of Viscount Morpeth, afterwards Earl of Carlisle; thus uniting himself with "the blood of all the Howards," one of the noblest families in England. The nuptials were celebrated with great pomp, an epithalamium in Latin, &c. All this, within eleven years after he took his degree at Harvard, is surely an extraordinary instance of rising in the world. He was a member of Parliament for Scotland. Cromwell sent him to France on diplomatic business, and his correspondence in Latin from that court was the beginning of a career of great services in that line. He was soon commissioned ambassador to the Hague, then the great court in Europe. Thurlow's state papers show with what marvellous vigilance, activity, and efficiency he conducted, from that centre, the diplomatic affairs of the commonwealth. At the restoration of the monarchy, he made the quickest and the loftiest somersault in all political history. It was done between two days. He saw Charles the Second at the Hague, on his way to England to re[i.48]sume his crown: and the man who, up to that moment, had been one of the most zealous supporters of the commonwealth, came out next morning as an equally zealous supporter of the king. He accompanied this wonderful exploit by an act of treachery to three of his old associates,—including Colonel Oakey, in whose regiment he had served as chaplain,—which cost them their lives. He was forthwith knighted, and his commission as ambassador renewed. After a while, he returned to England; went into Parliament from Morpeth, and ever after the exchequer was in his hands. By his knowledge, skill, and ability, he enlarged the financial resources of the country, multiplied its manufactures, and extended its power and wealth. He was probably the original contriver of the policy enforced in the celebrated Navigation Act, having suggested it in Cromwell's time. By that single short act of Parliament, England became the great naval power of the world; her colonial possessions, however widely dispersed, were consolidated into one vast fountain of wealth to the imperial realm; the empire of the seas was fixed on an immovable basis, and the proud Hollander compelled to take down the besom from the mast-head of his high-admiral.

Sir George Downing did one thing in favor of the power of the people, in the British system of government, which may mitigate the resentment of mankind for his execrable seizure and delivery to the royal vengeance of Oakey, Corbett, and Barkstead. He introduced into Parliament and established the prin[i.49]ciple of Specific Appropriations. The House of Commons has, ever since, not only held the keys of the treasury, but the power of controlling expenditures. The fortune of Sir George, on the failure of issue in the third generation, went to the foundation of Downing College, in Cambridge, England. It amounted to one hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling. It is not improbable, that Downing Street, in London, owes its name to the great diplomatist.

This remarkable man spent his later youth and opening manhood on Salem Farms. In his college vacations and intervals of study, he partook, perhaps, in the labors of the plantation, mingled with the rural population, and shared in their sports. The crack of his fowling-piece re-echoed through the wild woods beyond Procter's Corner; he tended his father's duck-coys at Humphries' Pond, and angled along the clear brooks. It is an observable circumstance, as illustrating the transmission of family traits, that the same ingenious activity and versatility of mind, which led Emanuel Downing, while carrying on the multifarious operations of opening a large farm in the forest, presiding in the local court at Salem, and serving year after year in the General Court as a deputy, to contrive complicated machinery for taking wild fowl and getting up distilleries, re-appeared in his son, on the broader field of the manufactures, finances, and foreign relations of a great nation.

A tract of three hundred acres, next eastward of the Downing farm, was granted to Thomas Read. He[i.50] became a freeman in 1634, was a member of the Salem Church in 1636, received his grant the same year, and was acknowledged as an inhabitant, May 2, 1637. The farm is now occupied and owned by the Hon. Richard S. Rogers. It is a beautiful and commanding situation, and attests the taste of its original proprietor. Mr. Read seems to have had a passion for military affairs. In 1636, he was ensign in a regiment composed of men from Saugus, Ipswich, Newbury, and Salem, of which John Endicott was colonel, and John Winthrop, Jr., lieutenant-colonel. In 1647, he commanded a company. During the civil wars in England, he was attracted back to his native country. He commanded a regiment in 1660, and held his place after the Restoration. He died about 1663.

Our antiquarians were long at a loss to understand a sentence in one of Roger Williams's letters to John Winthrop, Jr., in which he says, "Sir, you were not long since the son of two noble fathers, Mr. John Winthrop and Mr. Hugh Peters." How John Winthrop, Jr., could be a son of Hugh Peters was the puzzle. Peters was not the father of either of Winthrop's two wives; and there was nothing in any family records or memorials to justify the notion. On the contrary, they absolutely precluded it. By the labors and acumen of the Hon. James Savage and Mr. Charles Deane, of Cambridge, who have no superiors in grappling with such a difficulty, its solution seems, at last, to be reached. "After long fruitless search," Mr. Savage has expressed a conviction that Mr. Deane has "ac[i.51]quired the probable explication." The clue was thus obtained: Mr. Savage says, "This approach to explanation is gained from 'the Life and Death of Hugh Peters, by William Yonge, D^r. Med. London. 1663,' a very curious and more scarce tract." The facts discovered are that Peters taught a free school at Maldon, in Essex; and that a widow lady with children and an estate of two or three hundred pounds a year befriended him. She was known as "Mistress Read." Peters married her. The second wife of John Winthrop, Jr., was Elizabeth, daughter of Colonel Read, of Essex. By marrying Mrs. Read, Peters became the step-father of the younger Winthrop's wife; and, by the usage of that day, he would be called Winthrop's father.

A few additional particulars, in reference to Peters and our Salem Read, may shed further light on the subject. While a prisoner in the Tower of London, awaiting the trial which, in a few short days, consigned him to his fate, Peters wrote "A Dying Father's Last Legacy to an only Child," and delivered it to his daughter just before his execution. This is one of the most admirable productions of genius, wisdom, and affection, anywhere to be found. In it he gives a condensed history of his life, which enables us to settle some questions, which have given rise to conflicting statements, and kept some points in his biography in obscurity. In the first place, the title proves that he had, at the time of his death, no other child. In the course of it, he tells his daughter, that, when he was[i.52] fourteen years of age, his mother, then a widow, removed with him to Cambridge, and connected him with the University there. His elder brother had been sent to Oxford for his education. After residing eight years in Cambridge, he took his Master's degree, and then went up to London, where he was "struck with the sense of his sinful estate by a sermon he heard under Paul's, which was about forty years since, which text was the burden of Dumah or Idumea, and stuck fast. This made me to go into Essex; and after being quieted by another sermon in that country, and the love and labors of Mr. Thomas Hooker, I there preached, there married with a good gentlewoman, till I went to London to ripen my studies, not intending to preach at all." He then relates the circumstances which subsequently led him again to engage in preaching. He is stated to have been born in 1599: his death was in 1660. Putting together these dates and facts, it becomes evident that he could not have been more than twenty-two years of age when he married "Mistress Read." The "Last Legacy" shows, not merely in the manner in which he speaks of her,—"a good gentlewoman,"—but, in its express terms, that she was not the mother of the "only child" to whom it was addressed. "Besides your mother," he states that he had had "a godly wife before." There is no indication that there were children by the earlier marriage. If there were, they died young. He married, for his second wife, Deliverance Sheffield, at Boston, in March, 1639.[i.53]

His first wife, the time of whose death is unknown, had left the children by her former husband in his hands and under his care. He evidently cherished the memory of the "good gentlewoman of Essex" with the tenderest and most sacred affection. She had not only been the dear wife of his youth, but her property placed him above want. No wonder that the strongest attachment existed between him and her children. John Winthrop, Jr., and his wife, called him father, not merely in conformity with custom, being their step-father in point of fact, but with the fondness and devotion of actual children. It was on account of this intimate and endeared connection, and in consideration of the pecuniary benefit he had derived from his marriage to the mother of the younger Winthrop's wife, that he made arrangements, in case he should not return to America, that his Salem property should go to her and her husband. Having married a second wife, and there being issue of said marriage, he would not have alienated so considerable a part of his property from the legal heir without some good and sufficient reason. The foregoing view of the case explains the whole. The solution of the mystery which had enveloped Roger Williams's language is complete. Elizabeth, the daughter of the second marriage, to whom the "Last Legacy" was addressed, was baptized in the First Church at Salem, on the 8th of March, 1640. It does not appear, that, during her subsequent life, there was any intimacy, or even acquaintance, between her and the[i.54] Winthrops, as there was no ground for it, she being in no way connected with them.

May not Thomas Read, of Salem, have been a son of Colonel Read, of Maldon in Essex, and a brother of the wife of the younger Winthrop? Peters says, in the "Last Legacy," "Many of my acquaintances, going for New England, had engaged me to come to them when they sent, which accordingly I did." Thomas Read came over some time before him; so did John Winthrop, Jr., and wife. They were the same as children to him. They sent for him, and he came. After it was ascertained and determined that Peters should settle in Salem, Read joined the church here, and became a full inhabitant. Peters located his grant of land in sight of Read's residence, on the next then unappropriated territory, at a distance of about two and a half miles. When Read returned to England, he left his property here in the care of the Winthrops. Wait Winthrop, as the agent and attorney of his heirs, sold it to Daniel Eppes. If, as I conjecture, Thomas Read was a son of Colonel Read, of Essex, his coming here with Peters, and his connection with the Winthrops, are accounted for. His strong predilection for military affairs was natural in a son of a colonel of the English army. It led him back to the mother-country, on the first sound of the great civil war reaching these shores, and raised him to the rank he finally attained. The conjecture that he was a brother of the wife of the younger Winthrop is favored by the fact, that her son, Fitz John Win[i.55]throp, was a captain in Read's regiment, at the time of the restoration of the Stuarts.

During the short period of the residence of Hugh Peters in America, professional duties, and the extent to which his great talents were called upon in ecclesiastical and political affairs, in all parts of the colony, left him but little opportunity to attend to his two-hundred-acre grant. It was to the north of the present village of Danvers Plains, on the eastern side and adjoining to Frost-Fish Brook. The history of this grant confirms the supposition of his particular connection with the family of the younger Winthrop. It seems that it had not been formally laid out by metes and bounds while Peters was here. Owing to this circumstance, perhaps, it escaped confiscation at the time of his condemnation and execution. Some years afterwards, June 4, 1674, a committee of the town laid out the grant "to Mr. Peters." The record of this transaction says, "The land is in the possession of John Corwin." Captain John Corwin had married, in May, 1665, Margaret, daughter of John Winthrop, Jr. She survived her husband, and sold the same land, May 22, 1693, to "Henry Brown, Jr., of Salisbury, yeoman." These facts show that this portion of Mr. Peters's lands did go, according to the agreement when he left America, to the family of John Winthrop, Jr.

Whether he had erected a house on this grant is not known. From his characteristic energy, activity, and promptitude, it is probable that he had begun to clear[i.56] it. In agriculture, as in every thing else, he gave a decisive impulse. It is stated that he had a particular design to attempt the culture of hemp. He introduced many implements of labor, and started new methods of improvement. He disclosed to the producer of agricultural growths the idea of raising what the land was most capable of yielding in abundance, in greater quantities than were needed for local consumption, and finding for the surplus an outside market. He is allowed to have introduced the coasting and foreign trade on an intelligent and organized basis, and to have promoted ship-building and the export of the products of the forests and the fields generally to the Southern plantations, the West Indies, and even more distant points. If he had remained longer in the country, the farming interests, and the settlers in what was afterwards called Salem Village, within which his tract was situated, would have felt his great influence. As it was, he undoubtedly did much to inspire a zeal for improvement. His town residence was on the south-western corner of Essex and Washington Street, then known as "Salem Corner," where the office of the Horse-railroad Company now is. The lot was a quarter of an acre. Roger Williams probably had resided there, and sold to Peters, who was his successor in the ministry of the First Church, and whose attorney sold it to Benjamin Felton, in 1659. The range of ground included within what are now Washington, Essex, Summer, and Chestnut Streets, and extending to the South River, as it was before any[i.57] dam or mills had been erected over or across it, was a beautiful swell of land, with sloping surfaces, intersected by a creek from near the foot of Chestnut Street to its junction with the South River under the present grade of Mill Street. To the south of the corner, occupied successively by Roger Williams and Hugh Peters, Ralph Fogg, the Lady Deborah Moody, George Corwin, Dr. George Emory, Thomas Ruck, Samuel Skelton, Endicott, Pickering, Downing, and Hathorne, each had lots, extending in order to the foot of what is now Phelps Street. Most, if not all of them, had houses on their lots. Elder Sharp had what was called "Sharp's Field," bordering on the north side of Essex Street, extending from Washington to North Streets. His house was at the north corner of Lynde and Washington Streets. Edmund Batter, Henry Cook, Dr. Daniel Weld, Stephen Sewall, and Edward Norris, were afterwards on his land. Hugh Peters also owned the lot, consisting of a quarter of an acre, on the north-eastern corner of Essex and Washington Streets, now occupied by what is known as Stearns's Building, and was preparing to erect a house upon it when he was sent to England. His attorney sold it, in 1652, to John Orne, the founder of the family of that name.

The daughter of Mr. Peters came over to America shortly after his death, bringing with her her mother, who, for many years, had been subject to derangement. They were kindly received; and some of his property, particularly a valuable farm in the vicinity[i.58] of Marblehead, which the daughter sold to the American ancestor of the Devereux family, was recovered from the effect of his attainder. She probably soon went back to England, where she spent her days. Papers on file in the county court show that Elizabeth Barker, widow, "daughter of Mr. Hugh Peters," was living, in March, 1702, in good health, at Deptford, Kent, in the immediate vicinity of London, and had been living there for about forty years.

In consequence, perhaps, of the intimate connection between Mr. Peters and the family of John Winthrop, Jr., the name of the latter is to be added to the cluster of eminent men who, at that time, were drawn to reside in Salem. He was here, it is quite certain, from 1638 to 1641, if not for a longer period. There are indications of his presence as early as March of the former year, when he was appointed with Endicott to administer the freeman's oath to his uncle Downing. On the 25th of the next June, he had liberty to set up a salt-house at Royal Neck, on the east side of Wooleston River. There he erected a dwelling-house and other buildings, as appears by the depositions of sundry persons in a land suit about thirty years afterwards, who state that they worked for him, and were conversant with him there for several years. His first experiments and enterprises in the salt-manufacture, which he subsequently conducted on a very extensive scale in Connecticut, were performed at Royal Neck. His daughter, the widow successively of Antipas Newman and Zerubabel Endicott, in the suit just men[i.59]tioned, recovered possession of that property, comprising forty acres, with the buildings and improvements. In 1646, John Winthrop, Jr., accompanied by a brother of Hugh Peters, Rev. Thomas Peters from Cornwall in England, began a plantation at Pequot River; and Trumbull, in his "History of Connecticut," says that "Mr. Thomas Peters was the first minister of Saybrook." The fortunes and families of Hugh Peters and John Winthrop, Jr., seem all along to have been linked together.

Downing, Read, and Peters, three of the original planters of Salem Farms, were drawn back to England and kept there by the engrossing interest which the wonderful revolution then breaking out in that kingdom could not but awaken in such minds as theirs. Here and everywhere, a great check was given to the early progress of the country by the turn of the tide which carried such men back to England, and prevented others from coming over. If the Parliament had not attempted to arrest the usurpations of the crown at that time, and the Stuarts been suffered to establish an absolute monarchy, the eyes and hearts of all free spirits would have remained fixed on America, and a perpetual stream of emigration brought over, for generations and for ever, thousands upon thousands of such men as came at the beginning. The effects that would have been thus produced in America and in England, in accelerating the progress of society here, and sinking it into debasement there; and thereby upon the fortunes of mankind the world[i.60] over, is a subject on which a meditative and philosophical mind may well be exercised.

But, although these men were lost, others are worthy of being enumerated, in forming an estimate of the elements that went to make the character of the people, a chapter in whose history, of awful import, we are preparing ourselves to explore.

Francis Weston was a leading man at the very beginning. In 1634, with Roger Conant and John Holgrave, he represented Salem in the first House of Deputies ever assembled. His land grant was some little distance to the west of the meeting-house of the village. He must have been a person of more than ordinary liberality of spirit; for he discountenanced the intolerance of his age, and kept his mind open to receive truth and light. He did not conceal his sympathy with those who suffered for entertaining Antinomian sentiments. He was ordered to quit the colony in 1638. For the same offence, his wife, who probably had refused to go, was placed in the stocks "two hours at Boston and two at Salem, on a lecture day." Weston, having ventured back, five years afterwards, was put in irons, and imprisoned to hard labor. But, as he stood to his principles, and there was danger to be apprehended from his influence, he was again driven out of the colony.

Richard Waterman came over from England in 1629, recommended to Governor Endicott by the governor and deputy in London. He was a noted hunter. "His chief employment," says the letter introducing[i.61] him to Endicott, "will be to get you good venison." A land grant was assigned him near Davenport's Hill. But he, too, had a spirit that resisted the severe and arbitrary policy of the times. He became a dissenter from the prevalent creed, and sympathized with those who suffered oppression. In 1664, he was brought before the court, condemned to imprisonment, and finally banished. Weston and Waterman subsequently were conspicuous in Rhode-Island affairs. While residing in the village, the latter probably devoted himself to the opening of his land, and the pursuit of game through the forests. I find but one notice of him as connected with public affairs.

For some years, the settlements were necessarily confined to the shores of bays or coves, and the banks of rivers. There were no wheel-carriages of any kind, for transportation or travel, until something like roads could be made; and that was the work of time. A few horses had been imported; but it was long before they could be raised to meet the general wants, or come much into use. Every thing had to be water-borne. The only vehicles were boats or canoes, mostly the latter. There were two kinds of canoes. Large white-pine logs were scooped or hollowed out, and wrought into suitable shape, about two and a half feet in breadth and twenty in length. These were often quite convenient and serviceable, but not to be compared with the Indian canoes, which were made of the bark of trees, wrought with great skill into a beautiful shape. The birch canoe was an admirable struc[i.62]ture, combining elements and principles which modern naval architecture may well study to imitate. In lightness, rapidity, freedom and ease of motion, it has not been, and cannot be, surpassed. Its draft, even when bearing a considerable burden, was so slight, that it would glide over the shallowest bars. It was strong, durable, and easily kept in repair. Although dangerous to the highest degree under an inexperienced and unskilful hand, no vessel has ever been safer when managed by persons trained to its use. The cool and quick-sighted Indian could guide it, with his exquisitely moulded paddle, in perfect security, through whirling rapids and over heavy seas, around headlands and across bays. The settlers early supplied themselves with canoes, by which to thread the interior streams, and cross from shore to shore in the harbors. One great advantage of the light canoe, before roads were opened through the woods, was, that it could be unloaded, and borne on the shoulders across the land, at any point, to another stream or lake, thus cutting off long curves, and getting from river to river. The lading would be transported in convenient parcels, the canoe launched, loaded, and again be floated on its way. Canoes soon came into universal use, particularly in this neighborhood. Wood, in his "New-England's Prospect," speaking of Salem, says, "There be more canowes in this town than in all the whole Patent, every household having a water horse or two." It was so important for the public safety to have them kept in good condition, that the town took the matter[i.63] in hand. The quarterly court records have the following entry under the date of June 27, 1636:—

"It was ordered and agreed, that all the canoes of the north side of the town shall be brought the next second day, being the 4th day of the 5th month, about 9 o'clock, a.m., unto the cove of the common landing place of the North River, by George Harris his house—And that all the canoes of the south side are to be brought before the port-house in the South River, at the same time, then and there to be viewed by J. Holgrave, P. Palfrey, R. Waterman, R. Conant, P. Veren, or the greater number of them. And that there shall be no canoe used (upon penalty, of forty shillings, to the owner thereof) than such as the said surveyors shall allow of and set their mark upon; and if any shall refuse or neglect to bring their canoes to the said places at the time appointed, they shall pay for said fault 10 shillings."

The names of the men associated with Waterman prove that he was ranked among the chief citizens of the town. The austere manners of the age, among communities like that established here; the exclusion, at that time, by inexorable laws, of many forms of amusement; and the general sombre aspect of society, kept down the natural exhilaration of life to such a degree, that, when the pressure was occasionally removed, the whole people bounded into the liveliest outbursts of glad excitement. It was no doubt a gala day. Ceremony, sport, and festivity, in all their forms, took full effect. The surveyors performed their functions with the utmost display of authority, examined the canoes with the gravest scrutiny, and affixed[i.64] their marks with all due formality. A light, graceful, and most picturesque fleet swarmed, from all directions, to the appointed rendezvous. The harbor glittered with the flashing paddles, and was the scene of swift races and rival feats of skill, displaying manly strength and agility. It must have been an aquatic spectacle of rare gayety and beauty, not surpassed nor equalled in some respects, when, more than a century afterwards, the "Grand Turk" or the "Essex" frigate was launched, or when Commodore Forbes, still later, swept into our peaceful waters with his boat flotilla. It was the first Fourth of July ever celebrated in America.

Thomas Scruggs was an early inhabitant of Salem; often represented the town as deputy in the General Court; was one of the judges of the local court, and always recognized among the rulers of the town. In January, 1636, he received a grant of three hundred acres on the south-west limits of its territory. The next month, an exchange took place, which is thus recorded in the town-book of grants: "It was ordered, that, whereas Mr. Scruggs had a farm of three hundred acres beyond Forest River, and that Captain Trask had one of two hundred acres beyond Bass River, and Captain Trask freely relinquishing his farm of two hundred acres, it was granted unto Mr. Thomas Scruggs, and he thereupon freely relinquished his farm of three hundred acres." This brought Scruggs upon the Salem Farms, between Bass River and the great pond, Wenham Lake. The real object in making this arrangement was to advance a project which the lead[i.65]ing people of Salem at that time had much at heart. They were very desirous to have the college established on the tract relinquished by Scruggs. What would have been the effect of placing it there, in the immediate neighborhood of the sea-shore, in full view of the spacious bay, its promontories, islands, and navigation, is a question on which we may speculate at our leisure. The effort failed: Captain Trask and Mr. Scruggs had done all they could to accomplish it, and gave their energies to the welfare of the community in other directions. From the little that is recorded of Scruggs, it is quite evident that he was an intelligent and valuable citizen. The event that brought his career as a public man to a close proves that his mind was enlightened, liberal, and independent; that he was in advance of the times in which he lived. When the bitter and violent persecution of the celebrated Anne Hutchinson, on account of her Antinomian sentiments, took place, Mr. Scruggs disapproved and denounced it. He gave his whole influence, earnestly and openly, against such attempts to suppress freedom of inquiry and the rights of conscience. He, with others in Salem, was proscribed, disarmed, and deprived of his public functions. He appears to have been suffered to remain unmolested on his estate, and died there in 1654. He had but one child, Rachel; and the name, as derived from him, became extinct. The inventory of his property is dated on the 24th of June of that year. The items mentioned in it amount to £244. 10s. 2d. Consider[i.66]ing the rates of value at that time, it was a large property. At the same date, an agreement is recorded by which his widow, Margery, conveys to her son-in-law, John Raymond, all her real estate, upon these conditions: She to have the use of her house during her life, the bedding, and other "household stuff;" and he to pay her five pounds "in hand," twenty pounds per annum, and five pounds "at the hour of her death." This was an ample provision, in those times, for her comfort while she lived, and for her funeral charges. I do not remember to have found this last point arranged for, in such a form of expression, in any other instance.

William Alford was an early settler. He was a member of the numerous and wealthy society, or guild, of Skinners, in the city of London, and probably came here with the view of establishing an extensive trade in furs. He received accordingly, in 1636, a grant of two hundred acres, including what was for some time called Alford's Hill, afterwards Long Hill, now known as Cherry Hill. It is owned and occupied by R.P. Waters, Esq. Alford sympathized in religious views with his neighbor Scruggs, and with him was subjected to censure, and disarmed by order of the General Court. He sold his lands to Henry Herrick, and left the jurisdiction.

One of the most enlightened, and perhaps most accomplished, men among the first inhabitants of Salem Village, was Townsend Bishop. He was admitted a freeman in 1635. The next year, he appears on the list of members of the Salem Church. He was one[i.67] of the judges of the local court, and, almost without intermission from his first coming here, a deputy to the General Court. In 1645, as his attention had been led to the subject, he conceived doubts in reference to infant baptism; and it was noticed that he did not bring forward a child, recently born, to the rite. Although himself on the bench, and ever before the object of popular favor and public honors, he was at once brought up, and handed over for discipline. The next year, he sold his estates, and probably removed elsewhere. He appears no more in our annals. Where he went, I have not been able to learn. It is to be hoped that he found somewhere a more congenial and tolerant abode. It is evident that he could not breathe in an atmosphere of bigotry; and it was difficult to find one free from the miasma in those days.

Five of the most valuable of the first settlers of the village—Weston, Waterman, Scruggs, Alford, and Bishop—were thus early driven into exile, or subdued to silence, by the stern policy on which the colony was founded. It is an error to characterize this as religious bigotry. It was not so much a theological as a political persecution. Its apparent form was in reference to tenets of faith, but the policy was deeper than this. Any attempt to make opposition to the existing administration was treated with equal severity, whatever might be the subject on which it ventured to display itself.

The men who sought this far-off "nook and corner of the world," crossing a tempestuous and dangerous[i.68] ocean, and landing on the shores of a wilderness, leaving every thing, however dear and valuable, behind, came to have a country and a social system for themselves and of themselves alone. Their resolve was inexorable not to allow the mother-country, or the whole outside world combined, to interfere with them. And it was equally inexorable not to suffer dissent or any discordant element to get foothold among them. Sir Christopher Gardner's rank and title could not save him: he was not of the sort they wanted, and they shipped him back. Roger Williams's virtues, learning, apostolic piety, could not save him; and they drove him into a wintry wilderness, hunting him beyond their borders. It was not so much a question whether Baptists, Antinomians, or Quakers were right or wrong, as a preformed determination not to have any dissentients of any description among them. They had sacrificed all to find and to make a country for themselves, and they meant to keep it to themselves. They had gone out of everybody else's way, and they did not mean to let anybody else come into their way. They did not understand the great truth which Hugh Peters preached to Parliament, "Why," said he, "cannot Christians differ, and yet be friends? All children should be fed, though they have different faces and shapes: unity, not uniformity, is the Christian word." They admitted no such notion as this. They thought uniformity the only basis of unity. They meant to make and to keep this a country after their own pattern, a Congregational, Puritan, Cambridge-[i.69]Platform-man's country. The time has not yet come when we can lift up clean hands against them. Two successive chief-magistrates of the United States have opened the door and signified to one-eighth part of our whole people, that it will be best for them to walk out. So long as the doctrine is maintained that this is the white man's country, or any man's, or any class or kind of men's country, it becomes us to close our lips against denunciation of the Fathers of New England because they tried to keep the country to themselves. The sentiment or notion on which they acted, in whatever form it appears, however high the station from which it emanates, or however long it lasts in the world, is equally false and detestable in all its shapes. It is a defiant rebellion against that law which declares that "all nature's difference is all nature's peace;" that there can be no harmony without variety of sound, no social unity without unlimited freedom, and no true liberty where any are deprived of equal rights; that differences ought to bring men together, rather than keep them apart; and that the only government that can stand against the shocks of time, and grow stronger and dearer to all its people, is one that recognizes no differences of whatever kind among them. The only consistent or solid foundation on which a republic or a church can be built, is an absolute level, with no enclosures and no exclusion.

Townsend Bishop's grant of three hundred acres was made on the 16th of January, 1636. When he sold it, Oct. 18, 1641, it appears by the deed, that there[i.70] were on it edifices, gardens, yards, enclosures, and meadows. A large force must have been put and kept upon it, from the first, to have produced such results in so short a time. Orchards had been planted. The manner in which the grounds were laid out is still indicated by embankments, with artificial slopes and roadways, which exhibit the fine taste of the proprietor, and must have required a large expenditure of money and labor. Although the estate has always been in the hands of owners competent to take care of it and keep it in good preservation, none but the original proprietor would have been likely to have made the outlay apparent on its face, on the plan adopted. The mansion in which he resided stands to-day. Its front, facing the south, has apparently been widened, at some remote intermediate date since its original erection, by a slight extension on the western end, beyond the porch. It has been otherwise, perhaps, somewhat altered in the course of time by repairs; but its general aspect, as exhibited in the frontispiece of this volume, and its original strongly compacted and imperishable frame, remain. No saw was used in shaping its timbers; they were all hewn, by the broad-axe, of the most durable oak: they are massive, and rendered by time as hard to penetrate almost as iron. The walls and stairway of the cellar, the entrance to which is seen by the side of the porch, constructed of such stones as could be gathered on the surface of a new country, bear the marks of great antiquity. A long, low kitchen, with a stud of scarcely[i.71] six feet, extended originally the whole length of the lean-to, on the north side of the house. The rooms of the main house were of considerably higher stud. The old roadway, the outlines of which still remain, approached the house from the east, came up to its north-east corner, wound round its front, and continued from its north-west corner, on a track still visible, over a brook and through the apple-orchard planted by Bishop, to the point where the burial-ground of the village now is; and so on towards the lands then occupied by Richard Hutchinson, also to the lands afterwards owned by Nathaniel Ingersol, towards Beaver Dam, and the first settlements in that direction and to the westward. In general it may be said, that the structural proportions and internal arrangements of the house, taken in its relations to the vestiges and indications on the face of the grounds, show that it is coeval with the first occupancy of the farm. But we do not depend, in this case, upon conjectural considerations, or on mere tradition, which, on such a point, is not always reliable. It happens to be demonstrated, that this is the veritable house built and occupied by Townsend Bishop, in 1636, by a singular and irrefragable chain of specific proof. A protracted land suit, hereafter to be described, gave rise to a great mass of papers, which are preserved in the files of the county courts and the State Department; among them are several plots made by surveyors, and adduced in evidence by the parties. Not only the locality but a diagram of the house, as then standing, are given.[i.72] The spot on which it stood is shown. Further, it appears, that in the deeds of transference of the estate, the homestead is specially described as the house in which Townsend Bishop lived, called "Bishop's Mansion." This continues to a period subsequent to the style of its architecture, and within recent tradition and the memory of the living. In the old Salem Commoner's records, it is called "Bishop's Cottage," which was the name generally given to dwelling-houses in those early times. Having, as occasion required, been seasonably repaired, it is as strong and good a house to-day as can be found. Its original timbers, if kept dry and well aired, are beyond decay; and it may stand, a useful, eligible, and comely residence, through a future as long as the past. It may be doubted whether any dwelling-house now in use in this country can be carried back, by any thing like a similar strength of evidence, to an equal antiquity. Its site, in reference to the surrounding landscape, was well chosen. Here its hospitable and distinguished first proprietor lived, in the interims of his public and official service, in peace and tranquillity, until ferreted out by the intrusive spirit of an intolerant age. Here he welcomed his neighbors,—Endicott, Downing, Peters, John Winthrop, Jr., Read, and other kindred spirits.[A]

[i.73]

In the course of a mysterious providence, this venerable mansion was destined to be rendered mem[i.74]orable by its connection with the darkest scene in our annals. As that scene cannot otherwise be comprehended in all the elements that led to it, it is necessary to give the intermediate history of the Townsend Bishop farm and mansion. In 1641, Bishop sold it to Henry Chickering, who seems to have been residing for some time in Salem, and to whom, in January, 1640, a grant of land had been made by the town. He continued to own it until the 4th of October, 1648; although he does not appear to have resided on the farm long, as he soon removed to Dedham, from which place he was deputy to the General Court in 1642, and several years afterwards. He sold the farm at the above-mentioned date to Governor Endicott for one hundred and sixty pounds. In 1653, John Endicott, Jr., the eldest son of the Governor, married Elizabeth, daughter of Jeremiah Houchins, an eminent citizen of Boston, who had before resided in Hingham, which place he represented as deputy for six years. The name was pronounced "Houkins," and so perhaps was finally spelled "Hawkins." By agreement, or "articles of marriage contract," Endicott bestowed the farm upon his son. "Present possession" was given. How long, or how much of the time, the young couple lived on the estate, is not known. Their principal residence was in Boston. The General Court, in 1660, granted John Endicott,[i.75] Jr., four hundred acres of land on the eastern side of the upper part of Merrimac River. After the purchase of the farm from Chickering, the Endicott property covered nearly a thousand acres in one tract, extending from the arms of the sea to the centre of the present village of Tapleyville. On the 10th of May, 1662, the Governor executed a deed, carrying out the engagements of the marriage contract, giving to his son John, his heirs, and assigns for ever, the Bishop farm. Governor Endicott died in 1665. A will was found signed and sealed by him, dated May 2, 1659, in which, referring to the marriage gift to John, he bequeathes the aforesaid farm to "him and his heirs," but does not add, "and assigns." Another item of the will is, "The land I have bequeathed to my two sons, in one place or another, my will is that the longest liver of them shall enjoy the whole, except the Lord send them children to inherit it after them." Unfortunately, there were no witnesses to the will. It was not allowed in Probate. The matter was carried up to the General Court; and it was decided Aug. 1, 1665, that the court "do not approve of the instrument produced in court to be the last will and testament of the late John Endicott, Esq., governor." In October of the same year, John Endicott, Jr., petitioned the General Court to act on the settlement of his father's estate; and the court directs administration to be granted to "Mrs. Elizabeth Endicott and her two sons, John and Zerubabel," and that they bring in an inventory to the next county court at Boston, and[i.76] to dispose of the same as the law directs. Upon this, the widow of the Governor, and his son Zerubabel, again appeal to the General Court; and on the 23d of May, 1666, "after a full hearing of all parties concerned in the said estate, i.e., the said Mrs. Elizabeth Endicott and her two sons, Mr. John and Mr. Zerubabel Endicott, Mr. Jeremiah Houchin being also present in court, and respectively presenting their pleas and evidences in the case," it was finally decided and ordered by the court, that the provisions of the document purporting to be the will of Governor Endicott should be carried into effect, with these exceptions: that the Bishop or Chickering farm shall go to his son John "to him, his heirs and assigns for ever;" and that Elizabeth, the wife of said son John, if she should survive her husband, shall enjoy during her life all the estate of her husband in all the other houses and lands mentioned in the instrument purporting to be his father's will. The court adjudge that this must have been "the real intent of the aforesaid John Endicott, Esq., deceased, who had during his life special favor and respect for her." They give the widow of the Governor "the goods and chattels" of the said John Endicott, Esq., her late husband, provided that, if "she shall die seized to the value of more than eighty pounds sterling" thereof, the surplus shall be divided between her two sons: John to have a double portion thereof. Finally, they appoint the widow sole administratrix, and require her to bring in a true inventory to the next court for the county of Suffolk, and to pay all debts.[i.77]

John and his father-in-law had it all their own way. The decision of the court was perhaps correct, according to legal principles; although it is not so certain that it was, in all respects, in conformity with the intent of Governor Endicott. Undoubtedly, as the language of the deed shows, he had made up his mind to give to his son John and "his assigns" absolute, full, and final possession of the Bishop farm. But it seems equally certain, that he meant to have the rest of his landed estate, including the Orchard Farm and the Ipswich-river farm, go directly and wholly to the survivor, if either of his sons died without issue. The facts and dates are as follows: His son John was married in 1653. The Governor's will was made in 1659. It had then become quite probable that John might not have issue. The will gives him and his heirs, but not his assigns, the Bishop farm. In the event of his death without issue, his widow would have her dower and legal life right in it, but the final heir would be Zerubabel. In 1662, the Governor, who had, some years before, removed to Boston, where he resided the remainder of his life, executed a deed, giving to his son John, "his heirs and assigns," a full and permanent title to the Bishop farm. This was a variation of the plan for the disposition of his estate as shown in his will. He probably designed to make a new will, securing to his natural heirs, so far as his other landed property was concerned, what he had thus permitted to pass away from them in the Bishop farm; that is, the full and immediate possession by[i.78] the survivor, if either of the sons died without issue. It was a favorite idea, almost a sacred principle, in those days, to have lands go in the natural descent. The sentiment is quite apparent in the tenor of the Governor's will. When he deprived, by his deed to John in 1662, Zerubabel's family of the right to the final possession of the Bishop farm, it can hardly be doubted that he relied upon the provisions of his will to secure to them the immediate, complete possession of all his other lands, without the incumbrance of any claim of dower or otherwise of John's widow. But the pressure of public duties prevented his duly executing his will, and putting it into a new shape, in conformity with the circumstances of the case. The troubles that followed teach the necessity of the utmost caution and carefulness in that most difficult and most irremediable of all business transactions,—the attempt to continue the control of property, after death, by written instruments.

John Endicott, Jr., died in February, 1668, without issue; leaving his whole estate to his widow, "her heirs and assigns for ever." His will is dated Jan. 27, 1668, and was offered to Probate on the 29th of February, 1668. His widow married, Aug. 31, 1668, the Rev. James Allen, one of the ministers of the First Church in Boston, whose previous wife, Hannah Dummer, by whom he received five hundred acres of land, had died in March, 1668. His Endicott wife died April 5, 1673, leaving the Townsend-Bishop farm and all her other property to him; and[i.79] on the 11th of September, of the same year, he married Sarah Hawlins. By his two preceding wives he received twelve hundred acres of land. How much he got by the last-mentioned, we have no information. Besides these matrimonial accumulations, the accounts seem to indicate that he was rich before.

It may well be imagined, that it could not have been very agreeable to the family at the Orchard Farm to see this choice and extensive portion of their estate, which was within full view from their windows, swept into the hands of utter strangers in so rapid and extraordinary a manner, by a series of circumstances most distasteful and provoking. But this was but the beginning of their trouble.

On the 29th of April, 1678, Allen sold the Bishop farm to Francis Nurse, of the town of Salem, for four hundred pounds. Nurse was an early settler, and, before this purchase, had lived, for some forty years, "near Skerry's," on the North River, between the main part of the settlement in the town of Salem and the ferry to Beverly. He is described as a "tray-maker." The making of these articles, and similar objects of domestic use, was an important employment in a new country remote from foreign supply. He appears to have been a very respectable person, of great stability and energy of character, whose judgment was much relied on by his neighbors. No one is mentioned more frequently as umpire to settle disputes, or arbitrator to adjust conflicting claims. He was often on committees to determine boundaries or estimate[i.80] valuations, or on local juries to lay out highways and assess damages. The fact that he was willing to encounter the difficulties connected with such a heavy transaction as the purchase of the Bishop farm at such a price at his time of life proves that he had a spirit equal to a bold undertaking. He was then fifty-eight years of age. His wife Rebecca was fifty-seven years of age. We shall meet her again.

They had four sons,—Samuel, John, Francis, and Benjamin; and four daughters,—Rebecca, married to Thomas Preston, Mary to John Tarbell, Elizabeth to William Russell, and Sarah, who remained unmarried until after the death of her mother. With this strong force of stalwart sons and sons-in-law, and their industrious wives, Francis Nurse took hold of the farm. The terms of the purchase were so judicious and ingenious, that they are worthy of being related, and show in what manner energetic and able-bodied men, even if not possessed of capital, particularly if they could command an effective co-operation in the labor of their families, obtained possession of valuable landed estates. The purchase-money was not required to be paid until the expiration of twenty-one years. In the mean time, a moderate annual rent was fixed upon; seven pounds for each of the first twelve years, and ten pounds for each of the remaining nine years. If, at the end of the time, the amount stipulated had not been paid, or Nurse should abandon the undertaking, the property was to relapse to Allen. Disinterested and suitable men, whose appointment was[i.81] provided for, were then to estimate the value added to the estate by Nurse during his occupancy, by the clearing of meadows or erection of buildings or other permanent improvements, and all of that value over and above one hundred and fifty pounds was to be paid to him. If any part of the principal sum should be paid prior to the expiration of twenty-one years, a proportionate part of the farm was to be relieved of all obligation to Allen, vest absolutely in Nurse, and be disposable by him. By these terms, Allen felt authorized to fix a very high price for the farm, it not being payable until the lapse of a long period of time. If not paid at all, the property would come back to him, with one hundred and fifty pounds of value added to it. It was not a bad bargain for him,—a man of independent means derived from other sources, and so situated as not to be able to carry on the farm himself. It was a good investment ahead. To Nurse the terms were most favorable. He did not have to pay down a dollar at the start. The low rent required enabled him to apply almost the entire income from the farm to improvements that would make it more and more productive. Before half the time had elapsed, a value was created competent to discharge the whole sum due to Allen. His children severally had good farms within the bounds of the estate, were able to assume with ease their respective shares of the obligations of the purchase; and the property was thus fully secured within the allotted time. Allen gave, at the beginning, a full deed, in the ordinary form, which[i.82] was recorded in this county. Nurse gave a duly executed bond, in which the foregoing conditions are carefully and clearly defined. That was recorded in Suffolk County; and nothing, perhaps, was known in the neighborhood, at the time or ever after, of the terms of the transaction. When the success of the enterprise was fully secured, Nurse conveyed to his children the larger half of the farm, reserving the homestead and a convenient amount of land in his own possession. The plan of this division shows great fairness and judgment, and was entirely satisfactory to them all. They were required, by the deeds he gave them, to maintain a roadway by which they could communicate with each other and with the old parental home.

Here the venerable couple were living in truly patriarchal style, occupying the "mansion" of Townsend Bishop, when the witchcraft delusion occurred. They and their children were all clustered within the limits of the three-hundred-acre farm. They were one family. The territory was their own, secured by their united action, and made commodious, productive, valuable, and beautiful to behold, by their harmonious, patient, and persevering labor. Each family had a homestead, and fields and gardens; and children were growing up in every household. The elder sons and sons-in-law had become men of influence in the affairs of the church and village. It was a scene of domestic happiness and prosperity rarely surpassed. The work of life having been successfully done, it seemed that a peaceful and serene descent into the vale of years was[i.83] secured to Francis and Rebecca Nurse. But far otherwise was the allotment of a dark and inscrutable providence.

There is some reason to suspect that the prosperity of the Nurses had awakened envy and jealousy among the neighbors. The very fact that they were a community of themselves and by themselves, may have operated prejudicially. To have a man, who, for forty years, had been known, in the immediate vicinity, as a farmer and mechanic on a small scale, without any pecuniary means, get possession of such a property, and spread out his family to such an extent, was inexplicable to all, and not relished perhaps by some. There seems to have been a disposition to persist in withholding from him the dignity of a landholder; and, long after he had distributed his estate among his descendants, it is mentioned in deeds made by parties that bounded upon it, as "the farm which Mr. Allen, of Boston, lets to the Nurses." Not knowing probably any thing about it, they call it, even after Nurse's death, "Mr. Allen's farm." This, however, was a slight matter. When Allen sold the farm to Nurse, he bound himself to defend the title; and he was true to his bond. What was required to be done in this direction may, perhaps, have exposed the Nurses to animosities which afterwards took terrible effect against them.

In granting lands originally, neither the General Court nor the town exercised sufficient care to define boundaries. There does not appear to have been any well-arranged system, based upon elaborate, accurate,[i.84] scientific surveys. Of the dimensions of the area of a rough, thickly wooded, unfrequented country, the best estimates of the most practised eyes, and measurements resting on mere exploration or perambulation, are very unreliable. The consequence was, that, in many cases, grants were found to overlap each other. This was the case with the Bishop farm; and soon after Nurse came into possession, and had begun to operate upon it, a conflict commenced; trespasses were complained of; suits were instituted; and one of the most memorable and obstinately contested land-controversies known to our courts took place. In that controversy Nurse was not formally a principal. The case was between James Allen and Zerubabel Endicott, or between Allen and Nathaniel Putnam.

An inspection of the map, at this point, will enable us to understand the grounds on which the suit was contested. The Orchard Farm was granted to Endicott, as has been stated, July 3, 1632, by the General Court. The grant states the bounds on the south and on the north to be two rivers; on the east, another river, into which they both flow; and, on the west, the mainland. Where this western line was to strike the rivers on the north and south is not specified; but the natural interpretation would seem to be, in the absence of any thing to the contrary, that it was to strike them at their respective heads. The evidence of all persons who were conversant with the premises during the life of the Governor as connected with the farm was unanimous and conclusive to[i.85] this point; that is, that he and they always supposed that the west line was, as drawn on the map, from the head of one river to the head of the other; that the farm embraced all between them as far up as the tide set. It was objected, on the other side, that this made the farm much more than three hundred acres; but as an offset to that was the fact, that a considerable part of the area was swamp or marsh, not usually taken into the account in reckoning the extent of a grant, and the additional fact, that the language of the General Court in reference to quantity was not precise,—"about" three hundred acres. At the same date with the grant to Endicott, the General Court granted two hundred acres to Mr. Skelton, which tract is given on the map.

As has been stated, the General Court conferred upon the towns the exclusive right to dispose of the lands within their limits, March 3, 1635. On the 10th of December of that year, the town of Salem granted to Robert Cole the tract of three hundred acres subsequently purchased by Emanuel Downing, which is indicated on the map. On the 11th of January, 1636, the grant of three hundred acres was made to Townsend Bishop. Its language is unfortunately obscure in some expressions; but it is clear, that the tract was to be four hundred rods in length, one hundred and twenty-four rods in width at the western end, and one hundred and sixteen rods at the eastern. At the north-east corner it was to meet the water or brook that separated it from the grant to Skelton; and it[i.86] was also to "but" upon, or touch, at the eastern end, the land granted to Endicott by the General Court. After the grant to Bishop, the town, from time to time, made grants to Stileman of land north of the Bishop grant. Stileman's grants adjoined Skelton's at the north-eastern corner of the Bishop farm. That part of Stileman's land had come into possession of Nathaniel Putnam, and the residue westwardly, together with the grant to Weston, into the possession of Hutchinson, Houlton, and Ingersol. Still further west, the town had made grants to Swinnerton. Their respective locations are given in the map. The point of difficulty which gave rise to litigation was this: The Bishop farm was required, by the terms of the grant, to be one hundred and sixteen rods wide at its eastern end. But there was no room for it. The requisite width could not be got without encroaching upon either Putnam or Endicott, or both. As Endicott stood upon an earlier title than that of Bishop, and from a higher authority, and Putnam upon a later title from an inferior authority, the court of trials might have disposed of the matter, at the opening, on that ground, and Putnam been left to suffer the encroachment. But it did not so decide; and the case went on. The struggle was between Endicott to push it north, and thereby save his Orchard Farm, and the land between it and the Bishop grant, given by the town to his father, called the Governor's Plain, and Nathaniel Putnam to push it south, and thereby save the land he had received from his wife's father, Rich[i.87]ard Hutchinson, who had purchased from Stileman. Allen stood on the defensive against both of them. The Nurses had nothing to do but to attend to their own business, carrying on their farming operations up to the limits of their deed, looking to Allen for redress, if, in the end, the dimensions of their estate should be curtailed. But, being the occupants, and, until finally ousted, the owners of the land, if there was any intrusion to be repelled, or violence to be met, or fighting to be done, they were the ones to do it. They were equal to the situation.

After various trials in the courts of law in all possible shapes, the whole subject was carried up to the General Court, where it was decided, in conformity with the report of a special commission in May, 1679, substantially in favor of Putnam and Allen. Endicott petitioned for a new hearing. Another commission was appointed; and their report was accepted in May, 1682. It was more unfavorable to Endicott than the previous one. He protested against the judgment of the court in earnest but respectful language, and petitioned for still another hearing. They again complied with his request, and appointed a day for once more examining the case; but, when the day came, Nov. 24, 1683, he was sick in bed, and the case was settled irrevocably against him.

The map gives the lines of the Bishop farm as finally settled by the General Court. It will be noticed, that it is laid directly across the Governor's Plain, and runs far into the Orchard Farm "up to the rocks[i.88] near Endicott's dwelling-house," or, as it is otherwise stated, "within a few rods of Guppy's ditch, near to" the said house. It may be said to have been a necessity, as the original three hundred acres of the grant to Townsend Bishop had to be made up. It could not go north; for Houlton and Ingersol stood upon the Weston grant, and Hutchinson and Nathaniel Putnam stood upon Stileman's grants, to push it back. It could not go west or south-west, for there Swinnerton stood to fend off upon his grants; and there, too, was Nathaniel Putnam, upon his own grant, and lands he had purchased of another original grantee. It could not be swung round to the south without jamming up the lands of Felton and others, or pushing them over the grants, made to Robert Cole—under which Downing had purchased—and to Thomas Read. All these parties were combined to force it south-eastwardly over the grounds of Endicott. Nathaniel Putnam was his most fatal antagonist. He was a man of remarkable energy, of consummate adroitness, and untiring resources in such a transaction; and he so managed to press in the bounds of the Bishop farm, at the north-east, as to gain a valuable strip for himself. With this strong man against him, acting in combination with the rich and influential James Allen, minister of the great metropolitan First Church, and licenser of the press, who brought the whole power of his clerical and social connections in Boston and throughout the colony to bear upon the General Court, Zerubabel Endicott had no chance for justice, and no redress for[i.89] wrong. In vain he invoked the memory of his father, or of Winthrop, the grandfather of his wife. His father and both the Winthrops had long before left the scene: a new generation had risen, and there was none to help him.

One would have supposed, that the General Court, which had granted the Orchard Farm to Governor Endicott, would have felt bound, in self-respect and in honor, to have protected it against any overlapping grants subsequently made by an inferior authority. Under the circumstances of the case, it was its duty to have held the Orchard Farm intact, and made it up to the satisfaction of Allen and Nurse by a grant elsewhere, or an equitable compensation in money. It owed so much to the son of Endicott and the grand-daughter of Winthrop, the first noble Fathers of the colony. Perhaps the court found its justification in the phraseology of the deed of conveyance of the Bishop farm from Governor Endicott to his son John. After reciting or referring to the original town grant to Bishop, and the deeds from Bishop to Chickering, and from Chickering to himself, the Governor conveys to his son John all the houses, &c., and every part and parcel of the land "to the utmost extent thereof, according as is expressed or included in either of the forecited deeds, or town grant." It was maintained, and justly, by Allen, that he held all that was conveyed to John Endicott, Jr. But the Court had no right to encroach upon the Orchard Farm, which had[i.90] been granted to the Governor by them prior to all deeds and to the town grant to Bishop.

Never did that deep and sagacious observation on the mysteries of human nature, "Men's judgments are a parcel of their fortunes," receive a more striking or melancholy illustration than in the case of Zerubabel Endicott. With his falling fortunes, his judgment and discretion fell also; his mind, maddened by a sense of wrong, seemed bent upon exposing itself to new wrongs. Having been broken down by lawsuits, that had wasted his estate, he seemed to have acquired a blind passion for them. Having destroyed his peace and embarrassed his affairs in attempts to resist the adjudications of the Court, he persisted in struggling against them. He had tried to push the Bishop grant west, over the land of Nathaniel Putnam in that quarter. The highest tribunal had settled it against him. But he appeared to be incapable of realizing the fact. He sent his hired men to cut timber on that land. They worked there some days, felled a large number of trees, and hewed them into beams and joists for the frame of a house. One morning, returning to their work, there was no timber to be found; logs, framework, and all, were gone. They were carefully piled up a mile away, by the side of Putnam's dwelling-house, who had sent two teams, one of four oxen, the other of two oxen and a horse, with an adequate force of men, and in two loadings had cleaned out the whole. Endicott of course sued him, and of course was cast.

When the General Court had consented to give him[i.91] a rehearing of the case of the Bishop farm, they expressly forbade his making any "strip" of the land in the mean while. But with the infatuation which seemed to possess him, and not heeding how fatally it would prejudice his cause at the impending hearing to violate the order of the Court, he again sent a gang of men to cut wood on the land in controversy. The following shows the result:—

"Hugh Jones, aged 46 years, and Alexius Reinolds, aged 25 years, testify and say, that we, these deponents, being desired by Mr. Zerubabel Endicott to cut up some wood, for his winter firewood, accordingly went with our teams, which had four oxen and a horse; and there we met with several other teams of our neighbors, which were upon the same account, that is to say, to help carry up Mr. Endicott some wood for his winter firewood, and when we had loaded our sleds, Thomas Preston and John Tarbell came in a violent manner, and hauled the wood out of our sleds; and Francis Nurse, being present, demanded whose men we were. Mr. Endicott, being present, answered, they were his men."

These witnesses testify that this "battle of the wilderness" lasted two days,—Endicott's men cutting the wood and loading the teams, and Nurse's men pitching it off. The altercations and conflicts that took place between the parties during those two days may easily be imagined. Whether there was a final, decisive pitched battle, we are not informed. Perhaps there was. The woods rang with rough echoes, we may be well assured. A lawsuit followed; the result could not be in doubt. Endicott had no right there;[i.92] he was there in direct violation of the order of Court. Nurse was in possession, had a right, and was bound, to keep the land from being stripped.

Shortly after this, Endicott broke down, under the difficulties that had accumulated around him. On the 24th of November, 1683, as we have seen, he was "sick in bed." Two days before,—that is, on the 22d of November,—he had made his will, which was presented in court on the 27th of March, 1684. He was game to the last; for this is an item of the will:—

"Whereas my late father, by his last will, bequeathed to me his farm called Bishop's or Chickering's farm, I do give the said farm to my five sons, to be equally divided among them."

The will of his father had been declared invalid on that point, and others. The whole thing had been conclusively settled for years; but he never would recognize the fact. It is a singular instance of an obstinacy of will completely superseding and suppressing the reason and the judgment. He lost the perception of the actual and real, in clinging to what he felt to be the right.

Every association and sentiment of his soul had been shocked by the wrongs he had suffered. He could not walk over his fields, or look from his windows, without feeling that a property which his father had given to his brother had, in a manner that he knew would have been as odious to that father as it was to him, passed into the hands of strangers, and been used as a wedge on which everybody had conspired to deal blows,[i.93] driving it into the centre of his patrimonial acres, splitting and rending them through and through. He brooded over the thought, until, whenever his mind was turned to it, his reason was dethroned, his heart broken, and under its weight he fell into his grave.

An argument addressed by him to the court and jury, in one of the innumerable trials of the Bishop-farm case, is among the papers on file. It appears to be a verbatim report of the speech as it was delivered at the time, and proves him to have been a man of talents. It is courteous, gentlemanly, and, I might say, scholarly in its diction and style, skilful in its statements, and forcible in its arguments.

In all the earlier trials, the juries uniformly gave verdicts in favor of Endicott; but Allen carried the cases up to the General Court, which exercised a final and unrestrained jurisdiction in all matters referred to it. It usually appointed committees or commissioners to examine such questions, accepted their reports, and made them binding. Lands were thus disposed of without the agency, and against the decisions, of juries. In his arguments addressed to the General Court, Zerubabel Endicott protested against this jurisdiction, by which his lands were taken from him "by a committee, in an arbitrary way, being neither bound nor sworn by law or evidence." He boldly denounced it.

"To be disseized of my inheritance; to be judged by three or four committee-men, who are neither bound to law nor evidence,—who are, or may be, mutable in their apprehensions,[i.94] doing one thing to-day, and soon again undoing what they did,—I conceive, to be judged in such an arbitrary way is repugnant to the fundamental law of England contained in Magna Charta, chap. 29, which says no freeman shall be disseized of his freehold but by the lawful judgment of his peers,—that is to say, by due process of law; which was also confirmed by the Petition of Right, by Act of Parliament, tertio Caroli I. And also such arbitrary jurisdiction was exploded in putting down the Star-Chamber Court; and the excessive fines imposed upon all such actings. See 'English Liberties,' as also the fourth and sixth articles against the Earl of Strafford in Baker's 'Chronicle,' folio 518."

He closes one of his remonstrances thus:—

"The humble request of your petitioner to the Hon. Gen. Court, that, as an Englishman,—as a freeman of this jurisdiction; as descended from him who, in his time, sought the welfare of this commonwealth,—I may have the benefit and protection of the wholesome laws established in this jurisdiction: that, in my extreme wrong, I may have liberty to seek relief in a way of law, and may not, contrary to Magna Charta, be disseized of my freehold by the arbitrary act of two or three committee-men; the fundamental law of England knowing no such constitution, abhorring such administrations: and that the Hon. Court would release your petitioner from the injurious effects of the said committee's act, and explode so pernicious a precedent."

Zerubabel Endicott was an imprudent and obstinate man, but had the traits of a generous, ardent, and noble character. He was a physician by profession. His second wife—the widow, as has been stated, of Rev. Antipas Newman, of Wenham, and daughter of[i.95] John Winthrop, Jr., governor of Connecticut—survived him. Although he left five sons, the name, at one time, was borne by a single descendant only, a lad of seven years of age,—Samuel, a grandson of Zerubabel. On him it hung suspended, but he saved it. From that boy, those who bear the name in New England have been derived. We rejoice to believe that they will preserve it, and keep its honor bright.

Winthrop was recognized as the great leader in the early history of the Colony. He had a combination of qualities that marked him as a wise and good man, and gave him precedence. The eminent dignity of his character was admired and revered by all. No one was more ready to admit this than Endicott. Never were men placed towards each other in relations more severely testing their magnanimity, and none ever bore the test more perfectly. But Endicott was, after all, the most complete representative man of that generation. He was thoroughly identified with the people, participating in their virtues and in their defects. He was a strict religionist, a sturdy Puritan, a firm administrator of the law; at the same time, there are indications that he was of a genial spirit. He was personally brave, and officially intrepid. His administration of the government required nerve, and he had it. Sometimes the ardor of his temperament put him for a moment off his guard; but he was quick to acknowledge his error. He was true to the people, who never faltered in their fidelity to him. The author of "Wonder-working Providence" de[i.96]scribed him as "a fit instrument to begin the wilderness worke, of courage bold undaunted, yet sociable and of a cheerful spirit." I have presented some instances of his kind and pleasant relations with his workmen and neighbors. His name will ever be held in honored remembrance in this vicinity, where his useful enterprise was appreciated; and his descendants in our day, and to the present time, have contributed to the prosperity and the adornment of the community.

It is not unlikely, that hostile feelings towards the Nurses, which contributed afterwards to serious results, may have been engendered in this long-continued land quarrel. There is evidence that no such feeling existed on the part of the Endicotts: but there were many others interested; for, by testimony at the trials and in outside discussions, the whole community had become more or less implicated in the strife. The Nurses, as holding the ground and having to bear the brunt of defending it in all cases of intrusion, had a difficult position, and may have made some enemies. At any rate, this controversy was one of the means of stirring up animosities in the neighborhood; and an account of it has been deemed necessary, as contributing to indicate the elements of the awful convulsions which soon afterwards desolated Salem Village.

When we reach the story, for which this account of the farms of the village and the population that grew up on them is a preparative, we shall come back to the Townsend-Bishop grant, and to the house, still standing, that he built and dwelt in, upon it. It may be[i.97] well to pause, and view its interesting history prior to 1692. While occupied by its original owner, the "mansion," or "cottage," was the scene of social intercourse among the choicest spirits of the earliest age of New England. Here Bishop, and, after him, Chickering, entertained their friends. Here the fine family of Richard Ingersoll was brought up. Here Governor Endicott projected plans for opening the country; and the road that passes its entrance-gate was laid out by him. To this same house, young John Endicott brought his youthful Boston bride. Here she came again, fifteen years afterwards, as the bride of the learned and distinguished James Allen, to show him the farm which, received as a "marriage gift" from her former husband, she had brought as a "marriage gift" to him. Here the same Allen, in less than six years afterwards, brought still another bride. In all these various, and some of them rather rapid, changes, it was, no doubt, often the resort of distinguished guests, and the place of meeting of many pleasant companies. During the protracted years of litigation for its possession, frequent consultations were held within it; and now, for twelve years, it had been the home of a happy, harmonious, and prosperous family, exemplifying the industry, energy, and enterprise of a New England household. A new chapter was destined, as we shall see, to be opened in its singular and diversified history. But we must return to the enumeration of the original landholders of the village.[i.98]

George Corwin came to Salem in 1638. He had large tracts of land in various places. He lived, a part of his time, on his farm in the village; is found to have taken an active part in the proceedings of the people, particularly in military affairs; and was captain of a company of cavalry. His great mercantile transactions probably led him to have his residence mostly in the town, first on a lot on Washington Street, near the corner of Norman Street, where his grandson the sheriff lived in 1692. In 1660, he bought of Ann, the relict of Nicholas Woodbury, a lot on Essex Street, next east of the Browne Block, with a front of about one hundred and fifty feet. Here he built a fine mansion, in which he lived the remainder of his days. He died Jan. 6, 1685, leaving an estate inventoried at £5,964. 10s. 7d.,—a large fortune for those times. His portrait is preserved by his descendants, one of whom, the late George A. Ward, describes his dress as represented in the picture: "A wrought flowing neckcloth, a sash covered with lace, a coat with short cuffs and reaching half-way between the wrist and elbow; the skirts in plaits below; an octagon ring and cane." The last two articles are still preserved. His inventory mentions "a silver-laced cloth coat, a velvet ditto, a satin waistcoat embroidered with gold, a trooping scarf and silver hat-band, golden-topped and embroidered, and a silver-headed cane." His farms in the vicinity contained fifteen hundred acres. His connections were distinguished, and his descendants have included many eminent persons. The name, by male[i.99] descent, disappeared for a time in this part of the country; but in the last generation it was restored in the female descent by an act of the Legislature, and is honorably borne by one of our most respectable families, who inherit his blood, and cherish the memorials which time has spared of their first American ancestor.

William Hathorne appears on the church records as early as 1636. He died in June, 1681, seventy-four years of age. No one in our annals fills a larger space. As soldier commanding important and difficult expeditions, as counsel in cases before the courts, as judge on the bench, and in innumerable other positions requiring talent and intelligence, he was constantly called to serve the public. He was distinguished as a public speaker, and is the only person, I believe, of that period, whose reputation as an orator has come down to us. He was an Assistant, that is, in the upper branch of the Legislature, seventeen years. He was a deputy twenty years. When the deputies, who before sat with the assistants, were separated into a distinct body, and the House of Representatives thus came into existence, in 1644, Hathorne was their first Speaker. He occupied the chair, with intermediate services on the floor from time to time, until raised to the other House. He was an inhabitant of Salem Village, having his farm there, and a dwelling-house, in which he resided when his legislative, military, and other official duties permitted. His son John, who succeeded him in all his public honors, also lived on his own farm in the village[i.100] a great part of the time. The name is indelibly stamped on the hills and meadows of the region, as it was in the civil history of that age, and has been in the elegant literature of the present.

William Trask was one of what are called the "First Planters." He came over before Endicott, had his residence on Salem Farms, was a most energetic, enterprising, and useful citizen, and filled a great variety of public stations. He brought large tracts of land under culture, planted orchards, and established mills at the head of tide-water on the North River. He was the military leader of the first age of the plantations in this neighborhood, was captain of the train-band from the beginning, and, by his gallantry and energy in action, commanded the applause of his contemporaries. For his services in the Pequot Expedition, the General Court gave him and his associates large grants of land. His obsequies were celebrated, on the 16th of May, 1666, with great military parade; and the people of the town and the whole surrounding country followed his honored remains to the grave.

Richard Davenport came to Salem in 1631. His first residence was in the town; but soon he was led to the Farms. In 1636, he received a grant of eighty acres; in 1638, of two hundred and twenty acres; and, in 1642, eighty acres more, to be divided between him and Captain Lothrop. Besides these, he received several smaller grants of meadow and salt marsh. Such grants were made only with the view of having[i.101] them duly improved; and it cannot be doubted that he was zealously engaged in agricultural operations. His town residence was on a lot reaching from Essex Street to the North River. Its front extended from the grounds now the site of the North Church to North Street. His house stood at some distance back from Essex Street. This estate was sold by his administrators, in 1674, to Jonathan Corwin, whose family occupied it until a very recent period. He left the town in 1643, and subsequently lived in what was afterwards Salem Village, until the public service called him away. He sold some of his estates, but retained others, on the Farms and in the town, to the time of his death. He continued the superintendence of his country estate, which seems to have been his family home, to the last. His military career gave him early distinction, and closed only with his life. In 1634, the General Court chose him "Ensign to Capt. Trask." He was concerned with Endicott in cutting out the cross from the king's colors. The following is from the record of a meeting of the court, Nov. 7, 1634: "It is ordered that Ensign Davenport shall be sent for by warrant, with command to bring his colors with him to the next court, as also any other that hath defaced the said colors." Davenport did not seem anxious to cover up his agency in this matter; for, when he offered his next child to baptism, he signified to the assembly that he was determined to commemorate and perpetuate the memory of the transaction, by having her christened "True[i.102] Cross." It was necessary to make a show of punishing Endicott and Davenport on this occasion, to prevent trouble from the home government. Soon after, we find the General Court heaping honors upon Davenport, and finally, in 1639, making him a grant of one hundred and fifty acres of land, specially noticing his services in the Pequot War, which appear to have elicited general applause. In some desperate encounters with the savages, seventeen arrows were shot "into his coat of mail," and he was wounded in unprotected parts of his person. He was twice deputy to the General Court. In 1644, the General Court organized an elaborate system of external defence, the whole based upon Castle Island, now Fort Independence, in Boston Harbor. From that point, hostile invasion by a naval force was to be repelled. Every vessel, on entering, was to report to the castle, be examined and subject to the orders of the commandant. It became the military headquarters of the colony, the protection and oversight of whose commerce were intrusted to the officer in command. This was the highest military station and trust in the gift of the Government. It was assigned to Richard Davenport; and he held it for twenty-one years, to the moment of his death. The country reposed in confidence upon his watchful fidelity. He put and kept the castle in an efficient condition. In 1659, as evidence of their satisfaction and approval of his official conduct, the General Court made him a grant of five hundred acres of land laid out in Lancaster. On the 15th of July, 1665, he was killed by[i.103] lightning, at his post. The records of the General Court speak of "the solemn stroke of thunder that took away Captain Davenport." The whole country mourned the loss of the veteran soldier; and the Court granted his family an additional tract of one hundred acres of land on the Merrimac River. He was in his sixtieth year at the time of his death. Of the company required to be raised in Salem for the Block-Island Expedition, in 1636, the three commissioned officers were furnished from the Farms,—Trask, Davenport, and Read. They were soldiers by nature and instinct, and to the end. The volleys of devoted, faithful, and mourning comrades were fired over their graves, with no great interval of time. United in early service, separated by the course of their lives, they were united again in death.

Thomas Lothrop originally lived in the town, between Collins Cove and the North River. He became a member of the First Church in Salem, and was admitted a freeman in 1634. He soon removed to the Farms; and his name appears among the rate-payers at the formation of the village parish. For many years he was deputy from Salem to the General Court; and after Beverly was set off, as his residence at the time was on that side of the line, he was always in the General Court, as deputy from the new town, when his other public employments permitted. No man was ever more identified with the history of the Salem Farms. He contributed to form the structure of its society, and the character of its population, by all that[i.104] a wise and good man could do. During his whole life in America, he was more or less engaged in the military service, in arduous, difficult, and dangerous positions and operations; acting sometimes against Indians, and sometimes against the French, or, as was usually the case, against them both combined. He was occasionally sent to distant posts; commanding expeditions to the eastward as far as Acadia. He was at one time in charge of a force at Port Royal, now Annapolis, Nova Scotia. Increase Mather calls him a "godly and courageous commander." When the last decisive struggle with King Philip was approaching, and aid was needed from the eastern part of the colony to rescue the settlements on the Connecticut River from utter destruction, the "Flower of Essex" was summoned to the field. It was a choice body of efficient men, "all culled out of the towns belonging to this county," numbering about one hundred men. Lothrop, of course, was their captain. In August, 1675, they were on the ground at Hadley, the place of rendezvous. On the 26th of that month, Captain Lothrop, with his company, and Captain Beers, of Watertown, with his, after a vigorous pursuit, attacked the Indians in a swamp, about ten miles from Hatfield, at the foot of Sugar-Loaf Hill. Ten were killed on the side of the English, and twenty-six on the side of the Indians, who were driven from the swamp, and scattered in their flight; to fall, as was their custom, upon detached settlements; and continuing to waste and destroy, by fire and sword, with[i.105] hatchet, scalping-knife, torch, and gun. On the 18th of September, Lothrop, with his company, started from Deerfield, to convoy a train of eighteen wagons, loaded with grain, and furniture of the inhabitants seeking refuge from danger, with teamsters and others. Moseley, with his men, remained behind, to scout the woods, and give notice of the approach of Indians; but the stealthy savages succeeded in effecting a complete surprise, and fell upon Lothrop as his wagons were crossing a stream. They poured in a destructive fire from the woods, in all directions. They were seven to one. A perfect carnage ensued. Lothrop fell early in the unequal fight, and only seven or eight of his whole party were left to tell the story of the fatal scene. The locality of this disastrous and sanguinary tragedy has ever since been known as "Bloody Brook." In the list of those who perished by bullet, tomahawk, or arrow, on that fearful morning, we read the names of many village neighbors of the brave and lamented commander,—Thomas Bayley, Edward Trask, Josiah Dodge, Peter Woodbury, Joseph Balch, Thomas Buckley, Joseph King, Robert Wilson, and James Tufts. One of Lothrop's sergeants, who was among the slain, Thomas Smith, then of Newbury, originated in the village. His family had grants of land, including the hill called by their name.

Captain Lothrop was as remarkable for the benevolence of his spirit and the tenderness of his nature as for his wisdom in council, energy in command, or gallantry in battle. Indeed, his character in private life[i.106] was so beautiful and lovable, that I cannot refrain from leading you into the recesses of his domestic circle. It presents a picture of rare attractiveness. He had no children. His wife was a kind and amiable person. They longed for objects upon which to gratify the yearnings of their affectionate hearts. He had a large estate. His character became known to the neighbors and the country people around. If there was an occurrence calling for commiseration anywhere in the vicinity, it was managed to bring it to his notice. Orphan children were received into his household, and brought up with parental care and tenderness. Many were, in this way, the objects of his charity and affections. Persons especially, who were in any degree connected with his wife's family, naturally conceived the desire to have him adopt their children. This was the case particularly with those who were in straitened circumstances. Others, knowing his disposition, would bring tales of distress and destitution to his ears. Some, perhaps, turned out to be unworthy of his goodness. In one instance, at least, where he had taken a child into his family in its infancy, touched by appeals made to his compassion by the parents, brought it up carefully, watched over its education, and become attached to it, when it had reached an age to be serviceable, the parents claimed and insisted on their right to it, and took it away, much against his will. But the good man's benevolence was not impaired, nor the stream of his affectionate charities checked, by the misconduct[i.107] or ingratitude of his wards or of their friends. His plan was to do all the good in his power to the children thus brought into his family, to prepare them for usefulness, and start them favorably in life. In the case of boys, he would get them apprenticed to worthy people in useful callings. At the time of his death, there were two grown-up members of his family, who appear to have been foisted upon his care in their earliest childhood. But there was no blame to be attached to them in the premises; and they were regarded by him with much affection. There were no relations of his own in this country in need of charitable aid or without adequate parental protection; and it was not strange that several of his wife's connections should have availed themselves of the benefit of his generous disposition. She herself gives a very interesting account of an instance of this sort, in a deposition found wrapped up among some old papers in the county court-house. The object of the statement was to explain how a connection of hers became domesticated in the family.

"When the child's mother was dead, my husband being with me at my cousin's burial, and seeing our friends in so sad a condition, the poor babe having lost its mother, and the woman that nursed it being fallen sick, I then did say to some of my friends, that, if my husband would give me leave, I could be very willing to take my cousin's little one for a while, till he could better dispose of it; whereupon the child's father did move it to my husband. My dear husband, considering my weakness, and the incumbrance I had in the family,[i.108] was pleased to return this answer,—that he did not see how it was possible for his wife to undergo such a burden. The next day there came a friend to our house, a woman which gave suck, and she understanding how the poor babe was left, being intreated, was willing to take it to nurse, and forthwith it was brought to her: but it had not been with her three weeks before it pleased the Lord to visit that nurse with sickness also; and the nurse's mother came to me desiring I would take the child from her daughter, and then my dear husband, observing the providence of God, was freely willing to receive her into his house."

At the time when this addition was made to his family, there was certainly already in it another of his wife's connections, who had been brought there when an infant in a manner perhaps equally singular, and who had grown up to maturity. The particular "incumbrance," however, spoken of by her, related to another matter. She was an only daughter. Her father had died many years before, at quite an advanced age. Her mother, who was sickly and infirm as well as aged, was taken immediately into her family, and remained under her roof until her death. In her weak and helpless condition, much care and exertion were thrown upon her daughter. The only objection the captain seemed to have to increasing the burden of the household, by receiving into it this additional child with its nurse, resulted from conjugal tenderness and considerateness. It must be confessed that there are some indications of well-arranged management in the foregoing account. The friend who happened to[i.109] call at the house the "next day," and who was able to supply what the "poor babe" needed, certainly came very opportunely; and there was altogether a remarkable concurrence and sequence of circumstances. But all that he saw was a case of suffering, helpless innocence, and an opportunity for benevolence and charity; and in these, with a true theology, he read "a providence of God." That child continued, to the hour when he took his last farewell of his family, beneath his roof, and was an object of affectionate care, and in her amiable qualities a source of happiness to him and his good wife. It is stated that the children, thus from time to time domesticated in the family, called him father, and that he addressed them as his children. While they were infants, he was "a tender nursing father" to them. When fondling them in his arms, in the presence of his wife, he would solemnly take notice of the providence of God that had "disposed of them from one place to another" until they had been brought to him; and "would present them in his desires to God, and implore a blessing upon them."

The picture presented in the foregoing details is worth rescuing from oblivion. Such instances of actual life, exhibited in the most private spheres, constitute a branch of history more valuable, in some respects, than the public acts of official dignitaries. History has been too exclusively confined, in its materials, to the movements of states and of armies. It ought to paint the portraits of individual men and[i.110] women in their common lives; it ought to lead us into the interior of society, and introduce us to the family circles and home experiences of the past. It cannot but do us good to know Thomas Lothrop, not only as an early counsellor among the legislators of the colony, and as having immortalized by his blood a memorable field of battle and slaughter, but as the centre of a happy and virtuous household on a New England farm. He made that home happy by his benignant virtue. Although denied the blessing of children of his own, his fireside was enlivened with the prattle and gayeties of the young. Joy and hope and growth were within his walls. He was not a parent; but his heart was kept warm with parental affections. He had a home where dear ones waited for him, and rushed out to meet and cling round him with loving arms, and welcome him with merry voices, when he returned from the sessions of the General Court, or from campaigns against the French and Indians.

Besides these offices of beneficence in the domestic sphere, we find traces, in the local records, of constant usefulness and kindness among his rural neighbors. He was called, on all occasions, to advise and assist. As a judicious friend, he was relied upon and sought at the bedside of the sick and dying, and in families bereaved of their head. His name appears as a witness to wills, appraiser of estates, trustee and guardian of the young. He was the friend of all. I know not where to find a more perfect union of the hero and[i.111] the Christian; of all that is manly and chivalrous with all that is tender, benevolent, and devout.

Somewhere about the year 1650, after he had been married a considerable time, he revisited his native country. A sister, Ellen, had, in the mean while, grown up from early childhood; and he found her all that a fond brother could have hoped for. With much persuasion, he besought his mother to allow her to return with him to America. He stated that he had no children; that he would be a father to her, and watch over and care for her as for his own child. At length the mother yielded, and committed her daughter to his custody, not without great reluctance, trusting to his fraternal affection and plighted promise. He brought her over with him to his American home. She was worthy of his love, and he was true to his sacred and precious trust.

Ellen Lothrop became the wife of Ezekiel Cheever, the great schoolmaster; and I should consider myself false to all good learning, if I allowed the name of this famous old man to slip by, without pausing to pay homage to it. His record, as a teacher of a Latin Grammar School, is unrivalled. Twelve years at New Haven, eleven at Ipswich, nine at Charlestown, and more than thirty-eight at Boston,—more than seventy in all,—may it not be safely said that he was one of the very greatest benefactors of America? With Elijah Corlett, who taught a similar school at Cambridge for more than forty years, he bridged over the wide chasm between the education brought with them[i.112] by the fathers from the old country, and the education that was reared in the new. They fed and kept alive the lamp of learning through the dark age of our history. All the scholars raised here were trained by them. One of Cotton Mather's most characteristic productions is the tribute to his venerated master. It flows from a heart warm with gratitude. "Although he had usefully spent his life among children, yet he was not become twice a child," but held his faculties to the last. "In this great work of bringing our sons to be men, he was my master seven and thirty years ago, was master to my betters no less than seventy years ago; so long ago, that I must even mention my father's tutor for one of them. He was a Christian of the old fashion,—an old New England Christian; and I may tell you, that was as venerable a sight, as the world, since the days of primitive Christianity, has ever looked upon. He lived, as a master, the term which has been, for above three thousand years, assigned for the life of a man." Mather celebrated his praises in a poetical effusion:—

"He lived, and to vast age no illness knew,
Till Time's scythe, waiting for him, rusty grew.
He lived and wrought; his labors were immense,
But ne'er declined to preterperfect tense.

* * * * *

'Tis Corlett's pains, and Cheever's, we must own,
That thou, New England, art not Scythia grown."

To our early schoolmasters, as Mather says, and the later too, I may add, it is owing, that the whole country did not become another Scythia.[i.113]

Ezekiel Cheever was in this country as early as 1637. He was then in New Haven, sharing in the work of the first settlement of that colony, teaching school as his ordinary employment, but sometimes preaching, and in other ways helping to lay the foundations of church and commonwealth. While there, he had a family of several children. The first-born, Samuel, became the minister of Marblehead. In 1650, he was keeping a school at Ipswich. About this time, he lost his wife. On the 18th of November, 1652, he married Ellen, the sister whom Captain Lothrop had brought with him from England. They had several children; one of them, Thomas, was ordained first at Malden, and afterwards at Chelsea. The old schoolmaster died on the 21st of August, 1708, aged ninety-three years and seven months. His son Thomas reached the same age. Samuel, the minister at Marblehead, was eighty-five years old at his death. The name of Ezekiel, jr., appears on the rate-list of the village parish as late as 1731, so that he must have reached the age of at least seventy-seven years.

The antiquarians have been sorely perplexed in determining the relationship of the Cheevers and Reas, as they appear to be connected together as heirs of the Lothrop property, in an order of the General Court of the 11th of June, 1681.

The facts are these: Captain Lothrop married Bethia, daughter of Daniel Rea. He died without issue, and had made no will. As he was killed in battle, his widow undertook to set up a nuncupative[i.114] will. A snow-storm, on the day appointed to act upon the matter, so blocked up the roads, that neither Ezekiel Cheever nor his son Thomas, who had charge of his mother's rights, could get to Salem; and the court granted administration to the widow. The Cheevers demanded a rehearing: it was granted; and quite an interesting and pertinacious law-suit arose, which was finally carried up to the General Court, who decided it in 1681. The widow does not appear to have been actuated by merely selfish motives, but sought to divert a portion of the landed estate from the only legal heir, Ellen, the wife of Ezekiel Cheever, to other parties, in favor of whom her feelings were much enlisted. There is no indication of any unfriendliness between her and her "sister Cheever."

Lothrop's wife had become much attached to one of her connections, who had been brought into the family. Her husband, having been fond of children, had often expressed great affection for those of her brother, Joshua Rea. He had also sometimes, in expressing his interest in the Beverly Church, evinced a disposition to leave to it "his ten acre lot and his house upon the same," as a parsonage. Perhaps, if he had not been suddenly called away, he might have done something, particularly for the latter object. It appeared in evidence, from her statements and from others, that he had been importuned to make a will, and that it was much on his mind, particularly when recovering from a long and dangerous sickness the winter before his death; but he never could be[i.115] brought to do it. There was no evidence that he had ever absolutely determined on any thing positively or specifically. His widow, who seems to have been a perfectly honest and truthful woman, testified to a conversation that passed between them on the subject, as they were riding "together towards Wenham, the last spring, in the week before the Court of election." In passing by particular pieces of property owned by him, he indulged in some speculations as to what disposal he should make of this or that pasture or plain or woodland. But she did not represent that his expressions were absolute and determinate, but rather indicative of the then inclination of his mind. In another part of her statement, she said, "I did desire him to make his will, which, when he was sick, I did more than once or twice; and his answer to me was, that he did look upon it as that which was very requisite and fit should be done. But, dear wife, thou hast no cause to be troubled; if I should die and not make a will, it would be never the worse for thee; thyself would have the more." It is not difficult to understand the case as it probably stood in the mind of Captain Lothrop. Whenever the subject of making a will, and doing kind things for the Beverly parish, and the individuals in whose behalf his wife was so anxious, was brought up, he felt the force, as he expressed it, "of the duty which God required of a master of a family to set his house in order;" and he was no doubt strongly moved, and sometimes almost resolved, to gratify her wishes: but he remembered the[i.116] solemn promise he had made to his mother, as he parted from her for ever, and received his sister from her hands, and every sentiment of honor, and of filial and fraternal love, restrained him; and his mind settled into a conviction that it was his duty to allow his sister the benefit of the final inheritance of his property. As the particular persons to whom his wife wished him to make bequests were her relatives, and the law would give her an ample allowance in the use, for life, of his large landed property, she would be able to provide for them after his death, as he had been in the habit of doing.

The General Court took a just view of the case, and decided that she should have the whole movable estate for her own "use and dispose," and the "use and benefit" for life of the houses and lands, "making no strip nor waste;" after her death, the same to go to Ellen, the wife of Ezekiel Cheever. The widow was to pay all debts due from the estate, and also twenty pounds to the children of her brother, Joshua Rea. The Court seemed to think, that, if any expectations had been excited in that quarter, she was fully as responsible for it as her late husband; and, as the Cheevers were to get nothing, while she lived, out of the estate, the Court required her to pay the sum just named to her nephews and nieces. They ordered Ezekiel Cheever to pay five pounds as costs for their hearing the case, which he did on the spot.

It may be mentioned, by the way, that the widow of Captain Lothrop was married again within eight[i.117] months of his death; but that was quite usual in those days. She and her new husband concluded that it would be troublesome to take care of Captain Lothrop's several farms. They preferred to live in the town. She was probably over sixty years of age. The conclusion of the whole matter was, that, in consideration of sixty pounds paid down, they surrendered all claim whatever to the "houseing and lands" left by Captain Lothrop, to Cheever and his wife. They conveyed them "free and clear of and from all debts owing from the estate of said Lothrop, and gifts or bequests pretended to be made by him, or by any ways or means to be had, claimed, or challenged therefrom by any person or persons whomsoever." The relict of Captain Lothrop died in 1688.

Ezekiel Cheever and his wife, having thus become possessed of all her brother's real estate, conveyed the lands belonging to it in Salem Village to their son, Ezekiel Cheever, Jr. He had, for some years, been living in the town of Salem, carrying on the business of a tailor. He was a member of the First Church, and appears to have been a respectable person. His dwelling-house stood on the lot in Washington Street occupied by the late Robert Brookhouse. He sold it to the Rev. Nicholas Noyes, on the 14th of April, 1684, removed to the village, took possession of the Lothrop farm, and was there in time to bear a share in the witchcraft delusion.

In 1636, a grant of land was made to Thomas Gardner of one hundred acres. He came to this[i.118] country as early as 1624, and resided at Cape Ann. Subsequently he removed to Salem, and, with his wife, was admitted to the church. He was deputy to the General Court in 1637. His grant was in the western part of the township, and embraced land included within the limits of Salem Village. The name still remains on the same territory. His sons became proprietors of several additional tracts in the neighborhood. One of them, Joseph, is connected, in the most conspicuous and interesting manner, with our military history.

The destruction of Captain Lothrop and his company, on the 18th of September, filled the country with grief and consternation; and, as the year 1675 drew towards a close, the conviction became general, that the crisis of the fate of the colonies was near at hand. The Indians were carrying all before them. Philip was spreading conflagration, devastation, and slaughter around the borders, and striking sudden and deadly blows into the heart of the country. It was evident that he was consolidating the Indian power into irresistible strength. Among papers on file in the State House is a letter addressed to the governor and council, dated at Mendon, Oct. 1, 1675, from Lieutenant Phinehas Upham, of Malden. In command of a company, acting under Captain Gorham of Barnstable, who had also a company of his own, he had been on a scout for Indians beyond Mendon, which was a frontier town. Their route had been over a sweep of territory then an almost un[i.119]broken wilderness, embracing the present sites of Grafton, Worcester, Oxford, and Dudley. The result of the exploration is thus given: "Now, seeing that in all our marches we find no Indians, we verily think that they are drawn together into great bodies far remote from these parts." From other scouting parties, it became evident that this opinion was correct, and that the Indians were collecting stores and assembling their warriors somewhere, to fall upon the colonies at the first opening of spring. Further information made it certain, that their place of gathering was in the Narragansett country, in the south-westerly part of the colony of Rhode Island. There was no alternative but, as a last effort, to strike the enemy at that point, with the utmost available force. A thousand men were raised, 527 by Massachusetts, 315 by Connecticut, and 158 by Plymouth. Massachusetts organized a company of cavalry and six companies of foot soldiers, Connecticut five and Plymouth two companies of foot. All were placed under the command of Governor Winslow, of Plymouth. The winter had set in earlier than usual; much snow had fallen, and the weather was extremely cold. The seven companies of Massachusetts, under the command of Major Samuel Appleton of Ipswich, started on their march, Dec. 10. On the evening of the 12th, having effected a junction with the Plymouth companies, they reached the rendezvous, on the north side of Wickford Hill, in North Kingston, R.I. On the 13th, Winslow commenced his move upon the enemy. On the 18th,[i.120] the Connecticut troops joined him. His army was complete; the enemy was known to be near, and all haste made to reach him. The snow was deep. The Narragansetts were intrenched on a somewhat elevated piece of ground of five or six acres in area, surrounded by a swamp, within the limits of the present town of South Kingston. The Indian camp was strongly fortified by a double row of palisades, about a rod apart, and also by a thick hedge. There was but a single entrance known to our troops, which could only be reached, one at a time, over a slanting log or felled tree, slippery from frost and falling snow, about six feet above a ditch. There were other passages, known only to the Indians, by which they could steal out, a few at a time, and get a shot at our people in the flank and rear. Many of our men were cut off in this way. The allied forces had expected to pass the night, previous to reaching the hostile camp, at a garrison about fifteen miles distant from that point; but the Indians had destroyed the buildings, and slaughtered the occupants, seventeen in number, two days before. Here the troops passed the night, unsheltered from the bitter weather. The next day, Dec. 19, was Sunday; but their provisions were exhausted, and the supply they had expected to find had been destroyed with the garrison-house. There could be no delay. They recommenced their march, at half-past five o'clock in the morning, through the deep snow, which continued falling all day, and reached the borders of what was described, by a[i.121] writer well acquainted with it, as "a hideous swamp." Fortunately, the early and long-continued extreme cold weather of that winter had rendered it more passable than it otherwise would have been. But the ground was rough, and very difficult to traverse. They were chilled and worn by their long march, following winding paths through thick woods, across gullies, and over hills and fields. It was between one and two o'clock in the afternoon, and the short winter day was wearing away. Winslow saw the position at a glance, and, by the promptness of his decision, proved himself a great captain. He ordered an instant assault. The Massachusetts troops were in the van; the Plymouth, with the commander-in-chief, in the centre; the Connecticut, in the rear. The Indians had erected a block-house near the entrance, filled with sharp-shooters, who also lined the palisades. The men rushed on, although it was into the jaws of death, under an unerring fire. The block-house told them where the entrance was. The companies of Moseley and Davenport led the way. Moseley succeeded in passing through. Davenport fell beneath three fatal shots, just within the entrance. Isaac Johnson, captain of the Roxbury company, was killed while on the log. But death had no terrors to that army. The centre and rear divisions pressed up to support the front and fill the gaps; and all equally shared the glory of the hour. Enough survived the terrible passage to bring the Indians to a hand-to-hand fight within the fort. After a desperate struggle of nearly three hours, the[i.122] savages were driven from their stronghold; and, with the setting of that sun, their power was broken. Philip's fortunes had received a decided overthrow, and the colonies were saved. In all military history, there is not a more daring exploit. Never, on any field, has more heroic prowess been displayed. By the best computations, the Indian loss was at least one thousand, including the large numbers who perished from cold, as they scattered in their flight without shelter, food, or place of refuge. Of the colonial force, over eighty were killed, and one hundred and fifty wounded. Three of the Massachusetts captains—Johnson, Gardner, and Davenport—were killed on the spot. Three of the Connecticut captains—John Gallop, Samuel Marshall, and Robert Seely—also fell in the fight. Captain William Bradford, of Plymouth, was wounded by a musket-ball, which he carried in his body to his grave. Captain John Gorham, also of the Plymouth colony, was shortly after carried off by a fever, occasioned by the over-exhaustion of the march and the battle. Lieutenant Phinehas Upham, of Johnson's company, was mortally wounded. Great value appears to have been attached to the services of this officer. In the hurried preparation for the campaign, Captain Johnson had nominated his brother as his lieutenant. The General Court overruled the appointment. Johnson cheerfully acquiesced, and, in a paper addressed to the Court, assured them that he "most readily submitted to their choice of Lieutenant Upham." This single passage is an imperishable eulo[i.123]gium upon the characters of the two brave men who gave their lives to the country on that fatal but glorious day.

Captain Gardner's company was raised in this neighborhood. Joseph Peirce and Samuel Pikeworth of Salem, and Mark Bachelder of Wenham, were killed before entering the fort. Abraham Switchell of Marblehead, Joseph Soames of Cape Ann, and Robert Andrews of Topsfield, were killed at the fort. Charles Knight, Thomas Flint, and Joseph Houlton, Jr., of Salem Village; Nicholas Hakins and John Farrington, of Lynn; Robert Cox, of Marblehead; Eben Baker and Joseph Abbot, of Andover; Edward Harding, of Cape Ann; and Christopher Read, of Beverly,—were wounded. An account of the death of Captain Gardner, in detail, has been preserved. The famous warrior, and final conqueror of King Philip, Benjamin Church, was in the fight as a volunteer, rendered efficient service, and was wounded. His "History of King Philip's War" is reprinted, by John Kimball Wiggin, as one of his series of elegant editions of rare and valuable early colonial publications entitled "Library of New England History." In the second number, Part I. of Church's history is edited by Henry Martyn Dexter. Church's account of what came within his observation in this fight, with the notes of the learned editor, is the most valuable source of information we have in reference to it. He says, that, in the heat of the battle, he came across Gardner, "amidst the wigwams in the east end of the fort,[i.124] making towards him; but, on a sudden, while they were looking each other in the face, Captain Gardner settled down." He instantly went to him. The blood was running over his cheek. Church lifted up his cap, calling him by name. "Gardner looked up in his face, but spoke not a word, being mortally shot through the head." The widow of Captain Gardner (Ann, sister of Sir George Downing) became the successor of Ann Dudley, the celebrated poetess of her day, by marrying Governor Bradstreet, in 1680. She died in 1713.

There is a curious parallelism between the first and the last great victory over the Indian power in the history of America. An interval of one hundred and sixty one years separates them. On the 19th of December, 1836,—the anniversary of the day when Winslow stormed the Narragansett fort,—Colonel Taylor received his orders to pursue the Florida Indians. It was a last attempt to subdue them. They had long baffled and defied the whole power of the United States. Every general in the army had laid down his laurels in inglorious and utter failure. He started on the 20th, with an army of about one thousand men. On the 25th, he found himself on the edge of a swamp, impassable by artillery or horses. On the opposite side were the Indian warriors, ready to deal destruction, if he should attempt to cross the swamp. He had the same question to decide which Winslow had; and he decided it in the same way, with equal promptness. The struggle lasted about the same time; and[i.125] the loss, in proportion to the numbers engaged, was about the same. The results were alike permanently decisive. Okee-cho-bee stands by the side of Narragansett, and the names of Josiah Winslow and Zachary Taylor are imperishably inscribed together on the tablets of military glory.

Dr. Palfrey says that Captain Nathaniel Davenport was a son of "Davenport of the Pequot War." He was born in Salem, and brought up in the village. His name, with those of his brave father, and his associate in youth and in death Joseph Gardner, belongs to our local annals. They were both the idols of their men. Davenport was dressed, when he fell, in a "full buff suit," and was probably thought by the Indians to be the commander-in-chief. On receiving his triple wound, he called his lieutenant, Edward Tyng, to him, gave him his gun in charge, delivered over to him the command of his company, and died.

There has been some uncertainty on the point whether Nathaniel Davenport was a son of Richard, the commandant at the castle. The fact that he was associated with William Stoughton, and Stephen Minot whose wife was a daughter of Richard Davenport, as an administrator of the estate of the latter, has been regarded as rendering it probable. Dr. Palfrey's unhesitating statement to that effect is, of itself, enough to settle the question. There is, moreover, a document on file which proves that he is correct. Nathaniel's widow had some difficulty in settling his estate, and applied to the General Court for its interposition.[i.126] Quite a mass of papers belong to the case. Among them is a bill of expenses incurred by her in connection with his funeral charges, such as, "twenty-one rings to relatives," and to those "who took care to bring him off slain, eight pounds;" and "for mourning for my mother Davenport, sisters Minot and Elliot, and myself, sixteen pounds." This latter item is decisive, as we know that two of Richard Davenport's daughters married persons of those names. It is a circumstance of singular interest, as showing by how slight an accident—for it is a mere accident—important questions of history are sometimes determinable. This item, so far as I have been able to find, is the only absolute evidence we have to the point that Richard was the father of Nathaniel Davenport; and it would not have been in existence, had not questions arisen in the settlement of the estate of the latter requiring the action of the General Court. The record of baptisms in the First Church at Salem, prior to 1636, is lost. The names of Richard Davenport's children, baptized subsequent to that date, are in the records of the Salem or Boston churches. As Nathaniel is understood to have been one of the earliest born, the record of his baptism was probably in the lost part of the Salem book.

It may be thought surprising, that so little appears to have been known concerning an officer of his rank and parentage, and whose death has rendered his name so memorable. To account for it, I must recur to the history of the Narragansett expedition. No military organization was ever more rapidly effected, or more[i.127] thoroughly and promptly executed its work. The commissioners of the three united colonies were satisfied that the Indian rendezvous at Narragansett, where their forces and stores were being collected and their resources concentrated, must be struck at without a moment's delay; that the blow must be swift and decisive; that it must be struck then, in the depth of winter; that, if deferred to the spring, all would be lost; that, if the Indian power was allowed to remain and to gather strength until the next season, nothing could save the settlements from destruction. Early in November, they formed their plan, and put the machinery for summoning all their utmost resources into instant action. On the 30th of November, the officers appointed for the purpose made return, that they had impressed the required number in the several counties and towns, fitted them out with arms, ammunition, clothes, and all necessary equipments; that the men were on the ground, ready to go forward. There was no time for recruiting, or raising bounties, or substitute brokerage; no time for electioneering to get commissions. The rank and file were ready: they had been brought in by a process that gave no time for canvassing for offices. A summons had been left at the house of every drafted man, to report himself the next morning. If any one failed to appear, some other member of the family, brother or father, had to take his place. The organizing and officering of this force must be done instanter. All depended upon suitable officers being selected. A company was wait[i.128]ing at Boston for a captain, and a captain must be found. Some one in authority happened to think of Nathaniel Davenport. His childhood and youth had been passed at Salem Village and on Castle Island: on reaching maturity, he had removed to New York, and been there for years in commercial pursuits. A short time before, he had returned to Boston, and engaged in business there. His father had been dead since 1665, and not many persons knew him,—only, perhaps, a few of his early associates, and the old friends of his father: but they knew, that, from his birth to his manhood, he had breathed a military atmosphere,—was a soldier, by inheritance, of the school of Lothrop, Read, and Trask; and it was determined at once to hunt him up. He was serving at Court; taken out of the jury-box in a pending trial; and placed at the head of the company. The accurate historian of Boston, Samuel G. Drake, says, "Captain Davenport's men were extremely grieved at the death of their leader; he having, by his courteous carriage, much attached them to himself, although he was a stranger to most of them when he was appointed their captain. On which occasion he made 'a very civil speech,' and allowed them to choose their sergeants themselves." He had no time to settle his accounts, arrange his affairs, or confer with any one, but led his company at once to the rendezvous. These circumstances, perhaps, partially explain why so little seems to have been known of him in Boston, or to local writers.[i.129]

Besides Captains Gardner and Davenport and the men whose names have been mentioned as killed or wounded, there were in the Narragansett fight the following from Salem Village and its farming neighborhood: John Dodge, William Dodge, William Raymond, Thomas Raymond, John Raymond, Joseph Herrick, Thomas Putnam, Jr., Thomas Abbey, Robert Leach, and Peter Prescott. There may have been others: no full roll is on record. The foregoing are gathered from partial returns miscellaneously collected in the files at the State House. The Dodges (sometimes the name is written Dodds, which appears, I think, to have been its original form), and the Raymonds (sometimes written Rayment), were, from the first, conspicuous in military affairs. A few words explanatory of their relation to the village may be here properly given.

On the 25th of January, 1635, the town of Salem voted to William Trask, John Woodbury, Roger Conant, Peter Palfrey, and John Balch, a tract of land, as follows: "Two hundred acres apiece together lying, being at the head of Bass River, one hundred and twenty-four poles in breadth, and so running northerly to the river by the great pond side, and so in breadth, making up the full quantity of a thousand acres." These men were original settlers, having been in the country for some time before Endicott's arrival. This circumstance gave to them and others the distinguishing title of "old planters." The grant of a thousand acres, comprising the five farms above mentioned, was always known as "the Old Planters' Farms." The[i.130] first proprietors of them, and their immediate successors, appear to have arranged and managed them in concert,—to have had homesteads near together between the head of Bass River and the neighborhood of the "horse bridge," where the meeting-house of the Second Congregational Society of Beverly, or of the "Precinct of Salem and Beverly" now stands. Their woodlands and pasture lands were further to the north and east. An inspection of the map will give an idea of the general locality of the "Old Planters' Farms" in the aggregate—above the head of Bass River, extending northerly towards "the river," as the Ipswich River was called, and easterly to the "great pond," that is, Wenham Lake. Conant, Woodbury, and Balch occupied their lands at once. I have stated how Trask's portion of the grant went into the hands of Scruggs, and then of John Raymond. Palfrey is thought never to have occupied his portion. He sold it to William Dodge, the founder of the family of that name, known by way of eminence as "Farmer Dodge," whose wife was a daughter of Conant. A portion of the grant assigned to Conant was sold by one of his descendants to John Chipman, who, on the 28th of December, 1715, was ordained as the first minister of the "Second Beverly Society." He was the grandfather of Ward Chipman, Judge of the Supreme Court, and for some time President, of the Province of New Brunswick, and whose son of the same name was chief-justice of that court. He was also grandfather of the wife of the great merchant, William Gray,[i.131] whose family has contributed such invaluable service to the literature, legislation, judicial learning, and general welfare of the country. The Rev. Mr. Chipman was the ancestor of many other distinguished persons. The house in which he lived is still standing, near the site of the church in which he preached. It is occupied by his descendants, bearing his name, and, although much time-worn, has the marks of having been a structure of a very superior order for that day. The venerable mansion stands back from the road, on a smooth and beautiful lawn, bordered by a solid stone wall of even lines and surfaces. In these respects it well compares with any country residence upon which taste, skill, and wealth have, in more recent times, been bestowed.

The dividing line between Beverly and Salem Village, as seen on the map, finally agreed upon in 1703, ran through the "Old Planters' Farms," particularly the portions belonging to the Dodges, Raymonds, and Woodbury. It went through "Captain John Dodge's dwelling-house, six foot to the eastward of his brick chimney as it now stands." At the time of the witchcraft delusion, the Raymonds and Dodges mostly belonged to the Salem Village parish and church. They continued on the rate-list, and connected with the proceedings entered on the record-books, until the meeting-house at the "horse bridge" was opened for worship, in 1715, when they transferred their relations to the "Precinct of Salem and Beverly."

When Sir William Phipps got up his expedition[i.132] against Quebec, in 1690, William Raymond raised a company from the neighborhood; and so deep was the impression made upon the public mind by his ability and courage, and so long did it remain in vivid remembrance, that, in 1735, the General Court granted a township of land, six miles square, "to Captain William Raymond, and the officers and soldiers" under his command, and "to their heirs," for their distinguished services in the "Canada Expedition." The grant was laid out on the Merrimack, but, being found within the bounds of New Hampshire, a tract of equivalent value was substituted for it on the Saco River. Among the men who served in this expedition was Eleazer, a son of Captain John Putnam, who afterwards, for many years, was one of the deacons of the Salem Village Church.

The short, rapid, sharp, and sanguinary campaign against the Narragansetts seems to have tried to the utmost, not only the courage and spirit of the men, but the powers of human endurance. The constitutions of many were permanently impaired. As much fatigue and suffering were crowded into that short month as the physical forces of strong men could bear. We find such entries as this in the town-books:—"Salem, 1683. Samuel Beadle, who lost his health in the Narragansett Expedition, is allowed to take the place of Mr. Stephens as an innkeeper." A petition, dated in 1685, is among the papers in the State House, signed by men from Lynn, the Village, Beverly, Reading, and Hingham, praying for a grant of land, for[i.133] their services and sufferings in that expedition. The petition was granted. The following extract from it tells the story: "We think we have reason to fear our days may be much shortened by our hard service in the war, from the pains and aches of our bodies, that we feel in our bones and sinews, and lameness thereby taking hold of us much, especially in the spring and fall."

While there is "reason to fear" that the days of many were shortened, there were some so tough as to survive the strain, and bid defiance to aches and pains, and almost to time itself. In a list of fourteen who went from Beverly, six, including Thomas Raymond and Lott, a descendant of Roger Conant, were alive in 1735!

The grants of land made to these gallant men and their heirs amounted in all, and ultimately, to seven distinct tracts, called "Narragansett Townships." They were made in fulfilment of an express public promise to that effect. It is stated in an official document, that "proclamation was made to them, when mustered on Dedham Plain" on the 9th of December, just as they took up their march, "that, if they played the man, took the fort, and drove the enemy out of the Narragansett country, which was their great seat, they should have a gratuity in land, besides their wages." The same document, which is in the form of a message from the House of Representatives to the Council of the Province of Massachusetts, dated Jan. 10, 1732, goes on to say, "And as the condition has been performed, certainly the promise, in all equity and justice,[i.134] ought to be fulfilled. And if we consider the difficulties these brave men went through in storming the fort in the depth of winter, and the pinching wants they afterwards underwent in pursuing the Indians that escaped, through a hideous wilderness, known throughout New England to this day by the name of the hungry march; and if we further consider, that, until this brave though small army thus played the man, the whole country was filled with distress and fear, and we trembled in this capital, Boston itself; and that to the goodness of God to this army we owe our fathers' and our own safety and estates,"—therefore they urge the full discharge of the obligations of public justice and gratitude. They did not urge in vain. The grants were made on a scale, that finally was liberal and honorable to the government.

I have dwelt at this great length on the Narragansett campaign and fight, partly because the details have not been kept as familiar to the memory of the people as they deserve, but chiefly because they demonstrate the military genius of the community with whose character our subject requires us to be fully acquainted. The enthusiasm of the troops, when Winslow gave the order for the assault, was so great, that they rushed over the swamp with an eagerness that could not be restrained, struggling as in a race to see who could first reach the log that led into the fiery mouth of the fort. A Salem villager, John Raymond, was the winner. He passed through, survived the ordeal, and came unharmed out of the terrible fight.[i.135] He was twenty-seven years of age. He signed his name to a petition to the General Court, in 1685, as having gone in the expedition from Salem Village, and as then living there. Some years afterwards, he removed to Middleborough, joined the church in that place in 1722, and died in 1725. The fact that his last years were spent there has led to the supposition that he went from Middleborough to the Narragansett fight; but no men were drafted into that army from Middleborough. It was not a town at the time, but was organized some years afterwards. It had no inhabitants then. Philip had destroyed what few houses had been there, and slaughtered or dispersed their occupants.

Thus far our attention has been directed to that portion of the population of Salem Village drawn there by the original policy of the company in London to attract persons of superior social position, wealth, and education to take up tracts of land, and lead the way into the interior. It operated to give a high character to the early agriculture of the country, and facilitate the settling of the lands. Without taking into view the means they had to make the necessary outlays in constructing bridges and roads, and introducing costly implements of husbandry and tasteful improvements, but looking solely at the social, intellectual, and moral influence they exerted, it must be acknowledged that the benefit derived from them was incalculable. They gave a powerful impulse to the farming interest, and introduced a high tone to the[i.136] spirit of the community. They were early on the ground, and remained more or less through the period of the first generation. Their impress was long seen in the manners and character of the people. There was surely a goodly proportion of such men among the first settlers of this neighborhood.

I come now to another class drawn along with and after the preceding,—the permanent, substantial yeomanry with no capital but their sturdy industry, doing hard work with their strong arms, and striking the roots of the settlement down deep into the soil by mixing their own labor with it. A glance at the map will be useful, at this point, showing the general direction by which the farming population advanced to the interior. All between the North and Cow House Rivers was, as now, called North Fields, and is still for the most part a farming territory. All north of Cow House River, westwardly to Reading and eastwardly to the sea, was originally known as the "Farms" or "Salem Farms." When the First Beverly Parish was set off in 1667, it took from the "Farms" all east of Bass River. As Topsfield and other townships were established, they were more or less encroached upon. The "Farmers" as they were called, although unorganized, regarded themselves as one community, having a common interest. The tide of settlement flowed up the rivers and brooks, sought out the meadows, and was drawn into the valleys among the hills.

John Porter, called "Farmer Porter," came with[i.137] his sons from Hingham, and bought up lands to the north of Duck or Crane River. His family before long held among them more land, it is probable, than any other. He served many years as deputy in the General Court, first from Hingham and then from Salem. He is spoken of in the colonial records of Massachusetts as "of good repute for piety, integrity, and estate." The Barneys, Leaches, and others went eastwardly towards Bass River. The Putnams followed up Beaver Brook to Beaver Dam, and spread out towards the north and west; while Richard Hutchinson turned southerly to the interval between Whipple and Hathorne Hills, bought the Stileman grant, and cleared the beautiful meadows where the old village meeting-house afterwards stood. He was a vigorous and intelligent agriculturist, and a man of character. He died in 1681, at eighty years of age, leaving a large and well-improved estate. His will has this item: I give "five acres of land to Black Peter, my servant." He had given fine farms to his children severally, many years before his death. His second wife, who survived him, had no children. He had come by her into possession of a valuable addition to his estate. After distributing his property, and providing legacies for children and grandchildren, his will left it to the option of his widow to spend the residue of her days either in the family of his son Joseph, or elsewhere; if she should prefer to live elsewhere, then she should receive back, in her own right, all the property she had originally owned; if she continued[i.138] to live to her death in Joseph's family, then her property was to go to him and his heirs. This, I think, shows that he was as sagacious as he was just.

Richard Ingersoll came from Bedfordshire in England in 1629, bringing letters of recommendation from Matthew Cradock to Governor Endicott. After living awhile in town, a tract of land of eighty acres was granted to him, on the east side of Wooleston River, opposite the site of Danversport, at a place called, after him, Ingersoll's Point. He there proceeded to clear and break ground, plant corn, fence in his land, and make other improvements. He also carried on a fishery. Subsequently he leased the Townsend Bishop farm, where he lived several years. He died in 1644. Not long before his death, he purchased, jointly with his son-in-law Haynes, the Weston grant. His half of it he bequeathed to his son Nathaniel. He was evidently a man of real dignity and worth, enjoying the friendship of the best men of his day. Governor Endicott and Townsend Bishop were with him in his last sickness, and witnesses to his will. His widow married John Knight of Newbury. In a legal instrument filed among the papers connected with a case of land title, dated twenty-seven years after her first husband's death, she expresses in very striking language the tender affection and respect with which she still cherished his memory.

William Haynes married Sarah, daughter of Richard Ingersoll, and occupied his half of the Weston grant. In company with his brother, Richard Haynes, he[i.139] had before bought of Townsend Bishop five hundred and forty acres, covering a considerable part of the northern end of the village territory. They sold one-third part of it to Abraham Page. Page sold to Simon Bradstreet, and John Porter bought all the three parts from the Hayneses and Bradstreet. It long constituted a portion of the great landed property of the Porter family. These facts show that William Haynes was a person of means; and the manner in which he is uniformly spoken of proves that he was regarded with singular respect and esteem. He died about 1650, and his son Thomas became subsequently a leading man in the village.

There has been uncertainty where William Haynes came from, or to what family of the name he belonged. Among the papers of the Ingersoll family, it has recently been found that he is mentioned as "brother to Lieutenant-Governor Haynes." There seems to be no other person to whom this language can refer than John Haynes, who, after being Governor of Massachusetts, removed to Connecticut where he was governor and deputy-governor, in alternate years, to the day of his death. John Haynes, as Winthrop informs us, was a gentleman of "great estate." His property in England is stated to have yielded a thousand pounds per annum. Dr. Palfrey says he was "a man of family as well as fortune; and the dignified and courteous manners, which testified to the care bestowed on his early nurture, won popularity by their graciousness, at the same time that they diffused a refining[i.140] influence by their example." If William of the village was brother to John of Connecticut, the fact that he and his brother Richard could make such large purchases of lands, and the remarkable respect manifested towards him, are well accounted for. The Ingersoll family traditions and entries would seem to be the highest authority on such a point.

Job Swinnerton was a brother of John who for many years was the principal physician in the town of Salem. He had several grants of land, and was a worthy, peaceable, unobtrusive citizen. He seems to have kept out of the heat of the various contentions that occurred in the village; and, although his influence was sometimes decisively put forth, he evidently did nothing to aggravate them. He died April 11, 1689, over eighty-eight years of age. He had a large family, and his descendants continue the name in the village to this day. Daniel Rea came originally to Plymouth, and in 1630 bought a dwelling-house, garden, and "all the privileges thereunto belonging," in that town. In 1632 he removed to Salem, and at once became a leading man in the management of town affairs. He had a grant of one hundred and sixty acres, which he occupied and cultivated till his death in 1662. He had but two children: one, the wife of Captain Lothrop; the other, Joshua Rea, became the founder of a large family who acted conspicuously in the affairs of the village for several generations. Jacob Barney was an original grantee, and for several years a deputy. His son of[i.141] the same name became a large landholder, and, on the 5th of April, 1692, at the very moment when the witchcraft delusion was at its height, gave two acres conveniently situated for the erection of a schoolhouse. He conveyed it to inhabitants of the neighborhood to be used for that purpose, mentioning them severally by name. I give the list, as it shows who were the principal people thereabouts at the time: "Mr. Israel Porter; Sergeant John Leach; Cornet Nathaniel Howard, Sr.; Corporal Joseph Herrick, Sr.; Benjamin Porter; Joshua Rea, Sr.; Thomas Raymond, Sr.; Edward Bishop, secundus; John Trask, Jr.; John Creesy; Joshua Rea, Jr.; John Rea; John Flint, Sr." Lawrence Leach received a grant of one hundred acres; and others of the same name and family had similar evidence that they were regarded as valuable accessions to the population. William Dodge and Richard Raymond had grants of sixty acres each; Humphrey and William Woodbury had forty each. The families of Leach, Raymond, Dodge, and Woodbury, still remain in the community of which their ancestors were the founders. John Sibley had a grant of fifty acres. Robert Goodell was a grantee, and became a large landholder.

The descendants of the two last-named persons are very numerous, and have maintained the respectability of their family names. They are each, at this day, represented by gentlemen whose enthusiastic interest in our antiquities is proved by their invaluable labors and acquisitions in the interesting depart[i.142]ments of genealogy and local history,—John L. Sibley, Librarian of Harvard University; and Abner C. Goodell, Register of Probate for the County of Essex.

Besides Townsend Bishop, there were two other persons of that name among the original inhabitants of Salem. They do not appear to have been related to him or to each other. Richard Bishop, whose wife Dulcibell had died Aug. 6, 1658, married the widow Galt, July 22, 1660. He died Dec. 30, 1674.

Edward Bishop was in Salem in 1639, and became a member of the church in 1645. In 1660 he was one of the constables of Salem, an original member of the Beverly Church in 1667, and died in January, 1695. He was an early settler on the Farms; his lands were on both sides of Bass River, the parcels on the west side being above and below the Ipswich road. His own residence was on the Beverly side; and he was not usually connected with the concerns of the village. His name appears but once in the witchcraft proceedings, and then in favor of an accused person.

Edward Bishop, commonly called "the sawyer," from the tenor of conveyances of land, dates, and other evidences, appears to have been a son of the preceding. In his earlier life, he was somewhat notable for irregularities and aberrations of conduct. With his wife Hannah, he was fined by the local court, in 1653, for depredating upon the premises of his neighbors. During the subsequent period of his history, he bore[i.143] the character of an industrious and reputable person. At some time previous to 1680, he married Bridget, widow of Thomas Oliver. On the 9th of March, 1693, he married Elizabeth Cash. He lived originally in Beverly; afterwards, at different times, on the land belonging to his father in Salem Village,—the estate he occupied being on both sides of the Ipswich road. His last years were passed in the town of Salem. He died in 1705. His daughter Hannah, born in 1646, became the wife of Captain William Raymond, one of the founders of the numerous family of that name.

Edward Bishop, son of the preceding, called, for distinction, "husbandman," was born in 1648. He married Sarah, daughter of William Wilds, of Ipswich. He was a respectable person, and lived in the village on an estate also occupied by "the sawyer." His house was west of the avenue leading to Cherry Hill. In 1703 he removed to Rehoboth.

Edward Bishop, the eldest of his sons, married Susanna, daughter of John Putnam, and in 1713 removed to that part of Ipswich now Hamilton. Prior to 1695, these four Edward Bishops were all living; and the youngest had a wife and children. All will be found connected with our story, the second and third prominently. The fourth owed his safety, perhaps, to the influential connections of his wife.

The first notice we have of Bray Wilkins is in the Massachusetts colonial records, Sept. 6, 1638, when he was authorized to set up a house and keep a ferry at Neponset River, and have "a penny a person." On[i.144] the 5th of November, 1639, the General Court accepted a report made by William Hathorne and Richard Davenport, commissioners appointed for the purpose, and, in accordance therewith, laid out a farm for Richard Bellingham, who had been deputy-governor, was then an assistant, and afterwards governor, "on the head of Salem, to the north-west of the town; there being in it a hill, and an Indian plantation, and a pond." This nice little farm included seven hundred acres, and "about one hundred or one hundred and fifty acres of meadow" beside. The next thing we hear about the matter is a petition to the General Court, May 22, 1661, of "Bray Wilkins and John Gingle, humbly desiring that the farm called by the name of Will's Hill, which this Court granted to the worshipful Richard Bellingham, Esq., and they purchased of him, may be laid to, and appointed to belong to, Salem; being nigh its lands, and the petitioners of its society." The Court granted the request. It seems that, about a year before, on the 9th of March, "Bray Wilkins, husbandman, and John Gingle, tailor, both of Lynn," had bought the Bellingham farm for two hundred and fifty pounds, of which they paid at the time twenty-five pounds, and mortgaged it back for the residue. The twenty-five pounds was paid as follows: twenty-four pounds in a ton of bar-iron, and one pound in money. Wilkins had, some time before, removed from Neponset, and perhaps had been working in one of the iron-manufactories then in operation at Lynn. When the balance of his wages over his[i.145] expenses enabled him, with the aid of Gingle, to raise a ton of iron and scrape together twenty shillings, they entered upon their bold undertaking. He had not a dollar in his pocket; but he had what was better than dollars,—industrious habits, a resolute will, a strong constitution, an iron frame, and six stout sons. After a while, he took into the work, in addition to his own effective family force, two trusty kinsmen, Aaron Way and William Ireland, conveying to them good farms out of his seven hundred acres. He enlarged his farm, from time to time, by new purchases, so as to more than make up for what he sold to Way and Ireland. In 1676 the mortgage was fully discharged. He and his sons bought out the heirs of Gingle, and the work was done. They held, free from debt, in one tract, a territory about two miles in length on the Reading line. Each member of the family had a house, barns, orchards, gardens, meadows, upland, and woodland; and the homestead of the old patriarch was in the midst of them, the enterprise of his laborious life crowned with complete success. The innumerable family of the name, scattered all over the country, has largely, if not wholly, been derived from this source. Bray Wilkins, and the members of his household in all its branches, were always on hand at parish meetings in Salem Village. Over a distance, as their route must have been, of five miles, they came, in all seasons and all weathers, by the roughest roads, and, in the earlier period, where there were no roads at all, through the woods, fording streams, to[i.146] meeting on the Lord's Day. He continued vigorous, hale, and active to the last; and died, as he truly characterizes himself in his will, "an ancient," Jan. 1, 1702, at the age of ninety-two.

This was the way in which the large grants made to wealthy and eminent persons, governors, deputy-governors, and assistants, came into the possession and under the productive labor of a yeomanry who made good their title to the soil by the force of their characters and the strength of their muscles. One of the terms of Wilkins's purchase was, that, if he found and wrought minerals on the land, he was to pay to Bellingham or his heirs a royalty of ten pounds per annum. Believing that the best mine to be found in land is the crops that can be raised from it, he never tried to find any other.

Bray Wilkins will appear to have shared in the witchcraft delusion, and been very unhappily connected with it; but he lived to behold its termination, and to participate in the restoration of reason. The minister of the parish at the time of his death, the Rev. Joseph Green, kept a diary which has been preserved. He thus speaks of the old man: "He lived to a good old age, and saw his children's children, and their children, and peace upon our little Israel."

It is rather curious to notice such indications as the mineral clause in Wilkins's deed affords of the prevalent expectation, at the beginning of settlements in this region, that valuable minerals would be found in it. What makes it worthy of particular inquiry is, that they[i.147] were found and wrought for some time, but that no one thinks of looking after them now. Simon Bradstreet, Daniel Dennison, and John Putnam put up and carried on together, upon a large scale, iron-works, in 1674, at Rowley Village, now Boxford. Samuel and Nathan Leonard were employed to construct them, and carried them on by contract. These iron-works were long regarded as a promising enterprise and valuable investment. The Leonards were probably of the same family that, at Raynham and the neighborhood, engaged in this business to a great extent, and for a long period, making it a source of wealth and the foundation of eminent families. We know that the business was carried on extensively in Lynn, and that Governor Endicott was quite sure that he had found copper on his Orchard Farm. Who knows but that modern science and more searching methods of detection may yet discover the hidden treasures of which the fathers caught a glimpse, and their enterprises be revived and conducted with permanent energy and success?

In 1669, Joseph Houlton testified, that, when he was about twenty years of age, in 1641, he was "a servant to Richard Ingersoll," and worked on his land at Ingersoll's Point. About the year 1652, he married Sarah, daughter of Richard Ingersoll, and widow of William Haynes. By her he had five sons and two daughters, who lived to maturity. He gave to each of them a farm; and their houses were in his near neighborhood. The sons were respectable and substantial[i.148] citizens, and persons of just views and amiable sentiments. The father was one of the honored heads of the village, and lived to a good old age. He died May 30, 1705. From him, it is probable, all of the name in this country have sprung. It will be for ever preserved in the public annals and on the geographical face of the country. Samuel Houlton, great-grandson of the original Joseph, was a representative of Massachusetts for ten years in the old Congress of the Confederation, for a time presiding over its deliberations. He was also a member of the first Congress under the Constitution, and subsequently, for a very long period, Judge of Probate for the county of Essex. He was a true patriot and wise legislator; enjoyed to an extraordinary degree the confidence and love of the people; had a commanding person and a noble and venerable aspect; and was always conspicuous by the dignity and courtesy of his manners. He was a physician by profession; but his whole life was spent in the public service. He was in both branches of the Legislature of the State, also in the Executive Council. He was major of the Essex regiment at the opening of the Revolution; was a member of the Committee of Safety, and of every convention for the framing of the Government; and, for more than thirty years, a judge of the Court of Common Pleas. He died, where he was born and had his home for the greater part of his life, in Salem Village, Jan. 2, 1816, in the seventy-eighth year of his age.

In 1724 a petition was presented to the Legislature,[i.149] commencing as follows: "Whereas Salem is a most ancient town of Massachusetts Province, and very much straitened for land," the petitioners pray for a grant in the western part of the province. The petition was allowed on condition that one lot be reserved for the first settled minister, one for the ministry, and one for a school. Each grantee was required to give a bond of twenty-five pounds to be on the spot; have a house of seven feet stud and eighteen square at least, seven acres of English hay ready to be mowed, and help to build a meeting-house and settle a minister, within five years. A grandson of Joseph Houlton, of the same name, led the company that emigrated to the assigned location. The first result was the town of New Salem, in Franklin County, incorporated in 1753; named in honor of the old town from which their leading founder had come. But the people were not satisfied with having merely a school. They must have an academy. They went to work with a will, and an academy was established and incorporated in 1795. This was the second result. The academy did not flourish to an extent to suit their views, and they beset the Legislature to grant them a township of land in the woods of Maine to enable them to endow it. They carried their point, and in 1797 obtained the grant. The effort had been great, and great was the rejoicing at its successful issue. But, as bad luck would have it, just at that time land could not be sold at any price. The grant became worthless; and deep and bitter was the disappointment of the people of[i.150] New Salem. The doom of the academy seemed to be settled, and its days numbered and finished. But there were men in New Salem who were determined that the academy should be saved. They met in consultation, and, under the lead of still another Joseph Houlton, of the same descent, fixed their purpose. They sold or mortgaged their farms, which more than half a century of labor had rendered productive, and which every association and every sentiment rendered dear to them. With the money thus raised they bought the granted tract, paying a good price for it. The preservation and endowment of the academy were thus secured; but all benefit from it to themselves or their descendants was wholly relinquished. It was the only way in which the academy could be saved. Some must make the sacrifice, and they made it. They packed up bag and baggage; sold off all they could not carry; gathered their families together; bid farewell to the scenes of their birth and childhood, the homes of their life, and the fruits of their labor; and started in wagons and carts on the journey to Boston. Their location was hundreds of miles distant, far down in the eastern wilderness, and inaccessible from the extremes of settlement at that time on the Penobscot. As the only alternative, they embarked in a coasting-vessel; went down the Bay of Fundy to St. John, N.B.; took a river-sloop up to Fredericton,—a hundred miles; got up the river as they could, in barges or canoes, eighty miles further to Woodstock; and there, turning to the left, struck[i.151] into the forest, until they reached their location. The third result of this emigration, in successive generations and stages, from Salem Farms, is to be seen to-day in a handsome and flourishing village, interspersed and surrounded with well-cultivated fields,—the shire town of the county of Aroostook, in the State of Maine; which bears the name of the leader of this disinterested, self-sacrificing, and noble company. Three times was it the lot of this one family to encounter and conquer the difficulties, endure and triumph over the privations, and carry through the herculean labors, of subduing a rugged wilderness, and bringing it into the domain of civilization,—at Salem Village, New Salem, and Houlton. It would be difficult to find, in all our history, a story that more strikingly than this illustrates the elements of the glory and strength of New England,—zeal for education,—enterprise invigorated by difficulties,—and prowess equal to all emergencies.

John Burton came early to Salem by way of Barbadoes. He combined the pursuits of a farmer and a tanner. He was a sturdy old Englishman, who, while probably holding the theological sentiments that prevailed in his day, abhorred the spirit of persecution, and was unwilling to live where it was allowed to bear sway. He does not appear to have been a Quaker, but sympathized with all who suffered wrong. In 1658, he went off in their company to Rhode Island, sharing their banishment. But his conscience would not let him rest in voluntary flight. He came[i.152] back in 1661, to bear his testimony against oppression. He was brought before the Court, as an abettor and shelterer of Quakers. He told the justices that they were robbers and destroyers of the widows and fatherless, that their priests divined for money, and that their worship was not the worship of God. They commanded him to keep silent. He commanded them to keep silent. They thought it best to bring the colloquy to a close by ordering him to the stocks. They finally concluded, upon the whole, to let him alone; and he remained here the rest of his life. His descendants are through a daughter (who married William Osborne) and his son Isaac. They are numerous, under both names. Isaac was an active and respectable citizen of the village, and a farmer of enterprise and energy. He carried on, under a lease, Governor Endicott's farm of over five hundred acres on Ipswich River, and had lands of his own. In subsequent generations, this family branched off in various directions to Connecticut, Vermont, and elsewhere. One detachment of them went to Wilton, N.H., where the family still remains on the original homestead. The late Warren Burton, who was born in Wilton,—a graduate of Harvard College in the class of 1821, and well known for his invaluable services in the cause of education, philanthropy, and letters,—was a direct descendant of John Burton, and as true to the rights of conscience as the old tanner, who bearded the lion of persecution in the day of his utmost wrath, and in his very den.[i.153]

Henry Herrick, who, as has been stated, purchased the Cherry-Hill farm of Alford, was the fifth son of Sir William Herrick, of Beau Manor Park, in the parish of Loughborough, in the county of Leicester, England. He came first to Virginia, and then to Salem. He was accompanied to America by another emigrant from Loughborough, named Cleaveland. Herrick became a member of the First Church at Salem in 1629, and his wife Edith about the same time. Their fifth son, Joseph, baptized Aug. 6, 1645, owned and occupied Cherry Hill in 1692. He married Sarah, daughter of Richard Leach, Feb. 7, 1667. He was a man of great firmness and dignity of character, and, in addition to the care and management of his large farm, was engaged in foreign commerce. As he bore the title of Governor, he had probably been at some time in command of a military post or district, or perhaps of a West-India colony. His descendants are numerous, and have occupied distinguished stations, often exhibiting a transmitted military stamp. Joseph Herrick was in the Narragansett fight. It illustrates the state of things at that time, that this eminent citizen, a large landholder, engaged in prosperous mercantile affairs, and who had been abroad, was, in 1692, when forty-seven years of age, a corporal in the village company. He was the acting constable of the place, and, as such, concerned in the early proceedings connected with the witchcraft prosecutions. For a while he was under the influence of the delusion; but his strong and enlightened mind soon led him out of it. He was one of[i.154] the petitioners in behalf of an accused person, when intercession, by any for any, was highly dangerous; and he was a leader in the party that rose against the fanaticism, and vindicated the characters of its victims. He inherited a repugnance to oppression, and sympathy for the persecuted. His father and mother appear, by a record of Court, to have been fined "for aiding and comforting an excommunicated person, contrary to order."

William Nichols, in 1651, bought two hundred acres, which had been granted to Henry Bartholomew, partly in the village, but mostly beyond the "six-mile extent," and consequently set off to Topsfield. He had several other lots of land. He distributed nearly all his real estate, during his lifetime, to his son John; his adopted son, Isaac Burton; his daughters, the wives of Thomas Wilkins and Thomas Cave; and his grand-daughter, the wife of Humphrey Case. His only son John had several sons, and from them the name has been widely dispersed. In a deposition dated May 14, 1694, William Nichols declares himself "aged upwards of one hundred years." As his will was offered for Probate Feb. 24, 1696, he must have been one hundred and two years of age at his death.

William Cantlebury was a large landholder, having purchased three-quarters of the Corwin grant. He died June 1, 1663. His name died with him, as he had no male issue. His property went to his daughters, who were represented, in 1692, under the names of Small, Sibley, and Buxton. The Flints, Popes,[i.155] Uptons, Princes, Phillipses, Needhams, and Walcotts, had valuable farms, and appear, from the records and documents, to have been respectable, energetic, and intelligent people. Daniel Andrew was one of the strong men of the village; had been a deputy to the General Court, and acted a prominent part before and after the witchcraft convulsion. But the great family of the village—greater in numbers and in aggregate wealth than any other, and eminently conspicuous on both sides in the witchcraft proceedings—remains to be mentioned.

John Putnam had a grant of one hundred acres, Jan. 20, 1641. With his wife Priscilla, he came from Buckinghamshire, England, and was probably about fifty years of age on his arrival in this country. He was a man of great energy and industry, and acquired a large estate. He died in 1662, leaving three sons,—Thomas, born in 1616; Nathaniel, in 1620; and John, in 1628. For a more convenient classification, I shall, in speaking of this family, refer, not to the original John at all, but to the sons as its three heads.

Thomas, the eldest, inherited a double share of his father's lands. He was of age when he came to America, and had received a good education. He appears to have settled, in the first instance, in Lynn, where for several years he acted as a magistrate, holding local courts, by appointment of the General Court. Upon removing to Salem, he was chosen, as the town-records show, to the office of constable. This was considered at that time as quite a distinguished position, carrying[i.156] with it a high authority, covering the whole executive local administration. Thomas Putnam was the first clerk of Salem Village, and acted prominently in military, ecclesiastical, and municipal affairs. He seems to have been a person of a quieter temperament than his younger brothers, and led a somewhat less stirring life. Possessing a large property by inheritance, he was not quite so active in increasing it; but, enjoying the society and friendship of the leading men, lived a more retired life. At the same time, he was always ready to serve the community if called for, as he often was, when occasion arose for the aid of his superior intelligence and personal influence. He married first, while in Lynn, Ann, daughter of Edward Holyoke, great-grandfather of the President of Harvard College of that name whose son, the venerable centenarian, Dr. Edward Augustus Holyoke, is remembered as a true Christian philosopher by the generation still lingering on the stage. Having lost his wife on the 1st of September, 1665, he married, on the 14th of November, 1666, Mary, widow of Nathaniel Veren; coming, through her, into possession of property in Jamaica and Barbadoes, in which places Veren had resided, more or less, in the prosecution of commercial business. His homestead, as shown on the map, was occupied by his widow in 1692, and, after her death, by her son Joseph, the father of General Israel Putnam. He had also a town residence on the north side of Essex Street, extending back to[i.157] the North River. Its front on Essex Street embraced the western part of the grounds now occupied by the North Church, and extended to a point beyond the head of Cambridge Street. He left the eastern half of this property to his son Thomas, and the western half to his son Joseph. To his son Edward he left another estate in the town, on the western side of St. Peter's Street, to the north of Federal Street.

Thomas Putnam died on the 5th of May, 1686. He left large estates in the village to each of his children, and a valuable piece of meadow land, of fifteen acres, to a faithful servant.

Nathaniel Putnam married Elizabeth, daughter of Richard Hutchinson, and, besides what he received from his father, came, through his wife, into possession of seventy-five acres. On that tract he built his house and passed his life. The property has remained uninterruptedly in his family. One of them, the late Judge Samuel Putnam, of the Supreme Court of Massachusetts, enjoyed it as a country residence, and it is still held by his children. Nathaniel Putnam was a deputy to the General Court, and constantly connected with all the interests of the community. He had great business activity and ability, and was a person of extraordinary powers of mind, of great energy and skill in the management of affairs, and of singular sagacity, acumen, and quickness of perception. He died July 23, 1700, leaving a numerous family and a large estate.

John Putnam had the same indefatigable activity as[i.158] Nathaniel. He was often deputy to the General Court, and accumulated a very great landed property. He married Rebecca Prince, step-daughter of John Gedney, and died on the 7th of April, 1710. He was buried with military honors. He left a large family of sons and daughters. We shall often meet him in our narrative, and gather the materials, as we go along, to form an opinion of his character. The earliest rate-list in the parish record book is for 1681. At that time the three brothers were all living; the aggregate sum assessed upon ninety-four names was two hundred pounds. The rate of Thomas was £10. 6s. 3d.; that of Nathaniel, £9. 10s.; that of John, £8. No other person paid as much as either of them.

These brothers, as well as many others of the large landholders in the village, adopted the practice of giving to their sons and sons-in-law, outright, by deed, good farms, as soon as they became heads of families; so that, as the fathers advanced in life, their own estates were gradually diminished; and, when unable any longer to take an active part in managing their lands, they divided up their whole remaining real estate, making careful contracts with their children for an adequate maintenance, to the extent of their personal wants and comfort. Joseph Houlton did this: so did the widow Margery Scruggs, old William Nichols, Francis Nurse, and many others. In his last years, John Putnam was on the rate-list for five shillings only, while all his sons and daughters were assessed severally in large sums. In this way they had the satisfac[i.159]tion of making their children independent, and of seeing them take their places among the heads of the community.

Where this practice was followed, there were few quarrels in families over the graves of parents, and controversies seldom arose about the provisions of wills. In some cases no wills were needed to be made. It is apparent, that, in many respects, this was a wise and good practice. It was, moreover, a strictly just one. As the sons were growing to an adult age, they added, by their labors, to the value of lands,—inserted a property into them that was truly their own; and their title was duly recognized. In a new country, land has but little value in itself; the value is imparted by the labor that clears it and prepares it to yield its products. In 1686, Nathaniel Putnam testified that for more than forty years he had lived in the village, and that in the early part of that time unimproved land brought only a shilling an acre, while a cow was worth five pounds. In 1672, the rate of taxation on unimproved land was a half penny per acre, and, for land on which labor had been expended, a penny per acre. In 1685 it was taxed at the rates of three shillings for a hundred acres of wild land, and one penny an acre for "land within fence." The relative value of improved land constantly increased with the length of time it had been under culture. It may be said that labor added two-thirds to the value of land, and that he who by the sweat of his brow added those two-thirds, to that extent owned the land. An industrious young man went out into his[i.160] father's woods, cut down the trees, cleared the ground, fenced it in, and prepared it for cultivation. All that was thus added to its value was his creation, and he its rightful owner. The right was recognized, and full possession given him, by deed, as soon as he had opened a farm, and built a house, and brought a wife into it.

The effect of this was to anchor a family, from generation to generation, fast to its ancestral acres. It strengthened the ties that bound them to their native fields. Its moral effect was beyond calculation. When a young man was thus enabled to start in life on an independent footing, it made a man of him while he was young. It invested him with the dignity of a citizen by making him feel his share of responsibility for the security and welfare of society. It gave scope for enterprise, and inspiration to industry, at home. It led to early marriages, under circumstances that justified them. Joseph Putnam, the youngest son of Thomas, at the age of twenty years and seven months, took as his bride Elizabeth, daughter of Israel Porter, and grand-daughter of William Hathorne, when she was sixteen years and six months old. We shall see what a valuable citizen he became; and she was worthy of him. A large and noble family of children grew up to honor them, one of the youngest of whom was Israel Putnam, of illustrious Revolutionary fame.

Though there were descendants of this family in every company of emigrants that went forth from[i.161] Salem Village, in all directions, in every generation, to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Maine, and all parts of the New England, Middle, Western, and Pacific States, there is about as large a proportionate representation of the name within the precincts of Salem Village to-day, as there ever was. Fifty Putnams are at present voters in Danvers, on a list of eight hundred names,—one-sixteenth of the whole number. The rate-schedule of 1712 shows almost precisely the same proportion.

Edward Putnam, whom we shall meet again, was baptized July 4, 1654. After serving as deacon of the church from its organization, a period of forty years, he resigned on account of advancing age; and in 1733, as he was entering on his eightieth year, gave this account of his family: "From the three brothers proceeded twelve males; from these twelve males, forty males; and from these forty males, eighty-two males: there were none of the name of Putnam in New England but those from this family." With respect to their situation in life, he remarks: "I can say with the Psalmist, I have been young, and now am old; yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken, nor their seed begging bread except of God, who provides for all. For God hath given to the generation of my fathers a generous portion, neither poverty nor riches." When the infirmities of age prevented his longer partaking in the worship of the Lord's Day, this good old man relinquished his residence near the church, and removed to his original homestead, in[i.162] the neighborhood of his children, which had then been included in the new town of Middleton. His will is dated March 11, 1731. It was offered in Probate, April 11, 1748. After making every reasonable deduction, in view of his share of responsibility for the earlier proceedings in the witchcraft prosecutions, we may participate in the affection and veneration with which this amiable and gentle-hearted man was regarded by his contemporaries.

The provisions of his will contain items which so strikingly illustrate his character, and give us such an insight of the domestic life of the times, that a few of them will be presented. According to the prevalent custom, he had given good farms to his several children when they became heads of families. In his will, he distributes the residue of his real estate among them with carefulness and an equal hand, describing the metes and bounds of the various tracts with great minuteness, so as to prevent all questions of controversy among them. He gives legacies in money to his daughters, ten pounds each; and, to his grand-daughters, five pounds each. To one of his five sons, he gives his "cross-cut saw." This was used to saw large logs crosswise, having two handles worked by two persons, and distinguished from the "pit saw," which was used to saw logs lengthwise. All his other tools were to be divided among his sons, to one of whom he also gives his cane; to another, his "Great Bible;" to another, "Mr. Jeremiah Burroughs's Works;" to another, "Mr. Flavel's Works;" and, to the other, his[i.163] "girdle and sword." To one of them he gives his desk, and "that box wherein are so many writings;" to another, his "share in the iron-works;" and to another, his share "in the great timber chain." This, with other evidence, shows that there was a boom, and arrangements on a large scale for the lumbering business, at that time, on Ipswich River. The provisions for his wife were very considerate, exact, and minute, so as to prevent all possibility of there being any difficulty in reference to her rights, or of her ever suffering want or neglect. He gives to her, absolutely and for her own disposal, the residue of his books and all his "movable estate" in the house and out of it, including all "cattle, sheep, swine," the whole stock of the homestead farm, agricultural implements, and carriages. He makes it the duty of one of his sons to furnish her with all the "firewood" she may want, with ten bushels of corn-meal, two bushels of English meal, four bushels of ground malt, four barrels of good cider,—he to find the barrels—as many apples "as she shall see cause," and nine or ten score weight of good pork, annually: he was to "keep for her two cows, winter and summer," and generally to provide all "things needful." The will specifies, apartment by apartment, from cellar to garret, one-half of the house, to be for her accommodation, use, and exclusive control, and half of the garden. The sons were to pay, in specified proportions, all his funeral charges. One of the sons was to pay her forthwith four pounds in money; and they were severally to deliver to her annu[i.164]ally, in proportions expressly stated, ten pounds for pocket money. When the relative value of money at that time is considered, and the other particulars above named taken into account, it will be allowed that he was faithful and wise in caring for the wife of his youth and the companion of his long life. There is no better criterion of the good sense and good feeling of a person than his last will and testament. The result of a quite extensive examination is a conviction that the application of this test to the early inhabitants of Salem Village is most creditable to them, particularly in the tender but judicious and effectual manner in which the rights, comfort, independence, and security of their wives were provided for.

In the third generation, the three Putnam families began to give their sons to the general service of the country in conspicuous public stations, and in the professional walks of life. Their names appear on the page of history and in the catalogues of colleges. Major-General Israel Putnam was a grandson of the first Thomas. On the 14th of May, 1718, Archelaus, a grandson of John, and son of James, died at Cambridge, while an undergraduate. Benjamin, a son of Nathaniel, in his will, presented for Probate, April 25, 1715, says, "I give my son Daniel one hundred and fifty pounds for his learning." Daniel lived and died in the ministry, at North Reading. His name heads the list of more than thirty—all, it is probable, of this family—in the last Triennial Catalogue of Harvard University.[i.165]

The brightest name in the annals of Salem Village, though frequently referred to, has not yet been presented for your contemplation. I shall hold it up and keep it in your view by a somewhat detailed description, not only because it is necessary to a full understanding of our subject, but because it is good to gaze upon a life of virtue; to pause while beholding a portrait beaming with beneficence, and radiant with all excellent, beautiful, and attractive affections.

Nathaniel Ingersoll was about eleven years old at the death of his father. His mother married John Knights, of Newbury, who became the head of her household, and continued to carry on the Townsend Bishop farm for several years. Governor Endicott, the friend and neighbor of Richard Ingersoll, took Nathaniel, while still a lad, into his family. In a deposition made in Court, June 24, 1701, Nathaniel Ingersoll says, "I went to live with Governor Endicott as his servant four years, on the Orchard Farm." At that time, the term "servant" had no derogatory sense connected with it. It merely implied the relations between an employer and the employed, without the least tint of the feeling which we associate with the condition of servility. Here was a youth, who, by his father's will, was the owner of a valuable estate of seventy-five acres in the immediate neighborhood, voluntarily seeking the privilege of entering the service of his father's friend, because he thereby would be better qualified, when old enough, to enter upon his own estate. Governor Endicott's political duties were[i.166] not then regarded as requiring him to live in Boston; and his usual residence was at the Orchard Farm, where he was making improvements and conducting agricultural operations upon so large a scale that it was the best school of instruction anywhere to be found for a young person intending to make that his pursuit in life. Young John Putnam, as has been stated, was there for the same purpose, under similar circumstances.

Having built a house and barn, and provided the necessary stock and materials, Nathaniel Ingersoll went upon his farm when about nineteen years of age. Soon after, probably, he married Hannah Collins of Lynn, who, during their long lives, proved a worthy helpmeet. His house was on a larger scale than was usual at that time. One of its rooms is spoken of as very large; and the uses to which his establishment was put, from time to time, prove that it must have had capacious apartments. Its site is shown on the map. The road from Salem to Andover passed it, not at an angle as now, but by a curve. The present parsonage of Danvers Centre stands on the lot. But Ingersoll's house was a little in the rear of the site occupied by the present parsonage. It faced south. In front was an open space, or lawn, called Ingersoll's Common. Here he lived nearly seventy years. During that long period, his doors were ever open to hospitality and benevolence. His house was the centre of good neighborhood and of all movements for the public welfare. His latch-string was always out[i.167] for friend or stranger. In a military sense, and every other sense, it was the head-quarters of the village. On his land, a few rods to the north-east, stood the block-house where watch was kept against Indian attacks. There a sentinel was posted day and night, under his supervision. The spot was central to the several farming settlements; and all meetings of every kind took place there. To accommodate the public, he was licensed to keep a victualling-house; also to sell beer and cider by the quart "on the Lord's Day." This last provision was for the benefit of those who came great distances to meeting, and had to find refreshment somewhere between the services. To meet the occasions arising out of this business, he probably had a separate building. Indeed, the evidence, in the language used in reference to it, is quite decisive that there was an "ordinary," distinct from the dwelling-house. The location was thought to render such an establishment necessary, and his character secured its orderly maintenance.

Travellers through the country stopped at "Nathaniel Ingersoll's corner." The earliest path or roadway to and from the eastern settlements went by it. Here Increase and Cotton Mather, and all magistrates and ministers, were entertained. Here the wants of the poor and unfortunate were made known, and all men came for counsel and advice. From the first, even when he had not reached the age of maturity, he commanded to a singular extent the confidence and respect of all men. The influence of his bearing and character,[i.168] thus early established, was never lost or abated, or disturbed for a moment during his long life. He was the umpire to settle all differences, but never made an enemy by his decisions. Although of moderate estate, compared with some of his neighbors, they all treated him with a deference greater than they sometimes paid to each other. It was his lot to be mixed up with innumerable controversies, to be in the very centre of the most vehement and frightful social convulsions, and to act decisively in some of them; but it is most marvellous to witness how uniform and universal was the consideration in which he was held. These statements are justified abundantly by evidence in records and documents.

When village business was to be transacted, or consultation of any kind had, the house of Deacon Ingersoll was designated, as a matter of course, for the place of meeting. Whether it was an ecclesiastical or a military gathering, a prayer-meeting or a train-band drill, it was there. Before they had a meeting-house, it cannot be doubted, they met for worship in his large room. We find it recorded, that, after the meeting-house was built, if from the bitterness of the weather, or any other cause, it was too uncomfortable to remain in, they would adjourn to Deacon Ingersoll's. Such a free use of a particular person's premises sometimes engenders a familiarity that runs into license, and is apt to breed contempt. Not so at all in his case. There was a native-born dignity, an honest manliness and pervading integrity[i.169] about him, that were appreciated by all persons at all times. When wrong was meditated, his admonition was received with respectful consideration; when it had been committed, his rebuke awakened no resentment. The fact, that he was acknowledged and felt by all to be a perfectly just man, is apparent through the whole course of his action in all the affairs of life. His uprightness, freedom from unworthy prejudice, and clear and transparent conscientiousness, appear in all documents, depositions, and records that proceeded from him. He was often called to give evidence in land causes and other trials at law; and his testimony is always straightforward, fair, and lucid. You can tell from the style, temper, or tone of other witnesses, which side of the controversy they espoused, but not from his. In the great and protracted conflict in the courts, relating to the Townsend Bishop farm, he and all his most intimate connections and relatives were parties of adverse interest; but Zerubabel Endicott paid homage, and left it on record, to the truthfulness and uprightness of the testimony and the fairness of the course of Nathaniel Ingersoll. We shall meet other illustrations to the same effect in the course of our narrative.

Although it is anticipating the course of events, it may be well to trace the outlines of the life of this man to its distant close. Partaking of the general views of his age, he participated in the proceedings that led to the witchcraft prosecutions. He believed in what was regarded as decisive evidence against the[i.170] accused, and acted accordingly. But no one ever felt that there was any vindictiveness in his course.

He lived to see the storm that desolated his beloved village pass away, and to enjoy the restoration of reason, peace, and good-will among a people who had so long been torn by strife, and subjected to untold horrors,—horrors that have never yet been fully described, and which I despair of being able adequately to depict. He did all that a good and true man could do to eradicate the causes of the mischief. He participated in the exercises of a day of Thanksgiving, set apart for the purpose, in 1700, to express the devout and contrite gratitude of the people to a merciful God for deliverance from the errors and passions that had overwhelmed them with such awful judgments. The removal of Mr. Parris having been effected, Joseph Green was settled near the close of the year 1697. He was a wise and prudent man. By kind, cautious, and well-timed measures, he gradually succeeded in extracting every root of bitterness, healing all the breaches, and restoring harmony to a long-distracted people. In this work, Deacon Ingersoll and his good associate, Edward Putnam, aided him to the utmost. When, by their united counsels and labors, the difficult work was about accomplished, Mr. Green was taken to his reward, in 1715. Greatly was he lamented; but Nathaniel Ingersoll had realized all his best wishes at last. The prayers he had poured forth for fifty years had been answered. He had seen the completed service of a pastor who had fulfilled his[i.171] highest estimate of what a Christian minister should be. He lived to witness and share in the warm and unanimous welcome of Peter Clark to a useful, honored, happy ministry which lasted more than half a century. The ordination of Mr. Clark, which took place on the 8th of June, 1717, was made the occasion of demonstrating the complete re-establishment of social harmony and Christian love throughout that entire community. The storms of strife had commenced with the settlement of the first minister, more than forty years before: they had increased in violence, until, at the witchcraft delusion, they swept in a tornado every thing to ruin. The clouds had been slowly dispersed, and the angry waves smoothed down, by Mr. Green's benignant ministry. The long, and yet unbroken, "era of good feeling" was fully inaugurated. It was a day of great rejoicing. Old men and matrons, young men and maidens, met together in happy union. Tradition says that they carried their grateful festivities to the highest point allowable by the proprieties of that period. Having witnessed this scene, and beheld the church and village of his affections start on a new and sure career of peace and prosperity, the Good Parishioner folded his mantle and departed from sight. He died in 1719, in his eighty-fifth year. He was truly the "Man of Ross." The celebrated portrait, which poetry has drawn under this name, was from an actual example in real life, not more shining than his. He left no issue; but his brothers were the founders of a family[i.172] widely diffused, many members of which have, in every subsequent age, contributed to the honor of the name. Innumerable branches have spread out from the same stock under other names. The children of the late Dr. Nathaniel Bowditch, through both father and mother, have descended from a brother of Nathaniel Ingersoll.

Citations and extracts from documents on file will justify all I have said of this man.

His wife was a spirit kindred to his own. Their only child, a daughter, died when quite young. Their hearts demanded an object on which to exercise parental affection, and to give opportunity for benevolent care, within their own household; and they induced their neighbor, Joseph Hutchinson, who had several sons, to give one of them to be theirs by adoption. When this child had grown to manhood, a deed was recorded in the Essex Registry, Oct. 2, 1691, of which this is the purport:—

"Benjamin Hutchinson, being an infant when he was given to us by his parents, we have brought him up as our own child; and he, the said Benjamin, living with us as an obedient son, until he came of one and twenty years of age, he then marrying from us, I, the said Nathaniel Ingersoll, and Hannah, my wife, on these considerations, do, upon the marriage of our adopted son, Benjamin Hutchinson, give and bequeath to him, his heirs and assigns for ever, this deed of gift of ten acres of upland, and also three acres of meadow," &c.

When Mr. Parris was settled, it occurred to Deacon[i.173] Ingersoll, that it would be very convenient for him to have a certain piece of ground between the parsonage land and the Andover road; and he gave him a deed, from which the following is an extract. It is dated Jan. 2, 1689.

"To all Christian people to whom this present writing shall come, Nathaniel Ingersoll, of Salem Village, in the county of Essex, sendeth greeting. Know ye, that the said Nathaniel Ingersoll, husbandman, and Hannah, his wife, for and in consideration of the love, respect, and honor which they justly bear unto the public worship of the true and only God, and therefore for the encouragement of their well-beloved pastor, the Rev. Samuel Parris, who hath lately taken that office amongst them, and also for and in consideration of a very small sum of money to them in hand paid, with which they do acknowledge themselves fully contented and satisfied, do grant to said Samuel Parris and Elizabeth, his wife, for life, and then to the children of said Samuel and Elizabeth Parris, four and a half acres of land, adjoining upon the home field of the said Nathaniel Ingersoll; the three acres on the south alienated by gift, and the remainder by sale."

There was a fine young orchard on the land.

Joseph Houlton had conveyed to the parish a lot for the use of the ministry, attached to the parsonage house. A question having arisen in consequence of a lost deed, or some other imagined defect in the Houlton title, whether the land originally belonged to him or to Nathaniel Ingersoll, the latter disposed of it at once by an instrument recorded in the Essex Registry, of which the following is the substance:[i.174]—

"Nathaniel Ingersoll to the Trustees of Salem Village Ministry land, for divers good causes and considerations me thereunto moving, but more especially for the true love and desire I have to the peace and welfare of Salem Village wherein I dwell, I hereby release, &c., all my right and title to five acres described in my brother Houlton's deed of sale," &c.

In the same Registry, the following extract is found, in a deed dated Jan. 28, 1708:—

"For the desire I have that children may be educated in Salem Village, I freely give four poles square of land to Rev. Joseph Green, to have and to hold the same, not for his own particular use, but for the setting a schoolhouse upon, and the encouragement of a school in this place."

The Essex Registry has a deed dated Jan. 6, 1714, of which the following is the substance:—

"For the good affection that I bear unto Deacon Edward Putnam, and the desire that I have of his comfortable attendance upon the public worship of God, I have freely given unto him, the said Deacon Edward Putnam, of Salem aforesaid, for him and his heirs for ever, a piece of land, bounded northerly upon the land of Joseph Green, next to his orchard gate, westerly on the highway, and southerly and easterly on my land."

Deacon Putnam was, at this time, sixty years of age. His homestead was at some distance; and it was often difficult for him to get to meeting. Ingersoll had always enjoyed the convenience of having only a few rods to go to the place of worship; and he desired to[i.175] have his beloved colleague enjoy the same privilege. Besides, he longed to have him near. The proffer was probably accepted. We find that church-meetings were held at the house of Deacon Putnam, which would not probably so often have been the case, had he remained on his farm; and we know that there were two dwelling-houses, some time afterwards, on the Ingersoll lot. It was a pleasant arrangement: the two deacons and the minister being thus brought close together, and reaching each other through Ingersoll's garden and the minister's orchard. Of the personal friendship, attachment, and genial affection between the two good old deacons, the foregoing extract is a pleasing illustration.

Nathaniel Ingersoll's property was never very large; and, as he had enjoyed the luxury, all his life long, of benevolence and beneficence, there was no great amount to be left after suitably providing for his wife. But there was enough to enable him to express the family affection to which he was always true, and to give a parting assurance of his devotion to the church and people of the village. By his will, certain legacies were required to be paid by the residuary legatee and final heir within a reasonable time specified in the document. It bears date July 8, 1709, and was offered for Probate, Feb. 17, 1719. It begins thus:—

"In the name of God, Amen. I, Nathaniel Ingersoll, of Salem, in the county of Essex, in the Province of Massachutetts Bay, in New England, being through God's mercy in good health of body and of perfect memory, but not[i.176] knowing how soon my great change may come, do make this my last will, in manner and form following: First, I give up my soul to God, in and through Jesus Christ my Redeemer, when he shall please to call for it, hoping for a glorious resurrection, in and through his merits; and my body to decent burial, at the discretion of my executors; and, as for the worldly estate God hath been pleased to give me, I dispose of it in the manner following," &c.

He gives a small sum of money, varying from thirty shillings to four pounds, to each and every nephew and niece then living, twenty-two in number. He provides for an annuity of twenty shillings a year for a sister, the only remaining member of his own immediate family, to be paid into the hands of the daughter who took care of her. Not being able to leave a large amount to any, he preferred to express his love for all. There were two items in the will which may be specially preserved from oblivion.

"I give to the church in Salem Village the sum of fifty shillings in money, for the more adorning the Lord's Table, to be laid out in some silver cup, at the discretion of the Pastor, Deacons, and my overseers."—"After my wife's decease, I give to Benjamin (my adopted son) who was very dutiful to me, while he lived with me, and helpful to me since he has gone from me, all the remaining part of my whole estate, both real and personal,—excepting a small parcel of land of about two acres, that lyeth between M^rs. Walcots and George Wyotts by the highway, which I give to the inhabitants of Salem Village, for a training place for ever."

[i.177]

The bonds required of the executors by the Probate Court were to the amount of two hundred pounds only, showing that his movable or personal estate was a very moderate one. There is a feature in the will, which is, I think, worthy of being mentioned, as evincing the excellent judgment and practical wisdom of this man.

"I give to Hannah, my well-beloved wife, the use and improvement of my whole estate during her natural life: and my will is, that, if my wife should marry again, he that she so marrieth, before she marry, shall give sufficient security to my overseers not to make strip or waste upon any of my estate; and, if he do not become so bound, I give one-half of my whole estate to Benjamin Hutchinson, at the time of my wife's marriage."

He did not cut her off entirely, as is sometimes attempted to be done, in the event of a second marriage, but secured her and the estate against suffering in case she took that step. He adopted an effectual method to prevent any one from seeking to marry her for the purpose of getting the benefit of her whole income and a comfortable establishment upon his property without providing for its preservation; and, if she should be so improvident as to marry again without having his conditions complied with, he took care that she should not thereby expose to injury or loss more than one-half of his estate. Ingenuity is much exercised in making wills, particularly in reference to the rights, interests, and security of wives. It is worthy of consideration, whether, all things considered, Nathaniel[i.178] Ingersoll's plan is not about as skilful and just as any that has been devised.

We shall meet this man again in the course of our story. I trust to your good feeling in vindication of the space I have given to his biography; being strongly impressed with a conviction, that you will agree with me,—taking into view the influence he constantly exerted, his steadfast integrity and honor, his personal dignity and public spirit,—that the life of this citizen of a retired rural community, this plain "husbandman," is itself a monument to his memory more truly glorious than many which have been reared to perpetuate the names of men whom the world has called great. The "training place" has been carefully preserved. Occupying a central point, by the side of the principal street, this pretty lawn is a fitting memorial of the Father of the village. In its proper character, as a training-field, it is invested with an interest not elsewhere surpassed, if equalled. Within its enclosure the elements of the military art have been imparted to a greater number of persons distinguished in their day, and who have left an imperishable glory behind them as the defenders of the country, a brave yeomanry in arms, than on any other spot. It was probably used as a training field at the first settlement of the village. From the slaughter of Bloody Brook, the storming of the Narragansett Fort, and all the early Indian wars; from the Heights of Abraham, Lake George, Lexington, Bunker Hill, Brandywine, Pea Ridge, and a hundred other battle-fields, a lustre[i.179] is reflected back upon this village parade-ground. It is associated with all the military traditions of the country, down to the late Rebellion. Lothrop, Davenport, Gardners, Dodges, Raymonds, Putnams, Porters, Hutchinsons, Herricks, Flints, and others, who here taught or learned the manual and drill, are names inscribed on the rolls of history for deeds of heroism and prowess.

There was the usual diversity and variety of character among the people of the village. John Procter originally lived in Ipswich, where he, as well as his father before him, had a farm of considerable value. In 1666, or about that time, he removed to Salem, and carried on the Downing farm, which had before been leased to the Flints. After a while, Procter purchased a part of it. If a conclusion can be drawn from the prevalent type of his posterity of our day, he was a man of herculean frame. There is, I think, a tradition to this effect. At any rate, his character was of that stamp. He had great native force and energy. He was bold in his spirit and in his language,—an upright man, no doubt, as the whole tone of the memorials of him indicate, but free and imprudent in speech, impulsive in feeling, and sometimes rash in action. He was liable from this cause, as we shall see, to get into contention and give offence. There was Jeremiah Watts, a representative of a class of men existing in every community where the intellect is stimulated and idiosyncrasies allowed to develop themselves. By occupation he was a dish-turner, but by temperament an enthu[i.180]siast, a zealot, and an agitator. He was not satisfied with things as they were, nor willing to give time an opportunity to improve them. He took hold of the horns of the altar with daring hands. He denounced the Church and the world,—undertook to overturn every thing, and to put all on a new foundation. He entered on a crusade against what he called "pulpit preaching," whereby particular persons, called ministers, "may deliver what they please, and none must object; and this we must pay largely for; our bread must be taken out of our mouths, to maintain the beast's mark; and be wholly deprived of our Christian privileges. This is the time of Antichrist's reign, and he must reign this time: now are the witnesses slain, and the leaders in churches are these slayers. But I see plainly that it is a vain thing to debate about these things with our fellow-brethren; for they are all for lording it, and trampling under foot." This man imagined that he "was singled out alone to give his testimony for Christ, discovering Antichrist's marks." "If any," he cried out, "will be faithful for Christ, they must witness against Antichrist, which is self-love, and lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God. The witnesses are now slain, but shortly they will rise again," &c. He tried to get up "private Christian meetings," to run an opposition to "pulpit preaching." After going about from house to house, declaiming in this style, denouncing all who would not fall in with his notions and act with him, and not succeeding in overthrowing things in general, he hit upon a new ex[i.181]pedient. As his neighbors had wit enough to let him alone, and did not suffer themselves to be tempted to resort to the civil power to make him keep quiet, he did it himself. He instituted proceedings against the ministers and churches, on the charge, that, by taking the rule into their own hands, they were supplanting the magistrates and usurping the civil power. This was not in itself a bad move; but the Court wisely declined to engage in the proceedings. They neither prosecuted the case nor him, but let the whole go by. They adhered severely to the do-nothing policy. What a world of mischief would have been avoided, if all courts, everywhere, at all times, had shown an equal wisdom! Watts was allowed to vex the village, torment the minister, and perplex those who listened to him by the ingenuity and ability with which he urged his views. He continued his brawling declamations until he was tired; but, not being noticed by ministers or magistrates, no great harm was done, and he probably subsided into a quiet and respectable citizen.

The prominent place Giles Corey is to occupy in the scene before us renders an account of him particularly necessary. It is not easy to describe him. He was a very singular person. His manner of life and general bearing and conversation were so disregardful, in many particulars, of the conventional proprieties of his day, that it is not safe to receive implicitly the statements made by his contemporaries. By his peculiarities of some sort, he got a bad name. In the Book of Records of the First Church in Salem, where[i.182] his public profession of religion is recorded, he is spoken of as a man of eighty years of age, and of a "scandalous life," but who made a confession of his sins satisfactory to that body. It cannot be denied that he was regarded in this light by some; but there is no reason to believe, that, in referring to the sinfulness of his past life, the old man meant more than was usually understood by such language on such occasions. He was often charged with criminal acts; but in every instance the charge was proved to be either wholly unfounded or greatly exaggerated. He had a good many contentions and rough passages; but they were the natural consequences, when a bold and strong man was put upon the defensive, or drawn to the offensive, by the habit of inconsiderate aspersion into which some of his neighbors had been led, and the bad repute put upon him by scandal-mongers. He was evidently an industrious, hard-working man. He was a person of some means, a holder of considerable property in lands and other forms. Deeds are often found on record from and to him. He owned meadows near Ipswich River. His homestead, during the last thirty years of his life, was a farm of more than a hundred acres of very valuable land, which has been in the possession of the family, now owning it, for a hundred years. The present proprietor, Mr. Benjamin Taylor, some twenty years ago, ploughed up the site of Corey's dwelling-house; the vestiges of the cellar being then quite visible. It was near the crossing of the Salem and Lowell, and Georgetown and Boston Railroads,[i.183] about three hundred feet to the west of the crossing, and close to the track of the former road, on its south side. The spot is surrounded by beautiful fields; and their aspect shows that it must have been, in all respects, an eligible estate. What is now known as "the Curtis Field" is a part of Corey's farm.

Giles Corey lived previously, for some time, in the town of Salem. He sold his house there in 1659. The contract with a carpenter for building his farmhouse is preserved. It was stipulated to be erected "where he shall appoint." While the carpenter was getting out the materials, he selected and bought the farm, on which he lived ever afterwards. The house was to be "twenty feet in length, fifteen in breadth, and eight feet stud." Nothing strikes us more, as strange and unaccountable, than the small size of houses in those days. One would have thought, that, where wood was so plenty and near at hand, and land of no account, they would have built larger houses. In a letter, dated Nov. 16, 1646, from Governor Winthrop to his son John, of Connecticut, he gives an account "of a tempest (than which I never observed a greater);" and mentions that the roof of "Lady Moody's house, at Salem," with all of the chimney above it, was blown off in two parts, and "carried six or eight rods. Ten persons lay under it, and knew not of it till they arose in the morning." The house had a flat roof, was of one story, and nine feet in height! Lady Deborah Moody was a person of high position, a connection of Sir Henry Vane, and a[i.184] woman of property. She bought Mr. Humphreys' great plantation. But, like Townsend Bishop, she was dealt with, and compelled to quit the colony, on account of her doubts about infant baptism. Winthrop calls her a "wise and anciently religious woman." She went to Long Island, where her influence was so important, that Governor Stuyvesant consulted her in his administration, and conceded to her the nomination of magistrates. It seems very strange that such a lady should have had a house only nine feet high. The early houses were built either as temporary structures or with a view to enlargement. Perhaps Lady Moody intended to add a story to hers. They were low-studded for warmth. The farm-houses generally were designed to be increased in length, when convenience required. The chimney was very large, placed at one end, and so constructed, that, on the extension of the building, fire-places could be opened into it on the new end. A building of twenty feet was prepared to become one of forty feet in width or length, as the case might be; and then the chimney would be in the middle of it.

As has been intimated, Corey was in bad repute. Either he was a lawless man, or much misunderstood. I am inclined to the latter opinion. He belonged to that class of persons, instances of which we occasionally meet, who care little about the opinions or the talk of others. On one occasion, he was going into town with a cartload of wood. He met Anthony Needham, in company with John Procter whose house[i.185] he had just passed. Procter accosted him thus: "How now, Giles, wilt thou never leave thy old trade? Thou hast got some of my wood here upon thy cart." Corey answered, "True, I did take two or three sticks to lay behind the cart to ease the oxen, because they bore too hard." This shows the free way in which Procter bantered with Corey, and the slight account the latter made of it. But the thing before long got to be too serious to be trifled with. It became the fashion to charge all sorts of offences against Corey; and, whatever any one lost or mislaid, he was considered as having abstracted it. The gossip against him was quite unrestrained, and created a bitter and angry feeling in the neighborhood. In the winter of 1676, a man named Goodell, who had been working on Corey's farm, was carried home to his friends by Corey's wife, in a feeble state of health, and died soon after. It was whispered about, and before long openly asserted, that he had come to his death in consequence of having been violently beaten by Corey, who was accordingly arrested and brought to trial for killing the man. There was a great excitement against him. He probably had punished the man severely for some alleged misconduct; and it was charged that the castigation had been so unmerciful and excessive as to have broken down his constitution and caused his death. There was conflicting evidence going to show that the man had been beaten, for some misconduct, after he had returned to his family. It was a circumstance in favor of Corey, that his wife[i.186] had taken the invalid to his home; and there was no evidence of any ill feeling between her and the sick man during a stop they made at Procter's house on their way. The death, too, it was supposed by some, might have resulted from ordinary disease, and not from whipping, either at Corey's or at home. The result was, that, notwithstanding the prejudice against Corey, he was discharged on paying a fine; showing that the Court did not consider it a very serious offence. We shall hear of this affair again.

In the year 1678, there was a suit at law between Corey and a man named John Gloyd, a laborer on his farm, on a question of wages. The case was, by agreement of the parties, passed out of court into the hands of arbitrators mutually chosen. John Procter was one of the arbitrators, and, as it would seem, chosen as the friend of Gloyd: Nathaniel Putnam and Edmund Bridges were the others; one of them chosen by Corey, and the other mutually agreed upon. They brought in their award. Its precise character is not stated; but the circumstances indicate that it was favorable to Gloyd. The conduct of Corey on this occasion shows, that, though a rough man perhaps, and liable, from his peculiar ways, to be harshly spoken of, he had, after all, a generous, forgiving, and genial nature. Nathaniel Putnam and Edmund Bridges state, that, when they brought in their award, "it was greatly to the satisfaction of the parties concerned; and Giles Corey did manifest as much satisfaction, and gave as many thanks to every one of us, as[i.187] ever we heard; and Goodman Corey did manifest, to our observation, as much satisfaction to John Procter as he did to the rest of the arbitrators." Captain Moore, being by when the award was brought in, says, "I did see and take notice of the abundance of love manifested from Corey to Procter, and from Procter to Corey: for they drank wine together; and Procter paid for part, and Corey for part."

This remarkable overflow of affection between these two men is rendered interesting, not merely by the collisions into which, before and after, their impulsive and imprudent natures brought them, but by the part they were destined to enact in an impending tragedy, which was to bring them to a fearful end in a manner and on a scene that will arrest the notice of all ages, and attest to their strong characters and heroic spirit. The passage has a unique interest, and is worthy of a painter.

It happened unfortunately, that, a few days after the loving embraces of these hardy men, Procter's house took fire. According to their habit, some of the neighbors at once started the idea, that Corey had set fire to it because of the award of the arbitrators, of whom Procter was one. Under the excitement of the conflagration, with his usual rashness, and forgetting the pledges of reconciliation that had just passed between them, Procter fell in with the accusation, and Corey was brought to trial. It appeared, in evidence, that John Phelps and Thomas Fuller, who lived on the western borders of the village, near Ipswich[i.188] River, coming along the road towards Procter's Corner about two hours before daylight, on the way probably to Salem market, saw his roof on fire, gave the alarm, and stopped to help put it out. Thomas Gould and Thomas Flint thought it must be the work of an incendiary, or of "an evil hand," as they expressed it, from the place where it took and the hour when it occurred. On the other hand, it was testified by James Poland and Caleb and Jane Moore, that they heard John Procter say that his boy carried a lamp and set the fire by accident. This was said by him, probably before the idea of Corey's agency in the matter had been put into his head. The prisoner proved an alibi by the most conclusive evidence, which is so curious, as giving an insight of a farmer's life at that time, and of Corey's domestic condition, that it may well be inserted.

Abraham Walcot testifies, that, "Tuesday night last was a week, I lodged at Giles Corey's house, which night John Procter's house was damaged by fire; and Giles Corey went to bed before nine o'clock, and rose about sunrise again, and could not have gone out of the house but I should have heard him; and it must have been impossible that he should have gone to Procter's house that night; for he cannot in a long time go afoot, and, for his horse-kind, they were all in the woods. And further testifieth, that said Corey came home very weary from work, and went to bed the rather." His wife testified that he was in bed from nine o'clock until sunrise.[i.189]

John Parker, one of Corey's four sons-in-law, testified as follows: "I being at work with my father, Goodman Corey, the day Goodman Procter's house was on fire. I going home with my father the night before, he complained that he was very weary, and said he would go to bed. I did, on our way going, ask him whether or no he would eat his supper: my father answered me again, no, he could not eat any thing that night; and so went to bed, and so I left him abed. And, the next morning, my father came to me about sun-rising, and asked me to go with Abraham Walcot to fetch a load of hay; and my father said he would try whether or not he could cart up a load of peas. I do also testify that he had no horse-kind near at home at that time."

John Gloyd, the hired man, with whom he had the lawsuit that had been settled a day or two before by arbitrators, testified, in corroboration of Parker, and to show that the latter could not have had any thing to do with the fire, that he slept in the same room with said Parker that night, and that he came to bed between nine and ten o'clock in the evening, and never rose until the break of day. Gloyd's wife testified to the same effect. There turned out to be no evidence against Corey whatever, but abundant proof of his innocence. The hard-working, "weary" old man was triumphantly acquitted. He thought, however, from this high-handed and utterly groundless attempt to wrong and ruin him, and from calumnious general statements that had been made against him in the[i.190] course of the trial, that it was time to put a stop to the malignant and mischievous slanders which had been current in the neighborhood. He instituted prosecutions of Procter and others for defamation, and recovered against them all. After this, we hear no more of him until he experienced religion and was received into the First Church. Whether he and Procter became reconciled again is not known. Probably they did; for they seem to have had points of attraction, and each of them traits of kind-heartedness and generosity, under a rather rough exterior. The manner in which they bore themselves in their last hours is a matter of history, and stamps them both with true manliness.

The incidents which have now been related, and the peculiar traits of this man, are perhaps sufficient to account for the fact, that he was spoken of as a person of "a scandalous" life. He had afforded food for scandal; and it is not surprising, that, in a rural community, where but few topics for talk occur beyond the village boundaries, all should have participated, more or less, in criticising his ways, and that the various difficulties into which he had been drawn, and the charges against him, should have made him the object of much prejudice. His wife Martha was also a noticeable character. She was a professor of religion, a member of the village church, and found her chief happiness in attendance upon public worship and in private devotions. Much of her time—indeed, all that she could rescue from the labors of the household[i.191]—was spent in prayer. She was a woman of spirit and pluck, as we shall see.

Another notability of the village was Bridget Bishop. In 1666—then the widow Wasselbe—she was married to Thomas Oliver. After his death, she became the wife of Edward Bishop, who is spoken of as a "sawyer." This term did not describe the same occupation then to which it is almost wholly applied now. Firewood, in those days, was not, as a general thing, sawed, but chopped. The sawyer got out boards and joists, beams, and timber of all kinds, from logs; and before mills were constructed, or where they were not conveniently accessible, it was an indispensable employment, and held a high rank among the departments of useful industry. It was in constant requisition in shipyards. It was a manly form of labor, requiring a considerable outlay of apparatus, and developing finely the whole muscular organization. The implement employed, beside the ordinary tools, such as wedges, beetles, the broad-axe, chains, and crowbar, was a strong steel cutting-plate, of great breadth, with large teeth, highly polished and thoroughly wrought, some eight or ten feet in length, with a double handle, crossing the plate at each end at a right angle. It was worked by two men, and called a "pit-saw," because sometimes the man at the lower handle stood in a deep pit, dug for the purpose, and called a "saw-pit." But, among the early settlers, the usual method was to make a frame of strong timbers. The log to be sawed was raised by slings, or slid up an inclined plane, and[i.192] placed upon cross-beams. Above it, a scaffolding was made on which one man stood; the other stood on the ground below. They each held the saw by both hands, and worked in unison. The log was pushed along by handspikes as they reached the cross-timbers, and wedges were used to keep the cleft open, that the saw might work free. So important was this business considered, that, from time to time, the General Court regulated by law the rates of pay to the sawyer. If a farmer had suitable woodlands, he provided in many cases a saw-frame or saw-pit of his own, got out his logs, and worked them into boards or square timber for sale. This was a profitable business.

Edward Bishop had resided, for some seven years previous to the witchcraft delusion, within the limits of Salem, near the Beverly line. His wife Bridget was a singular character, not easily described. She kept a house of refreshment for travellers, and a shovel-board for the entertainment of her guests, and generally seems to have countenanced amusements and gayeties to an extent that exposed her to some scandal. She is described as wearing "a black cap and a black hat, and a red paragon bodice," bordered and looped with different colors. This would appear to have been rather a showy costume for the times. Her freedom from the austerity of Puritan manners, and disregard of conventional decorum in her conversation and conduct, brought her into disrepute; and the tongue of gossip was generally loosened against her. She was charged with witchcraft, and actually[i.193] brought to trial on the charge, in 1680, but was acquitted; the popular mind not being quite ripe for such proceedings as took place twelve years afterwards. She still continued to brave public sentiment, lived on in the same free and easy style, paying no regard to the scowls of the sanctimonious or the foolish tittle-tattle of the superstitious. She kept her house of entertainment, shovel-board, and other appurtenances. Sometimes, however, she resented the calumnies circulated about her being a witch, in a manner that made it to be felt that it was best to let her alone. A man called one day at the house of Samuel Shattuck, where there was a sick child. He was a stranger to the inmates of the family, and evidently had come to the place to make trouble for Bridget Bishop. He pretended great pity for the child, and said, among other things, in an oracular way, "We are all born, some to one thing, and some to another." The mother asked him what he thought her poor, suffering child was born to. He replied, "He is born to be bewitched, and is bewitched: you have a neighbor, that lives not far off, who is a witch." The good woman does not appear to have entertained any suspicion of the kind; but the man insisted on the truth of what he had affirmed. He succeeded in exciting her feelings on the subject, and, by vague insinuations and general descriptions of the witch, led her mind to fix upon Bridget Bishop. He said he should go and see her, and that he could bring her out as the afflicter of her child. She consented to let another[i.194] of her boys go with him, and show the way. They proceeded to the house, and knocked at the door. Bridget opened it, and asked what he would have: he said a pot of cider. There was something in the manner of the man which satisfied her that he had come with mischievous intent. She ordered him off, seized a spade that happened to be near, drove him out of her porch, and chased him from her premises. When he and the boy got back, they bore marks of the bad luck of the adventure. Such things had perhaps happened before, and it was found that whoever provoked her resentment was very likely to come off second best from the encounter; yet Bridget was a member of Mr. Hale's Church in Beverly, and retained her standing in full fellowship there. It must have been thought, by the pastor and members of that church, that no charge seriously affecting her moral or Christian character was justly imputable to her.

The traveller of to-day, in passing over Crane-river Bridge, approaching the present village of "The Plains," near the eastern end of the Townsend Bishop or Nurse farm, will notice a roadway by the side of the bridge descending through the brook and going up to rejoin the main road on the other side. Such turnouts are frequent by the side of bridges over small streams. They are refreshing and useful, cooling the feet and cleansing the fetlocks of horses, and washing the wheels of carriages. One afternoon, Edward Bishop, with his wife behind him on a pillion, was riding home from Salem. Two women, mounted in[i.195] the same way, joined them; and they chatted together pleasantly as their horses ambled along. When they came to the bridge, Bishop, probably merely for the fun of the thing, dashed down into the brook, instead of going over the bridge, to the great consternation and against the vehement remonstrances of his wife, who berated him soundly for his reckless disregard of her safety. They got through without accident; and the four jogged on together until the Bishops turned up to their house, and the other two kept on to their home in Beverly. But all the way from the bridge, until they parted company, Bishop was finding great fault with his wife, saying that he should not have been sorry if any mishap had occurred. She did not say much after her first fright and resentment were over; but he kept on talking very freely about her, and using some pretty hard language. This affair, which perhaps is not without a parallel in the occasional experiences of married life, was, with other things of an equally trivial and irrelevant character, brought to bear fatally against her at her trial on the charge of witchcraft, between seven and eight years afterward.

I can find no evidence against the moral character of this woman. One person, at least, who participated largely in getting up accusations against her, acknowledged, in a death-bed repentance, the wrong she had done. Mr. Hale, the minister of the Beverly congregation, states, in a deposition, that a certain woman, "being in full communion in our church, came to me to desire that Goodwife Bishop, her neighbor, wife of[i.196] Edward Bishop, Jr., might not be permitted to receive the Lord's Supper in our church till she had given her satisfaction for some offences that were against her; namely, because the said Bishop did entertain people in her house at unseasonable hours in the night, to keep drinking and playing at shovel-board, whereby discord did arise in other families, and young people were in danger to be corrupted; that she knew these things, and had once gone into the house, and, finding some at shovel-board, had taken the pieces they played with and thrown them into the fire, and had reproved the said Bishop for promoting such disorders, but received no satisfaction from her about it." According to Mr. Hale's statement, the night after this complaint was brought to him, the woman was found to be distracted. "She continuing some time distracted, we sought the Lord by fasting and prayer." After a while, the woman recovered her senses, and, as Mr. Hale says he understood, expressed a suspicion "that she had been bewitched by Bishop's wife." He declares that he did not, at the time, countenance the idea, "hoping better of Goody Bishop." He says further, that he "inquired of Margaret King, who kept at or near the house," what she had observed concerning the woman who had been distracted. "She told me that she was much given to reading and searching the prophecies of Scripture." At length the woman appeared to have entirely recovered, went to Goody Bishop, gave satisfaction for what she had said and done against her, and they became[i.197] friends again. Mr. Hale goes on to say, "I was oft praying with and counselling of her before her death." She earnestly desired that "Edward Bishop might be sent for, that she might make friends with him. I asked her if she had wronged Edward Bishop. She said, not that she knew of, unless it were in taking his shovel-board pieces, when people were at play with them, and throwing them into the fire; and, if she did evil in it, she was very sorry for it, and desired he would be friends with her, or forgive her. This was the very day before she died." That night her distemper returned, and, in a paroxysm of insanity, she destroyed herself.

It is evident, from his own account, that Mr. Hale did not then fall in with, or countenance at all, any unfavorable impressions against Bridget Bishop; and that the poor diseased woman, when entirely free from her malady, repented bitterly of what she had done and said of Goodman Bishop and his wife, and heartily desired their forgiveness. So far as the facts stated by Mr. Hale of his own knowledge go, they prove that Bridget Bishop was the victim of gross misrepresentation. Five years afterwards, as we shall see, Mr. Hale gave a very different version of the affair, and one which it is extremely difficult to reconcile with his own former deliberate convictions at the time when the circumstances occurred.

As it is my object to bring before you every thing that may help to explain the particular occurrences embraced in the account I am to give of the witchcraft[i.198] prosecutions, two other persons must be mentioned before concluding this branch of my subject,—George Jacobs, Sr., and his son George Jacobs, Jr. They each had given offence to some persons, and suffered that sort of notoriety which led to the selection of victims, although both were persons of respectability. The father owned and had lived for about a half-century on a farm in North Fields, on the banks of Endicott River, a little to the eastward of the bridge at the iron-foundery. He was a person of good estate and an estimable man; but it was his misfortune to have an impulsive nature and quick passions. In June, 1677, he was prosecuted and fined for striking a man who had incensed him. George Jacobs, Jr., his only son, at a court held Nov. 7, 1674, was prosecuted, "found blamable, and ordered to pay costs of court." His offence and defence are embraced in his deposition on the occasion.

"George Jacobs's Answer to Nathaniel Putnam's Complaint.—That I did follow some horses in our enclosure on the Royal Side, where they were trespassing upon us; that the end of my following them was to take them; but, rather than they would be taken, they took the water, and I did follow them no further; but straightway they turned ashore, and I did run to take them as they came out of the water, but could not: and I can truly take my oath that since that time I did never follow any horses or mares; and I hope my own oath will clear me."

The result of his attempt to drive off the horses was, that several valuable animals were drowned.[i.199] Their owner, Nathaniel Putnam, brought an action; but he could not recover damages. The horses were evidently trespassing, and the Court did not seem to regard Jacobs's conduct as a heinous matter. It is not to be supposed, that Nathaniel Putnam harbored sentiments of revenge or resentment for eighteen years, or had any hand in prosecuting Jacobs in 1692. There is every indication that he did not sympathize in the violent passions which raged on that occasion, although he was much under the power of the delusion. But the affair of drowning the horses was probably for a long time a topic of gossip, and may have given to the author of the catastrophe a notoriety which nearly cost him his life.

The account that has been given of the elements of the population of the Salem Farms or Village, shows that, while there were the usual varieties entering into the composition of all communities, it is wholly inadmissible to suppose that the witchcraft delusion took place there because it was the scene of greater ignorance or stupidity or barbarism than prevailed elsewhere. This will be made more apparent still by some general views of the state of society and manners. The people of a remote age are in general only regarded as they are seen through prominent occurrences and public movements. These constitute the ordinary materials of history. Dynasties, reigns of kings, armies, legislative proceedings, large ecclesiastical synods, dogmatic creeds, and the like, are, as a general thing, about all we know of the past. Por[i.200]traits of individuals appear here and there; but, separated from the ordinary life of the times, they cannot be fairly or fully appreciated. The public life of the past is but the outline, or, more strictly speaking, the mere skeleton, of humanity. To fill up the outline, to clothe the skeleton with elastic nerves and warm flesh, and quicken it with a vital circulation, we must get at the domestic, social, familiar, and ordinary experience of individuals and private persons; we must obtain a view of the popular customs and the daily routine of life. In this way only can history fulfil its office in making the past present.

The people of the early colonial settlements had a private and interior life, as much as we have now, and the people of all ages and countries have had. It is common to regard them in no other light than as a severe, sombre, and pleasure-abhorring generation. It was not so with them altogether. They had the same nature that we have. It was not all gloom and severity. They had their recreations, amusements, gayeties, and frolics. Youth was as buoyant with hope and gladness, love as warm and tender, mirth as natural to innocence, wit as sprightly, then as now. There was as much poetry and romance: the merry laugh enlivened the newly opened fields, and rang through the bordering woods as loud, jocund, and unrestrained as in these older and more crowded settlements. It is true that their theology was austere, and their polity, in Church and State, stern; but, in their modes of life, there were some features which[i.201] gave peculiar opportunity to exercise and gratify a love of social excitement of a pleasurable kind. Let me mention some of the customs having a tendency in this direction, that prevailed in the early settlements of New England.

Whenever a young man had made his clearing in the forest, got out the frame of his house, and selected a helpmeet to dwell with him in it, there was "a raising." On an appointed day, the neighbors far and near assembled; all together put their shoulders to the work; and, before the shadows of night enveloped the scene, the house was up, and covered from sill to ridgepole. The same was done if the house of a neighbor had been destroyed by fire. In this case, often the timbers, joists, and boards were contributed as well as the labor. These were made the occasions of general merriment, in which all ages and both sexes participated. Then there were the "huskings." After the barns were filled with hay and grain, and the corn was ripe, at "harvest home," gatherings would be seen on the bright autumnal afternoons of successive days, in the neighborhood of the different farmhouses. The sheaves would be taken from the shocks and brought up from the fields, the golden leaves and milky tassels stripped from the full ear, and the crib filled to the brim. These were scenes of unalloyed enjoyment and unrestrained gayety.

At that time were prevalent, in rural neighborhoods, other recreations promotive of social hilarity to the[i.202] highest degree. As a wintry evening drew on, the wide, deep fireplace—equalling in width nearly the whole of one side of the room, and so deep that benches were permanently attached to the jambs, on which two or more could comfortably sit—was duly prepared. A huge log, of a diameter equal to that of "the mast of some great admiral," six feet perhaps in length, was worked in by handspikes to its place as the "back-log;" a smaller one, as "back-stick," placed over it; the great andirons duly adjusted, and the wood piled on artistically—for there was an art in building a wood-fire. The kindlings were placed on top of the whole; never by an experienced hand below. More than the light of day, from dazzling chandeliers or the magic tongues of flaming gas-burners, blazes through the halls of modern luxury and splendor; but the lights and shadows from a glowing, old-fashioned, New-England country fireplace created a scene as enlivening, exhilarating, and genial as has ever been witnessed, and cannot be surpassed. Assembled neighbors in a single evening accomplished what would have been the work of a family for months. The corn and the nuts were all shelled; the young birch was stripped down in thin strands, and brooms enough made for a year's service in house and barn; and various other useful offices rendered. The sound of busy hands and nimble fingers was lost in commingling happy voices. Fun and jest, joy and love, ruled the hour. The whole affair was followed by "Blind-man's Buff" or some[i.203] other sport. After the "old folks" had considerately retired, who knows but that the sons and daughters of Puritans sometimes wound up with a dance? There were sleigh-rides, and the woods rang with the happy laugh and jingling bells. The vehicles used on these occasions were, prior to 1700, more properly called "sleds." Our modern "sleigh" had not then been introduced. As the spring came on, logs would be hollowed or scooped out and placed near the feet of sugar maples, a slanting incision made a foot or two above them in the trunks of the trees, a slip of shingle inserted, and the delicious sap would trickle down into the troughs. When the proper time came, tents or booths made of evergreen boughs would be erected in the woods, great kettles hung over blazing fires, and a whole neighborhood camp out for several days and nights, until the work was accomplished, and the flavory syrup or solid cakes of sugar brought out.

These were some of the recreations of the country people in the early settlements of New England; continuing, perhaps, in frontier towns to this day. They constituted forms of enjoyment which cannot exist in cities or older communities; and possessed a charm, in the memory of all who ever participated in them, greater, far greater, than society in any later stage can possess.

The principal method of travelling in those days was on horseback. It afforded many special opportunities for social enjoyment. Women as well as men were trained to it. The people of the village were all[i.204] at home in the saddle. The daughters of Joseph Putnam, sisters of Israel, were celebrated as equestrians. Tradition relates adventurous feats of theirs in this line, equal to that which constitutes a part of the history of their famous brother. There were, perhaps, several games of skill or chance practised more or less, even in those days, in this neighborhood. The only one that seems to have been openly allowed, of which we have any evidence, was shovel-board. This game, now supposed to be out of use, is referred to by Shakespeare, and was quite common in England as well as in this country. A board about two and a half feet wide and twenty feet long was placed three feet above the floor, somewhat like a billiard-table, though not with so wide a surface, precisely level and perfectly smooth, covered with a sprinkling of fine sand. It was provided with weights or balls, called "pieces," flattened on one end. The game consisted in shoving them as far as possible, without going over the end. A trough surrounded the table to catch the pieces if they fell. Richard Grant White, from whom this account of the game has been derived, says that "it required great accuracy of eye, and steadiness of hand, much more than ten-pins." He states that, when a boy, he saw it played by "brawny" men, in Brooklyn, N.Y., and that the pieces then used were of brass. It is probable that the "pieces" used on Bridget Bishop's shovel-board were made of some heavy wood, as they were thrown into the fire for the purpose of destroying them. The fact that a game like this was suffered to[i.205] be openly played in Salem Village is quite remarkable, and shows that some license was left for such amusements.

The records and files of the local courts show, that, notwithstanding the austere gravity and strictness of manners and morals usually ascribed to our New-England ancestors, occasional irregularities occurred in the early settlements, which would be considered high misdemeanors in our day. The following deposition was given "on oath before the Court," Feb. 26, 1651. Edward Norris was the son of the minister of the First Church; had been for more than ten years, and continued to be for twenty years after, schoolmaster of the town; and, by his character as well as office, commanded the highest respect. John Kitchen, in 1655, was chosen "searcher and sealer of leather." Giles Corey had not yet purchased his farm, but lived on his town-lot, extending from Essex Street, near its western extremity, to the North River. They were severally persons of good estate.

"The Testimony of Giles Corey.—Mr. Edward Norris and I were going towards the brickkiln: John Kitchen, going with us, fell a nipping and pinching of us. And, when we came back again, John Kitchen struck up Mr. Edward Norris his heels and mine, and fell upon me, and catched me by the throat, and held me so long till he had almost stopped my breath. And I said unto John Kitchen, 'This is not good jesting.' And John Kitchen replied, 'This is nothing: I do owe you more than this of old: this is not half of that which you shall have afterwards.' After this,[i.206] he went into his house, and he took stinking water and threw upon us, and took me and thrust me out of doors, and I went my ways. And John Kitchen followed me half-way up the lane, or thereabouts. Perceiving him to follow me, I went to go over the rails. He took me again, and threw me down off the rails, and fell a beating of me until I was all bloody. And, Thomas Bishop being present, I desired him to bear witness of what he saw. Upon my words, he let me rise. As soon as I was up, he fell a beating of me again.

"Testified on oath before the Court, 26th Feb., 1651.

"Henry Bartholomew, Clerk."

This was indeed an extraordinary outburst of lawless violence, and gives a singular insight of the state of society. Such an occurrence in our day would create astonishment. The organized power of the community to suppress vicious and rude passions was probably never brought to bear with greater rigidness than in our Puritan villages; but it did not fully accomplish its end. Behind and beneath the solemn and formal exterior, there was, after all, perhaps as much irregularity of life as now. The nature of man had not been subdued. The people had their quarrels and fights, and their frolics and merriments, in defiance of the restraints of authority. Violations of local and general laws were not infrequent; and flowed, as ever since, from intemperance, in as large a measure. Kitchen, in this instance, acted as if under the influence of liquor. His behavior, in tripping up the heels and throwing dirty water upon the person of the school[i.207]master of the town, the dignity of whose social position is indicated by the title of "Mr.;" and in giving to Corey such a persistent and gratuitous pommelling,—bears the aspect of a drunken delirium. The latter seems not to have supposed, for some time, that he was in earnest, but to have looked upon his conduct as rough play, which was carried rather too far. Poor Corey was often getting before the town Court as accused or accuser. He was, to the end, the victim of ill-usage, either given or taken. Though not a bad-natured man, he was almost always in trouble. The tenor of his long life was as eccentric and unruly as the manner of his death was strange and horrible.

There was what may be called an institution in the rural parishes of the early times, still existing to some extent perhaps in country places, which must not be omitted in an enumeration of controlling influences. The people lived on farms, at some distance from each other, and almost all at great distances from the meeting-house. Local and parental authority, church discipline, public opinion, enforced attendance upon the regular religious services. Fashion, habit, and choice concurred in bringing all to meeting on the Lord's Day. It was impossible for many to return home during the intermission between the services of the forenoon and afternoon. The effect was, that the whole community were thrown and kept together every week for several hours, during which they could not avoid social intercourse. It was a more effective institution than the town-meeting; for it occurred oftener, and[i.208] included women and children. In pleasant weather, they would perhaps gather together in knots at eligible places, or stroll off in companies to the shades of the neighboring woods. In bad weather, they would remain in the meeting-house, or congregate at Deacon Ingersoll's ordinary, or in the great rooms of his dwelling-house. As a whole, this practice must have produced important results upon the character of the people. In the absence of newspapers, or of much intercourse with remote places, the day was made the occasion for hearing and telling all the news. It provided for the circulation of ideas, good and bad. It widened the sphere of influence of the wiser and better sort, and gave opportunity for mischievous people to do much harm. It was a sort of central bazaar, open every week, where all the varieties of local gossip could be interchanged and circulated far and wide. Of the aggregate character of the effects thus produced, I do not propose to strike the balance. It was undoubtedly an effective instrumentality in moulding the population of the country, developing the elements of society, quickening and rendering more vigorous the action of the people in masses, and elucidating the phenomena of their history. It answers my purpose, at present, to suggest, that, if any popular delusion or fanaticism arose, the means of giving it a rapid diffusion, and of intensifying its power, were in this way provided.

In the early settlement of the country, the pursuit of game in the forests, rivers, and lakes, was necessary as a means of subsistence, and has always been im[i.209]portant in that view. A war against beasts and birds of prey was also required to be incessantly kept up. The methods adopted for these ends were various and ingenious, often requiring courage and skill, and in most instances conducted in companies. Deer and moose were sometimes caged by surrounding them, or trapped; but the gun was chiefly relied upon in their pursuit. There were various methods for catching the smaller animals. One of the sports of boyhood was to spring the rabbits or hares. A sapling, or young tree, was bent down and fastened to a stick slid into notches cut in trees, on each side of the path of the animal. The rabbit is wont to race through the woods at great speed, and along established tracks, which, particularly after snow has fallen, are clearly traceable. To the cross-stick, thus placed above the path, one end of a strong horse-hair was tied. The other end was in a slip-knot, with a noose just large enough, and hanging at the height, to receive the head of the rabbit. Not seeing the noose, and rushing along the path, the rabbit would jerk the cross-stick out of the notches. The tree would bound back to its original upright direction, and the rabbit remain swinging aloft, until, at the break of day, the boys would rejoice in the success of their stratagem. Pigeons in clouds frequented the country in their seasons, and acres upon acres of the forests bowed beneath their weight. They were taken by nets, dozens at a time, or brought down in great numbers by shot-guns. The marshalled hosts of wild geese made their noisy flights over the land in the[i.210] spring and fall, traversing a space spanning the continent north and south. They were brought down by the gun, on the wing, or surprised while resting in their long route or stopped by storms, around secluded ponds or swamps. Ducks and other aquatic birds were abundant on the rivers and marshes, and pursued in canoes along the bays and seashores. Salt-water fish were within reach in the neighboring ocean; while an unfailing supply of fresh-water fish was yielded by Wenham Lake, Wilkins's Pond, and the running streams.

The bear was a formidable prowler around the settlements, killing young cattle, making havoc in the sheepfold, and depredating upon the barn and farm yard. He was a dangerous antagonist, of immense strength in his arms and claws. Sometimes he was reached effectually by the gun, but the trap was mainly relied upon to secure him. His skin made him a valuable prize, and he supplied other beneficial uses. The earliest and rudest method of trapping a bear was as follows: A place was selected in the woods, where two large fallen and mouldering trees were side by side within two or three feet of each other. The space between them would be roofed over by throwing branches and boughs across them, and closed up at one end. The other end would be left open. A gun was placed inside, heavily loaded, the muzzle towards the open end; to the trigger a cord was fastened running along by the barrel of the gun, passing over a cross-bar, and hanging down directly before the muzzle, baited with a piece of fresh meat. The bear,[i.211] ranging in the woods at night, would be attracted by the smell of meat, and come snuffing around. At the open end, he would see the bait, rush in, seize it between his jaws, pull the cord, discharge the gun, and his head and breast be torn to pieces. The men engaged in the enterprise would remain awake in some neighboring house, waiting and listening, with the extremest interest, for the report of the gun to announce their success. At the break of day, they would gather to the spot, and participate in the profit of the capture. After a while, iron or steel traps were introduced. They would be skilfully baited and set, and fastened to a tree by a chain. The whole was covered over with light soil and leaves. The bear would make for the bait. The weight of his paw would spring the trap. The iron-teeth would hold him fast till the morning. In his suffering and exasperation, it would require considerable effort to despatch him. In catching bears, as well as foxes, much skill and art were needed. They were each very wary and cautious; and, where iron was used in the traps, some scent was necessary to disguise the smell of the metal. All appearance of having been disturbed had to be removed from the ground. Trapping became quite a science, and was a pursuit of much importance.

Wolves were perhaps the most destructive of the beasts of prey. Although not so large or strong as bears, they were far more fierce and rapacious. Bears could be tamed, but wolves not. Bears were not dangerous, unless provoked, or suffering from hunger, or[i.212] alarmed for the safety of their young. It was thought that kind treatment would awaken strong attachment in them, but wolves were always snarling and ferocious. They roamed mostly in packs, and would kill sheep, lambs, and poultry long after hunger was appeased. The farmers regarded them as their great enemy. A long and deep trench would be dug, lined with slippery logs, from which the bark had been taken, standing upright, and touching each other. The trench was covered by a slight framework, upon which leaves and dirt were scattered, to make the surface appear like the surrounding territory. Some savory bait would be placed over it. The wolves, rushing on, would break through. Not being able to ascend the sides, they would be found alive, the next morning, at the bottom. These were called "wolf-pits." It was no easy matter to dispose of or despatch the furious animals, and the wolf-pits were often the scenes of much excitement. There was another class of animals,—divided into different species, mostly according to their size,—smaller but fiercer than wolves, of extraordinary strength and activity, called wild-cats, catamounts, or loup-cerviers, pronounced by the farmers lucifees. These were only taken by the gun. It was considered a useful public service, and no inconsiderable feat, to kill them.

Some of the laborious employments, at that time, were especially promotive of social influence; for instance, the making and mending highways. This was secured by a tax, annually levied in town-meeting. The work was placed under the care and direction of[i.213] surveyors, annually chosen. A small part of this tax, however, was paid in money. Most of it was "worked out." At convenient seasons, when there was a respite from the ordinary farm work, the men of a neighborhood would come together, in greater or less numbers, at a designated time and place, with their oxen and implements. Working in unison, they would work merrily and with energy; and, as the tough roots and deeply bedded rocks gave way to the pickaxe, crowbar, and chain, and rough places became smooth, the wilderness would echo back their voices of gratulation, and a spirit of animating rivalry stimulate their toils. Many other operations were carried on, such as getting up hay from the salt-marshes and building stone-walls, by neighbors working in companies.

Particular circumstances in the history of the population of Salem Village contributed to keep up a condition of general intelligence, which served, to some degree, as a substitute for an organized system of education. Indeed, any thing like regular schools was rendered impossible by the then-existing circumstances. Clearings had made a very inconsiderable encroachment on the wilderness. There were here and there farmhouses, with deep forests between. It was long before easily traversable roads could be made. A schoolhouse placed permanently on any particular spot would be within the reach of but very few. Farmers most competent to the work, who had enjoyed the advantages of some degree of education, and could manage to set apart any time for the pur[i.214]pose, were, in some instances, prevailed upon to receive such children as were within reaching distance as pupils in their own houses, to be instructed by them at stated times and for a limited period. Daniel Andrew rendered this service occasionally. At one period, we find them practising the plan of a movable school and schoolmaster. He would be stationed in the houses of particular persons, with whom the arrangement could be made, a month at a time, in the different quarters of the village, from Will's Hill to Bass River. Of course, there was a great lack of elementary education. For a considerable time, it was reduced to a very low point; and there were heads of families,—men who had good farms, and possessed the confidence and respect of their neighbors,—who appear not to have been able to write.

It is difficult, however, to come to a definite estimate on this subject, as the singular fact is discovered, that some persons, who could write, occasionally preferred to "make their mark." Ann Putnam, in executing her will, made her mark; but her confession, with her own proper written signature, is spread out in the Church-book. Francis Nurse very frequently used his peculiar mark, representing, perhaps, some implement of his original mechanical trade; but, on other occasions, he wrote out his name in a good, round hand. The same was the case with Bray Wilkins. We can hardly reach any decisive conclusions as to the intelligence or education of the people of that day from their handwriting, or construction of sentences, much[i.215] less from their spelling. Their forms of speech were very different from ours in many respects. What, at first view, we might be apt to call errors of ignorance, were perhaps conformity to good usage at the time. Their use of verbs is different from ours, particularly in the subjunctive mood, and in conjugation generally. They did not follow our rule in reference to number. When the nominative was a plural noun, or several nouns, they often employ the connected verb in the singular number, and vice versâ. They were inclined to make construction conform to the sense, rather than to the letter. It is not certain that their usage, in this particular, is wholly indefensible. Cicero, in his fifth oration against Verres, couples rem with futurum. This was looked upon by some editors as an error, and they altered the text accordingly; but Aulus Gelius, in his "Attic Nights," maintains that it is the true reading, and, in view of the sense of the passage, a legitimate and elegant use of language. He cites instances, in Latin and Greek authors of the highest standard, of a similar usage.

Nothing, or scarcely any thing, can be inferred from spelling. It was wholly unsettled among the best-educated men, and in the practice of the same person. In Winthrop's "Journal," he spells the name of his distinguished friend—the governor of both Massachusetts and Connecticut—sometimes Haynes, and sometimes Haines. The r is generally dropped from his own signature, or, if not intentionally dropped, is quite lost in one or the other of the contiguous let[i.216]ters. It is a curious circumstance, that the name "Winthrop" is spelled differently by our governor, his wife, and his son, the governor of Connecticut; each varying from either of the other two. George Burroughs, a graduate of Harvard College, wrote his own name sometimes with, and sometimes without, the s. In our General-court records, the name of the first Captain Davenport is spelled in at least four different ways. The Putnams sometimes wrote their name Putman. The name of the Nurses was often written Nourse, and sometimes Nurs.

Unable to come to any reliable conclusions in reference to the general intelligence of the people of Salem Village from their orthography, etymology, syntax, or chirography, compared with their contemporaries, I can only say, that, in examining the records and papers which have come down to us, the wonder to me is that they expressed themselves so well. I do not hesitate to say, that, in the various controversies in which they were involved, prior to and immediately after the witchcraft delusion, there is a pervading appearance of uncommon appreciation of the questions at issue, and substantial evidence that there was a solid substratum of good sense among them.

Their manners appear to have been remarkably courteous and respectful, showing the effect still remaining upon their style of intercourse and personal bearing, of the society and example of the great number of eminent, enlightened, and accomplished men and families that had resided or mingled with them during all[i.217] the early period of their history. In their deportment to each other, there was that sort of decorum which indicates good breeding. They paid honor to gray hairs, and assigned to age the first rank in seating the congregation,—a matter to which, before the introduction of pews as a particular property, they gave the greatest consideration. The "seating" was to continue for a year; and a committee of persons who would command the greatest confidence was regularly appointed to report on the delicate and difficult subject. Their report, signed by them severally, was entered in full in the parish record-book. The invariable rule was, first, age; then, office; last, rates. The chief seats were given to old men and women of respectable characters, without regard to their circumstances in life or position in society. Then came the families of the minister and deacons, the parish committee and clerk, the constable of the village, magistrates, and military officers. These were preferred, because all offices were then honorable, and held, if they were called to them, by the principal people. Last came rates,—that is, property. The richest man in the parish, if not holding office, or old enough to be counted among the aged, would take his place with the residue of the congregation. The manner in which parents were spoken of on all occasions is quite observable, not only in written documents, but ordinary conversation,—always with tender respectfulness. In almost all cases, the expressions used are "my honored father" or "my honored mother," and this by per[i.218]sons in the humblest and most inferior positions in life. The terms "Goodman" and "Goodwife" were applied to the heads of families. The latter word was abbreviated to "Goody," but not at all, as our dictionaries have it, as a "low term of civility." It was applied to the most honored matrons, such as the wife of Deacon Ingersoll. It was a term of respect; conveying, perhaps, an affectionate sentiment, but not in the slightest degree disrespectful, derogatory, or belittling. Surely no better terms were ever used to characterize a worthy person. "Goodman" comprehends all that can be ascribed to a citizen of mature years in the way of commendation; and the whole catalogue of pretentious titles ever given by flatterers or courtiers to a married lady cannot, all combined, convey a higher encomium than the term "Goodwife." How much more expressive, courteous to the persons to whom they are applied, and consistent with the self-respect of the person using them, than "Mr." and "Mrs."! A more than questionable taste and a foolish pride have led us to adopt these terms because they were originally applicable to the gentry or to magistrates, and to abandon the good old words which had a meaning truly polite to others, and not degrading to ourselves!

A patriarchal authority and dignity was recognized in families. The oldest member was often called, by way of distinction, "Landlord," merely on account of his seniority, without reference particularly to the extent of his domain or the value of his acres. After[i.219] the death of Thomas Putnam, in 1686, his brother Nathaniel had the title; after him, the surviving brother, Captain John; after him, it fell to the next generation, and Benjamin, a son of Nathaniel, became "Landlord Putnam." It was so with other families.

The liberal and judicious policy, before described, of giving estates to children on their marriage, with the maintenance of parental authority in the household, produced the desired effect upon the character of the people. It was almost a matter of course, that, on reaching mature years, young men and women would own the covenant, and become members of the church. The general tone of society was undoubtedly favorable to the moral and religious welfare of the younger portion of the community. Some exceptions occurred, but few in number. One case, however, in which there was a flagrant violation of filial duty, may not be omitted in this connection; for it belongs to the public history of the country.

John Porter, Jr., the eldest son of the founder of that most respectable family, about thirty years of age, appears to have been a very wicked and incorrigible person. His abusive treatment of his parents reached a point where it became necessary, in the last resort, to appeal to the protection of the law. After various proceedings, he was finally sentenced to stand on the ladder of the gallows with a rope around his neck for an hour; to be severely whipped; committed to the House of Correction; kept closely at work on[i.220] prison diet, not to be released until so ordered by the Court of Assistants or the General Court; and to pay "a fine to the country of two hundred pounds." It is stated, that, if the mother of the culprit "had not been overmoved by her tender affections to forbear appearing against him, the Court must necessarily have proceeded with him as a capital offender, according to our law being grounded upon and expressed in the Word of God, in Deut. xxi. 18 to 21. See Capital Laws, p. 9, § 14." Some time afterward, the General Court, upon his petition, granted him a release from imprisonment, on condition of his immediate departure from this jurisdiction; first giving a bond of two hundred pounds not to return without leave of the General Court or Court of Assistants.

In 1664, four commissioners, Colonel Richard Nichols, Sir Robert Carr, George Cartwright, and Samuel Maverick, Esqs., were sent over by Charles II. "to hear and determine complaints and appeals in all causes, as well military as criminal and civil." There had always been a powerful influence at work in the English Court adverse to New England. It had been thus far successfully baffled by the admirable diplomacy of the colonial government and agents. All conflicts of authority had been prevented from coming to a head by a skilful policy of "protracting and avoiding." But the restoration of the Stuarts boded no good to the liberties of the colonies; and the arrival of these commissioners with their sweeping authority was regarded as designed to deal the long-deferred[i.221] fatal blow at chartered rights. They began with a high hand. The General Court did not quail before them, but stood ready to take advantage of the first false step of the commissioners; and they did not have long to wait.

Porter had taken refuge in Rhode Island. When the commissioners visited that colony, he appealed to them for redress against the Massachusetts General Court. They were inconsiderate enough to espouse his cause, and issued a proclamation giving him protection to return to Boston to have his case tried before them. The General Court at once took issue with them, and changed their attitude from the defensive to the offensive; denounced their proceedings; spread upon the official records a full account, in the plainest language, of Porter's outrages upon his parents, exhibiting it in details that could not but shock every sentiment of humanity and decency; holding up the commissioners as the abettors and protectors of criminality of the deepest dye; and planting themselves fair and square against them on the merits of Porter's case. The commissioners tried to explain and extricate themselves; but they could not escape from the toils in which, through rashness, they had become entangled. The General Court made a public declaration charging the commissioners with "obstructing the sentence of justice passed against that notorious offender," and with sheltering and countenancing "his rebellion against his natural parents;" with violating a court of justice, discharging a whole[i.222] country "from their oaths whereby they had sworn obedience to His Majesty's authority according to the Constitution of his Royal Charter;" and with attempting to overthrow the rights of the colony under the charter by bringing in a military force to overawe and suppress the civil authorities. They denounced them as guilty of a perversion of their trust, and as having committed a breach upon the dignity of the crown, by pursuing a course "derogatory to His Majesty's authority here established," and "repugnant to His Majesty's princely and gracious intention in betrusting them with such a commission." The Court held the vantage-ground, and the commissioners were unable to dislodge them. The end of the matter was, that the power of the commissioners was completely broken down. They ingloriously gave up the contest, and went home to England.

The instance of John Porter, Jr., to which such extraordinary publicity and prominence were given by the circumstances now related, does not bear against what I have said of the general prevalence, in the rural community of Salem Village, of parental authority and filial duty, as he was early withdrawn from it to pursuits that led him into totally different spheres of life. He had been engaged in trade, and exposed to vicious influences in foreign ports. In voyages to "Barbadoes, and so for England, he had prodigally wasted and riotously expended about four hundred pounds." Besides this, he had run himself, by his vicious courses, into debts which his father had to pay[i.223] in order to release him from prison abroad. He came back the desperate character described by the General Court. His punishment was severe, but absolutely necessary, in the judgment of the whole community, for the safety of his parents and the preservation of domestic and public order.

Although living in humble dwellings on plain fare, working with their hands for daily bread, clad in rude garments, and practising a frugal economy, there was a certain style of things about the people I am describing unlike what is ordinarily associated with our ideas of them. The men wore swords or rapiers as a part of their daily apparel. Their wives had domestic servants. Every farmer had his hired laborers, and many of them had slaves. The relation of servitude, however, differed from that on Southern plantations in many respects. The slaves, without any formal manumission, easily obtained their freedom, and often became landholders. The courteous decorum acquired from the example of the eminent men among the first planters long continued to mark the manners of this people; and its vestiges remain to the present day. It strikingly appeared in the latter half of the last and the earlier period of this century in the persons of Judge Samuel Houlton, Colonel Israel Hutchinson, General Moses Porter, and the late Judge Samuel Putnam.

The wise forethought of the company in London, at the outset of its operations, in providing for all that was needful to the establishment and welfare of the[i.224] colony, has already been described. It was most strikingly illustrated in the careful selection of the first emigrants. Men were sought out who were experienced and skilful in the various mechanic arts. In the early population of Salem Farms, every species of handicraft was represented. When the number was less than a hundred householders, there were weavers, spinners, potters, joiners, housewrights, wheelwrights, brickmakers and masons, blacksmiths, coopers, painters, tailors, cordwainers, glovers, tanners, millers, maltsters, skinners, sawyers, tray-makers, and dish-turners. Every absolute want was provided for. These trades and callings were carried on in connection with agricultural employments, and their continuance kept carefully in view by the heads of the principal families. John Putnam not only gave large farms to each of his sons, but he trained them severally to some mechanical art. One was a weaver, another a bricklayer, &c. The farmer was also a mechanic, and every description of useful labor held in equal honor.

Another marked feature of this people was their military spirit. They were kept in a state of universal and thorough organization to protect themselves from Indian hostilities, or to respond, on any occasion, at a moment's warning, to the call of the country. The sentinel at the watch-house was ever on the alert. Authority was early obtained from the General Court to form a foot company. All adults of every description, including men much beyond middle life,—every[i.225] one, in fact, who could carry a musket, belonged to it. Its officers were the fathers of the village. Every title of rank, from corporal to captain, once obtained, was worn ever after through life. Jonathan Walcot, a citizen of the highest respectability, who had married as a second wife Deliverance a daughter of Thomas Putnam, and was one of the deacons of the parish, was its captain. Nathaniel Ingersoll, the other deacon, is spoken of from time to time as corporal, then sergeant, and finally lieutenant. He served with that commission till late in life, and was always, after attaining that rank, known as either Lieutenant or Deacon Ingersoll. The eldest son of Thomas Putnam, a leading member of the church, a man of large property, and the clerk of the parish, was one of the sergeants, always known as such. In our narrative, with which he will be found in most unfortunate connection, I shall speak of him by that title. It will distinguish him from his father. This "company" had frequent drills, probably from the first, in the field left by will afterwards for that purpose by Nathaniel Ingersoll. Often, no doubt, it paraded on the open grounds around the meeting-house, or in the fields of Joseph Hutchinson after the harvest had been gathered. It marched and countermarched along the neighboring roads. It was almost as much thought of as the "church," officered by the same persons, and composed of the same men. It was a common practice, at the close of a parade, before "breaking line," for the captain to give notices of prayer, church,[i.226] or parish meetings. Such men as Richard Leach, Thomas Fuller, and Nathaniel Putnam, esteemed it an honor to bear titles in this company; and held them ever after through life with pride, whether corporal, sergeant, lieutenant, or captain.

A company of troopers was early formed, made up from the village and neighboring settlements. In the colonial records, under date of Oct. 8, 1662, we find the following: "Mr. George Corwin for captain, Mr. Thomas Putnam for lieutenant, Mr. Walter Price for cornet, being presented to this Court as so chosen by the troopers of Salem, Lynn, &c., the Court allows and approves thereof." The inventory of Captain Corwin, before cited, indicates the stylish uniform he wore as captain of the troopers. Each of the officers was a wealthy man; and it cannot be doubted that a parade of the company was a dashing affair. The lapse of time having thinned their ranks and removed their officers, a vigorous and successful attempt was made in October, 1678, to revive the company. Thirty-six men, belonging, as they say, "to the reserve of Salem old troop," and very desirous "of being serviceable to God and the country," petition the General Court to re-organize them as a troop of horse, and to issue the necessary commissions. They request the appointment of William Brown, Jr., as captain, and Corporal John Putnam as lieutenant. The petition was granted, and the commissions issued. Among the signers of this petition are Anthony Needham, Peter and Ezekiel Cheever, Thomas Flint,[i.227] Thomas and Benjamin Wilkins, Thomas and Jacob Fuller, John Procter, William Osborne, Thomas Putnam, Jr., and others of the Farms. The officers named were men of property and energy; and the company of troopers was kept up ever afterwards, until all danger from Indians or other foes had passed away.

It is very observable how the military spirit with which this rural community was so early imbued has descended through all generations. Israel Putnam, the famous Revolutionary hero, a son of Joseph who was a younger brother of Sergeant Thomas and Deacon Edward Putnam, was born in the village. His brother David, much older than himself, who flourished in the period anterior to the Revolution, was a celebrated cavalry officer. Colonel Timothy Pickering used to mention, among the recollections of his boyhood, that David Putnam "rode the best horse in the province." General Rufus Putnam, a grandson of Deacon Edward, was a distinguished brigadier in the army of the Revolution. There are few officers of that army whose names are more honored than his by encomiums from the pen of Washington: and praise from him was praise indeed, for it was, like all his other judgments, the result of careful and discriminating observation. In a letter to the President of Congress, dated "At camp above Trenton Falls, Dec. 20, 1776," he speaks of the fact, that, owing to a neglect on the part of the Government to place the Engineer Department upon a proper footing, "Colo[i.228]nel Putnam, who was at the head of it, has quitted, and taken a regiment in the State of Massachusetts." He expresses the opinion, that Putnam's qualifications as a military engineer were superior to those of any other man within his knowledge, far superior to those of the foreign officers whom he had seen. In a letter to the same, dated "Pompton Plains," July 12, 1777, speaking of General Schuyler's army, he says, "Colonel Putnam, I imagine, will be with him before this, as his regiment is a part of Nixon's Brigade, who will answer every purpose he can possibly have for an engineer at this crisis." The high opinion of Washington took effect in his promotion as brigadier-general. At the end of the war, he returned to civil life, but was soon called back and re-commissioned as brigadier-general. Washington felt the need of him. In a letter to General Knox, Secretary of War, dated Aug. 13, 1792, he says, "General Putnam merits thanks, in my opinion, for his plan, and the sentiments he has delivered on what he conceives to be a proper mode of carrying on the war against the hostile nations of Indians; and I wish he would continue to furnish them without reserve in future." During Washington's administration of the government under the Constitution, Rufus Putnam held the office of Surveyor-General of the United States. In addition to his military reputation, he will be for ever memorable as the first settler of Marietta, and founder of the State of Ohio.

Israel Hutchinson was born in 1727. In 1757 he[i.229] was one of a scouting-party under the command of his neighbor, Captain Israel Herrick, that penetrated through the wilderness in Maine in perilous Indian warfare. He fought at Ticonderoga and Lake George, and was with Wolfe when he scaled the Heights of Abraham. On the morning of the 19th of April, 1775, he led a company of minute-men, who met and fought the British in their bloody retreat from Lexington. He was prominently concerned during the siege of Boston; and, on its evacuation, took command at Fort Hill. He was afterwards in command at Forts Lee and Washington. Throughout the war, he, like both the Putnams, had the confidence of his commander-in-chief. For twenty-one years, he was elected to one or the other branch of the Legislature, or to the Council. He was distinguished for the courtesy of his manners and the dignity of his address. Colonel Enoch Putnam was also at the battle of Lexington, and served with honor through the Revolutionary War, as did also Captain Jeremiah Putnam, both of them descendants of John. Captain Samuel Flint was among the bravest of the brave at Lexington, exciting universal admiration by his intrepidity; and fell at the head of his company at Stillwater, Oct. 7, 1777.

Intelligence of the marching of the British towards Lexington, on the 19th of April, 1775, reached the lower part of Danvers about nine o'clock that morning. With a rapidity that is perfectly marvellous, when we consider the distances from each other over which the[i.230] inhabitants were scattered, five companies, fully organized and equipped,—each of them containing men of the village,—rushed to the field in time to meet the retreating enemy at West Cambridge. It was a rally and a march without precedent, and never yet surpassed. The day was extremely sultry for the season; and the distance traversed by many of the men from the village, before they got into that fight, could not have been less than twenty miles. Seven belonging to Danvers companies were killed, and others wounded. A larger offering was made that day at the baptismal sacrifice to American liberty by Danvers than by any other town except Lexington; and no town represented in the scene was more remote. Of the men who fell on this occasion, the following appear to have been of the village: Samuel Cook, Benjamin Daland, and Perley Putnam,—the last a descendant of John. Their bodies were brought home, and buried with appropriate honors; two companies from Salem, and military detachments from Newburyport, Amesbury, and Salisbury participating in the ceremonies, and giving the soldier's tribute to their glory, by volleys over their closing graves.

Moses Porter, when eighteen years of age, attracted attention by his heroic courage and indomitable pluck at Bunker Hill. He was in an artillery company, and would not quit his gun when almost every other man had fallen. His country never allowed him to quit it afterwards. From that day, he bore a commission in the army of the United States. He was retained on[i.231] every peace establishment, always in the artillery, and at the head of that arm of the service for a great length of time, and until the day of his death. He was in the battle of Brandywine, and wounded in a subsequent fight on the banks of the Delaware. He was with Wayne in his campaign against the Western Indians, and won his share of the glory that crowned it in the final bloody and decisive conflict. He was at the head of the artillery when the war of 1812 took place, in active service on the Niagara frontier, and on the 10th of September, 1813, brevetted "for distinguished services." He commanded at Norfolk, in Virginia, in 1814, and received great credit for the ability and vigilance with which he held that most vital point of the coast defence. At successive periods after the war, he was at the head of each of the geographical military divisions of the country. He died at Cambridge, Mass., in 1822, while in command of the Eastern Department, near the scene of his youthful glory, forty-seven years before. No man who fought at Bunker Hill remained so long a soldier of the United States. No man had so extended a record, and it was bright with honor from the beginning to the end. His pre-eminent reputation, as a disciplinarian and artillerist of the highest class, was uniformly maintained. He added to the sterner qualities required by professional duty a polished urbanity of manners, and a dignified and commanding aspect and bearing. His ashes rest beneath the sod of his ancestral acres in Salem Village.[i.232]

When the great war for the suppression of the Southern Rebellion came on, and the life of the Union was at stake, the same old spirit was found unabated. A descendant of the family of Raymonds, emulating the example of his ancestors, rallied his company to the front. At the end of the war, Lieutenant-Colonel John W. Raymond brought back, in command, the remnant of his veteran regiment, with its tattered banners; two of his predecessors in that commission having fallen in battle. The youthful patriot, William Lowell Putnam, who fell at Ball's Bluff on the 21st of October, 1861, was a direct descendant of Nathaniel Putnam. It is an interesting circumstance, that the names of men who trained in the foot company and with the troopers on the fields and roads about the village meeting-house two hundred years ago have re-appeared in the persons of their descendants, in the highest lines of service and with unsurpassed distinction, in the three great wars of America,—Major-General Israel, and Brigadier-General Rufus, Putnam, in the War of the Revolution; Brigadier-General Moses Porter, in the War of 1812; and Major-General Granville M. Dodge, in the War of the Rebellion. The last-named is a descendant of a hero of the Narragansett fight, and was born and educated in Salem Village.

Several lawsuits, particularly in land cases, have been referred to. They indicate, perhaps, to some extent the ingredients that aggravated the terrible scenes we are preparing to contemplate. They served to keep up the general intelligence of the community[i.233] through a period necessarily destitute of such means of information as we enjoy. Attendance upon courts of law, serving on juries, having to give testimony at trials, are indeed in themselves no unimportant part in the education of a people. Principles and questions of great moment are forced upon general attention, and become topics of discussion in places of gathering and at private firesides. Of this material of intelligence, the people of the village had their full share. It was their fate to have their minds, and more or less their passions, stirred up by special local controversies thrust upon them. As a religious society, they had difficult points of disagreement with the mother-church, and the town of Salem. While they were supporting a minister and trying to build a meeting-house for themselves, attempts were made to tax them to support the minister and build a new meeting-house in the town. There was a natural reluctance to part with them, and it was long before an arrangement could be made. The great distance of many of the farmers from the town prevented their exercising what they deemed their rightful influence in municipal affairs. They felt, that, in many respects, their interests were not identical, and in some absolutely at variance. These topics were much discussed, and with considerable feeling at times on both sides. The papers which remain relating to the subject show that the farmers understood it in all its bearings, and maintained their cause with clearness of perception and forcibleness of argument and expression. At one time, they were[i.234] very desirous to be set off as a distinct town, but this could not be allowed; and, finally, a sort of compromise was effected. A partial separation—a semi-municipality—was agreed upon. Salem Village was the result.

In 1670, a petition, with twenty signers, was presented to the town to be set off as a parish, and be allowed to provide a minister for themselves. In March, 1672, the town granted the request; and, in October following, the General Court approved of the project, and gave it legal effect. The line agreed upon by the town and the village is substantially defined by the vote of the former, which was as follows: "All farmers that now are, or hereafter shall be, willing to join together for providing a minister among themselves, whose habitations are above Ipswich Highway, from the horse bridge to the wooden bridge, at the hither end of Mr. Endicott's Plain, and from thence on a west line, shall have liberty to have a minister by themselves; and when they shall provide and pay him in a maintenance, that then they shall be discharged from their part of Salem ministers' maintenance," &c. The "horse bridge" was across Bass River. The "wooden bridge" was at the head of Cow-House or Endicott River. Ipswich highway runs along from one of these points to the other. The south line, beyond the wooden bridge, is seen on the map. All to the north of this line, and of Ipswich highway between the bridges, to the bounds of Beverly and Wenham on the east; Topsfield, Rowley Village,—since Boxford,[i.235] and Andover on the north; and Reading and Lynn on the west,—was the Village. Middleton, incorporated afterwards, absorbed a large part of its western portion; but, at the time of the witchcraft delusion, the Village was bounded as above described, and as in the map. There was a specific arrangement fixing the point of time when the farmers were to become exempt from all charges in aid of the mother-church; that is, as soon as they had provided for the support of a minister and the erection of a meeting-house of their own. It was further stipulated, that the villagers should not form a church until a minister was ordained; and that they should not settle a minister permanently without the approval of the old church, and its consent to proceed to an ordination. This latter restriction was perhaps the cause of all the subsequent troubles.

Owing, as has been stated in another connection, to erroneous notions about the topography of the country; the incompetency perhaps, in some cases, of surveyors; and the want of due care in the General Court and the towns to have boundaries clearly defined,—uncertainties and conflicting claims arose in various portions of the colony, but nowhere to a greater extent than here. The village became involved in controversies about boundaries with each one of its neighbors; producing, at times, much exasperation. The documents drawn forth on these questions, as they appear in the record-book of the village, are written with ability, and show that there were men among them who knew how to express and enforce their[i.236] views. The plain, lucid, well-considered style of Nathaniel Ingersoll's depositions on the court-files, in numerous cases, render it not improbable that his pen was put in requisition. Sergeant Thomas Putnam, the parish recorder, as he was sometimes entitled, was a good writer. His chirography, although not handsome, is singularly uniform, full, open, and clear, so easily legible that it is a refreshment to meet with it; and his sentences are well-constructed, simple, condensed, and to the purpose. His words do their office in conveying his meaning. No public body ever had a better clerk. Somehow or other, he and others, brought up in the woods, had contrived to acquire considerable efficiency in the use of the pen. Perhaps, a few who, like him, had parents able to afford it, had been sent to Ipswich or Charlestown to enjoy the privilege of what Cotton Mather calls "the Cheverian education."

The southern boundary of the village was intended to run due west from the Ipswich road to Lynn, and was accordingly spoken of as "on a west line." As originally established, it was defined by an enumeration of a variety of objects such as trees of different kinds and sizes, as running through the lands of John Felton, Nathaniel Putnam, and Anthony Needham, to "a dry stump standing at the corner of Widow Pope's cow-pen, leaving her house and the saw-mill within the farmer's range," and so on to "the top of the hill by the highway side near Berry Pond." From the changeable conditions of some of the objects, and a diversity of methods adopted by surveyors,—many[i.237] of them being unacquainted with, or making no allowance for, the variation of the compass,—controversies arose with the mother-town: and some proprietors, like the Gardners, were left in doubt how the line affected them; and there was, in consequence, much disquietude. The line was not accurately run until 1700.

It is observable, that the "saw-mill" is still in operation on the same spot. The "cow-pen," then on the south side of the mill, was, more than a century ago, removed to the north side, where it has remained ever since. This estate has interesting reminiscences. It was an original grant in January, 1640, to Edward Norris, at the time of his settlement as pastor of the First Church in Salem. He sold to Eleanor Trussler in 1654. It then went into the possession of Henry Phelps, who sold to Joseph Pope in 1664. His widow, Gertrude, owned it in 1672. In 1793, Eleazer Pope sold to Nathaniel Ropes, son of Judge Ropes, of Salem. His heirs sold it back to the Phelpses; and it is now in the possession of the Rev. Willard Spaulding, of Salem. Originally given as an ordination present to a minister of the old town, it has, after the lapse of two hundred and twenty-six years, come round into the hands of another. The house in which the Popes lived one hundred and twenty-nine years, and the families that succeeded them for above half a century more,—a venerable and picturesque specimen of the rural architecture, in its best form, of the earliest times,—has, within the last ten years, given place to a[i.238] new one on the same spot. In that old house, besides unnumbered and unknown instances of the same sort, Israel Putnam conducted his courtship; and there, on the 19th of July, 1739, he was married to Hannah, daughter of Joseph Pope.

Contests for what they deemed their rights with the old church and the border towns and their own town, as in the case just mentioned, undoubtedly produced a bad effect upon the temper of the people, by occasional expenses that consumed their substance, and incidents that sowed the seeds of personal animosities; preparing the way for that dreadful convulsion which was near at hand. At the very time when the witchcraft frenzy broke out, they were in the crisis of an exasperating conflict with Topsfield, occasioned by a wrong done them by the General Court. This requires to be explained, as it can be, by a collation of facts of record.

On the 3d of March, 1636, the General Court passed an order that the bounds of Salem, Ipswich, and Newbury, should extend six miles into the country. It was afterwards defined to mean that "the six-mile extent," as it was called, should be measured from the meeting-houses of the respective towns. On the 5th of November, 1639, the General Court passed an order in these words: "Whereas the inhabitants of Salem have agreed to plant a village near the river that runs to Ipswich, it is ordered that all the land near their bounds between Salem and the said river, not belonging to any other town or person by any former grant,[i.239] shall belong to the said village." On the strength of this order, the farmers in that part of Salem pushed settlements out beyond the "six-mile extent," over the ground thus pledged to them; cleared off the forests, built houses, brought the land under culture, erected bridges, made roads, and fulfilled their part of the contract by preparing to establish their village. Four years after the General Court had thus pledged to "inhabitants of Salem" the privileges of a village organization on the lands between "Salem and the said river," they authorized some inhabitants of Ipswich, who had gone there, to establish the village on the territory, independent of the Salem men. This was an unjustifiable and flagrant violation of the stipulated agreement on the part of the General Court; because it appears by their own records, that Salem farmers had promptly fulfilled the condition on their part by going directly upon the ground, and getting farms under way there before 1643. This careless and indefensible procedure by the General Court was the cause of interminable trouble and strife on the tract between Salem bounds and the river, introduced the elements of discord, and gave a color of legal justification to a conflict of authority between Salem and Ipswich men. It sowed the seeds of animosities which aggravated the scenes that occurred in Salem Village in 1692. In 1658, the General Court passed an order creating the town of Topsfield, including the larger part of these lands within its limits. No heed was paid to the remonstrances, against these[i.240] proceedings, of the Salem farmers, who found themselves, without their consent, permanently bereft of the benefit that had been promised them, cut off from all connection with the town of Salem, to which they originally belonged, and put in the outskirts of another town. It was a clear case of wrong, and ought to have been rectified. But public bodies are more reluctant even than individuals to acknowledge themselves in fault. The people of Salem Village joined in earnest protests against the acts of the General Court. The old town of Salem declared by a public vote, that they had always regarded the lands in controversy as belonging to the village which, under the plighted faith of the General Court, their inhabitants had been forming. But it was all in vain. Neither remedy nor reparation could be obtained. The struggle against this injustice lasted until some time after the witchcraft occurrences had terminated, and was finally brought to a close by an order of the Court, that the people on the territory might maintain parish relations with Salem Village or with Topsfield, at their individual option. Entire satisfaction was never realized until, in 1728, they were incorporated, in accordance with their petition, into a township, under the name of Middleton, with parts of Topsfield, Boxford, and Andover added. During a period of half a century, this grievance remained unadjusted. The proceedings on the part of the village in its public action, as shown in the records, were conducted with skill, ability, and firmness. But the col[i.241]lisions that occurred between particular parties were violent and bitter. Salem settlers were called to pay parish and town rates to Topsfield, but refused to do it. Constables and tax-collectors were defied. Topsfield went so far as to claim not only unoccupied lands, but lands within fence, with houses on them, and families within them, and orchards and growing fields around them, as part of its "commons;" and it disputed the titles given by Salem. Of course, the question went, in various forms, into the county courts; but sometimes, there is reason to believe, it came to a rougher arbitrament, in the depths of the woods, between man and man.

John Putnam had gone out and settled lands between the "six-mile extent" of Salem and Ipswich River. Some of his sons had gone with him. They had two dwelling-houses, cultivated meadows, orchards, &c. Isaac Burton says, that, one day, when near John Nichols's house, he heard a tree fall in the woods; and that he went to see who was chopping there. It seems that Jacob Towne and John How, Topsfield men, had come in defiance of John Putnam, and cut down a tree before his face. As they were two to one, Putnam had to swallow the insult; but he was not the man to let it rest so. He went out shortly after, accompanied by an adequate force of sons and nephews, and proceeded to fell the trees. The sound of the axes reached the ears of the Topsfield men; and Isaac Easty, Sr., John Easty, John Towne, and Joseph Towne, Jr., undertook to put a stop to the operation. On reaching the spot, they[i.242] warned Putnam against cutting timber. He replied, "The timber now and here cut down has been felled by me and my orders;" and he proceeded to say, "I will keep cutting and carrying away from this land until next March." They asked him, "What, by violence?" He answered, "Aye, by violence. You may sue me: you know where I dwell;" and, turning to his company, he said, "Fall on." The Putnams were evidently the stronger party; and the Topsfield men, counting forces, concluded, in their turn, that discretion, at that time, was the better part of valor. Such scenes occurred on the disputed ground for a whole generation. It is not wonderful that all sorts of animosities were kindled. The fact will be borne in mind, that Isaac Easty and son, with John Towne and son, constituted the Topsfield force on this occasion.

It cannot be doubted, that these controversies with the surrounding towns, the mother-church, and the General Court itself, gradually engendered a very bad state of feeling. The people were deeply impressed with a conviction that they had been wronged all around and all the way through. They felt that the whole world was against them; and when, by a train of mischievous influences, hell itself seemed to be let loose upon them, it is not strange that they were driven to distraction.

We come, at last, to that chapter in the history of Salem Village which will lead us directly to the witchcraft delusion. Its religious organization was some[i.243]what peculiar; and, although instituted by a particular arrangement made by the General Court, was, in one or two features, a complete departure from the ecclesiastical polity elsewhere rigidly enforced. It was a congregation forbidden, for the time being, to have a church. It was a society for religious worship, administered, not by professors of religion or by persons regarded at all in a religious light, but by householders. The people of the village liked it, perhaps, all the better for this; and they took hold of it with a will. Joseph Houlton gave to the parish five and a half acres of land, in the centre of the village, for the use of the minister. A parsonage-house was built, "forty-two feet in length, twenty feet broad, thirteen-feet stud, four chimneys, and no gable-ends." It was the custom to have a leanto attached to their houses, generally on the northern side; and one was finally added to the parsonage. There was a garden within the enclosure. Joseph Hutchinson gave an acre out of his broad meadow as a site for the meeting-house and it was erected; "thirty-four feet in length, twenty-eight feet broad, and sixteen feet between joints." Two end galleries were added, and a "canopy" placed over the pulpit. The mother-church, having about the same time built a new meeting-house, voted to give "the farmers their old pulpit and deacons' seats," which were brought up and duly installed. In the course of these proceedings, some slight differences arose among them about matters of detail, but not more than is usual in such cases. In order[i.244] to despatch at once all that may be required to be said about the meeting-houses of the village, it may be allowable here to mention, that the original building did not survive the century. In 1700, partly because the growth of the society began to require it, but mainly, no doubt, to escape from the painful associations which had become connected with it, a new meeting-house was built on another site. The old one was dismantled of all its removable parts, and the site reverted to Joseph Hutchinson. It is supposed that he removed the frame to the other side of the road, and converted it into a barn; and that it was used as such until, in the memory of old persons now living, it mouldered, crumbled into powder-post, and sunk to the ground. It stood, after being converted into a barn, on the south side of the road, nearly in front of Joseph Hutchinson's homestead. Hutchinson's dwelling-house was probably some distance further down in the field, where the remains of an old cellar are still to be seen. Nathaniel Ingersoll gave the land for the new meeting-house. The records contain the vote, that it "shall stand upon Watch-House Hill, before Deacon Ingersoll's door." The meeting-houses of the society have stood there ever since. At that time, it was an elevated spot, probably covered with the original forest; for the work of clearing, levelling, and preparing it for occupancy was so considerable as to require a special provision. The labor and expense of the operation were put on that portion of the[i.245] congregation brought nearer to the meeting-house by the change of the site.

In urging their petition to be set off as an independent parish, distinct from the First Church in Salem, the people of the village declared, that, if they could not have a ministry established among them, they would soon "become worse than the heathen around them." Little did they foresee the immediate, long-continued, and terrible effects that were to follow the boon thus prayed for. The establishment of the ministry among them was not merely an opening of Pandora's box: it was emptying and shaking it over their heads. It led them to a condition of bitterness and violence, of confusion and convulsion, of horror and misery, of cruelty and outrage, worse than heathen ever experienced or savages inflicted.

James Bayley of Newbury, born Sept. 12, 1650, a graduate of Harvard College in the class of 1669, was employed to preach at the village. In October, 1671, he transferred his relations from the church in Newbury to the First Church in Salem. It seems that several persons of considerable influence in the village were dissatisfied with the manner in which he had been brought forward, and became prejudiced against him. The disaffection was not removed, but suffered to take deep root in their minds. The parish soon became the scene of one of those violent and heated dissensions to which religious societies are sometimes liable. The unhappy strife was aggravated from day to day, until it spread alienation and acrimony[i.246] throughout the village. A majority of the people were all along in favor of Bayley; but the minority were implacable. His engagement to preach was renewed from year to year. At length, the controversy waxed so warm that some definite action became necessary. On the 10th of March, 1679, both parties applied to the mother-church for advice. A paper was presented by his opponents, with sixteen, and another from his friends, with thirty-nine signers. There was still another, also in his favor, signed by ten persons living near, but not within the village line. Although the number of his opponents was so much less than of his friends, they included persons, such as Nathaniel Putnam and Bray Wilkins, of large estates and families, and much general influence; and it is evident that the First Church was not inclined wholly to disregard them. The record of that church says, "There was much agitation on both sides, and divers things were spoken of by the brethren; but the business being long, and many of the brethren gone, we could not make a church act of advice in the case; therefore it was left to another time." At a meeting on the 22d of April, the Salem Church advised the minority "to submit to the generality for the present;" but, when a church should be formed there, "then they might choose him or any other." This advice does not appear to have satisfied either party; and the quarrel went on with renewed vehemence on both sides. At length, it reached such a pitch that it became necessary to carry it up to the General[i.247] Court. The whole affair was investigated by that body, and all the papers that had passed in relation to it were adduced. They are quite voluminous, and on file in the office of the Secretary of State, in Boston. These interesting and curious documents illustrate the energy of action of both parties; and give, it is probable, the best picture anywhere to be found of a first-rate parish controversy of the olden times.

The General Court came down upon the case with a strong hand. They decided in favor of Bayley, whom they pronounced "orthodox, and competently able, and of a blameless and self-denying conversation;" and they "do order, that Mr. Bayley be continued and settled the minister of that place, and that he be allowed sixty pounds per annum for his maintenance, one-third part thereof in money, the other two-thirds in provisions of all sorts such as a family needs, at equal prices, and fuel for his family's occasions; this sum to be paid by the inhabitants of that place." This was thirteen pounds a year more than Bayley's friends had ever voted for him. To make the matter sure, the General Court required the parish to choose three or five men among themselves to apportion every man's share of the tax to secure the sixty pounds: and, if any difficulty should occur in getting men among themselves to perform this duty, they appointed to act, in that event, Mr. Batter, Captain Jonathan Corwin, and Captain Price, of the old parish of Salem, to make the rate; and gave[i.248] ample power to the constable of the village or the marshal of the county, to enforce the collection of it, by distress and attachment, if any should neglect or refuse to pay the sum assessed upon him. To make it still more certain that Mr. Bayley should get his money, they ordered "that all the rate is to be paid in for the use of the ministry unto two persons chosen by the householders to supply the place of deacons for the time, who are to reckon with the people, and to deliver the same to the said minister or to his order." The arrangement as to the agency of deacons was "to continue until the Court shall take further order, or that there be a church of Christ orderly gathered and approved in that place." This procedure of the Court was a pretty high-handed stretch of power even for those days; and giving the appointment of officers, with the title and character of deacons to mere householders, and where there was no church or organized body of professed believers, was in absolute conflict with the whole tenor and spirit of the ecclesiastical system then in force and rigidly maintained elsewhere throughout the colony. The Court seems itself to have been alarmed at the extent to which it had gone in forcing Mr. Bayley upon the people of Salem Village, and fell back, in conclusion, upon the following proviso: "This order shall continue for one year only from the last of September last past." The date of the order was the 15th of October, 1679. It had less than a year to run. In fact, the order, after all, before it comes to the end, is[i.249] diluted into a mere recommendation of Mr. Bayley. "In the mean while, all parties," it is hoped, will "endeavor an agreement in him or some other meet person for a minister among them;" but the General Court takes care to wind up by demanding "five pounds for hearing the case, the whole number of villagers equally to bear their proportion thereof."

While the power thus incautiously conceded to householders was duly noted, the apparently formidable action of the Court did not in the least alarm the opposition, or in the slightest degree abate their zeal. The householders continued, as before, to manage all affairs relating to the ministry in general meetings of the inhabitants. They proceeded at once to elect their two deacons. "Corporal Nathaniel Ingersoll" was one of them; and he continued to hold the office, in parish and in church, for forty years.

As no attention was paid to the order of the General Court, so far as it attempted to fasten Mr. Bayley upon the parish; as the church in Salem would not take the responsibility of recommending his ordination in the face of such an opposition; and as it was out of the question to think of reconciling or reducing it, Mr. Bayley concluded to retire from the conflict and quit the field; and his ministry in the village came to an end. As evidence that the heat of this protracted controversy had not consumed all just and considerate sentiments in the minds of the people, I present the substance of a deed found in the Essex Registry. It will be noticed, that the most conspicu[i.250]ous of Mr. Bayley's opponents, Nathaniel Putnam, is one of the parties to the instrument.

"Thomas Putnam, Sr., Nathaniel Putnam, Sr., Thomas Fuller, Sr., John Putnam, Sr., and Joseph Hutchinson, Sr. Deed of gift to Mr. James Bayley. Whereas, Mr. James Bayley, minister of the gospel, now resident of Salem Village, hath been in the exercise of his gifts by preaching amongst us several years, having had a call thereunto by the inhabitants of the place; and at the said Mr. Bayley's first coming amongst us, we above-named put the said Bayley in possession of a suitable accommodation of land and meadow, for his more comfortable subsistence amongst us. But the providence of God having so ordered it, that the said Mr. Bayley doth not continue amongst us in the work of the ministry, yet, considering the premises, and as a testimony of our good affection to the said Mr. Bayley, and as full satisfaction of all demands of us or any of us, of land relating to the premises, do by these presents fully grant, &c., to said Bayley" twenty-eight acres of upland, and thirteen acres of meadow in all. The several lots are described in the deed, and constitute a very valuable property. The instrument bears date May 6, 1680. Mr. Bayley's residence is indicated on the map. The land on which it stood belonged to the part contributed by Nathaniel Putnam, with some acres in front of it contributed by Joseph Hutchinson. He continued to own and occasionally occupy his property in the village for some years after the witchcraft trans[i.251]actions. He left the ministry, and prepared himself for the profession of medicine, which he practised in Roxbury. He died on the 17th of January, 1707.

It is not very easy to ascertain from the parish records, or from the mass of papers in the State-house files, the precise grounds of the obstinate controversy in reference to him. It is evident that it began in consequence of some alleged irregularity in the proceedings that led to his first engagement to preach at the village. There are intimations, that, in the tone and style of his preaching, he did not quite come up to the mark required by some. The objection does not seem to have been against his talents or learning, but, rather, that he did not take hold with sufficient vehemence, or handle with sufficient zeal and warmth, points then engrossing attention. One or two expressions in the papers which proceeded from his opponents seem to hint that he had not the degree of strictness or severity in his aspect or ways thought necessary in a minister. Papers in the files of the County Court bring to light, perhaps, precisely the shape in which the charges against him had currency. On the 4th of April, 1679, complaint was made by Thomas and John Putnam, Srs., Daniel Andrew, and Nathaniel Ingersoll, against Henry Kenny "for slandering our minister, Mr. Bayley, by reporting that he doth not perform family duties in his family." This was an expression then in use for "family prayers." One young woman testified as follows: "Being at Mr. Bayley's house three weeks together, I never heard Mr. Bayley read a[i.252] chapter, nor expound on any part of the Scripture, which was a great grief to me." On the other hand, three men and one woman depose thus: "Having, for a year, some more, some less, since Mr. Bayley's coming to Salem Farms, lived at his house, we testify to our knowledge, that he hath continually performed family duties, morning and evening, unless sickness or some other unavoidable providence hath prevented." Two of the above witnesses depose more specifically as follows: "We testify,—one of us being a boarder at Mr. Bayley's house, at times, for two or three years, and the other having lived there about a year and a quarter,—that Mr. Bayley did not only constantly perform family prayers twice a day, except some unusual providence at any time prevented, but also did sometimes read the Scriptures and other profitable books, and also repeat his own sermons in his family that he preached upon the Lord's Days; always endeavoring to keep good order in his family, carrying himself exemplarily therein." The evidence against Bayley was afterwards found to be unworthy of credit, and was wholly overborne at the time by unimpeachable testimony in his favor. The conclusion seems to be safe, from all the papers and proceedings, that Mr. Bayley was, as the General Court had pronounced him, "of a blameless conversation." A letter from him to his people, relating to the disaffection of some, and expressing a willingness to relinquish his position, if the interests of the society would thereby be promoted, is among the papers. It[i.253] is creditable to his understanding, temper, and character.

The opposition to Mr. Bayley laid the train for all the disastrous and terrible scenes that followed. His wife was Mary Carr, of Salisbury. Her family, besides land in that town, owned the large island in the Merrimack, just above Newburyport, called still by their name, and occupied by their descendants to this day. Mrs. Bayley brought with her to the village a younger sister, Ann, who, when scarcely sixteen years of age,—on the 25th of November, 1678,—married Sergeant Thomas Putnam. The Carrs were evidently well-educated young women; and there is every indication that Ann was possessed of qualities which gave her much influence in private circles. Her husband was the eldest son of the richest man in the village, had the most powerful and extensive connections, was a member of the company of troopers, had been in the Narragansett fight, and, as his records show, was a well-educated person. Marriage with him brought his wife into the centre of the great Putnam family; and, her sister Bayley being the wife of the minister, a powerful combination was secured to his support. The opposition so obstinately made to his settlement, appearing to his friends, as it does to us, so unreasonable, if not perverse, engendered a very bitter resentment, which spread from house to house. Every thing served to aggravate it. The disregard, by the opposition, of the advice of the old church to agree to his ordination, and of the strong[i.254] endorsement of him by the General Court; and the failure of either of those bodies to take the responsibility of proceeding to his ordination,—made the dissatisfaction and disappointment of his friends intense. His connection by marriage with such a wide-spread influence, and the harmony and happiness of social life, made his settlement so very desirable that his friends could not account for the resistance made to it. His amiable character, which had been shown to be proof against slander; and his domestic bereavements in the loss of his wife and three children,—made him dear to his friends. More than three to one earnestly, persistently, from year to year, begged that he might be ordained; but what was regarded as an unworthy faction was permitted to succeed in preventing it. All these things sunk deep into the heart of the wife of Sergeant Thomas Putnam. She was a woman of an excitable temperament, and, by her talents, zeal, and personal qualities, wrought all within her influence into the highest state of exasperation. This must be borne in mind when we reach the details of our story. It is the key to all that followed.

The friends of Bayley, while they yielded to his determination to withdraw from his disagreeable position, never relinquished the hope to get him back, but renewed a struggle to that end, whenever a vacancy occurred in the village ministry. With that object in view, they were unwise and unjust enough to cherish aversion to every one who succeeded him, and thus kept alive the fatal elements of division. But it is due to[i.255] him to say, that he does not appear to have been at all responsible for the course of his friends. Although retaining his property in the village, and often residing there, there is no indication that he had a hand in subsequent proceedings, or was in the slightest degree connected with the troubles that afterwards arose. Arts were used to inveigle him into the witchcraft prosecutions: his resentments, if he had any, were invoked; but in vain. He resisted attempts, which were made with more effect upon one of his successors, to rouse his passions against parties accused. He kept himself free from the whole affair. His name nowhere appears as complainant, witness, or actor in any shape. He was, so far as the evidence goes, a peaceable, prudent, kind, and good man; and if the people of Salem Village had been wise enough, or been permitted, to settle him, the world might never have known that such a place existed.

George Burroughs, in November, 1680, was engaged to preach at Salem Village. He is supposed to have been born in Scituate; but his origin is as uncertain as his history was sad, and his end tragical. He was a graduate of Harvard College in the class of 1670. What little is known of him shows that he was a man of ability and integrity. Papers on file in the State House prove, that, in the district of Maine, where he lived and preached before and after his settlement at the village, he was regarded with confidence by his neighbors, and looked up to as a friend and counsellor. Certain incidents are related, which prove that he was[i.256] self-denying, generous, and public-spirited, laboring in humility and with zeal in the midst of great privations, sharing the exposures of his people to Indian violence, and experiencing all the sufferings of an unprotected outpost. In 1676, while preaching at Casco,—now Portland,—the entire settlement was broken up by an Indian assault. Thirty-two of the inhabitants were killed or carried into captivity. Mr. Burroughs escaped to an island in the bay, from which he was rescued by timely aid from the mainland. He wrote an account of the catastrophe, communicated by Brian Pendleton to the Governor and Council at Boston. In 1683 he was again at Casco; and, again driven off by the Indians in 1690, transferred his labors to Wells. A grant of one hundred and fifty acres of land was made to him, included in the site of the present city of Portland. As population began to thicken near the spot, the town applied to him to relinquish a part of it, other lands to be given him in exchange. In their account of the transaction, they state, that, in answer to their application, Mr. Burroughs said they were welcome to it; that he freely gave it back, "not desiring any land anywhere else, nor any thing else in consideration thereof."

In a vote passed at a meeting of Salem Village parish, Feb. 10, 1681, it was agreed that Mr. Burroughs should receive £93. 6s. 8d. per annum for three years, and £60 per annum afterwards. I suppose that he had no money or property of any kind. The parsonage was out of repair; and the larger sum for the first[i.257] three years, amounting to £100, in three instalments, was to be given him as an outfit in housekeeping. Immediately upon coming to the village to reside, he encountered the hostility of those persons who, as the special friends of Mr. Bayley, allowed their prejudices to be concentrated upon his innocent successor. The unhappy animosities arising from this source entirely demoralized the Society, and, besides making it otherwise very uncomfortable to a minister, led to a neglect and derangement of all financial affairs. In September, 1681, Mr. Burroughs's wife died, and he had to run in debt for her funeral expenses. Rates were not collected, and his salary was in arrears. In making the contract with the parish, he had taken care to add, at the end of the articles, these words, "All is to be understood so long as I have gospel encouragement." It is not improbable that there was a lack of sympathy between him and the ministers in this part of the country. He concluded that no benefit would accrue from calling a council to put things into order; and, as he was in despair of remedying the evils that had become fastened upon the village, he concluded to give up the idea of getting a settlement of his accounts, abandoned his claims altogether, and removed from the village.

At the April term of Court in Ipswich, 1683, a committee of the parish petitioned for relief, stating that Mr. Burroughs had left them, and that they had been without services in their meeting-house for four sabbaths. They pray the Court, that "they be pleased to[i.258] write to Mr. Burroughs, requiring him to attend an orderly hearing and clearing up the case," and "to come to account" with them. The Court accordingly directed a meeting of the inhabitants to be held, and wrote to Mr. Burroughs to attend it. When the day came, the Court sent a letter to be read at the meeting, directing the parties to "reckon," and settle their accounts. What transpired at this curious meeting is best given by presenting the documents on file in a case that went into Court. They show the proceedings that interrupted the "reckoning" at the meeting in a most extraordinary manner:—

[County Court, June, 1683.—Lieutenant John Putnam versus Mr. George Burroughs. Action of debt for two gallons of Canary wine, and cloth, &c., bought of Mr. Gedney on John Putnam's account, for the funeral of Mrs. Burroughs.]

"Deposition.

"We, whose names are underwritten, testify and say, that at a public meeting of the people of Salem Farms, April 24, 1683, we heard a letter read, which letter was sent from the Court. After the said letter was read, Mr. Burroughs came in. After the said Burroughs had been a while in, he asked 'whether they took up with the advice of the Court, given in the letter, or whether they rejected it.' The moderator made answer, 'Yes, we take up with it;' and not a man contradicted it to any of our hearing. After this was passed, was a discourse of settling accounts between the said Burroughs and the inhabitants, and issuing things in peace, and parting in love, as they came together in love. Further, we say that the second, third, and fourth days of the following week were agreed upon by Mr. Burroughs and[i.259] the people to be the days for every man to come in and to reckon with the said Burroughs; and so they adjourned the meeting to the last of the aforesaid three days, in the afternoon, then to make up the whole account in public.

"We further testify and say, that, May the second, 1683, Mr. Burroughs and the inhabitants met at the meeting-house to make up accounts in public, according to their agreement the meeting before; and, just as the said Burroughs began to give in his accounts, the marshal came in, and, after a while, went up to John Putnam, Sr., and whispered to him, and said Putnam said to him, 'You know what you have to do: do your office.' Then the marshal came to Mr. Burroughs, and said, 'Sir, I have a writing to read to you.' Then he read the attachment, and demanded goods. Mr. Burroughs answered, 'that he had no goods to show, and that he was now reckoning with the inhabitants, for we know not yet who is in debt, but there was his body.' As we were ready to go out of the meeting-house, Mr. Burroughs said, 'Well, what will you do with me?' Then the marshal went to John Putnam, Sr., and said to him, 'What shall I do?' The said Putnam replied, 'You know your business.' And then the said Putnam went to his brother, Thomas Putnam, and pulled him by the coat; and they went out of the house together, and presently came in again. Then said John Putnam, 'Marshal, take your prisoner, and have him up to the ordinary,—that is a public house,—and secure him till the morning.'

(Signed) "Nathaniel Ingersoll, aged about fifty.
Samuel Sibley, aged about twenty-four.

"To the first of these, I, John Putnam, Jr., testify, being at the meeting."

[i.260]

The above document illustrates the general position of the Putnam family through all the troubles of the Salem Village parish. Thomas and John were the heads of two of its branches, and participated in the proceedings against Burroughs. Nathaniel generally was on the other side in the course of the various controversies which finally culminated in the witchcraft delusion. His son, John Putnam, Jr., on this occasion, was a witness friendly to Mr. Burroughs. Nathaniel Ingersoll does not appear to have been a partisan on either side. His sympathies, generally, were with the friends of Bayley; but, on this occasion, his sense of justice led him to take the lead in behalf of Burroughs. Other depositions are as follows:—

"The Testimony of Thomas Haynes, aged thirty-two years or thereabouts.—Testifieth and saith, that, at a meeting of the inhabitants of Salem Farms, May the second, 1683, after the marshal had read John Putnam's attachment to Mr. Burroughs, then Mr. Burroughs asked Putnam 'what money it was he attached him for.' John Putnam answered, 'For five pounds and odd money at Shippen's at Boston, and for thirteen shillings at his father Gedney's, and for twenty-four shillings at Mrs. Darby's;' that then Nathaniel Ingersoll stood up, and said, 'Lieutenant, I wonder that you attach Mr. Burroughs for the money at Darby's and your father Gedney's, when, to my knowledge, you and Mr. Burroughs have reckoned and balanced accounts two or three times since, as you say, it was due, and you never made any mention of it when you reckoned with Mr. Burroughs.' John Putnam answered, 'It is true, and I own it.'[i.261] Samuel Sibley, aged twenty-four years or thereabouts, testifieth to all above written."

"The Testimony of Nathaniel Ingersoll, aged, &c.—Testifieth, that I heard Mr. Burroughs ask Lieutenant John Putnam to give him a bill to Mr. Shippen. The said Putnam asked the said Burroughs how much he would take up at Mr. Shippen's. Mr. Burroughs said it might be five pounds; but, after the said Burroughs had considered a little, he said to the said Putnam, 'It may be it might come to more:' therefore he would have him give him a bill to the value of five or six pounds,—when Putnam answered, it was all one to him. Then the said Putnam went and writ it, and read it to Mr. Burroughs, and said to him that it should go for part of the £33. 6s. 8d. for which he had given a bill to him in behalf of the inhabitants. I, Hannah Ingersoll, aged forty-six years or thereabouts, testify the same."

It seems by the foregoing, that Mr. Burroughs had presented a bill, of the amount just mentioned, to John Putnam, who, as chairman of the committee the preceding year, represented the inhabitants; and it was deliberately and formally agreed, that the sum borrowed of Putnam by Burroughs should "go for part of it." The records of the parish show, that, on the 24th of May,—three weeks after this meeting "for reckoning,"—a vote was passed to raise, by a rate, "fifteen pounds for Mr. Burroughs for the last quarter of a year he preached with us." At a meeting in December of the same year, a rate was ordered, to pay the debts of the parish, amounting to £52. 1s. 1d. On the 22d of the ensuing February, the parish voted to raise "fifteen pounds for Mr. Burroughs."[i.262] The record of a meeting in April, 1684, contains an order, left on the book, with Mr. Burroughs's proper signature, authorizing Lieutenant Thomas Putnam to receive of the committee "what is due to me from the inhabitants of Salem Farms." Thus it is evident, that, at the very day when the ruthless proceedings above described took place, a considerable balance was due to Mr. Burroughs, after all claims from all quarters had been "reckoned." The return of the marshal, made to the Court, was as follows:—

"I have attached the body of George Burroughs he tendered to me,—for he said he had no pay,—and taken bonds to the value of fourteen pounds money, and read this to him.

Per me,

Henry Skerry, Marshal."

The bond is as follows. I give the names of the signers. The persons who interposed to rescue a persecuted man from unjust imprisonment deserve to be held in honored remembrance.

"We whose names are underwritten do bind ourselves jointly and severally to Henry Skerry, Marshal of Salem, our heirs, executors, and administrators, in the sum of fourteen pounds money, that George Burroughs shall appear at the next court at Salem, to answer to Lieutenant John Putnam, according to the summons of this attachment, and to abide the order of the court therein, and not to depart without license; as witness our hands this 2d of May, 1683.

"George Burroughs.
Nathaniel Ingersoll.
John Buxton.
Thomas Haynes.
Samuel Sibley.
William Sibley.
William Ireland, Jr."

[i.263]

The case was withdrawn, and Burroughs was glad to get away. He preferred the Indians at Casco Bay to the people here. When we consider, that a committee of the parish petitioned the Court to have such a meeting of the inhabitants; that it was held, by an order of Court, in compliance with said petition; that Burroughs came back to the village to attend it; that the meeting agreed, in answer to an inquiry from him to that effect, to conform to the order of the Court in making it the occasion of a full and final "reckoning" between them; that they spent two days and a half in bringing in and sifting all claims on either side; and that, when, at the time agreed upon,—the afternoon of the third day,—the whole body of the inhabitants had come together to ratify and give effect to the "reckoning," the marshal came in with a writ, and, evidently in violation of his feelings, was forced by John Putnam to arrest Burroughs, thereby breaking up the proceedings asked for by the parish and ordered by the Court, for a debt which he did not owe,—it must be allowed, that it was one of the most audacious and abominable outrages ever committed.

The scene presented in these documents is perhaps as vivid, and brings the actual life before us as strikingly, as any thing that has come down to us from that day. We can see, as though we were looking in at the door, the spectacle presented in the old meeting-house: the farmers gathered from their remote and widely scattered plantations, some possibly coming in travelling family-vehicles,—although it is quite[i.264] uncertain whether there were any at that time among the farmers; some in companies on farm-carts; many on foot; but the greater number on horseback, in their picturesque costume of homespun or moose-skin, with cowl-shaped hoods, or hats with a brim, narrow in front, but broad and slouching behind, hanging over the shoulders. Every man was belted and sworded. They did not wear weapons merely for show. There was half a score of men in that assembly who were in the Narragansett fight; and some bore on their persons scars from that bloody scene of desperate heroism. Every man, it is probable, had come to the meeting with his firelock on his shoulder, to defend himself and companions against Indians lurking in the thick woods through which they had to pass. Their countenances bespoke the passions to which they had been wrought up by their fierce parish quarrels,—rugged, severe, and earnest. We can see the grim bearing of the cavalry lieutenant, John Putnam, and of his elder brother and predecessor in commission. Marshal Skerry, with his badges of office, is reluctant to execute its functions upon a persecuted and penniless minister; but, in accordance with the stern demands of the inexorable prosecutors, is faithful still to his painful duty. The minister is the central object in the picture,—a small, dark-complexioned man, the amazed but calm and patient victim of an animosity in which he had no part, and for which he was in no wise responsible. The unresisting dignity of his bearing is quite observable. "We are now reckoning; we know not[i.265] yet who is in debt. I have no pay; but here is my body." Perhaps, in that unconspicuous frame, and through that humble garb, the sinewy nerves and muscles of steel, the compact and concentrated forces, that were the marvel of his times, and finally cost him his life, were apparent in his movements and attitudes. It may be, that the sufferings and exposures of his previous life had left upon his swarthy features a stamp of care and melancholy, foreshadowing the greater wrongs and trials in store for him. But the chief figure in the group is the just man who rose and rebuked the harsh and reprehensible procedure of the powerful landholder, neighbor and friend though he was. The manner in which the arbitrary trooper bowed to the rebuke, if it does not mitigate our resentment of his conduct, illustrates the extraordinary influence of Nathaniel Ingersoll's character, and demonstrates the deference in which all men held him.

There are in this affair other points worthy of notice, as showing the effects of their bitter feuds in rendering them insensible to every appeal of charity or humanity. Their minds had become so soured, and their sense of what was right so impaired, that they neglected and refused to fulfil their most ordinary obligations to each other, and to themselves as a society. Rates were not collected, and contracts were not complied with. The minister and his family were left without the necessaries of life. They were compelled to borrow even their clothing, articles of which constituted a part of the debt for which he was arrested in such a[i.266] public and unfeeling manner. A young woman testifies that she lived with Mr. Burroughs about two years, and says: "My mistress did tell me that she had some serge of John Putnam's wife, to make Mary a coat; and also some fustian of his wife, to make my mistress a pair of sleeves." The principal items in the account were for articles required at the death of his wife, by the usages of that day on funeral occasions. Surely it was an outrage upon human nature to spring a suit at law and have a writ served on him, and take him as a prisoner, on such an occasion, under such circumstances, on an alleged debt incurred by such a bereavement, when poverty and necessity had left him no alternative. The whole procedure receives the stamp, not only of cruelty, but of infamy, from the fact, which Nathaniel Ingersoll compelled Putnam to acknowledge before the whole congregation, that the account had been settled and the debt paid long before.

John Putnam, although a hard and stern man, had many traits of dignity and respectability in his character. That he could have done this thing, in this way, proves the extent to which prejudice and passion may carry one, particularly where party spirit consumes individual reason and conscience. At this point it is well to consider a piece of testimony brought against Burroughs nine years afterwards. There was no propriety or sense in giving it when it was adduced. It was, in truth, an outrage to have introduced such testimony in a case where Burroughs[i.267] was on trial for witchcraft; and it was allowed, only to prejudice and mislead the minds of a jury and of the public. But it is proper to be taken into view, in forming a just estimate, with an impartial aim, of his general character. The document is found in a promiscuous bundle of witchcraft papers.

"The Deposition of John Putnam and Rebecca his Wife.—Testifieth and saith, that, in the year 1680, Mr. Burroughs lived in our house nine months. There being a great difference betwixt said Burroughs and his wife, the difference was so great that they did desire us, the deponents, to come into their room to hear their difference. The controversy that was betwixt them was, that the aforesaid Burroughs did require his wife to give him a written covenant, under her hand and seal, that she would never reveal his secrets. Our answer was, that they had once made a covenant we did conceive did bind each other to keep their lawful secrets. And further saith, that, all the time that said Burroughs did live at our house, he was a very harsh and sharp man to his wife; notwithstanding, to our observation, she was a very good and dutiful wife to him."

The first observation that occurs in examining this piece of testimony is, that the answer made by Putnam and his wife was excellent, and, like every thing from him, shows that he was a man of strong common sense, and had a forcible and effectual way of expressing himself. The next thing to be considered is, that Mr. Burroughs probably discovered, soon after coming to the village, into what a hornets' nest he had got,[i.268]—every one tattling about and backbiting each other. His innocent and unsuspicious wife may have indulged a little in what is considered the amiable proclivity of her sex, and have let fall, in tea-table talk, what cavillers and mischief-makers were on hand to take up; and he may have found it both necessary and difficult to teach her caution and reserve. He saw, more perhaps than she did, the danger of getting involved in the personal acrimonies with which the whole community was poisoned. Her unguarded carelessness might get herself and him into trouble, and vitally impair their happiness and his usefulness. The only other point to be remarked upon is the general charge against Mr. Burroughs's temper and disposition. It may be that he became so disgusted with the state of things as to have shown some acerbity in his manners, but such a supposition is not in harmony with what little is known of him from other sources; and John Putnam's conduct at the meeting described proves that his mind was fully perverted, and bereft as it were of all moral rectitude of judgment, in reference to Mr. Burroughs. We must part with Mr. Burroughs for the present. We shall meet him again, where the powers of malignity will be more shamelessly let loose upon him, and prevail to his destruction.

He was succeeded in the ministry at Salem Village by a character of a totally different class. Deodat Lawson is first heard of in this country, according to Mr. Savage, at Martha's Vineyard in 1671. He took the freeman's oath at Boston in 1680, and continued[i.269] to have his residence there. It was not until after much negotiation and considerable importunity, that he was prevailed upon to enter into an engagement to preach at the Village. He began his ministry early in 1684, as appears by the parish record of a meeting Feb. 22, 1684: "Voted that Joseph Herrick, Jonathan Putnam, and Goodman Cloyse are desired to take care for to get a boat for the removing of Mr. Lawson's goods." Votes, about this time, were passed to repair the parsonage, and the fences around the ministry land; thus putting things in readiness to receive him. It does not appear that he became particularly entangled in the conflicts which had so long disturbed the Village, although, while the mother-church signified its readiness to approve of his ordination, and some movement was made in the Village to that end, it was found impossible to bring the hostile parties sufficiently into co-operation to allow of any thing being definitely accomplished. Fortunately for Mr. Lawson, the spirit of strife found other objects upon which to expend its energies for the time being. Some persons brought forward complaints, that the records of the parish had not been correctly kept (this was before Sergeant Thomas Putnam had been charged with that trust); that votes which had passed in "Mr. Bayley's days" and in "Mr. Burroughs's days" had not been truly recorded, or recorded at all; and that what had never been passed had been entered as votes. A great agitation arose on this subject, and many meetings were held. Some demanded that the[i.270] spurious votes should be expunged; others, that the omitted votes should be inserted. Then there was an excited disputation about the ministry lands, and the validity or sufficiency of their title to them. Joseph Houlton had given them; but he had nothing to do with raising the question, and did all he could to suppress it. Some person had discovered that William Haynes, to whom Houlton had succeeded by the right of his wife, had omitted to get his deed of purchase recorded, and the original could not be found. Disputes also arose about the use of the grounds around the meeting-house. These, added to the conflicts with the "Topsfield men," and matters not fully adjusted with the town of Salem, created and kept up a violent fermentation, in which all were miscellaneously involved. In the midst of this confusion, the matter of ordaining Mr. Lawson was put into the warrant for a meeting to be held on the 10th of December, 1686. But it was found impossible to recall the people from their divisions, and no favorable action could be had.

At length, all attempts to settle their difficulties among themselves were abandoned; and they called for help from outside. At a legally warned meeting on the 17th of January, 1687, the inhabitants made choice of "Captain John Putnam" (he had been promoted in the military line since the affair in the meeting-house with Mr. Burroughs), "Lieutenant Jonathan Walcot, Ensign Thomas Flint, and Corporal Joseph Herrick, for to transact with Joseph Hutchinson, Job Swinnerton, Joseph Porter, and Daniel An[i.271]drew about their grievances relating to the public affairs of this place; and, if they cannot agree among themselves, that then they shall refer their differences to the Honored Major Gedney and John Hathorne, Esqs., and to the reverend elders of the Salem Church, for a full determination of those differences." Of course, it was impossible to settle the matter among themselves, and the referees were called in. William Brown, Jr., Esq., was added to them. They were all of the old town, and men of the highest consideration. Their judgment in the case is a well-drawn and interesting document, and shows the view which near neighbors took of the distractions in the village. The following passage will exhibit the purport and spirit of it:—

"Loving Brethren, Friends and Neighbors,—Upon serious consideration of, and mature deliberation upon, what hath been offered to us about your calling and transacting in order to the settling and ordaining the Rev. Mr. Deodat Lawson, and the grievances offered by some to obstruct and impede that proceeding, our sense of the matter is this,—first, that the affair of calling and transacting in order to the settling and ordaining the Reverend Mr. Lawson hath not been so inoffensively managed as might have been,—at least, not in all the parts and passages of it; second, that the grievances offered by some amongst you are not in themselves of sufficient weight to obstruct so great a work, and that they have not been improved so peaceably and orderly as Christian prudence and self-denial doth direct; third, to our grief, we observe such uncharitable expressions and uncomely reflections tossed to and fro as look like the effects[i.272] of settled prejudice and resolved animosity, though we are much rather willing to account them the product of weakness than wilfulness: however, we must needs say, that, come whence they will, they have a tendency to make such a gap as we fear, if not timely prevented, will let out peace and order, and let in confusion and every evil work."

They then proceed to give some good advice to "prevent contention and trouble for the future, that it may not devour for ever, and that, if the Lord please, you may be happier henceforth than to make one another miserable; and not make your place uncomfortable to your present, and undesirable to any other, minister, and the ministry itself in a great measure unprofitable: and that you may not bring impositions on yourselves by convincing all about you that you cannot, or will not, use your liberty as becomes the gospel." Their advice is, "that you desist, at present, from urging the ordination of the Rev. Mr. Lawson, till your spirits are better quieted and composed." They give some judicious suggestions about various matters that had been the occasion of difficulty among them, especially to help them get their records put into good shape, and kept so for the future; and wind up in the following excellent, and in some of the clauses rather emphatic and pithy, expressions:—

"Finally, we think peace cheap, if it may be procured by complying with the aforementioned particulars, which are few, fair, and easy; and that they will hardly pass for lovers of peace, truth, ministry, and order, in the day of the Lord,[i.273] that shall so lean to their own understanding and will that they shall refuse such easy methods for the obtaining of them. And, if peace and agreement amongst you be once comfortably obtained, we advise you with all convenient speed to go on with your intended ordination; and so we shall follow our advice with our prayers. But, if our advice be rejected, we wish you better, and hearts to follow it; and only add, if you will unreasonably trouble yourselves, we pray you not any further to trouble us. We leave all to the blessing of God, the wonderful Counsellor, and your own serious consideration: praying you to read and consider the whole, and then act as God shall direct you. Farewell."

[Salem, Feb. 14, 1687. Signed by the five referees,—John Higginson and Nicholas Noyes (the elders of the old church), and the three gentlemen before named.]

At a meeting of the inhabitants of the Village on the 18th of February, it was voted that "we do accept of and embrace the advice of the honored and reverend gentlemen of Salem, sent to us under their hands, and order that it shall be entered on our book of records." But they took care further to vote, that they accepted it "in general, and not in parts." In accordance with the advice of the referees, they brought up, considered anew, and put to question, every entry in their past records about the genuineness and validity of which any division of opinion existed. Some entries that had been complained of and given offence as incorrect were voted out, and others were confirmed by being adopted on a new vote. A new book of records was[i.274] prepared, to conform to these decisions, which, having been submitted for examination to leading persons, appointed for the purpose at a legal meeting representing both parties, and approved by them, was adopted and sanctioned at a subsequent meeting also called for the purpose.

In accordance with the same advice "that the old book of records be kept in being," it was ordered by the meeting to leave the votes that had, by the foregoing proceedings, been rendered null and void, to "lie in the old book of records as they are." From the new book of records we learn that "some votes are left out that passed in Mr. Bayley's days, and some that passed in Mr. Burroughs's days," particularly all the votes but one that passed at a meeting held on the fifth day of June, 1683, the very time that Mr. Burroughs was under bonds in the action of debt brought by John Putnam. The new record specifies some few, but not all, of the votes that were rescinded because it was adjudged that they had not rightfully passed, or been correctly stated. Unfortunately, the old book, after all, has not been "kept in being;" and much that would have exhibited more fully and clearly the unhappy early history of the parish is for ever lost. If the records that have been suffered to remain present the picture I have endeavored faithfully to draw, how much darker might have been its shades had we been permitted to behold what the parties concerned concurred in thinking too bad to be left to view!

The attempt to expunge records is always indefensi[i.275]ble, besides being in itself irrational and absurd. It may cover up the details of wrong and folly; but it leaves an unlimited range to the most unfriendly conjecture. We are compelled to imagine what we ought to be allowed to know; and, in many particulars, our fancies may be worse than the facts. But later times, and public bodies of greater pretensions than "the inhabitants of Salem Village," have attempted, and succeeded in perpetrating, this outrage upon history. In trying to conceal their errors, men have sometimes destroyed the means of their vindication. This may be the case with the story that is to be told of "Salem Witchcraft." It has been the case in reference to wider fields of history. The Parliamentary journals and other public records of the period of the Commonwealth and the Protectorate were suppressed by the infatuated stupidity of the Government of the Restoration. They foolishly imagined that they were hiding the shame, while they were obscuring the glory, of their country. Every Englishman, every intelligent man, now knows, that, during that very period, all that has made England great was done. The seeds of her naval and maritime prosperity were planted: and she was pushed at once by wise measures of policy, internal and external; by legislation developing her resources and invigorating the power of her people; by a decisive and comprehensive diplomacy that commanded the respect of foreign courts, and secured to her a controlling influence upon the traffic of the world; by developments of her military genius under[i.276] the greatest of all the great generals of modern times; and by naval achievements that snatched into her hands the balancing trident of the seas,—to the place she still holds (how much longer she may hold it remains to be seen) as the leading power of the world. If she has to relinquish that position, it will only be to a power that is true to the spirit, and is not ashamed of the name, of a republic. The nation that fully develops the policy which pervaded the records of the English Commonwealth will be the leader of the world. The suppression of those records has not suppressed the spirit of popular liberty, or the progress of mankind in the path of reform, freedom, equal rights, and a true civilization. It has only cast a shadow, which can never wholly be dispelled, over what otherwise would have been the brightest page in the annals of a great people. We depend for our knowledge of the steps by which England then made a most wonderful stride to prosperity and power, not upon official and authoritative records, but upon the desultory and sometimes merely gossiping memoirs of particular persons, and such other miscellaneous materials as can be picked up. The only consequence of an attempt to extinguish the memory of republicans, radicals, reformers, and regicides has been, that the history of England's true glory can never be adequately written.

The referees used the following language touching the point of the ordination of Mr. Lawson: "If more than a mere major part should not consent to it, we[i.277] should be loath to advise our brethren to proceed." This, in connection with the other sentence I have quoted from their communication recommending them "to desist at present" from urging it, was fatal to the immediate movement in his favor; and, not seeing any prospect of their "spirits becoming better quieted and composed," and weary of the attempt to bring them to any comfortable degree of unanimity, Mr. Lawson threw up his connection with them, and removed back to Boston. We shall meet him again; but it is well to despatch at this point what is to be said of his character and history.

It is evident that Deodat Lawson had received the best education of his day. It is not easy to account for his not having left a more distinguished mark in Old or New England. He had much learning and great talents. Of his power in getting up pulpit performances in the highest style of eloquence, of which that period afforded remarkable specimens, I shall have occasion to speak. Among his other attainments, he was, what cannot be said of learned and professional men generally now any more than then, an admirable penman. The village parish adopted the practice at the beginning, when paying the salaries of its ministers from time to time, instead of taking receipts on detached and loose pieces of paper, of having them write them out in their own hand on the pages of the record-book, with their signatures. It is a luxury, in looking over the old volume, to come upon the receipts of Deodat Lawson, in his plain, round hand.[i.278] A specimen is given among the autographs. His chirography is easy, free, graceful, clear, and clean. It unites with wonderful taste the highest degrees of simplicity and ornament. Each style is used, and both are blended, as occasion required. During his ministry, the trouble about the old record-book occurred. The first four pages of the new book are in his handwriting. The ink has somewhat faded; the paper has become discolored, and, around the margins and at the bottom of the leaves, lamentably worn and broken. The first page exhibits Lawson's penmanship in its various styles. It is artistically executed in several sizes of letters, appropriate to the position of the clauses and the import and weight of the matter. In each there is an elegant combination of ornament and simplicity. His chirography was often had in requisition; and papers, evidently from his pen, are on file in various cases, occurring in court at the time, in which his friends were interested.

The first four ministers of the village parish were excellent penmen. Bayley's hand is more like the modern style than the rest. Burroughs's is as legible as print, uniform in its character, open and upright. The specimen among the autographs is from the record referred to at the top of page 262. As it was written at the bottom of a page in the record-book, where there was hardly sufficient room, it had to be in a slanting line. I give it just as it there appears. Parris wrote three different hands, all perfectly easy to read. The larger kind was used when signing his[i.281] name to important papers, or in brief entries of record. The specimen I give is from a receipt in the parish-book, which Thomas Putnam, as clerk, made oath in court, that Parris wrote and signed in his presence. His notes of examinations of persons charged with witchcraft by the committing magistrate, many of which are preserved, are in his smallest hand, very minute, but always legible. In his church-records he uses sometimes a medium hand, and sometimes the smallest. The autographs of Townsend Bishop and Thomas Putnam show the handwriting that seems to have prevailed among well-educated people in England at the time of the first settlement of this country. There was often a profusion of flourishes that obscured the letters. The initial capitals were quite complicated and very curious. The signature of Thomas Putnam, Jr., exhibits his excellent handwriting.

[i.279]

[i.280]

autographs

I have adduced these facts and given these illustrations to show, that, in this branch of education,—the value and desirableness of which cannot be overrated,—it is at least an open question, whether we have much ground to boast of being in advance of the first generations of our ancestors in America. The early ministers of the Salem Village parish certainly compare, in this particular, favorably with ministers and professional men, and recording officers generally in public bodies of all kinds, in later times.

Sergeant Thomas Putnam did not act as clerk of the parish from April, 1687, to April, 1694. A few entries are made by his hand; but the record, very[i.282] meagre and fragmentary, is for the most part made by others. This is much to be regretted, as the interval covers the very period of our history. His time, probably, was taken up, and his mind wholly engrossed, by an unhappy family difficulty, in which, during that period, he was involved. Thomas Putnam Sr. died, as has been stated, in 1686. It was thought, by the children of his first wife, that the influence of the second wife had been unduly exercised over him, in his last years, so as to induce him to make a will giving to her, and her only child by him, Joseph, a very unfair proportion of his estate. It was felt by them to be so unjust that they attempted to break the will. The management of the case was confided to Sergeant Thomas Putnam, as the eldest son of the family; and the affair, it may be supposed, absorbed his thoughts to such a degree as to render it necessary for him to abandon his services as clerk of the parish. The attempt to set aside the will failed. The circumstances connected with the subject disturbed very seriously—perhaps permanently—the happiness of the whole family, and may have contributed to create the morbid excitement which afterwards was so fearfully displayed by the wife of the younger Thomas.

While Mr. Lawson was at the village, he lost his wife and daughter. In 1690, he was again married, to Deborah Allen. He was settled afterwards over the Second Society in Scituate,—it is singular that our local histories do not tell us when, but that we get all we know on the point from a sentence written by the[i.283] pen on a leaf of one of the two folio volumes of John Quick's "Synodicon in Gallia Reformata," in the possession of a gentleman in this country, Henry M. Dexter, who says it is evidently Quick's autograph. It is in these words: "For my reverend and dear brother, Mr. Lawson, minister of the gospel, and pastor of the church of Scituate, in the province of Massachusetts in New England; from the publisher, John Quick, honoris et amoris ergo, Aug. 6, 1693." In 1696, Mr. Lawson went over to England, merely for a short visit, as his people supposed. They heard from him no more. He never asked a dismission, or communicated with them in any way. In 1698, an ecclesiastical council declared them free to settle another minister, which they did in due time. He was, no doubt, alive and in London when, in 1704, his famous Salem Village sermon was reprinted there. But this is the last glimpse we have of him. An inscrutable mystery covers the rest of his history. His manner of leaving the Scituate parish shows him to have been an eccentric person, leaves an unfavorable impression of his character, and is as inexplicable as the only other reference to him that has thus far been found. Calamy, in his "Continuation of the Account of Ejected Ministers," published in 1727, has a notice of Thomas Lawson, whom he describes as minister of Denton in the county of Norfolk, educated at Katherine Hall in Cambridge, and afterwards chosen "to a fellowship in St. John's. He was a man of parts, but had no good utterance. He was the[i.284] father of the unhappy Mr. Deodat Lawson, who came hither from New England." With all his abilities, learning, and eloquence, he disappears, after the re-publication of his Salem Village sermon in London, in the dark, impenetrable cloud of this expression, "the unhappy Mr. Deodat Lawson." Of the melancholy fate implied in the language of Calamy, I have not been able to obtain the slightest information.

The troubles that covered the whole period, since the beginning of Mr. Bayley's ministry, had led to the neglect and derangement of the entire organization of the Village, and resulted in the loss of what little opportunities for education might otherwise have been provided. So great was this evil regarded, that the old town felt it necessary to interpose; and we find it voted Jan. 24, 1682, that "Lieutenant John Putnam is desired, and is hereby empowered, to take care that the law relating to the catechising of children and youth be duly attended at the Village." He is also "desired to have a diligent care that all the families do carefully and constantly attend the due education of their children and youth according to law." We cannot but feel that the man who was ready to fight the "Topsfield men" in the woods—who, when they asked him, "What, by violence?" answered, with axe in hand, "Ay, by violence," and who figured in the manner described in the scene with Mr. Burroughs—was a singular person to intrust with the charge of "catechising the children and youth." But those were queer times, and he was a queer character. He[i.285] had always been a church-member; and, to the day of his death, church and prayer meetings were more frequently held at his house than in any other. He was a rough man, but he was no hypocrite. He was in the front of every encounter; but he was tolerant, too, of difference of opinion. When, at one time, the contests of the Village were at their height, and two committees were raised representing the two conflicting parties, he was at the head of one, and his eldest son (Jonathan) of the other. Their opposition does not seem to have alienated them. While I have found it necessary to hold him up, in some of his actions, for condemnation, there were many good points about him; although he was not the sort of man that would be likely, in our times, to be selected to execute the functions of a Sunday-school teacher.

During all this period, there was a variety of minor controversies among themselves, causing greater or less disturbance. Joseph Hutchinson, who had given a site out of his homestead-grounds for the meeting-house, had no patience with their perpetual wranglings. He fenced up his lands around the meeting-house lot, leaving them an entrance on the end towards the road. They went to court about it, and he was called to account by the usual process of law. The plain, gruff old farmer, who seems all along to have been a man of strong sense and decided character, filed an answer, which is unsurpassed for bluntness of expression. It has no language of ceremony, but goes to the point at once. It has a general inter[i.286]est as showing, to how late a period the inhabitants of this neighborhood were exposed to Indian attacks, and what means of defence were resorted to by the Village worshippers. The document manifests the contempt in which he held the complainants, and it was all the satisfaction they got.

"Joseph Hutchinson his answer is as followeth:—

"First, as to the covenant they spoke of, I conceive it is neither known of by me nor them, as will appear by records from the farmer's book.

"Second, I conceive they have no cause to complain of me for fencing in my own land; for I am sure I fenced in none of theirs. I wish they would not pull down my fences. I am loath to complain, though I have just cause.

"Third, for blocking up the meeting-house, it was they did it, and not I, in the time of the Indian wars; and they made Salem pay for it. I wish they would bring me my rocks they took to do it with; for I want them to make fence with.

"Thus, hoping this honored Court will see that there was no just cause to complain against me, and their cause will appear unjust in that they would in an unjust way take away my land, I trust I shall have relief; so I rest, your Honor's servant,

Joseph Hutchinson."

[Nov. 27, 1686.]

The next minister of Salem Village brought matters to a crisis. Samuel Parris is stated to have been a son of Thomas Parris, of London, and was born in 1653. He was, for a time, a member of Harvard College, but did not finish the academic course, being[i.287] drawn to a commercial life. He was engaged in the West-India business, and probably lived at Barbadoes. After a while, he abandoned commerce, and prepared himself for the ministry. There was at this time, and long subsequently, a very particular mercantile connection between Salem and Barbadoes. The former husband of the wife of Thomas Putnam, Sr.,—Nathaniel Veren,—as has been stated, had property in that island, and was more or less acquainted with its people. Perhaps it was through this channel that the thoughts of the people of the Village were turned towards Mr. Parris. From a deposition made by him a few years afterwards in a suit at law between him and his parishioners, we learn some interesting facts relating to the negotiations that led to his settlement.

It appears from his statement that a committee, consisting of "Captain John Putnam, Mr. Joshua Rea, Sr., and Francis Nurse," was appointed, on the 15th of November, 1688, to treat with him "about taking ministerial office." On the 25th of November, "after the services in the afternoon, the audience was stayed, and, by a general vote, requested Mr. Parris to take office." He hung back for a while, and exercised the skill and adroitness acquired in his mercantile life in making as sharp a bargain as he could.

At that time, there appeared to be a degree of harmony among the people, such as they had never known before. There was a disposition on all sides to come together, and avail themselves of the occasion of[i.288] settling a new minister, to bury their past animosities, and forget their grievances; and there is every reason to believe, if Mr. Parris had promptly closed with their terms, he might have enjoyed a peaceful ministry, and a happy oblivion have covered for ever his name and the history of the village. But he withheld response to the call. The people were impatient, and felt that the golden opportunity might be lost, and the old feuds revive. On the 10th of December, another committee was raised, consisting of Lieutenant Nathaniel Putnam, Sergeant Fuller, Mr. Joshua Rea, Sr., and Sergeant Ingersoll, as "messengers, to know whether Mr. Parris would accept of office." His answer was, "the work was weighty; they should know in due time." They were thus kept in suspense during the whole winter, getting no reply from him. On the 29th of April, 1689, "Deacons Nathaniel Ingersoll and Edward Putnam, Daniel Rea, Thomas Fuller, Jr., and John Tarbell, came to Mr. Parris from the meeting-house," where there had been a general meeting of the inhabitants, and said, "Being the aged men had had the matter of Mr. Parris's settlement so long in hand, and effected nothing, they were desirous to try what the younger could do." Deacon Ingersoll was about fifty-five years of age; but his spirit and character kept him in sympathy with the progressive impulses of younger men. Deacon Putnam was thirty-four years of age. Daniel Rea was the son of Joshua; Thomas Fuller, Jr., the son of Sergeant Fuller; and John Tarbell, the son-in-law of Francis Nurse.[i.289]

This is the first appearance, I believe, in our history, of that notorious and most pretentious personage who has figured so largely in all our affairs ever since, "Young America." The sequel shows, that, in this instance at least, no benefit arose from discarding the caution and experience of years. The "younger men" were determined to "go ahead." They said they were desirous of a speedy answer. Finding them in a temper to "finish the thing up," at any rate, and seeing that they were ambitious to get the credit of "effecting something," and, for that end, predisposed to come to his terms, he disclosed them. They had offered him a salary of sixty pounds per annum,—one third in money, the rest in provisions, at certain specified rates. He agreed to accept the call on the foregoing terms, with certain additional conditions thus described by himself: "First, when money shall be more plenteous, the money part to be paid me shall accordingly be increased. Second, though corn or like provisions should arise to a higher price than you have set, yet, for my own family use, I shall have what is needful at the price now stated, and so if it fall lower. Third, the whole sixty pounds to be only from our inhabitants that are dwelling in our bounds, proportionable to what lands they have within the same. Fourth, no provision to be brought in without first asking whether needed, and myself to make choice of what, unless the person is unable to pay in any sort but one. Fifth, firewood to be given in yearly, freely. Sixth, two men to be chosen yearly to see that due payments be made.[i.290] Seventh, contributions each sabbath in papers; and only such as are in papers, and dwelling within our bounds, to be accounted a part of the sixty pounds. Eighth, as God shall please to bless the place so as to be able to rise higher than the sixty pounds, that then a proportionable increase be made. If God shall please, for our sins, to diminish the substance of said place, I will endeavor accordingly to bear such losses, by proportionable abatements of such as shall reasonably desire it."

A contribution-box was either handed around by the deacons, before the congregation was dismissed, or attached permanently near the porch or door. Rate-payers would inclose their money in papers, with their names, and drop them in. When the box was opened, the sums inclosed would be entered to their credit on the rate-schedule. There was always a considerable number of stated worshippers in the congregation who lived without the bounds of the village, and often transient visitors or strangers happened to be at meeting. It was a point that had not been determined, whether moneys collected from the above descriptions of persons should go into the general treasury of the parish, to be used in meeting their contract to pay the minister's salary, or be kept as a separate surplus.

The terms, as thus described by Mr. Parris, show that he had profited by his experience in trade, and knew how to make a shrewd bargain. It was quite certain that a farming community in a new country, with fields continually reclaimed from the wilderness and[i.291] added to culture, would increase in substance: if so, his annual stipend would increase. If the place should decline, he was to abate the tax of individuals, if desired by them personally, so far as he should judge their petition to that effect reasonable. If "strangers' money," or contributions from "outsiders," were not to go to make up his sixty pounds, it was quite probable that it would come into his pocket as an extra allowance, or perquisite.

He says that the committee accepted these terms, and agreed to them, expressing their belief that the people also would. No record appears on the parish-books of the appointment of this committee of the "younger men," or of the action of the society on their report, or of any report having been made at that time. In the mean while, Mr. Parris continued to preach and act as the minister of the society until his ordination, near the close of the year. There was a meeting on the 21st of May; but the record consists of but a single entry,—the appointment of a committee "as overseers for the year ensuing, to take care of our meeting-house and other public charges, and to make return according to law." The next entry is of a general meeting of the inhabitants, on the 18th of June, 1689. The choice of the regular standing committee for the year is recorded. Immediately following this entry, are these words:—

"At the same meeting,—the 18th of June, 1689,—it was agreed and voted by general concurrence, that, for Mr. Parris, his encouragement and settlement in the work of the[i.292] ministry amongst us, we will give him sixty six pounds for his yearly salary,—one-third paid in money, the other two-third parts for provisions, &c.; and Mr. Parris to find himself firewood, and Mr. Parris to keep the ministry-house in good repair; and that Mr. Parris shall also have the use of the ministry-pasture, and the inhabitants to keep the fence in repair; and that we will keep up our contributions, and our inhabitants to put their money in papers, and this to continue so long as Mr. Parris continues in the work of the ministry amongst us, and all productions to be good and merchantable. And, if it please God to bless the inhabitants, we shall be willing to give more; and to expect, that if God shall diminish the estates of the people, that then Mr. Parris do abate of his salary according to proportion."

Comparing this record with the account given by Mr. Parris of the eight conditions upon which he agreed, in conference with the committee of the "younger" sort, on the 29th of April, to accept the call of the parish, the difference is not very essential. The matter of firewood was arranged, according to his account, by mutual agreement, they to add six pounds to his salary, and he to find his own wood. The rates of "the inhabitants" were to be paid "in papers." The only point of difference, touching this matter, is that the record is silent about contributions by outsiders and strangers; whereas he says it was agreed, on the 29th of April, that they should not go towards making up his salary. The idea of his salary rising with the growth and sinking with the decline of the society is expressed in the record[i.293] substantially as it is by him, only it is made exact; and, in case of a decline in the means of the people, a corresponding decline is to be in the aggregate of his salary, and not by abatements made by him in individual cases. The variations are nearly, if not quite, all unimportant in their nature, and such as a regard to mutual convenience would suggest. Yet there was something in the above record which highly exasperated Mr. Parris.

In his deposition he states, that, at a meeting held on the 17th of May, of which there is no record in the parish book, he was sent for and was present. He says that there was "much agitation" at the meeting. He says that objection was made by the people to two of his "eight" conditions, the fifth and seventh. But there is nothing in the record of the 18th of June in conflict with what he says was finally agreed upon, except the disposition that should be made of "strangers' money." The question then recurs, What was the cause of the "much agitation" at that meeting? What was it in the language of that record which always so excited Mr. Parris's wrath?

I am inclined to think that the offensive words were those which require "Mr. Parris to keep the ministry house in good repair," and that he "shall also have the use of the ministry pasture;" and this was not objectionable as involving any expense upon him, but solely because the language employed precluded the supposition that the parish had countenanced the idea of ever conveying the parsonage and parsonage lands[i.294] to him in his own right and absolutely. This was an object which he evidently had in view from the first, and to which he clung to the last. It is to be feared, that some of the members of the "Young-America" committee, in their heedless and inconsiderate eagerness to "effect" something, to settle Mr. Parris forthwith, and thereby prove how much more competent they were than "the aged men" to transact a weighty business, had encouraged Mr. Parris to think that his favorite object could be accomplished. Upon a little inquiry, however, they discovered that it could not be done; but that the house and land were secured by the original deeds of conveyance, and by irreversible agreements and conditions, to the use of the ministry, for the time being and for ever. So far as the committee or any of its members had favored this idea in their conference with Mr. Parris, they had taken a position from which they had to retreat. They had compromised themselves and the parish. For this reason, perhaps, they made no report; and no mention of their agency appears on the records. How far Deacon Ingersoll was misled by his younger associates on this occasion, I know not; but he was not a man to break a promise if he could keep it, no matter how much to his own loss. He recognized his responsibility as chairman of the unfortunate committee, and retrieved the mistake they had made, by giving to Mr. Parris, by deed, a lot of land adjoining the parsonage property, and in value equal to the whole of it. The date of that conveyance, immediately after Mr. Parris's ordination, corroborates[i.295] the conjecture that it was made to compensate Mr. Parris for the failure of his expectation to get possession of the ministry property. It ought to have been received by him as an equivalent, and have soothed his angry disappointment; but it did not. He had indulged the belief, that he had effected a bargain with the parish, at his settlement, which had made him the owner, in fee simple, of the parish property; and when he found that the record of the terms of his settlement, in the parish-book, absolutely precluded that idea, his exasperation was great, and no reparation Deacon Ingersoll or any one else could make was suffered to appease it. The following deposition, made in court some years afterwards, gives an account of a scene in the meeting-house after Parris's ordination:—

"Ipswich Court, 1697.—Parris versus Inhabitants of Salem Village.

"We the undersigned testify and say, that, a considerable time after Mr. Parris his ordination, there was a meeting of the inhabitants of Salem Village at the usual place of meeting; and the occasion of the meeting was concerning Mr. Parris, and several persons were at that meeting, that had not, before this meeting, joined with the people in calling or agreeing with Mr. Parris; and the said persons desired that those things that concerned Mr. Parris and the people might be read, and accordingly it was. And the entry, that some call a salary, being read, there arose a difference among the people, the occasion of which was finding an entry in the book of the Village records, relating to Mr. Parris his maintenance, which was dated the 18th of June,[i.296] 1689; and, the entry being read to the people, some replied that they believed that Mr. Parris would not comply with that entry; whereupon one said it was best to send for Mr. Parris to resolve the question. Accordingly, he was sent for. He coming to the people, this entry of the 18th of June, 1689, was read to Mr. Parris. His answer was as follows: 'He never heard or knew any thing of it, neither could or would he take up with it, or any part of it;' and further he said, 'They were knaves and cheaters that entered it.' And Lieutenant Nathaniel Putnam, being moderator of that meeting, replied to Mr. Parris, and said, 'Sir, then there is only proposals on both sides, and no agreement between you and the people.' And Mr. Parris answered and said, 'No more, there is not; for I am free from the people, and the people free from me:' and so the meeting broke up. And we further testify, that there hath not been any agreement made with Mr. Parris, that we knew of or ever heard of,—never since.

"Joseph Porter.
Daniel Andrew.
Joseph Putnam.

"Sworn in Court, at Ipswich, April 13, 1697, by all three.

Attest, Stephen Sewall, Clerk."

The answer which Mr. Parris made to Nathaniel Putnam's inquiry probably settled the question in the suit then pending, and led to the final release of the parish from him. It is hard to find any point of difference between his own account of the conditions he himself made, and the record of the parish-book, of sufficient importance to account for the storm of passion[i.297] into which the reading of the latter drove him, except in the language which I have suggested as the probable occasion of his wrath. Unfortunately for him, there is evidence quite corroborative of this suggestion.

The parish-book has the following record:—

"At a general meeting of the inhabitants of Salem Village, Oct. 10, 1689, it was agreed and voted, that the vote, in our book of record of 1681, that lays, as some say, an entailment upon our ministry house and land, is hereby made void and of no effect; one man only dissenting.

"It was voted and agreed by a general concurrence, that we will give to Mr. Parris our ministry house and barn, and two acres of land next adjoining to the house; and that Mr. Parris take office amongst us, and live and die in the work of the ministry among us; and, if Mr. Parris or his heirs do sell the house and land, that the people may have the first refusal of it, by giving as much as other men will. A committee was chosen to lay out the land, and make a conveyance of the house and land, and to make the conveyance in the name and in the behalf of the inhabitants unto Mr. Parris and his heirs."

The record of these votes is not signed by the clerk, and there is no evidence that the meeting was legally warned. It does not appear in whose custody the book then was. But, however the entry got in, it proves that Parris's friends were determined to gratify his all but insane purpose to get possession of what he ought to have known it was impossible for the parish to give, or for him or his heirs to hold. It was indeed a miserable commencement of his ministry, to introduce such[i.298] a strife with a people who really seem to have had an earnest desire to receive him with united hearts, and make his settlement and ministry the harbinger of a better day. But he alienated many of them, at the very start, by his sharp practice in negotiating about the pecuniary details of his agreement with the parish. When, after all their care to prevent it, it became known that somehow or other a vote had got upon the records, conveying to him outright their ministerial property, there was great indignation; and a determined effort was made to recover what they declared to be "a fraudulent conveying-away" of the property of the society.

A more violent conflict than any before was let loose upon that devoted people. The old passions were rekindled. Men ranged themselves as the friends and opponents of Mr. Parris in bitter antagonism. Rates were not collected; the meeting-house went into dilapidation; complaints were made to the County Court; orders were issued to collect rates, but they were disregarded; and all was confusion, disorder, and contention.

A church was organized in connection with the village parish, and Mr. Parris ordained on Monday, Nov. 19, 1689. The covenant adopted was the "confession of faith owned and consented unto by the elders and messengers of the churches assembled at Boston, New England, May 12, 1680." In the library of the Connecticut Historical Society, there is a manuscript volume of sermons and abstracts of sermons preached[i.299] by Mr. Parris between November, 1689, and May, 1694. It begins with his ordination sermon, which has this prefix: "My poor and weak ordination sermon, at the embodying of a church at Salem Village on the 19th of the ninth month, 1689, the Rev. Mr. Nicholas Noyes embodying of us; who also ordained my most unworthy self pastor, and, together with the Rev. Mr. Samuel Phillips and the Rev. Mr. John Hale, imposed hands,—the same Mr. Phillips giving me the right hand of fellowship with beautiful loveliness and humility." The text is from Josh. v. 9: "And the Lord said unto Joshua, This day have I rolled away the reproach of Egypt from off you."

The first entry in the church-records, after the covenant and the names of the members, is the following: "Nov. 24, 1689.—Sab: day. Brother Nathaniel Ingersoll chosen, by a general vote of the brethren, to officiate in the place of a deacon for a time."

Mr. Parris commenced his administration by showing that he meant to exercise the disciplinary powers intrusted to him, as pastor of a church, with a high hand, and without much regard to persons or circumstances. Ezekiel Cheever had been a member of the mother-church in Salem twenty years before, was one of the founders of the parish church, and appears to have been a worthy and amiable person, occupying and owning the farm of his uncle, Captain Lothrop. On the sudden illness of a member of his family, being "in distress for a horse," none of his own being[i.300] available at the time, he rushed, in his hurry and alarm, to the stable of a neighbor, took one of his horses, "without leave or asking of it," and rode, post haste, for a doctor. One would have thought that an affair of this sort, in such an exigency, might have been left to neighborly explanation or adjustment. But Mr. Parris regarded it as giving a good opportunity for an exercise of power that would strike the terrors of discipline home upon the whole community. About five or six weeks after the occurrence, Cheever was dealt with in the manner thus described by Mr. Parris, in his church-record, dated "Sab: 30 March, 1690." He was "called forth to give satisfaction to the offended church, as also the last sabbath he was called forth for the same purpose; but then he failed in giving satisfaction, by reason of somewhat mincing in the latter part of his confession, which, in the former, he had more ingenuously acknowledged: but this day, the church received satisfaction, as was testified by their holding-up of their hands; and, after the whole, a word of caution by the pastor was dropped upon the offender in particular, and upon us all in general."

Mr. Parris was evidently inclined to magnify the importance of the church, and to get it into such a state of subserviency to his authority, that he could wield it effectually as a weapon in his fight with the congregation. With this view, he endeavored to render the action of the church as dignified and imposing as possible; to enlarge and expand its ceremonial proceedings, and make it the theatre for the exercise of[i.301] his authority as its head and ruler. This feature of his policy was so strikingly illustrated in the course he took in reference to the deacons, that I must present it as recorded by him in the church-book. It is worth preserving as a curiosity in ecclesiastical administration.

Nathaniel Ingersoll had been a professor of religion almost as long as Mr. Parris had lived. He was eminently a Christian man, of acknowledged piety, and beloved and revered by all. He had been the patron, benefactor, and guardian of the parish and all its interests from its formation. He had long held the title of deacon, and exercised the functions of that office so far as they could be exercised previous to the organization of a church. He had been the almoner of the charities of the people, and their adviser and religious friend in all things. He was approaching the boundaries of advanced years, and already recognized among the fathers of the community. It would have seemed no more than what all might have expected, to have had him recognized as a deacon of the church, in full standing, at the first. It was, no doubt, what all did expect. But no: he must be put upon probation. He was chosen deacon "for the present" in November, 1689. Mr. Parris kept the matter of confirmation hanging in his own hands for a year and a half. The appointment of the other deacon was kept suspended for a full year. On the 30th of November, 1690, there is the following entry:[i.302]—

"This evening, after the public service was over, the church was, by the pastor, desired to stay, and then by him Brother Edward Putnam was propounded as a meet person for to be chosen as another deacon. The issue whereof was, that, it being now an excessive cold day, some did propose that another season might be pitched upon for discourse thereof. Whereupon the pastor mentioned the next fourth day, at two of the clock, at the pastor's house, for further discourse thereof; to which the church agreed by not dissenting."

The record of the proceedings on the "next fourth day" is as follows:—

"3 December, 1690.—This afternoon, at a church meeting appointed the last sabbath, Brother Edward Putnam was again propounded to the church for choice to office in the place of a deacon to join with, and be assistant to, Brother Ingersoll in the service, and in order to said Putnam's ordination in the office, upon his well approving himself therein. Some proposed that two might be nominated to the church, out of which the church to choose one. But arguments satisfactory were produced against that way. Some also moved for a choice by papers; but that way also was disapproved by the arguments of the pastor and some others. In fine, the pastor put it to vote (there appearing not the least exception from any, unless a modest and humble exception of the person himself, once and again), and it was carried in the affirmative by a universal vote, nemine non suffragante.

"Afterwards, the pastor addressed himself to the elected brother, and, in the name of the church, desired his answer, who replied to this purpose:[i.303]—

'Seeing, sir, you say the voice of God's people is the voice of God, desiring your prayers and the prayers of the church for divine assistance therein, I do accept of the call.'"

When we consider that Edward Putnam was, at Mr. Parris's ordination more than a year before, and had been for some time previous to that event, Ingersoll's associate deacon, and that there probably never was any other person spoken or thought of than these two for deacons, it is evident that it was Mr. Parris's policy to make a great matter of the affair, and produce a general feeling of the weighty importance of church action in the premises. But this was only the beginning of the long-drawn ceremonial solemnities by which the occasion was magnified.

"Sab: day, 7 December, 1690.—After the evening public service was over, several things needful were transacted; viz.:—

"1. The pastor acquainted those of the church that were ignorant of it, that Brother Edward Putnam was chosen deacon the last church meeting.

"2. He also generally admonished those of the brethren that were absent at that time, of their disorderliness therein, telling them that such, the apostle bids, should be noted or marked (2 Thess. iii. 6-16); that is, with a church mark,—a mark in a disciplinary way; and therefore begged amendment for the future in that point and to that purpose.

"3. He propounded whether they so far were satisfied in Brother Ingersoll's service as to call him to settlement in[i.304] the deaconship by ordination, or had aught against it. But no brother made personal exception. Therefore, it being put to vote, it was carried in the affirmative by a plurality, if not universality.

"4. The Lord's Table, not being provided for with aught else but two pewter tankards, the pastor propounded and desired that the next sacrament-day, which is to be the 21st instant, there be a more open and liberal contribution by the communicants, that so the deacons may have wherewith to furnish the said table decently; which was consented to."

The last clause, "which was consented to," is in a smaller hand than the rest of the record. It was written by Mr. Parris, but apparently some time afterwards, and with fainter ink. There is reason to suppose that nothing was accomplished at that time in the way of getting rid of the "pewter tankards." The farmers were too hard pressed by taxes imposed by the province, and by the weight of local assessments, to listen to fanciful appeals. They probably continued for some time, and perhaps until after receiving Deacon Ingersoll's legacy, in 1720, to get along as they were. They did not believe, that, in order to approach the presence, and partake of the memorials, of the Saviour, it was necessary to bring vessels of silver or gold. In their circumstances, gathered in their humble rustic edifice for worship, they did not feel that, in the sight of the Lord, costly furniture would add to the adornment of his table.

Nearly six months after Putnam's election, Mr.[i.305] Parris brought up the matter again at a meeting of the church, on the 31st of May, 1691, and made a speech relating to it, which he entered on the records thus:—

"The pastor spoke to the brethren to this purpose, viz.:—

"Brethren,—The ordination of Brother Ingersoll has already been voted a good while since, and I thought to have consummated the affair a good time since, but have been put by, by diversity of occurrents; and, seeing it is so long since, I think it needless to make two works of one, and therefore intend the ordination of Brother Putnam together with Brother Ingersoll in the deaconship, if you continue in the same mind as when you elected him: therefore, if you are so, let a vote manifest it. Voted by all, or at least the most. I observed none that voted not."

At last the mighty work was accomplished. Deacon Ingersoll had been on probation for eighteen months from the date of his election, which took place five days after Mr. Parris's ordination. His final induction to office was observed with great formality, and in the presence of the whole congregation. Mr. Parris enters the order of performances in the church records as follows:—

"Sab: 28 June, 1691.—After the afternoon sermon upon 1 Tim. iii. 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, as the brethren had renewed their call of Brother Ingersoll to the office of a deacon, and he himself had declared his acceptance, the pastor proceeded to ordain him, using the form following:

"Beloved Brother, God having called you to the office[i.306] of a deacon by the choice of the brethren and your own acceptance, and that call being now to be consummated according to the primitive pattern, 6 Acts 6, by prayer and imposition of hands,—

"We do, therefore, by this solemnity, declare your investiture into that office, solemnly charging you in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, the King of his Church, who walks in the midst of his golden candlesticks, with eyes as of a flame of fire, exactly observing the demeanor of all in his house, both officers and members, that you labor so to carry it, as to evidence you are sanctified by grace, qualified for this work, and to grow in those qualifications; behaving of yourself gravely, sincerely, temperately, with due care for the government of your own house, holding the mystery of the faith in a pure conscience; that as they in this office are called 'helps,' so you be helpful in your place and capacity, doing what is your part for the promoting of the work of Christ here. We do charge you, that, whatever you do in this office, you do it faithfully, giving with simplicity, showing mercy with cheerfulness. Look on it, brother, as matter of care, and likewise of encouragement, that both the office itself and also your being set up in it is of God, who, being waited upon, will be with you, and accept you therein, assisting you to use the office of a deacon well, so as that you may be blameless, purchasing to yourself a good degree and great boldness in the faith.

"Note.—That Brother Putnam was not yet willing to be ordained, but desired further considering time, between him and I and Brother Ingersoll, in private discourse the week before the ordination above said."

"Brother Putnam" probably partook of the general[i.307] wonder what all this appearance of difficulty and delay, under the peculiar circumstances of the case, meant; and being, as the record truly says, a modest and humble man, he naturally shrank from the formidable ceremoniousness and pretentious parade with which Mr. Parris surrounded the transaction. At any rate, he hesitated long before he was willing to encounter it. It is probable that he positively refused to have his induction to the office heralded with such solemn pomp. There is no mention of his public ordination, which Mr. Parris would not have omitted to record, had any such scene occurred. All we know is that he was recognized as deacon forthwith, and held the office for forty years.

The disposition of Mr. Parris to make use of his office, as the head of the church, to multiply occasions for the exercise of his influence, and to gain control over the minds of the brethren, is apparent throughout his records. He raised objections in order to show how he could remove them, and started difficulties about matters which had not before been brought into question. In the beginning of his ministry, he manifested this propensity. At a church meeting at John Putnam's house, Feb. 20, 1690, less than three months after his ordination, he threw open the whole question of baptism for discussion among the brethren. There is no reason to suppose that their attention had been drawn to it before. He propounded the question to the plain, practical husbandmen, "Who are the proper subjects of baptism?" He laid down the true[i.308] doctrine, as he regarded it, in this answer, "Covenant-professing believers and their infant seed." He put the answer to vote, and none voted against it. He then proceeded with another question, "How far may we account such seed infant seed, and so to be baptized?" Here he had got beyond their depth, and, as some of them thought, his own too; for there was only a "major vote" in favor of his answer: "two or three, I think not four, dissented." There was some danger of getting into divisions by introducing such questions; but he managed to avoid it, so far as his church was concerned. He worked them up to the highest confidence in his learning and wisdom, and gained complete ascendency over them. He aggrandized their sense of importance, and accomplished his object in securing their support in his controversies with his congregation. The brethren, after a while, became his devoted body-guard, and the church a fortress of defence and assault. There is reason, however, to believe, that the points he raised on the subject of baptism led to perplexities, in some minds, which long continued to disturb them. While showing off his learning, and displaying his capacity to dispose of the deep questions of theology, he let fall seeds of division and doubt that ripened into contention in subsequent generations. The only ripple on the surface of the Village Church during its long record of peace, since the close of his disastrous ministry, was occasioned by differing opinions on this subject. It required all the wisdom of his successors to quiet them. From time to time, formulas had[i.309] to be constructed, half-way covenants of varying expressions to be framed, to meet and dispose of the difficulties thus gratuitously raised by him.

The following passages from his record-book show how he made much of a matter which any other pastor would have quietly arranged without calling for the intervention of church or congregation: they are also interesting as a picture of the times:—

"Sab: 9 Aug. 1691.—After all public worship was over, and the church stayed on purpose, I proposed to the church whether they were free to admit to baptism, upon occasion, such as were not at present free to come up to full communion. I told them there was a young woman, by name Han: Wilkins, the daughter of our Brother Thomas Wilkins, who much desired to be baptized, but yet did not dare to come to the Lord's Supper. If they had nothing against it, I should take their silence for consent, and in due time acquaint them with what she had offered me to my satisfaction, and proceed accordingly."

No answer was made pro or con, and so the church was dismissed.

"Sab: 23 Aug. 1691.—Hannah Wilkins, aged about twenty-one years, was called forth, and her relation read in the full assembly, and then it was propounded to the church, that, if they had just exceptions, or, on the other hand, had any thing farther to encourage, they had opportunity and liberty to speak. None said any thing but Brother Bray Wilkins (Han: grandfather), who said, that, for all he knew, such a relation as had been given and a conversation suitable[i.310] (as he judged hers to be) was enough to enjoy full communion. None else saying any thing, it was put to vote whether they were so well satisfied as to receive this young woman into membership, and therefore initiate her therein by baptism. It was voted fully. Whereupon the covenant was given to her as if she had entered into full communion. And the pastor told her, in the name of the church, that we would expect and wait for her rising higher, and therefore advised her to attend all means conscientiously for that end.

"After all, I pronounced her a member of this church, and then baptized her.

"28 August, 1691.—This day, Sister Hannah Wilkins aforesaid came to me, and spake to this like effect, following:—

"Before I was baptized (you know, sir), I was desirous of communion at the Lord's Table, but not yet; I was afraid of going so far: but since my baptism I find my desires growing to the Lord's Table, and I am afraid to turn my back upon that ordinance, or to refuse to partake thereof. And that which moves me now to desire full communion, which I was afraid of before, is that of Thomas, 20 John 26, &c., where he, being absent from the disciples, though but once, lost a sight of Christ, and got more hardness of heart, or increase of unbelief. And also those words of Ananias to Paul after his conversion, 22 Acts 16, 'And now why tarriest thou? Arise,' &c. So I am afraid of tarrying. The present time is only mine. And God having, beyond my deserts, graciously opened a door, I look upon it my duty to make present improvement of it.

"Sab: and Sacrament Day, 30 Aug. 1691.—Sister Han: Wilkins's motion (before the celebration of the[i.311] Lord's Supper was begun) was mentioned or propounded to the church, and what she said to me (before hinted) read to them, and then their vote was called for, to answer her desire if they saw good; whereupon the church voted in the affirmative plentifully."

The foregoing passages illustrate Mr. Parris's propensity to magnify the operations of the church, and to bring its movements as conspicuously and as often as possible before the eyes of the people. It is evident that the humble and timid scruples of this interesting and intelligent young woman might have been met and removed by personal conference with her pastor. As her old grandfather seemed to think, there was no difficulty in the case whatever. The reflections of a few days made the path plain before her. But Mr. Parris paraded the matter on three sabbaths before the church, and on one of them at least before the congregation. He called her to come forth, and stand out in the presence of the "full assembly." As the result of the ordeal, she owned the covenant; the church voted her in, as to full communion; and the pastor pronounced her a member of the church, and baptized her as such. Her sensible conversation with him the next Friday was evidently intended for the satisfaction of him and others, as explaining her appearance at the next communion. But another opportunity was offered to make a display of the case, and he could not resist the temptation. He desired to create an impression by reading what she had said to him in his study, before the church, if not before the whole congregation.[i.312] To give a show of propriety in bringing it forward again, he felt that some action must be had upon it; hence the vote. Accordingly, Hannah Wilkins appears by the record to have been twice, on two successive Lord's Days, voted "plentifully" into the Salem Village Church, when there was no occasion for such an extraordinary repetition, as everybody from the first welcomed her into it with the cordial confidence she merited. I have spread out this proceeding to your view, not altogether from its intrinsic interest, but because, perhaps, it affords the key to interpret the course of this ill-starred man in his wrangles with his congregation, and his terrible prominency in the awful scenes of the witchcraft delusion. He seemed to have had a love of excitement that was irrepressible, an all but insane passion for getting up a scene. When we come to the details of our story, it will be for a charitable judgment to determine whether this trait of his nature may not be regarded as the cause of all the woes in which he involved others and became involved himself.

The church records are, in one respect, in singular contrast with the parish records. The latter are often silent in reference to matters of interest at the time, which might without impropriety have been entered in them. They are confined strictly to votes and proceedings in legal meetings, or what purport to have been meetings legally called; and we look in vain for comments or notices relating to outside matters. Except when kept by Sergeant Thomas Putnam, they[i.313] are defective and imperfect. The church records, while made by Mr. Parris, are full of side remarks, and touches of criticism concerning whatever was going on. This makes them particularly interesting and valuable now. They are composed in their author's clear, natural, and sprightly style; and, although for the most part in an exceedingly small hand, are legible with perfect ease, and give us a transcript, not only of the formal doings of the church, but of the writer's mind and feelings about matters and things in general. We gather from them by far the greater part of all we know relating to his quarrel with his congregation.

This subject constantly engrossed his thoughts. He was continually introducing, at church meetings, complaints against the conduct of the parish committee, and enlarging upon the wrongs he was suffering at their hands. He took occasion on Lecture days, if not in ordinary discourses on the Lord's Day, to give all possible circulation and publicity to his grievances. The effect of this was, instead of bringing his people into subjection and carrying his points against them, to aggravate their alienation. His manner of dealing with the difficulties of the situation into which they had been brought was harsh and exasperating, and utterly injudicious, imprudent, and mischievous in all its bearings, producing a condition of things truly scandalous. His notions and methods, acquired in his mercantile life; his haggling with the people about the terms of his salary; and his general manner and tone, particularly so far as they had been formed by residence[i.314] in West-India slave Islands,—were thoroughly distasteful, and entirely repugnant, to the feelings, notions, ideas, and spirit of the farmers of Salem Village. At their meetings, they showed a continually increasing strength of opposition to him, and were careful to appoint committees who could not be brought under his influence, and would stand firm against all outside pressure.

It is quite apparent, that Mr. Parris employed his church, and the ministerial offices generally, as engines to operate against his opponents; and sometimes rather unscrupulously, as a collocation of dates and entries shows. A meeting of the parish was warned to be held Oct. 16, 1691. It was important to bring his machinery to bear upon the feelings of the people, so as to strengthen the hands of his friends at that meeting. The following entry is in the church-book, dated 8th October, 1691: "Being my Lecture-day, after public service was ended, I was so bare of firewood, that I was forced publicly to desire the inhabitants to take care that I might be provided for; telling them, that, had it not been for Mr. Corwin (who had bought wood, being then at my house), I should hardly have any to burn." According to his own account, as we have seen, it had been arranged, by mutual agreement, that he was to provide his own firewood, six pounds per annum having been added to his salary for that purpose. He selected that item as one of the necessaries of which he was in want, probably because, as the winter was approaching, it would be the best point on[i.315] which to appeal to the public sympathies, and get up a clamor against his opponents.

The parish meeting was duly held on the 16th of October. Mr. Parris's speech, at the preceding Lecture-day, about "firewood," was found not to have produced the desired effect. The majority against him was as strong as ever. A committee made up of his opponents was elected. A motion to instruct them to make a rate was rejected, and a warrant ordered to be forthwith issued for a special meeting of the inhabitants, to examine into all the circumstances connected with the settlement of Mr. Parris, and to ascertain whether the meetings which had acted therein were legally called, and by what means the right and title of the parish to its ministry house and lands had been brought into question. This was pressing matters to an issue. Mr. Parris saw it, and determined to meet it in advance. He resorted to his church, as usual, to execute his plan, as the following entries on the record-book show:—

"1 Nov. 1691.—The pastor desired the brethren to meet at my house, on to-morrow, an hour and half before sundown.

"2 Nov. 1691.—After sunset, about seventeen of the brethren met; to whom, after prayer, I spoke to this effect: Brethren, I have not much to trouble you with now; but you know what committee, the last town-meeting here, were chosen; and what they have done, or intend to do; it may be better than I. But, you see, I have hardly any wood[i.316] to burn. I need say no more, but leave the matter to your serious and godly consideration.

"In fine, after some discourse to and fro, the church voted that Captain Putnam and the two deacons should go, as messengers from the church, to the committee, to desire them to make a rate for the minister, and to take care of necessary supplies for him; and that said messengers should make their return to the church the next tenth day, an hour before sunset, at the minister's house, where they would expect it.

"10 Nov. 1691.—The messengers abovesaid came with their return, as appointed; which was, that the committee did not see good to take notice of their message, without they had some letter to show under the church's and pastor's hand. But, at this last church meeting, besides the three messengers, but three other brethren did appear,—namely, Brother Thomas Putnam, Thomas Wilkins, and Peter Prescot,—which slight and neglect of other brethren did not a little trouble me, as I expressed myself. But I told these brethren I expected the church should be more mindful of me than other people, and their way was plain before them, &c.

"Sab: 15 Nov. 1691.—The church were desired to meet at Brother Nathaniel Putnam's, the next 18th instant, at twelve o'clock, to spend some time in prayer, and seeking God's presence with us, the next Lord's Day, at his table, as has been usual with us, some time before the sacrament.

"18 Nov. 1691.—After some time spent, as above said, at this church meeting, the pastor desired the brethren to stay, forasmuch as he had somewhat to offer to them, which was to this purpose; viz.: Brethren, several church[i.317] meetings have been occasionally warned, and sometimes the appearance of the brethren is but small to what it might be expected, and particularly the case mentioned 10th instant. I told them I did not desire to warn meetings unnecessarily, and, therefore, when I did, I prayed them they would regularly attend them.

"Furthermore, I told them I had scarce wood enough to burn till the morrow, and prayed that some care might be taken. In fine, after discourses passed, these following votes were made unanimously, namely:—

"1. That it was needful that complaint should be made to the next honored County Court, to sit at Salem, the next third day of the week, against the neglects of the present committee.

"2. That the said complaint should be drawn up, which was immediately done by one of the brethren, and consented to.

"3. That our brethren, Nathaniel Putnam, Thomas Putnam, and Thomas Wilkins, should sign said complaint in behalf of the church.

"4. Last, That our brethren, Captain John Putnam and the two deacons, should be improved to present the said complaint to the said Court.

"In the mean time, the pastor desired the brethren that care might be taken that he might not be destitute of wood."

The record proceeds to give several other votes, the object of which was to arrange the details of the manner in which the business was to be put into court. There we leave it for the present, and there it remained for nearly seven years. Mr. Parris probably[i.318] got the start of his opponents, in being first to invoke the law. This is what he meant when he told his church "that their way was plain before them." If extraordinary and unforeseen circumstances had not intervened, the case would more speedily have been disposed of, and we cannot doubt what would have been its issue. Whatever might be the bias or prejudice of the courts, or however they might have attempted to enforce their first decisions, there can be no question, that, in such a contest, the people would have finally prevailed. The committee were men competent to carry the parish through. A religious society, with such feelings between them and their minister, after all that had happened, and the just grounds given them of dissatisfaction and resentment, could not always, or long, have been kept under such an infliction.

In the immediately preceding entries, there are some points that illustrate the policy on which Mr. Parris acted, and exhibit the skill and vigilance of his management. The motive that led him to harp so constantly upon "firewood" is obvious. It was to create a sympathy in his behalf, and bring opprobrium upon his opponents. But it cannot stand the test of scrutiny: for it had been expressly agreed, as I have said, that he should find his own fuel; and it cannot be supposed that his friends, if he then had any real ones, surrounded, as they were, with forests of their own, within sight of the parsonage, would have allowed him to suffer from this cause. There is indication[i.319] that the "brethren of the church" were getting lukewarm, as their non-attendance at important meetings led Mr. Parris to fear. At any rate, he felt it necessary to administer some rather significant rebukes to them. The meeting for prayer, preparatory to the ensuing communion service, was very adroitly converted into a business consultation to inaugurate a lawsuit. But the most characteristic thing, in this part of the church-book, is a marginal entry, against the first paragraph of the record of the 2d November, 1691. It is in these words:—

"The town-meeting, about or at 16th October last. Jos: Porter, Jos: Hutchinson, Jos: Putnam, Dan: Andrew, Francis Nurse."

These were the committee appointed at the meeting. Their names, thus abbreviated, are given, and not a syllable added. But the manner, the then state of things, and their relation to the controversy, give a deep import and intense bitterness to this entry. He knew the men, and in their names read the handwriting on the wall.

But a turn was soon given to the current that was bearing Mr. Parris down. A power was evoked—whether he raised it designedly, or whether it merely happened to appear on the scene, we cannot certainly say; but it came into action just at the nick of time—which instantly reversed the position of the parties, and clothed him with a terrible strength, enabling him to crush his opponents beneath his feet. In a few short[i.320] months, he was the arbiter of life and death of all the people of the village and the country. "Jos: Porter and Jos: Hutchinson" escaped. The power of destruction broke down before it became strong enough to reach them perhaps. "Jos: Putnam" was kept for six months in the constant peril of his life. During all that time, he and his family were armed, and kept watch. "Dan: Andrew" saved himself from the gallows by flight to a foreign land. The unutterable woes brought upon the family of "Francis Nurse" remain to be related.

The witchcraft delusion at Salem Village, in 1692, has attracted universal attention, constitutes a permanent chapter in the world's history, and demands a full exposition, and, if possible, a true solution. Being convinced that it cannot be correctly interpreted without a thorough knowledge of the people among whom it appeared, I have felt it indispensable, before opening its scenes to view, or treating the subject of demonology, of which it was an outgrowth, in the first place to prepare myself, and those who accompany me in its examination and discussion, to fully comprehend it, by traversing the ground over which we have now passed. By a thorough history of Salem Village from its origin to the period of our story, by calling its founders and their children and successors into life before you by personal, private, domestic, and local details, gleaned from old records and documents, I have tried to place you at the standpoint from which the entire occurrence can be intelligibly contemplated. We can in no other[i.321] way get a true view of a passage of history than by looking at the men who acted in it, as they really were. We must understand their characters, enter into their life, see with their eyes, feel with their hearts, and be enveloped, as it were, with their associations, sentiments, beliefs, and principles of action. In this way only can we bring the past into our presence, comprehend its elements, fathom its depths, read its meaning, or receive its lessons.

I am confident you will agree with me, that it was not because the people of Salem Village were more ignorant, stupid, or weak-minded than the people of other places, that the delusion made its appearance or held its sway among them. This is a vital point to the just consideration of the subject. I do not mean justice to them so much as to ourselves and all who wish to understand, and be benefited by understanding, the subject. There never was a community composed originally of better materials, or better trained in all good usages. Although the generations subsequent to the first had not enjoyed, to any considerable extent, the advantages of education, the circumstances of their experience had kept their faculties in the fullest exercise. They were an energetic and intelligent people. Their moral condition, social intercourse, manners, and personal bearing, were excellent. The lesson of the catastrophe impending over them, at the point to which we have arrived, can only be truly and fully received, for the warning of all coming time, by having correct views on this point. The delusion[i.322] that brought ruin upon them was not the result of any essential inferiority in their moral or intellectual condition. What we call their ignorance was the received philosophy and wisdom of the day, accepted generally by the great scholars of that and previous ages, preached from the pulpits, taught in the universities, recognized in law and in medicine as well as theology, and carried out in the proceedings of public tribunals and legislative assemblies.

The history of the planting, settlement, and progress of Salem Village, to 1692, has now been given. We know, so far as existing materials within reach enable us to know, what sort of a population occupied the place at the date of our story. Their descent, breeding, and experiences have been related. They were, at least, equal in intelligence to any of the people of their day. They were strenuous in action, trained to earnestness and zeal, accustomed to become deeply engaged in whatever interested them, and to take strong hold of the ideas and sentiments they received. It becomes necessary, therefore, in the next place, to ascertain what their ideas were in reference to witchcraft, diabolical agency, and supernaturalism generally. I shall proceed accordingly to give the condition of opinion, at that time, on the subject of demonology.

[i.323]

PART SECOND.

decoration

[i.325]

PART SECOND.

WITCHCRAFT.

DEMONOLOGY, as a general term, may be employed, for convenience, to include a whole class of ideas—which, under different names and a vast variety of conceptions, have come through all ages, and prevailed among all races of mankind—relating to the supposed agency of supernatural, invisible, and spiritual beings in terrestrial affairs. As necessarily applicable to evil spirits, particularly to the arch-enemy and supreme adversary of God and man under the name of Satan or the Devil, the term does not appear to have been used in ancient times. Professed communications with supernatural beings were not originally stamped with a diabolical character, but, like some alleged to be had in our day, were regarded as innocent, and even creditable. Men sought to hold intercourse with spirits belonging to the unseen world, as some persons do now; assuming that they were worthy of confidence, and that responses from[i.326] them were valuable and desirable. This was the case under the reign of classical mythology, and of heathen superstition in general. Those individuals who were supposed to be conversant with demons were looked upon by the credulous multitude as a highly privileged class; and they arrogated the credit of being raised to a higher sphere of knowledge than the rest of mankind.

It is one of the most remarkable peculiarities of the Hebrew polity, that it denounced such pretended communications as criminal, and subjected the practice to the highest penalties. It was assumed to be dangerous; the welfare of individuals and of society requiring that such pretensions and practices should be abandoned. The observation and experience of mankind have justified this view. In the first ages of Christianity, it was believed that the Divine Being alone was to be sought in prayer for light and guidance by the human soul. Gradually, as the dark ages began to settle upon Christendom, the doctrine of the Devil as the head and ruler of a world of demons, and as able to hold communications with mortals, to interfere in their affairs, and to exercise more or less control over the laws and phenomena of nature, began to become prevalent. It was believed that human beings could enter into alliance with the Prince of the power of the air; become his confederates; join in a league with him and wicked spirits subordinate to him, in undermining the Gospel and overthrowing the Church; and conspire and co-operate[i.327] in rebellion against God. This, of course, was regarded as the most flagrant of crimes, and constituted the real character of the sin denominated "witchcraft."

As the fullest, most memorable, and, by the notice it has ever since attracted throughout the world, the pre-eminent instance and demonstration of this supposed iniquity was in the crisis that took place in Salem Village in 1692, it justly claims a place in history. The community in which it occurred has been fully described, in its moral, social, and intellectual condition, so far as the materials I have been enabled to obtain have rendered possible. It has, I believe, been made to appear, that, in their training, experience, and traits of character, they were well adapted to give full effect to any excitement, or earnest action of any kind, that could be got up among them,—a people of great energy, courage, and resolution, well prepared to carry out to its natural and legitimate results any movement, and follow established convictions fearlessly to logical conclusions. The experiment of bringing supernaturalism to operate in human affairs, to become a ground of action in society, and to interfere in the relations of life and the dealings of men with each other, was as well tried upon this people as it ever could or can be anywhere.

All that remains to be brought to view, before entering upon the details of the narrative, is to give a just and adequate idea of the form and shape in which the general subject of supernaturalism, in its aspect as demonology, lay in the minds of men here at that[i.328] time. To do this, I must give a sketch, as condensed and brief as I can make it, of the formation and progress of opinions and notions touching the subject, until they reached their full demonstration and final explosion, in this neighborhood, at Salem Village, near the close of the seventeenth century.

No person who looks around him on the scene in which he is placed, reflects upon the infinite wonders of creation, and meditates upon the equal wonders of his own mind, can be at a loss respecting the sources and causes of superstition. Let him transport himself back to the condition of a primitive and unlettered people, before whom the world appears in all its original and sublime mystery. Science has not lifted to their eyes the curtain behind which the secret operations of nature are carried on. They observe the tides rise and fall, but know not the attractive law that regulates their movements; they contemplate the procession of the seasons, without any conception of the principles and causes that determine and produce their changes; they witness the storm as it rises in its wrath; they listen with awe to the thunder-peal, and gaze with startling terror upon the lightning as it flashes from within the bosom of the black cloud, and are utterly ignorant to what power to attribute the dreadful phenomena; they look upward to the face of the sky, and see the myriad starry hosts that glitter there, and all is to them a mighty maze of dazzling confusion. It is for their fancy to explain, interpret, and fill up the brilliant and magnificent scene.[i.329]

The imagination was the faculty the exercise of which was chiefly called for in such a state as this. Before science had traced the operations and unfolded the secrets of nature, man was living in a world full of marvel and mystery. His curiosity was attracted to every object within the reach of his senses; and, in the absence of knowledge, it was imagination alone that could make answer to its inquiries. It is natural to suppose that he would be led to attribute all the movements and operations of the external world which did not appear to be occasioned by the exercise of his own power, or the power of any other animal, to the agency of supernatural beings. We may also conclude, that his belief would not be likely to fix upon the notion of a single overruling Being. Although revelation and science have disclosed to us a beautiful and entire unity and harmony in the creation, the phenomena of the external world would probably impress the unenlightened and unphilosophic observer with the belief that there was a diversity in the powers which caused them. He would imagine the agency of a being of an amiable and beneficent spirit in the bright sunshine, the fresh breeze, and the mild moonlight; and his fancy would suggest to his fears, that a dark, severe, and terrible being was in the ascendant during a day overshadowed by frowning clouds, or a night black with the storm and torn by the tempest.

By the aid of such reflections as these, we are easily conducted to a satisfactory and sufficient explanation of the origin of the mythology and fabulous super[i.330]stitions of all ancient and primitive nations. From this the progress is plain, obvious, and immediate to the pretensions of magicians, diviners, sorcerers, conjurers, oracles, soothsayers, augurs, and the whole catalogue of those persons who professed to hold intercourse with higher and spiritual powers. There are several classes into which they may be divided.

There were those who, to acquire an influence over the people, pretended to possess the confidence, and enjoy the friendship and counsel, of some one or more deities. Such was Numa, the early lawgiver of the Roman State. In order to induce the people to adopt the regulations, institutions, and religious rites he proposed, he made them believe that he had access to a divinity, and received all his plans and ideas as a communication from on high.

Persons who, in consequence of their superior acquirements, were enabled to excel others in any pursuit, or who could foresee and avail themselves of events in the natural world, were liable, without any intention to deceive, to be classed under some of these denominations. For instance, a Roman farmer, Furius Cresinus, surpassed all his neighbors in the skill and success with which he managed his agricultural affairs. He was accordingly accused of using magic arts in the operations of his farm. So far were his neighbors carried by their feelings of envy and jealousy, that they explained the fact of his being able to derive more produce from a small lot of land than they could from large ones, by charging him[i.331] with attracting and drawing off the productions of their fields into his own by the employment of certain mysterious charms. For his defence, as we are informed by Pliny, he produced his strong and well-constructed ploughs, his light and convenient spades, and his sun-burnt daughters, and pointing to them exclaimed: "Here are my charms; this is my magic; these only are the witchcraft I have used." Zoroaster, the great philosopher and astronomer of the ancient East, was charged with divination and magic, merely, it is probable, because he possessed uncommon acquirements.

There were persons who had acquired an extraordinary amount of natural knowledge, and, for the sake of being regarded with wonder and awe by the people, pretended to obtain their superior endowments from supernatural beings. They affected the name and character of sorcerers, diviners, and soothsayers. It is easy to conceive of the early existence and the great influence of such impostors. Patient observation, and often mere accident, would suggest discoveries of the existence and operation of natural causes in producing phenomena before ascribed to superhuman agency. The knowledge thus acquired would be cautiously concealed, and cunningly used, to create astonishment and win admiration. Its fortunate possessors were enabled to secure the confidence, obedience, and even reverence, of the benighted and deceived people.

Every one, indeed, who could discover a secret of[i.332] nature, and keep it secret, was able to impose himself on the world as being allied with supernatural powers. Hence arose the whole host of diviners, astrologers, soothsayers, and oracles. After having once acquired possession of the credulous faith of the people, they could impose upon them almost without limit.

Those who pretended to hold this kind of intercourse with divinity became, as a natural consequence, the priests of the nation, constituted a distinct and regular profession, and perpetuated their body by the admission of new members, to whom they explained their arts, and communicated their knowledge. While they were continually discovering and applying the secret principles and laws of nature, and the people were kept in utter ignorance and darkness, it is no wonder that they reached a great and unparalleled degree of power over the mass of the population. In this manner we account for the origin, and trace the history, of the Chaldean priests in Assyria, the Bramins of India, the Magi of Persia, the Oracles of Greece, the Augurs of Italy, the Druids of Britain, and the Pow-wows, Prophets, or "Medicins," as they sometimes called them, among our Indians.

It is probable that the witches mentioned in the Scriptures were of this description. Neither in sacred nor profane ancient history do we find what was understood in the days of our ancestors by witchcraft, which meant a formal and actual compact with the great Prince of evil beings. The sorcery of antiquity[i.333] consisted in pretending to possess certain mysterious charms, and to do by their means, or by the co-operation of superhuman spirits, without any reference to their character as evil or good beings, what transcends the action of mere natural powers.

The witch of Endor, for instance, was a conjurer and necromancer, rather than a witch. By referring to the 28th chapter of 1 Samuel, where the interview between her and Saul is related, you will find no ground for the opinion that the being from whom she pretended to receive her mysterious power was Satan. Saul, as the ruler of a people who were under the special government, and enjoyed the peculiar protection of the true God, had forbidden, under the sanction of the highest penalties, the exercise of the arts of divination and sorcery within his jurisdiction. Some time after this, the unfortunate monarch was overtaken by trouble and distress. His enemies had risen up, and were gathered in fearful strength around him. His "heart greatly trembled," a dark and gloomy presentiment came over his spirit, and his bosom was convulsed by an agony of solicitude. He turned toward his God for light and strength. He applied for relief to the priests of the altar, and to the prophets of the Most High; but his prayers were unanswered, and his efforts vain. In his sorrow and apprehension, he appealed to a woman who was reputed to have supernatural powers, and to hold communion with spiritual beings; thus violating his own law, and departing from duty and fidelity to his God. He[i.334] begged her to recall Samuel to life, that he might be comforted and instructed by him. She pretended to comply with his request; but, before she could commence her usual mysterious operations, Samuel arose! and the forlorn, wretched, and heart-broken king listened to his tremendous doom, as it was uttered by the spirit of the departed prophet.

I have alluded particularly to the witch of Endor, because she will serve to illustrate the sorcery or divination of antiquity. She was probably possessed of some secret knowledge of natural properties; was skilful in the use of her arts and pretended charms; had, perhaps, the peculiar powers of a ventriloquist; and, by successful imposture, had acquired an uncommon degree of notoriety, and the entire confidence of the public. She professed to be in alliance with supernatural beings, and, by their assistance, to raise the dead.

This passage has afforded a topic for a great deal of discussion among interpreters. It seems to me, on the face of the narrative, to suggest the following view of the transaction: The woman was an impostor. When she summoned the spirit of Samuel, instead of the results of her magic lantern, or of whatever contrivances she may have had, by the immediate agency of the Almighty the spirit of Samuel really rose, to the consternation and horror of the pretended necromancer. The writer appears to have indicated this as the proper interpretation of the scene, by saying, "that, when the woman saw Samuel, she cried with a loud[i.335] voice;" thus giving evidence of alarm and surprise totally different from the deportment of such pretenders on such occasions: they used rather to exhibit joy at the success of their arts, and a proud composure and dignified complacency in the control they were believed to exercise over the spirits that appeared to have obeyed their call. Sir Walter Scott took this view of the transaction. His opinion, it is true, would be considered more important in any other department than that of biblical interpretation: on all questions, however, connected with the spiritual world of fancy and with its history, he must be allowed to speak, if not with the authority, at least with the tone of a master. This wonderful author, in the infinite profusion and variety of his productions, published a volume upon Demonology and Witchcraft: it is, of course, entertaining and instructive to all who are curious to know the capacity and to appreciate the operations of the human imagination.

It will be regarded by intelligent and judicious persons as a circumstance of importance in reference to the view now given of the transaction in which the witch of Endor acts the leading part, that Hugh Farmer, beyond all question the most learned, discreet, and profound writer on such subjects, is inclined to throw the weight of his authority in its favor. His ample and elaborate discussion of the question is to be seen in his work on Miracles, chap. iv. sec. 2.

Among the heathen nations of antiquity, the art of divination consisted, to a great degree, in the magical[i.336] use of mysterious charms. Many plants were considered as possessed of wonderful virtues, and there was scarcely a limit to the supposed power of those persons who knew how to use and apply them skilfully. Virgil, in his eighth eclogue, thus speaks of this species of sorcery:—

"These herbs did Moeris give to me
And poisons pluckt at Pontus;
For there they grow and multiplie
And do not so amongst us:
With these she made herselfe become
A wolfe, and hid hir in the wood;
She fetcht up souls out of their toome,
Removing corne from where it stood."

In the fourth Æneid, the lovesick Tyrian queen is thus made to describe the magic which was then believed to be practised:—

"Rejoice," she said: "instructed from above,
My lover I shall gain, or lose my love;
Nigh rising Atlas, next the falling sun
Long tracts of Ethiopian climates run:
There a Massylian priestess I have found,
Honored for age, for magic arts renowned:
The Hesperian temple was her trusted care;
'Twas she supplied the wakeful dragon's fare;
She, poppy-seeds in honey taught to steep,
Reclaimed his rage, and soothed him into sleep;
She watched the golden fruit. Her charms unbind
The chains of love, or fix them on the mind;
She stops the torrent, leaves the channel dry,
Repels the stars, and backward bears the sky.
The yawning earth rebellows to her call,
Pale ghosts ascend, and mountain ashes fall."
[i.337]

Tibullus, in the second elegy of his first book, gives the following account of the powers ascribed to a magician:—

"She plucks each star out of his throne,
And turneth back the raging waves;
With charms she makes the earth to cone,
And raiseth souls out of their graves;
She burns men's bones as with a fire,
And pulleth down the lights of Heaven,
And makes it snow at her desire
E'en in the midst of summer season."

These views continued to hold undisturbed dominion over the people during a long succession of centuries. As the twilight of the dark ages began to settle upon Christendom, superstition, that night-blooming plant, extended itself rapidly, and in all directions, over the surface of the world. While every thing else drooped and withered, it struck deeper its roots, spread wider its branches, and brought forth more abundantly its fruit. The unnumbered fables of Greek and Roman mythology, the arts of augury and divination, the visions of oriental romance, the fanciful and attenuated theories of the later philosophy, the abstract and spiritual doctrines of Platonism, and all the grosser and wilder conceptions of the northern conquerors of the Roman Empire, became mingled together in the faith of the inhabitants of the European kingdoms. From this multifarious combination, the infinitely diversified popular superstitions of the modern nations have sprung.

We first begin to trace the clear outlines of the doc[i.338]trine of witchcraft not far from the commencement of the Christian era. It presupposes the belief of the Devil. I shall not enter upon the question, whether the Scriptures, properly interpreted, require the belief of the existence of such a being. Directing our attention solely to profane sources of information, we discover the heathen origin of the belief of the existence of the Devil in the ancient systems of oriental philosophy. Early observers of nature in the East were led to the conclusion, that the world was a divided empire, ruled by the alternate or simultaneous energy of two great antagonist principles or beings, one perfectly good, and the other perfectly bad. It was for a long time, and perhaps is at this day, a prevalent faith among Christians, that the Bible teaches a similar doctrine; that it presents, to our adoration and obedience, a being of infinite perfections in the Deity; and to our abhorrence and our fears, a being infinitely wicked, and of great power, in the Devil.

It is obvious, that, when the entire enginery of supernaturalism was organized in adaptation to the idea of the Devil, and demonology became synonymous with diabolism, the credulity and superstition of mankind would give a wide extension to that form of belief. It soon occupied a large space in the theories of religion and the fancies of the people, and got to be a leading element in the life of society. It made its impress on the forms of speech, and many of the phrases to which it gave rise still remain in familiar use. It figured in the rituals of religion, in the paraphernalia of public shows,[i.339] and in fireside tales. It afforded leading characters to the drama in the miracle plays and the moral plays, as they were called, at successive periods. It offered a ready weapon to satire, and also to defamation. Gerbert, a native of France, who was elevated to the pontificate about the close of the tenth century, under the name of Sylvester II., is eulogized by Mosheim as the first great restorer of science and literature. He was a person of an extensive and sublime genius, of wonderful attainments in learning, particularly mathematics, geometry, and arithmetic. He broke the profound sleep of the dark ages, and awakened the torpid intellect of the European nations. His efforts in this direction roused the apprehensions and resentment of the monks; and they circulated, after Gerbert's death, and made the ignorant masses believe the story, that he had obtained his rapid promotion in the Church by the practice of the black art, which he disguised under the show of learning; that he secured the Archbishopric of Ravenna by bribery and corruption; and that, finally, he made a bargain with Satan, promising him his soul after death, on condition that he (Satan) should put forth his great influence over the cardinals in such a manner as would secure his election to the throne of St. Peter. The arrangement was carried into successful operation. Sylvester, the monks averred, consulted the Devil through the medium of a brazen head during his whole reign, and enjoyed his faithful friendship and unwavering patronage. But, when His Holiness came to die, he endeavored to defraud Satan[i.340] of his rightful claim to his soul, by repenting, and acknowledging his sin. This illustrates the way in which the popular idea of the Devil was used to awaken ridicule and gratify malignity.

The natural and ultimate effect of the diffusion of Christianity was to overthrow, or rather to revolutionize, the whole system of incantation and sorcery.

In heathen countries, as in the East at present and with those among us who profess to hold communications with spirits, no reproach or sentiment of disapprobation, as has already been observed, was necessarily connected with the arts of divination; for the supernatural beings with whom intercourse was alleged to be had were not, with a few exceptions, regarded as evil beings. The persons who were thought to be skilful in their use were, on the contrary, held in great esteem, and looked upon with reverence. Magicians and philosophers were convertible and synonymous terms. Learned and scientific men were induced to encourage, and turn to their own advantage, the popular credulity that ascribed their extraordinary skill to their connection with spiritual and divine beings. At length, however, they found themselves placed in a very uncomfortable predicament by the prevalence of the new theology. It was exceedingly difficult to dispel the delusion, and correct the error they had previously found it for their interest to perpetuate in the minds of the community. They could not convince them that their knowledge was acquired from natural sources, or their operations[i.341] conducted solely by the aid of natural causes and laws. The people would not surrender the belief, that the results of scientific experiments, and the accuracy of predictions of physical phenomena, were secured by the assistance of supernatural beings.

As the doctrines of the gospel gradually undermined the popular belief in other spiritual beings inferior to the Deity, and were at the same time supposed to teach the existence and extensively diffused energy of an almost infinite and omnipotent agent of evil, it was exceedingly natural, nay, it necessarily followed, that the credulity and superstition which had led to the supposition of an alliance between philosophers and spiritual beings should settle down into a full conviction that the Devil was the being with whom they were thus confederated. The consequence was that they were charged with witchcraft, and many fell victims to the general prejudice and abhorrence occasioned by the imputation. The influence of this state of things was soon seen: it was one of the most effectual causes of the rapid diffusion of knowledge in modern times. Philosophers and men of science became as anxious to explain and publish their discoveries as they had been in former ages to conceal and cover them with mystery. The following instances will be sufficient to illustrate the correctness of these views.

In the thirteenth century, Roger Bacon was charged with witchcraft on account of his discoveries in optics, chemistry, and astronomy; and, although he did what[i.342] he could to circulate and explain his own acquirements, he could not escape a papal denunciation, and two long and painful imprisonments. In 1305, Arnold de Villa Nova, a learned physician and philosopher, was burned at Padua, by order of inquisitors, on the charge of witchcraft. He was eighty years of age. Ten years afterwards, Peter Apon, also of Padua, who had made extraordinary progress in knowledge, was accused of the same crime, and condemned to death, but expired previous to the time appointed for his execution.

I will now present a brief sketch of the most noticeable facts relating to the subject in Europe and Great Britain previous to the close of the seventeenth century. Some writers have computed that thirty thousand persons were executed for this supposed crime, within one hundred and fifty years. It will of course be in my power to mention only a few instances.

In 1484, Pope Innocent the Eighth issued a bull encouraging and requiring the arrest and punishment of persons suspected of witchcraft. From this moment, the prosecutions became frequent and the victims numerous in every country. The very next year, forty-one aged females were consigned to the flames in one nation; and, not long after, a hundred were burned by one inquisition in the devoted valleys of Piedmont; forty-eight were burned in Ravensburg in five years; and, in the year 1515, five hundred were burned at Geneva in three months! One writer de[i.343]clares that "almost an infinite number" were burned for witchcraft in France,—a thousand in a single diocese! These sanguinary and horrible transactions were promoted and sanctioned by theological hatred and rancor. It was soon perceived that there was no kind of difficulty in clearing the Church of heretics by hanging or burning them all as witches! The imputation of witchcraft could be fixed upon any one with the greatest facility. In the earlier part of the fifteenth century, the Earl of Bedford, having taken the celebrated Joan of Arc prisoner, put her to death on this charge. She had been almost adored by the people rescued by her romantic valor, and was universally known among them by the venerable title of "Holy Maid of God;" but no difficulty was experienced in procuring evidence enough to lead her to the stake as a servant and confederate of Satan! Luther was just beginning his attack upon the papal power, and he was instantly accused of being in confederacy with the Devil.

In 1534, Elizabeth Barton, "the Maid of Kent," was executed for witchcraft in England, together with seven men who had been confederate with her. In 1541 the Earl of Hungerford was beheaded for inquiring of a witch how long Henry VIII. would live. In 1549 it was made the duty of bishops, by Archbishop Cranmer's articles of visitation, to inquire of their clergy, whether "they know of any that use charms, sorcery, enchantments, witchcraft, soothsaying, or any like craft invented by the Devil." In 1563[i.344] the King of Sweden carried four witches with him, as a part of his armament, to aid him in his wars with the Danes. In 1576, seventeen or eighteen were condemned in Essex, in England. A single judge or inquisitor, Remigius, condemned and burned nine hundred within fifteen years, from 1580 to 1595, in the single district of Lorraine; and as many more fled out of the country; whole villages were depopulated, and fifteen persons destroyed themselves rather than submit to the torture which, under the administration of this successor of Draco and rival of Jeffries, was the first step taken in the trial of an accused person. The application of the rack and other instruments of torment, in the examination of prisoners, was recommended by him in a work on witchcraft. He observes that "scarcely any one was known to be brought to repentance and confession but by these means"!

The most eminent persons of the sixteenth century were believers in the popular superstition respecting the existence of compacts between Satan and human beings, and in the notions associated with it. The excellent Melancthon was an interpreter of dreams and caster of nativities. Luther was a strenuous supporter of the doctrine of witchcraft, and seems to have seriously believed that he had had frequent interviews with the arch-enemy himself, and had disputed with him on points of theology, face to face. In his "Table-Talk," he gives the following account of his intimacy with the Devil: speaking of his confinement in the Castle of Wartburg, he says, "Among other things[i.345] they brought me hazel-nuts, which I put into a box, and sometimes I used to crack and eat of them. In the night-times, my gentleman, the Devil, came and got the nuts out of the box, and cracked them against one of the bedposts, making a very great noise and rumbling about my bed; but I regarded him nothing at all: when afterwards I began to slumber, then he kept such a racket and rumbling upon the chamber stairs, as if many empty barrels and hogsheads had been tumbled down." Kepler, whose name is immortalized by being associated with the laws he discovered that regulate the orbits of the heavenly bodies, was a zealous advocate of astrology; and his great predecessor and master, the Prince of Astronomers, as he is called, Tycho Brahe, kept an idiot in his presence, fed him from his own table, with his own hand, and listened to his incoherent, unmeaning, and fatuous expressions as to a revelation from the spiritual world.

The following is the language addressed to Queen Elizabeth by Bishop Jewell. He was one of the most learned persons of his age, and is to this day regarded as the mighty champion of the Church of England, and of the cause of the Reformation in Great Britain. He was the terrible foe of Roman-Catholic superstition. "It may please Your Grace," says he, "to understand that witches and sorcerers within these four last years are marvellously increased within Your Grace's realm; Your Grace's subjects pine away even unto the death; their color fadeth, their flesh rotteth, their speech is benumbed, their senses are bereft. I[i.346] pray God," continues the courtly preacher, "they never practise further than upon the subject." The petition of the polite prelate appears to have been answered. The virgin queen resisted inexorably the arts of all charmers, and is thought never to have been bewitched in her life.

It is probable that Spenser, in his "Faërie Queen," has described with accuracy the witch of the sixteenth century in the following beautiful lines:—

"There, in a gloomy hollow glen, she found
A little cottage built of sticks and weedes,
In homely wise, and wald with sods around,
In which a witch did dwell in loathly weedes
And wilful want, all careless of her needes;
So choosing solitarie to abide
Far from all neighbors, that her devilish deedes
And hellish arts from people she might hide,
And hurt far off unknowne whomever she envide."

So prone were some to indulge in the contemplation of the agency of the Devil and his myrmidons, that they strained, violated, and perverted the language of Scripture to make it speak of them. Thus they insisted that the word "Philistines" meant confederates and subjects of the Devil, and accordingly interpreted the expression, "I will deliver you into the hands of the Philistines," thus, "I will deliver you into the hands of demons."

I cannot describe the extent to which the superstition we are reviewing was carried about the close of the sixteenth century in stronger language than the following, from a candid and learned French Roman-[i.347]Catholic historian: "So great folly," says he, "did then oppress the miserable world, that Christians believed greater absurdities than could ever be imposed upon the heathens."

We have now arrived at the commencement of the seventeenth century, within which the prosecutions for witchcraft took place in Salem. To show the opinions of the clergy of the English Church at this time, I will quote the following curious canon, made by the convocation in 1603:—

"That no minister or ministers, without license and direction of the bishop, under his hand and seal obtained, attempt, upon any pretence whatsoever, either of possession or obsession, by fasting and prayer, to cast out any devil or devils, under pain of the imputation of imposture or cozenage, and deposition from the ministry." In the same year, licenses were actually granted, as required above, by the Bishop of Chester; and several ministers were duly authorized by him to cast out devils!

During this whole century, there were trials and executions for witchcraft in all civilized countries. More than two hundred were hanged in England, thousands were burned in Scotland, and still larger numbers in various parts of Europe.

Edward Fairfax, the poet, was one of the most accomplished men in England. He is celebrated as the translator of Tasso's "Jerusalem Delivered," in allusion to which work Collins thus speaks of him:[i.348]—

"How have I sate, while piped the pensive wind,
To hear thy harp, by British Fairfax strung,
Prevailing poet, whose undoubting mind
Believed the magic wonders that he sung."

This same Fairfax prosecuted six of his neighbors for bewitching his children. The trials took place about the time the first pilgrims came to America.

In 1634, Urbain Grandier, a very learned and eminent French minister, rendered himself odious to the bigoted nuns of Loudun, by his moderation towards heretics. Secretly instigated, as has been supposed, by Cardinal Richelieu, against whom he had written a satire, they pretended to be bewitched by him, and procured his prosecution: he was tortured upon the rack until he swooned, and then was burned at the stake. In 1640, Dr. Lamb, of London, was murdered in the streets of that city by the mob, on suspicion of witchcraft. Several were hanged in England, only a few years before the proceedings commenced in Salem. Some were tried by water ordeal, and drowned in the process, in Suffolk, Essex, Cambridgeshire, and Northamptonshire, at the very time the executions were going on here; and a considerable number of capital punishments took place in various parts of Great Britain, some years after the prosecution had ceased in America.

The trials and executions in England and Scotland were attended by circumstances as painful, as barbarous, and in all respects as disgraceful, as those occurring in Salem. Every species of torture seems to[i.349] have been resorted to: the principles of reason, justice, and humanity were set at defiance, and the whole body of the people kept in a state of the most fierce excitement against the sufferers. Indeed, there is nothing more distressing in the contemplation of these sanguinary proceedings than the spirit of deliberate and unmitigated cruelty with which they were conducted. No symptoms of pity, compassion, or sympathy, appear to have been manifested by the judges or the community. The following account of the expenses attending the execution of two persons convicted of witchcraft in Scotland, shows in what a cool, business-like style the affair was managed:—

"For ten loads of coal, to burn them	£3	6	8
For a tar barrel	0	14	0
For towes	0	6	0
For hurden to be jumps for them	3	10	0
For making of them	0	8	0
For one to go to Finmouth for the Laird to sit upon their assize as judge	0	6	0
For the executioner for his pains	8	14	0
For his expenses here	0	16	4"

The brutalizing effects of capital punishments are clearly seen in these, as in all other instances. They gradually impart a feeling of indifference to the value of human life, or to the idea of cutting it off by the hand of violence, to all who become accustomed to the spectacle. In various ways they exercise influences upon the tone and temper of society, which can[i.350]not but be regarded with regret by the citizen, the legislator, the moralist, the philanthropist, and the Christian.

Sinclair, in his work called "Satan's Invisible World Discovered," gives the following affecting declaration made by one of the confessing witches, as she was on her way to the stake:—

"Now all you that see me this day know that I am now to die as a witch by my own confession; and I free all men, especially the ministers and magistrates, of the guilt of my blood; I take it wholly upon myself, my blood be upon my own head: and, as I must make answer to the God of heaven presently, I declare I am as free of witchcraft as any child; but, being delated by a malicious woman, and put in prison under the name of a witch, disowned by my husband and friends, and seeing no ground of hope of my coming out of prison, or ever coming in credit again, through the temptation of the Devil, I made up that confession on purpose to destroy my own life, being weary of it, and choosing rather to die than live."

Sir George Mackenzie says that he went to examine some women who had confessed, and that one of them, who was a silly creature, told him, "under secresie," "that she had not confessed because she was guilty, but, being a poor creature, who wrought for her meat, and being defamed for a witch, she knew she would starve, for no person thereafter would either give her meat or lodging, and that all men would beat her, and hound dogs at her, and that therefore she[i.351] desired to be out of the world." Whereupon she wept most bitterly, and, upon her knees, called God to witness to what she said.

A wretch, named Matthew Hopkins, rendered himself infamously conspicuous in the prosecutions for witchcraft that took place in the counties of Essex, Sussex, Norfolk, and Huntingdon, in England, in the years 1645 and 1646. The title he assumed indicates the part he acted: it was "Witch-finder-general." He travelled from place to place; his expenses were paid; and he required, in addition, regular fees for the discovery of a witch. Besides pricking the body to find the witch-mark, he compelled the wretched and decrepit victims of his cruel practices to sit in a painful posture, on an elevated stool, with their limbs crossed; and, if they persevered in refusing to confess, he would prolong their torture, in some cases, to more than twenty-four hours. He would prevent their going to sleep, and drag them about barefoot over the rough ground, thus overcoming them with extreme weariness and pain: but his favorite method was to tie the thumb of the right hand close to the great toe of the left foot, and draw them through a river or pond; if they floated, as they would be likely to do, while their heavier limbs were thus sustained and upborne by the rope, it was considered as conclusive proof of their guilt. This monster was encouraged and sanctioned by the government; and he procured the death, in one year and in one county, of more than three times as many as suffered in Salem during the whole delusion. He[i.352] and his exploits are referred to in the following lines, from that storehouse of good sense and keen wit, Butler's "Hudibras:"—

"Hath not this present Parliament
A leiger to the Devil sent,
Fully empowered to treat about
Finding revolted witches out?
And has he not within a year
Hanged threescore of them in one shire?"

The infatuated people looked upon this Hopkins with admiration and astonishment, and could only account for his success by the supposition, which, we are told, was generally entertained, that he had stolen the memorandum-book in which Satan had recorded the names of all the persons in England who were in league with him!

The most melancholy circumstance connected with the history of this creature is, that Richard Baxter and Edmund Calamy—names dear and venerable in the estimation of all virtuous and pious men—were deceived and deluded by him: they countenanced his conduct, followed him in his movements, and aided him in his proceedings.

At length, however, some gentlemen, shocked at the cruelty and suspicious of the integrity of Hopkins, seized him, tied his thumbs and toes together, threw him into a pond, and dragged him about to their hearts' content. They were fully satisfied with the result of the experiment. It was found that he did not sink. He stood condemned on his own principles; and thus[i.353] the country was rescued from the power of the malicious impostor.

Among the persons whose death Hopkins procured, was a venerable, gray-headed clergyman, named Lewis. He was of the Church of England, had been the minister of a congregation for more than half a century, and was over eighty years of age. His infirm frame was subjected to the customary tests, even to the trial by water ordeal: he was compelled to walk almost incessantly for several days and nights, until, in the exhaustion of his nature, he yielded assent to a confession that was adduced against him in Court; which, however, he disowned and denied there and at all times, from the moment of release from the torments, by which it had been extorted, to his last breath. As he was about to die the death of a felon, he knew that the rites of sepulture, according to the forms of his denomination, would be denied to his remains. The aged sufferer, it is related, read his own funeral service while on the scaffold. Solemn, sublime, and affecting as are passages of this portion of the ritual of the Church, surely it was never performed under circumstances so well suited to impress with awe and tenderness as when uttered by the calumniated, oppressed, and dying old man. Baxter had been tried for sedition, on the ground that one of his publications contained a reflection upon Episcopacy, and was imprisoned for two years. It is a striking and melancholy illustration of the moral infirmity of human nature, that the author of the "Saints' Everlast[i.354]ing Rest," and the "Call to the Unconverted," permitted such a vengeful feeling against the Establishment to enter his breast, that he took pleasure, and almost exulted, in relating the fate of this innocent and aged clergyman, whom he denominates, in derision, a "Reading Parson."

Baxter's writings are pervaded by his belief in all sorts of supernatural things. In the "Saints' Everlasting Rest," he declares his conviction of the reality and authenticity of stories of ghosts, apparitions, haunted houses, &c. He placed full faith in a tale, current among the people of his day, of the "dispossession of the Devil out of many persons together in a room in Lancashire, at the prayer of some godly ministers." In his "Dying Thoughts," he says, "I have had many convincing proofs of witches, the contracts they have made with devils, and the power which they have received from them;" and he seems to have credited the most absurd fables ever invented on the subject by ignorance, folly, or fraud.

The case to which he refers, as one of the "dispossession of devils," may be found in a tract published in London in 1697, entitled, "The Surey Demoniac; or, an Account of Satan's strange and dreadful actings, in and about the body of Richard Dugdale, of Surey, near Whalley, in Lancashire. And how he was dispossessed by God's blessing on the Fastings and Prayers of divers Ministers and People. The matter of fact attested by the oaths of several creditable persons, before some of his Majestie's Justices of the Peace[i.355] in the said county." The "London Monthly Repository" (vol. v., 1810) describes the affair as follows: "These dreadful actings of Satan continued above a year; during which there was a desperate struggle between him and nine ministers of the gospel, who had undertaken to cast him out, and, for that purpose, successively relieved each other in their daily combats with him: while Satan tried all his arts to baffle their attempts, insulting them with scoffs and raillery, puzzling them sometimes with Greek and Latin, and threatening them with the effects of his vengeance, till he was finally vanquished and put to flight by the persevering prayers and fastings of the said ministers."

No name in English history is regarded with more respect and admiration, by wise and virtuous men, than that of Sir Matthew Hale. His character was almost venerated by our ancestors; and it has been thought that it was the influence of his authority, more than any thing else, that prevailed upon them to pursue the course they adopted in the prosecutions at Salem. This great and good man presided, as Lord Chief Baron, at the trial of two females,—Amy Dunny and Rose Cullender,—at Bury St. Edmunds, in Suffolk, in the year 1664. They were convicted and executed.

Baxter relates the following circumstance as having occurred at this trial: "A godly minister, yet living, sitting by to see one of the girls (who appeared as a witness against the prisoners) in her fits, suddenly felt a force pull one of the hooks from his breeches; and, while he looked with wonder at what was become[i.356] of it, the tormented girl vomited it up out of her mouth."

To give an idea of the nature of the testimony upon which the principal stress was laid by the government, I will extract the following passages from the report of the trial: "Robert Sherringham testified that the axle-tree of his cart, happening, in passing, to break some part of Rose Cullender's house, in her anger at it, she vehemently threatened him his horses should suffer for it; and, within a short time, all his four horses died; after which he sustained many other losses, in the sudden dying of his cattle. He was also taken with a lameness in his limbs, and so far vexed with lice of an extraordinary number and bigness, that no art could hinder the swarming of them, till he burned up two suits of apparel."—"Margaret Arnold testified that Amy Dunny afflicted her children: they (the children), she said, would see mice running round the house, and, when they caught them and threw them into the fire, they would screech out like rats."—"A thing like a bee flew at the face of the younger child; the child fell into a fit, and at last vomited up a two-penny nail, with a broad head, affirming that the bee brought this nail, and forced it into her mouth."—"She one day caught an invisible mouse, and, throwing it into the fire, it flashed like to gunpowder. None besides the child saw the mouse, but every one saw the flash!"

In this instance we perceive the influence of prejudice in perverting evidence. The circumstance that[i.357] the mouse was invisible to all eyes but those of the child ought to have satisfied the Court and jury that she was either under the power of a delusion or practising an imposture. But, as they were predisposed to find something supernatural in the transaction, their minds seized upon the pretended invisibility of the mouse as conclusive proof of diabolical agency.

Many persons who were present expressed the opinion, that the issue of the trial would have been favorable to the prisoners, had it not been for the following circumstance: Sir Thomas Browne, a physician, philosopher, and scholar of unrivalled celebrity at that time, happened to be upon the spot; and it was the universal wish that he should be called to the stand, and his opinion be obtained on the general subject of witchcraft. An enthusiastic contemporary admirer of Sir Thomas Browne thus describes him: "The horizon of his understanding was much larger than the hemisphere of the world: all that was visible in the heavens he comprehended so well, that few that are under them knew so much; and of the earth he had such a minute and exact geographical knowledge as if he had been by Divine Providence ordained surveyor-general of the whole terrestrial globe and its products, minerals, plants, and animals." His memory is stated to have been inferior only to that of Seneca or Scaliger; and he was reputed master of seven languages. Dr. Johnson, who has written his biography, sums up his character in the following terms: "But it is not on the praises of others, but on his[i.358] own writings, that he is to depend for the esteem of posterity, of which he will not easily be deprived, while learning shall have any reverence among men: for there is no science in which he does not discover some skill; and scarce any kind of knowledge, profane or sacred, abstruse or elegant, which he does not appear to have cultivated with success."

Sir Thomas Browne was considered by those of his own generation to have made great advances beyond the wisdom of his age. He claimed the character of a reformer, and gave to his principal publication the title of an "Enquiry into Vulgar Errors." So bold and free were his speculations, that he was looked upon invidiously by many as a daring innovator, and did not escape the denunciatory imputation of heresy. Nothing could be more unjust, however, than this latter charge. He was a most ardent and zealous believer in the doctrines of the Established Church. He declares "that he assumes the honorable style of a Christian," not because "it is the religion of his country," but because, "having in his riper years and confirmed judgment seen and examined all, he finds himself obliged, by the principles of grace and the law of his own reason, to embrace no other name but this." He exults and "blesses himself, that he lived not in the days of miracles, when faith had been thrust upon him, but enjoys that greater blessing pronounced to all that believed, and saw not:" nay, he goes so far as to say, that they only had the advantage "of a bold and noble faith, who lived before the[i.359] coming of the Saviour, and, upon obscure prophecies and mystical types, could raise a belief." The fact that such a man was accused of infidelity is an affecting proof of the injustice that is sometimes done by the judgment of contemporaries.

This prodigy of learning and philosophy went into Court, took the stand, and declared his opinion in favor of the reality of witchcraft, entered into a particular discussion of the subject before the jury, threw the whole weight of his great name into the wavering scales of justice, and the poor women were convicted. The authority of Sir Thomas Browne, added to the other evidence, perplexed Sir Matthew Hale. A reporter of the trial says, "that it made this great and good man doubtful; but he was in such fears, and proceeded with such caution, that he would not so much as sum up the evidence, but left it to the jury with prayers, 'that the great God of heaven would direct their hearts in that weighty matter.'"

The result of this important trial established decisively the interpretation of English law; and the printed report of it was used as an authoritative text-book in the Court at Salem.

The celebrated Robert Boyle flourished in the latter half of the seventeenth century. He is allowed by all to have done much towards the introduction of an improved philosophy, and the promotion of experimental science. But he could not entirely shake off the superstition of his age.

A small city in Burgundy, called Mascon, was[i.360] famous in the annals of witchcraft. In a work called "The Theatre of God's Judgments," published, in London, by Thomas Beard in 1612, there is the following passage: "It was a very lamentable spectacle that chanced to the Governor of Mascon, a magician, whom the Devil snatched up in dinner-while, and hoisted aloft, carrying him three times about the town of Mascon, in the presence of many beholders, to whom he cried in this manner, 'Help, help, my friends!' so that the whole town stood amazed thereat; yea, and the remembrance of this strange accident sticketh at this day fast in the minds of all the inhabitants of this country." A malicious and bigoted monk, who discharged the office of chief legend-maker to the Benedictine Abbey, in the vicinity of Mascon, fabricated this ridiculous story for the purpose of bringing the Governor into disrepute. An account of another diabolical visitation, suggested, it is probable, by the one just described, was issued from the press, under the title of "The Devil of Mascon," during the lifetime of Boyle, who gave his sanction to the work, promoted its version into English, and, as late as 1678, publicly declared his belief of the supernatural transaction it related.

The subject of demonology, in all its forms and phases, embracing witchcraft, held a more commanding place throughout Europe, in the literature of the centuries immediately preceding the eighteenth, than any other. Works of the highest pretension, elaborate, learned, voluminous, and exhausting, were published,[i.361] by the authority of governments and universities, to expound it. It was regarded as occupying the most eminent department of jurisprudence, as well as of science and theology.

Raphael De La Torre and Adam Tanner published treatises establishing the right and duty of ecclesiastical tribunals to punish all who practised or dealt with the arts of demonology. In 1484, Sprenger came out with his famous book, "Malleus Maleficarum;" or, the "Hammer of Witches." Paul Layman, in 1629, issued an elaborate work on "Judicial Processes against Sorcerers and Witches." The following is the title of a bulky volume of some seven hundred pages: "Demonology, or Natural Magic or demoniacal, lawful and unlawful, also open or secret, by the intervention and invocation of a Demon," published in 1612. It consists of four books, treating of the crime of witchcraft, and its punishment in the ordinary tribunals and the Inquisitorial office. Its author was Don Francisco Torreblanca Villalpando, of Cordova, Advocate Royal in the courts of Grenada. It was republished in 1623, by command of Philip III. of Spain, on the recommendation of the Fiscal General, and with the sanction of the Royal Council and the Holy Inquisition. This work may be considered as establishing and defining the doctrines, in reference to witchcraft, prevailing in all Catholic countries. It was indorsed by royal, judicial, academical, and ecclesiastical approval; is replete with extraordinary erudition, arranged in the most scientific form, em[i.362]bracing in a methodical classification all the minutest details of the subject, and codifying it into a complete system of law. There was no particular in all the proceedings and all the doctrines brought out at the trials in Salem, which did not find ample justification and support in this work of Catholic, imperial, and European authority.

But perhaps the writer of the greatest influence on this subject in England and America, during the whole of the seventeenth century, was William Perkins, "the learned, pious, and painful preacher of God's Word, at St. Andrew's, in Cambridge," where he died, in 1602, aged forty-four years. He was quite a voluminous author; and many of his works were translated into French, Dutch, Italian, and Spanish. Fuller, in "The Holy State," selects him as the impersonation of the qualities requisite to "the Faithful Minister." In his glowing eulogium upon his learning and talents, he says:—

"He would pronounce the word damne with such an emphasis as left a doleful echo in his auditors' ears a good while after. And, when catechist of Christ's College, in expounding the Commandments, applied them so home,—able almost to make his hearers' hearts fall down, and hairs to stand upright. But, in his older age, he altered his voice, and remitted much of his former rigidness, often professing that to preach mercy was that proper office of the ministers of the gospel."—"Our Perkins brought the schools into the pulpit, and, unshelling their controversies out of their hard school-terms, made thereof plain and wholesome meat for his peo[i.363]ple; for he had a capacious head, with angles winding, and roomy enough to lodge all controversial intricacies."—"He had a rare felicity in speedy reading of books; so that, as it were, riding post through an author, he took strict notice of all passages. Perusing books so speedily, one would think he read nothing; so accurately, one would think he read all."

An octavo volume, written by this great scholar and divine, was published at Cambridge in England, under the title, "Discourse of the Damned Art of Witchcraft." It went through several editions, and had a wide and permanent circulation.

This work, the character of which is sufficiently indicated in its emphatic title, was the great authority on the subject with our fathers; and Mr. Parris had a copy of it in his possession when the proceedings in reference to witchcraft began at Salem Village.

John Gaule published an octavo volume in London, in 1646, entitled, "Select Cases of Conscience concerning Witches and Witchcraft." He is one of the most exact writers on the subject, and arranges witches in the following classes: "1. The diviner, gypsy, or fortune-telling witch; 2. The astrologian, star-gazing, planetary, prognosticating witch; 3. The chanting, canting, or calculating witch, who works by signs and numbers; 4. The venefical, or poisoning witch; 5. The exorcist, or conjuring witch; 6. The gastronomic witch; 7. The magical, speculative, sciential, or arted witch; 8. The necromancer."

Besides innumerable writers of this class, who spread out the scholastic learning on the subject,[i.364] and presented it in a logical and theological form, there were others who treated it in a more popular style, and invested it with the charms of elegant literature. Henry Hallywell published an octavo in London, in 1681, in which, while the main doctrines of witchcraft as then almost universally received are enforced, an attempt was made to divest it of some of its most repulsive and terrible features. He gives the following account of the means by which a person may place himself beyond the reach of the power of witchcraft:—

"It is possible for the soul to arise to such a height, and become so divine, that no witchcraft or evil demons can have any power upon the body. When the bodily life is too far invigorated and awakened, and draws the intellect, the flower and summity of the soul, into a conspiration with it, then are we subject and obnoxious to magical assaults. For magic or sorcery, being founded only in this lower or mundane spirit, he that makes it his business to be freed and released from all its blandishments and flattering devocations, and endeavors wholly to withdraw himself from the love of corporeity and too near a sympathy with the frail flesh, he, by it, enkindles such a divine principle as lifts him above the fate of this inferior world, and adorns his mind with such an awful majesty that beats back all enchantments, and makes the infernal fiends tremble at his presence, hating those vigorous beams of light which are so contrary and repugnant to their dark natures."

The mind of this beautiful writer found encouragement and security in the midst of the diabolical spir[i.365]its, with whom he believed the world to be infested, in the following views and speculations:—

"For there is a chain of government that runs down from God, the Supreme Monarch, whose bright and piercing eyes look through all that he has made, to the lowest degree of the creation; and there are presidential angels of empires and kingdoms, and such as under them have the tutelage of private families; and, lastly, every man's particular guardian genius. Nor is the inanimate or material world left to blind chance or fortune; but there are, likewise, mighty and potent spirits, to whom is committed the guidance and care of the fluctuating and uncertain motions of it, and by their ministry, fire and vapor, storms and tempests, snow and hail, heat and cold, are all kept within such bounds and limits as are most serviceable to the ends of Providence. They take care of the variety of seasons, and superintend the tillage and fruits of the earth; upon which account, Origen calls them invisible husbandmen. So that, all affairs and things being under the inspection and government of these incorporeal beings, the power of the dark kingdom and its agents is under a strict confinement and restraint; and they cannot bring a general mischief upon the world without a special permission of a superior Providence."

Spenser has the same imagery and sentiment:—

"How oft do they their silver bowers leave,
To come to succor us, that succor want?
How oft do they with golden pinions cleave
The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant,
Against foul fiends to aid us militant?
They for us fight, they watch and duly ward,
And their bright squadrons round about us plant,
And all for love and nothing for reward:
Oh! why should heavenly God to man have such regard?"
[i.366]

While there can be no doubt that the superstitious opinions we have been reviewing were diffused generally among the great body of the people of all ranks and conditions, it would be unjust to truth not to mention that there were some persons who looked upon them as empty fables and vain imaginations. Error has never yet made a complete and universal conquest. In the darkest ages and most benighted regions, it has been found impossible utterly to extinguish the light of reason. There always have been some in whose souls the torch of truth has been kept burning with vestal watchfulness: we can discern its glimmer here and there through the deepest night that has yet settled upon the earth. In the midst of the most extravagant superstition, there have been individuals who have disowned the popular belief, and considered it a mark of wisdom and true philosophy to discard the idle fancies and absurd schemes of faith that possessed the minds of the great mass of their contemporaries. This was the case with Horace, as appears from lines thus quite freely but effectively translated:—

"These dreams and terrors magical,
These miracles and witches,
Night-walking spirites or Thessal bugs,
Esteeme them not two rushes."

The intellect of Seneca also rose above the reach of the popular credulity with respect to the agency of supernatural beings and the efficacy of mysterious charms.

If we could but obtain access to the secret thoughts[i.367] of the wisest philosophers and of the men of genius of antiquity, we should probably find that many of them were superior to the superstitions of their times. Even in the thick darkness of the dark ages, there were minds too powerful to be kept in chains by error and delusion.

Henry Cornelius Agrippa, who was born in the latter part of the fifteenth century, was, perhaps, the greatest philosopher and scholar of his period. In early life, he was very much devoted to the science of magic, and was a strenuous supporter of demonology and witchcraft. In the course of his studies and meditations, he was led to a change of views on these subjects, and did all that he could to warn others from putting confidence in such vain, frivolous, and absurd superstitions as then possessed the world. The consequence was, that he was denounced and prosecuted as a conjurer, and charged with having written against magic and witchcraft, in order the more securely to shelter himself from the suspicion of practising them. As an instance of the calumnies that were heaped upon him, I would mention that Paulus Jovius asserted that "Cornelius Agrippa went always accompanied with an evil spirit in the similitude of a black dog;" and that, when the time of his death drew near, "he took off the enchanted collar from the dog's neck, and sent him away with these terms, 'Get thee hence, thou cursed beast, which hast utterly destroyed me:' neither was the dog ever seen after." Butler, in his "Hudibras," has not neg[i.368]lected to celebrate this remarkable connection between Satan and the man of learning:—

"Agrippa kept a Stygian pug
I' th' garb and habit of a dog,
That was his tutor; and the cur
Read to th' occult philosopher."

John Wierus wrote an elaborate, learned, and judicious book, in which he treated at large of magic, sorcery, and witchcraft, and did all that scholarship, talent, and philosophy could do to undermine and subvert the whole system of the prevailing popular superstition. But he fared no better than his predecessor, patron, and master, Agrippa; for, like him, he was accused of having attempted to persuade the world that there was no reality in supernatural charms and diabolical confederacies, in order that he might devote himself to them without suspicion or molestation, and was borne down by the bigotry and fanaticism of his times.

King James merely gave utterance to the general sentiment, and pronounced the verdict of popular opinion, in the following extract from the preface to his "Demonologie:" "Wierus, a German physician, sets out a public apologie for all these crafts-folkes, whereby, procuring for them impunitie, he plainly bewrays himself to have been of that profession."

In 1584, a quarto volume was published in London, the work of Reginald Scott, a learned English gentleman, whose title sufficiently indicates its import, "The Discovery of Witchcraft, wherein the lewde dealing of[i.369] witches and witchmongers is notably detected; the knavery of conjurers, the impiety of inchanters, the folly of soothsayers, the impudent falsehood of cozeners, the infidelity of atheists, the pestilent practices of pythonists, the curiosities of figure-casters, the vanity of dreamers, the beggarly art of alcumstrie, the abomination of idolatrie, the horrible art of poisoning, the virtue and power of natural magic, and all the conveniencies of legerdemaine and juggling, are discovered, &c."

In 1599, Samuel Harsnett, Archbishop of York, wrote a work, published in London, to expose certain persons who pretended to have the power of casting out devils, and detecting their "deceitful trade." This writer was among the first to bring the power of bold satire and open denunciation to bear against the superstitions of demonology. He thus describes the motives and the methods of such impostors:—

"Out of these," saith he, "is shaped us the true idea of a witch,—an old, weather-beaten crone, having her chin and her knees meeting for age, walking like a bow, leaning on a staff; hollow-eyed, untoothed, furrowed on her face, having her limbs trembling with the palsy, going mumbling in the streets; one that hath forgotten her Pater-noster, and yet hath a shrewd tongue to call a drab a drab. If she hath learned of an old wife, in a chimney-end, Pax, Max, Fax, for a spell, or can say Sir John Grantham's curse for the miller's eels, 'All ye that have stolen the miller's eels, Laudate dominum de coelis: and all they that have consented thereto, Benedicamus domino:' why then, beware! look about[i.370] you, my neighbors. If any of you have a sheep sick of the giddies, or a hog of the mumps, or a horse of the staggers, or a knavish boy of the school, or an idle girl of the wheel, or a young drab of the sullens, and hath not fat enough for her porridge, or butter enough for her bread, and she hath a little help of the epilepsy or cramp, to teach her to roll her eyes, wry her mouth, gnash her teeth, startle with her body, hold her arms and hands stiff, &c.; and then, when an old Mother Nobs hath by chance called her an idle young housewife, or bid the Devil scratch her, then no doubt but Mother Nobs is the witch, and the young girl is owl blasted, &c. They that have their brains baited and their fancies distempered with the imaginations and apprehensions of witches, conjurers, and fairies, and all that lymphatic chimera, I find to be marshalled in one of these five ranks: children, fools, women, cowards, sick or black melancholic discomposed wits."

In 1669, a work was published in London with the following title: "The Question of Witchcraft Debated; or, a Discourse against their Opinions that affirm Witches." It is a work of great merit, and would do honor to a scholar and logician of the present day. The author was John Wagstaffe, of Oxford University: he is described as a crooked, shrivelled, little man, of a most despicable appearance. This circumstance, together with his writings against the popular belief in witchcraft, led his academical associates to accuse him, some of them in sport, but others with grave suspicion, of being a wizard. Wood, the historian of Oxford, says that "he died in a manner distracted, occasioned by a deep conceit of his own parts, and by a continual[i.371] bibbing of strong and high-tasted liquors." But poor Wagstaffe was assailed by something more than private raillery and slander. His heretical sentiments exposed him to the battery of the host of writers who will always be found ready to advocate a prevailing opinion. But Wagstaffe was not left entirely alone to defend the cause of reason and truth. He had one most zealous advocate and ardent admirer in the author of a work on "The Doctrine of Devils," published in 1676. This writer sums up a panegyric upon Wagstaffe's performance, by pronouncing it "a judicious book, that contains more good reason, true religion, and right Christianity, than all those lumps and cartloads of luggage that hath been fardled up by all the faggeters of demonologistical winter-tales, and witchcraftical legendaries, since they first began to foul clean paper."

Dr. Balthasar Bekker, of Amsterdam, who was equally eminent in astronomy, philosophy, and theology, published in 1691 a learned and powerful work, called "The World Bewitched," in which he openly assailed the doctrines of witchcraft and of the Devil, and anticipated many of the views and arguments presented in Farmer's excellent publications. As a reward for his exertions to enlighten his fellow-creatures, he was turned out of the ministry, and assaulted by nearly all the writers of his age.

Dr. Bekker was one of the ablest and boldest writers of his day, and did much to advance the cause of natural science, scriptural interpretation, and the princi[i.372]ples of enlightened Christianity. In 1680 he published an "Inquiry concerning Comets," rescuing them from the realm of superstition, placing them within the natural physical laws, and exploding the then-received opinion, that, in any way, they are the presages or forerunners of evil. His "Exposition on the Prophet Daniel" gives proof of his learning and judgment. His great merits were recognized by John Locke and Richard Bentley. In the preface to his "World Bewitched," he says, that it grieved him to see the great honors, powers, and miracles which are ascribed to the Devil. "It has come to that pass," to use his own language, "that men think it piety and godliness to ascribe a great many wonders to the Devil, and impiety and heresy, if a man will not believe that the Devil can do what a thousand persons say he does. It is now reckoned godliness, if a man who fears God fear also the Devil. If he be not afraid of the Devil, he passes for an atheist, who does not believe in God, because he cannot think that there are two gods, the one good, the other bad. But these, I think, with much more reason, may be called ditheists. For my part, if, on account of my opinion, they will give me a new name, let them call me a monotheist, a believer of but one God." The work struck down the whole system of demonology and witchcraft, by proving that there never was really such a thing as sorcery or possession, and that devils have no influence over human affairs or the persons of men. It is not surprising that it raised a great clamor. The wonder is that it did not cost him[i.373] his life. It is probable that his protection was the confidence the people had in his character and learning. Attempts were made to diminish that confidence, and bring him into odium, by levelling against him every form of abuse. A medal was struck, and extensively circulated, representing the Devil, clothed like a minister or priest, riding on an ass. The device was so arranged as to excite ridicule and abhorrence, in the vulgar mind, against Bekker. But it was found impossible to turn the popular feeling, which had set in his favor; and his persecutors and defamers were completely baffled. He was followed, soon after, by the learned Thomasius, whose writings against demonology produced a decided effect upon the convictions of the age.

While Bekker, and the other writers of his class, endeavored to overthrow the superstitious practices and fancies then prevalent respecting demonology and communications with spiritual beings, they so far acceded to the popular theology as to maintain the doctrine of the personality of the Devil. They believed in the existence of the arch-fiend, but denied his agency in human affairs. They held that he was kept confined "to bottomless perdition, there to dwell—

"In adamantine chains and penal fire."

Sir Robert Filmer, in 1680, published "An Advertisement to the jurymen of England, touching Witches," in which he criticised and condemned many of the opinions and methods then countenanced on the subject.[i.374]

But Bekker, Thomasius, and Filmer appeared too late to operate upon the prevalent opinions of Europe or America prior to the witchcraft delusion of 1692. The productions of the other writers, in the same direction, to whom I have referred, probably had a very limited circulation, and made at the time but little impression. Error is seldom overthrown by mere reasoning. It yields only to the logic of events. No power of learning or wit could have rooted the witchcraft superstitions out of the minds of men. Nothing short of a demonstration of their deformities, follies, and horrors, such as here was held up to the view of the world, could have given their death-blow. This was the final cause of Salem Witchcraft, and makes it one of the great landmarks in the world's history.

A full and just view of the position and obligations of the persons who took part in the transactions at Salem requires a previous knowledge of the principles and the state of the law, as it was then in force and understood by the courts, and all concerned in judicial proceedings. Although the ancients did not regard pretended intercourse between magicians and enchanters and spiritual beings as necessarily or always criminal, we find that they enacted laws against the abuse of the power supposed to result from the connection. The old Roman code of the Twelve Tables contained the following prohibition: "That they should not bewitch the fruits of the earth, nor use any charms, to draw their neighbor's corn into their own fields." There were several special edicts on the subject during[i.375] the existence of the Roman State. In the early Christian councils, sorcery was frequently made the object of denunciation. At Laodicea, for instance, in the year 364, it was voted to excommunicate any clergymen who were magicians, enchanters, astrologers, or mathematicians! The Bull of Pope Innocent VIII., near the close of the fifteenth century, has already been mentioned.

Dr. Turner, in his history of the Anglo-Saxons, says that they had laws against sorcerers and witches, but that they did not punish them with death. There was an English statute against witchcraft, in the reign of Henry VIII., and another in that of Elizabeth.

Up to this time, however, the legislation of parliament on the subject was merciful and judicious: for it did not attach to the guilt of witchcraft the punishment of death, unless it had been used to destroy life; that is, unless it had become murder.

On the demise of Elizabeth, James of Scotland ascended the throne. His pedantic and eccentric character is well known. He had an early and decided inclination towards abstruse or mysterious speculations. Before he had reached his twentieth year, he undertook to accomplish what only the most sanguine and profound theologians have ever dared to attempt: he expounded the Book of Revelation. When he was about twenty-five years of age, he published a work on the "Doctrine of Devils and Witchcraft." Not long after, he succeeded to the British crown. It may easily be imagined that the subject of demonology[i.376] soon became a fashionable and prevailing topic of conversation in the royal saloons and throughout the nation. It served as a medium through which obsequious courtiers could convey their flattery to the ears of their accomplished and learned sovereign. His Majesty's book was reprinted and extensively circulated. It was of course praised and recommended in all quarters.

The parliament, actuated by a base desire to compliment the vain and superstitious king, enacted a new and much more severe statute against witchcraft, in the very first year of his reign. It was under this law that so many persons here and in England were deprived of their lives. The blood of hundreds of innocent persons was thus unrighteously shed. It was a fearful price which these servile lawgivers paid for the favor of their prince.

But this was not the only mischief brought about by courtly deference to the prejudices of King James. It was under his direction that our present translation of the Scriptures was made. To please His Royal Majesty, and to strengthen the arguments in his work on demonology, the word "witch" was used to represent expressions in the original Hebrew, that conveyed an entirely different idea; and it was freely inserted in the headings of the chapters.[B] A person having "a familiar spirit" was a favorite description of a witch in the king's book. The trans[i.377]lators, forgetful of their high and solemn function, endeavored to establish this definition by inserting it into their version. Accordingly, they introduced it in several places; in the eleventh verse of the eighteenth chapter of Deuteronomy, for instance, "a consulter with familiar spirits." There is no word in the Hebrew which corresponds with "familiar." And this is the important, the essential word in the definition. It conveys the idea of alliance, stated connection, confederacy, or compact, which is characteristic and distinctive of a witch. The expression in the original signifies "a consulter with spirits,"—especially, as was the case with the "Witch of Endor," a consulter with departed spirits. It was a shocking perversion of the word of God, for the purpose of flattering a frail and mortal sovereign! King James lived to see and acknowledge the error of his early opinions, and he would gladly have counteracted their bad effect; but it is easier to make laws and translations than it is to alter and amend them.

While the law of the land required the capital punishment of witches, no blame ought to be attached to judges and jurors for discharging their respective duties in carrying it into execution. It will not do for us to assert, that they ought to have refused, let the consequences to themselves have been what they would, to sanction and give effect to such inhuman and unreasonable enactments. We cannot consistently take this ground; for there is nothing more certain than that, with their notions, our ancestors had at least as[i.378] good reasons to advance in favor of punishing witchcraft with death, as we have for punishing any crime whatsoever in the same awful and summary manner. We appeal, in defence of our capital punishments, to the text of Moses, "Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed." The apologist of our fathers, for carrying into effect the law making witchcraft a capital offence, tells us in reply, in the first place, that this passage is not of the nature of a precept, but merely of an admonition; that it does not enjoin any particular method of proceeding, but simply describes the natural consequences of cruel and contentious conduct; and that it amounts only to this: that quarrelsome, violent, and bloodthirsty persons will be apt to meet the same fate they bring upon others; that the duellist will be likely to fall in private combat, the ambitious conqueror to perish, and the warlike nation to be destroyed, on the field of battle. If this is not considered by us a sufficient and satisfactory answer, he advances to our own ground, points to the same text where we place our defence, and puts his finger on the following plain and authoritative precept: "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." Indeed we must acknowledge, that the capital punishment of witches is as strongly supported and fortified by the Scriptures of the Old Testament—at least, as they appear in our present version—as the capital punishment of any crime whatever.

If we adopt another line of argument, and say that it is necessary to punish some particular crimes with[i.379] death, in order to maintain the security of society, or hold up an impressive warning to others, here also we find that our opponent has full as much to offer in defence of our fathers as can be offered in our own defence. He describes to us the tremendous and infernal power which was universally believed by them to be possessed by a witch; a power which, as it was not derived from a natural source, could not easily be held in check by natural restraints: neither chains nor dungeons could bind it down or confine it. You might load the witch with irons, you might bury her in the lowest cell of a feudal prison, and still it was believed that she could send forth her imps or her spectre to ravage the fields, and blight the meadows, and throw the elements into confusion, and torture the bodies, and craze the minds, of any who might be the objects of her malice.

Shakspeare, in the description which he puts into the mouth of Macbeth of the supernatural energy of witchcraft, does not surpass, if he does justice to, the prevailing belief on the subject:—

"I conjure you, by that which you profess,
(Howe'er you came to know it) answer me,—
Though you untie the winds, and let them fight
Against the churches; though the yesty waves
Confound and swallow navigation up;
Though bladed corn be lodged, and trees blown down;
Though castles topple on their warders' heads;
Though palaces and pyramids do slope
Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure
Of nature's germins tumble all together,
Even till destruction sicken,—answer me
To what I ask you."
[i.380]

There was indeed an almost infinite power to do mischief associated with a disposition to do it. No human strength could strip the witch of these mighty energies while she lived; nothing but death could destroy them. There was, as our ancestors considered, incontestable evidence, that she had put them forth to the injury, loss, and perhaps death, of others.

Can it be wondered at, that, under such circumstances, the law connecting capital punishment with the guilt of witchcraft was resorted to as the only means to protect society, and warn others from entering into the dark, wicked, and malignant compact?

It is not probable that even King James's Parliament would have been willing to go to the length of Selden in his "Table-Talk," who takes this ground in defence of the capital punishment of witches. "The law against witches does not prove there be any, but it punishes the malice of those people that use such means to take away men's lives. If one should profess, that, by turning his hat thrice and crying 'Buzz,' he could take away a man's life (though in truth he could do no such thing), yet this were a just law made by the State, that whoever should turn his hat thrice and cry 'Buzz,' with an intention to take away a man's life, shall be put to death."

There are other considerations that deserve to be weighed before a final judgment should be made up respecting the conduct of our fathers in the witchcraft delusion. Among these is the condition of physical science in their day. But little knowledge of the[i.381] laws of nature was possessed, and that little was confined to a few. The world was still, to the mass of the people, almost as full of mystery in its physical departments as it was to its first inhabitants. Politics, poetry, rhetoric, ethics, and history had been cultivated to a great extent in previous ages; but the philosophy of the natural and material world was almost unknown. Astronomy, chemistry, optics, pneumatics, and even geography, were involved in the general darkness and error. Some of our most important sciences, such as electricity, date their origin from a later period.

This remarkable tardiness in the progress of physical science for some time after the era of the revival of learning is to be accounted for by referring to the erroneous methods of reasoning and observation then prevalent in the world. A false logic was adopted in the schools of learning and philosophy. The great instrument for the discovery and investigation of truth was the syllogism, the most absurd contrivance of the human mind; an argumentative process whose conclusion is contained in the premises; a method of proof, in the first step of which the matter to be proved is taken for granted.[C] In a word, the whole system of philosophy was made up of hypotheses, and[i.382] the only foundation of science was laid in conjecture. The imagination, called necessarily into extraordinary action, in the absence of scientific certainty, was still further exercised in vain attempts to discover, unassisted by observation and experiment, the elements and first principles of nature. It had reached a monstrous growth about the time to which we are referring. Indeed it may be said, that all the intellectual productions of modern times, from the seventeenth century back to the dark ages, were works of imagination. The bulkiest and most voluminous writings that proceeded from the cloisters or the universities, even the metaphysical disquisitions of the Nominalists and Realists, and the boundless subtleties of the contending schools of the "Divine Doctors," Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus, fall under this description. Dull, dreary, unintelligible, and interminable as they are, they are still in reality works of fancy. They are the offspring, almost exclusively, of the imaginative faculty. It ought not to create surprise, to find that this faculty predominated in the minds and characters of our ancestors, and developed itself to an extent beyond our conception, when we reflect that it was almost the only one called into exercise, and that it was the leading element of every branch of literature and philosophy.

[i.383]

It is true, that, in the earlier part of the seventeenth century, Lord Bacon made his sublime discoveries in the department of physical science. By disclosing the true method of investigation and reasoning on such subjects, he may be said to have found, or rather to have invented, the key that unlocked the hitherto unopened halls of nature. He introduced man to the secret chambers of the universe, and placed in his hand the thread by which he has been conducted to the magnificent results of modern science, and will undoubtedly be led on to results still more magnificent in times to come. But it was not for human nature to pass in a moment from darkness to light. The transition was slow and gradual: a long twilight intervened before the sun shed its clear and full radiance upon the world.

The great discoverer himself refused to admit, or was unable to discern, some of the truths his system had revealed. Bacon was numbered among the opponents of the Copernican or true system of astronomy to the day of his death; so also was Sir Thomas Browne, the great philosopher already described, and who flourished during the latter half of the same century. Indeed, it may be said, that, at the time of the witchcraft delusion, the ancient empire of darkness which had oppressed and crushed the world of science had hardly been shaken. The great and triumphant progress of modern discovery had scarcely begun.

I shall now proceed to illustrate these views of the state of science in the world at that time by presenting[i.384] a few instances. The slightest examination of the accounts which remain of occurrences deemed supernatural by our ancestors will satisfy any one that they were brought about by causes entirely natural, although unknown to them. For instance, the following circumstances are related by the Rev. James Pierpont, pastor of a church in New Haven, in a letter to Cotton Mather, and published by him in his "Magnalia:"[D]—

In the year 1646, a new ship, containing a valuable cargo, and having several distinguished persons on board as passengers, put to sea from New Haven in the month of January, bound to England. The vessels that came over the ensuing spring brought no tidings of her arrival in the mother-country. The pious colonists were earnest and instant in their prayers that intelligence might be received of the missing vessel. In the month of June, 1648, "a great thunder-storm arose out of the north-west; after which (the hemisphere being serene), about an hour before sunset, a ship of like dimensions with the aforesaid, with her canvas and colors abroad (although[i.385] the wind was northerly), appeared in the air, coming up from the harbor's mouth, which lies southward from the town,—seemingly with her sails filled under a fresh gale, holding her course north, and continuing under observation, sailing against the wind for the space of half an hour." The phantom-ship was borne along, until, to the excited imaginations of the spectators, she seemed to have approached so near that they could throw a stone into her. Her main-topmast then disappeared, then her mizzen-topmast; then her masts were entirely carried away; and, finally, her hull fell off, and vanished from sight,—leaving a dull and smoke-colored cloud, which soon dissolved, and the whole atmosphere became clear. All affirmed that the airy vision was a precise copy and image of the missing vessel, and that it was sent to announce and describe her fate. They considered it the spectre of the lost ship; and the Rev. Mr. Davenport declared in public, "that God had condescended, for the quieting their afflicted spirits, this extraordinary account of his sovereign disposal of those for whom so many fervent prayers were made continually."

The results of modern science enable us to explain the mysterious appearance. It is probable that some Dutch vessel, proceeding slowly, quietly, and unconsciously on her voyage from Amsterdam to the New Netherlands, happened at the time to be passing through the Sound. At the moment the apparition was seen in the sky, she was so near, that her reflected image was painted or delineated, to the eyes of the[i.386] observers, on the clouds, by laws of optics now generally well known, before her actual outlines could be discerned by them on the horizon. As the sun sunk behind the western hills, and his rays were gradually withdrawn, the visionary ship slowly disappeared; and the approach of night effectually concealed the vessel as she continued her course along the Sound.

The optical illusions that present themselves on the sea-shore, by which distant objects are raised to view, the opposite capes and islands made to loom up, lifted above the line of the apparent circumference of the earth, and thrown into every variety of shape which the imagination can conceive, are among the most beautiful phenomena of nature; and they impress the mind with the idea of enchantment and mystery, more perhaps than any others: but they have received a complete solution from modern discovery.

It should be observed, that the optical principles which explain these phenomena have recently afforded a foundation for the science, or rather art, of nauscopy; and there are persons in some places,—in the Isle of France, as I have been told,—whose calling and profession is to ascertain and predict the approach of vessels, by their reflection in the atmosphere and on the clouds, long before they are visible to the eye, or through the glass.

The following opinion prevailed at the time of our narrative. The discoveries in electricity, itself a recent science, have rendered it impossible for us to contemplate it without ridicule. But it was the sober[i.387] opinion of the age. "A great man has noted it," says a learned writer, "that thunders break oftener on churches than any other houses, because demons have a peculiar spite at houses that are set apart for the peculiar service of God."

Every thing that was strange or remarkable—every thing at all out of the usual course, every thing that was not clear and plain—was attributed to supernatural interposition. Indeed, our fathers lived, as they thought, continually in the midst of miracles; and felt themselves surrounded, at all times, in all scenes, with innumerable invisible beings. The beautiful verse of Milton describes their faith:—

"Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth
Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep."

What was to him, however, a momentary vision of the imagination, was to them like a perpetual perception of the senses: it was a practical belief, an everyday common sentiment, an all-pervading feeling. But these supernatural beings very frequently were believed to have become visible to our superstitious ancestors. The instances, indeed, were not rare, of individuals having seen the Devil himself with their mortal eyes. They may well be brought to notice, as illustrating the ideas which then prevailed, and had an immediate, practical effect on the conduct of men, in reference to the power, presence, and action of the Devil in human affairs. This, in fact, is necessary, that we may understand the narrative we are preparing to contemplate of transactions based wholly on those ideas.[i.388]

The following passage is extracted from a letter written to Increase Mather by the Rev. John Higginson:—

"The godly Mr. Sharp, who was ruling elder of the church of Salem almost thirty years after, related it of himself, that, being bred up to learning till he was eighteen years old, and then taken off, and put to be an apprentice to a draper in London, he yet notwithstanding continued a strong inclination and eager affection to books, with a curiosity of hearkening after and reading of the strangest and oddest books he could get, spending much of his time that way to the neglect of his business. At one time, there came a man into the shop, and brought a book with him, and said to him, 'Here is a book for you, keep this till I call for it again;' and so went away. Mr. Sharp, after his wonted bookish manner, was eagerly affected to look into that book, and read it, which he did: but, as he read in it, he was seized on by a strange kind of horror, both of body and mind, the hair of his head standing up; and, finding these effects several times, he acquainted his master with it, who, observing the same effects, they concluded it was a conjuring book, and resolved to burn it, which they did. He that brought it in the shape of a man never coming to call for it, they concluded it was the Devil. He, taking this as a solemn warning from God to take heed what books he read, was much taken off from his former bookishness; confining himself to reading the Bible, and other known good books of divinity, which were profitable to his soul."

Kircher relates the following anecdote, with a full belief of its truth: He had a friend who was zealously and perseveringly devoted to the study of al[i.389]chemy. At one time, while he was intent upon his operations, a gentleman entered his laboratory, and kindly offered to assist him. In a few moments, a large mass of the purest gold was brought forth from the crucible. The gentleman then took his hat, and went out: before leaving the apartment, however, he wrote a recipe for making the precious article. The grateful and admiring mortal continued his operations, according to the directions of his visitor; but the charm was lost: he could not succeed, and was at last completely ruined by his costly and fruitless experiments. Both he and his friend Kircher were fully persuaded that the mysterious stranger-visitor was the Devil.

Baxter has recorded a curious interview between Satan and Mr. White, of Dorchester, assessor to the Westminster Assembly:—

"The Devil, in a light night, stood by his bedside. The assessor looked a while, whether he would say or do any thing, and then said, 'If thou hast nothing to do, I have;' and so turned himself to sleep." Dr. Hibbert is of opinion, that the Rev. Mr. White treated his satanic majesty, on this occasion, with "a cool contempt, to which he had not often been accustomed."

Indeed, there is nothing more curious or instructive, in the history of that period, than the light which it sheds upon the influence of the belief of the personal existence and operations of the Devil, when that belief is carried out fully into its practical effects. The Christian doctrine had relapsed into a system almost identical with Manicheism. Wierus thus describes[i.390] Satan, as he was regarded in the prevalent theology: "He possesses great courage, incredible cunning, superhuman wisdom, the most acute penetration, consummate prudence, an incomparable skill in veiling the most pernicious artifices under a specious disguise, and a malicious and infinite hatred towards the human race, implacable and incurable." Milton merely responded to the popular sentiment in making Satan a character of lofty dignity, and in placing him on an elevation not "less than archangel ruined." Hallywell, in his work on witchcraft, declares that "that mighty angel of darkness is not foolishly nor idly to be scoffed at or blasphemed. The Devil," says he, "may properly be looked upon as a dignity, though his glory be pale and wan, and those once bright and orient colors faded and darkened in his robes; and the Scriptures represent him as a prince, though it be of devils." Although our fathers cannot be charged with having regarded the Devil in this respectful and deferential light, it must be acknowledged that they gave him a conspicuous and distinguished—we might almost say a dignified—agency in the affairs of life and the government of the world: they were prone to confess, if not to revere, his presence, in all scenes and at all times. He occupied a wide space, not merely in their theology and philosophy, but in their daily and familiar thoughts.[E]

[i.391]

Cotton Mather, in one of his sermons, carries home this peculiar belief to the consciences of his hearers, in a manner that could not have failed to quicken and startle the most dull and drowsy among them.

"No place," says he, "that I know of, has got such a spell upon it as will always keep the Devil out. The meeting-house, wherein we assemble for the worship of God, is filled with many holy people and many holy concerns continually; but, if our eyes were so refined as the servant of the prophet had his of old, I suppose we should now see a throng of devils in this very place. The apostle has intimated that angels come in among us: there are angels, it seems, that hark how I preach, and how you hear, at this hour. And our own sad experience is enough to intimate that the devils are likewise rendezvousing here. It is reported in Job i. 5, 'When the sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, Satan came also among them.' When we are in our church assemblies, oh, how many devils, do you imagine, crowd in among us! There is a devil that rocks one to sleep. There is a devil that makes another to be thinking of, he scarcely knows what himself. And there is a devil that makes another to be pleasing himself with wanton and wicked speculations. It is also possible, that we have our closets or our studies gloriously perfumed with devotions every day; but, alas! can we shut the Devil out of them? No: let us go where we will, we shall still find a devil nigh unto us. Only when we come to heaven, we shall be out of his reach for ever."

[i.392]

It is very remarkable, that such a train of thought as this did not suggest to the mind of Dr. Mather the true doctrine of the Bible respecting the Devil. One would have supposed, that, in carrying out the mode of speaking of him as a person to this extent, it would have occurred to him, that it might be that the scriptural expressions of a similar kind were also mere personifications of moral and abstract ideas. In describing the inattention, irreverence, and unholy reflections of his hearers as the operations of the Devil, it is wonderful that his eyes were not opened to discern the import of our Saviour's interpretation of the Parable of the Tares, in which he declares, that he understands by the Devil whatever obstructs the growth of virtue and piety in the soul, the causes that efface good impressions and give a wrong inclination to the thoughts and affections, such as "the cares of this world" or "the deceitfulness of riches." By these are the tares planted, and by these is their growth promoted. "The enemy that sowed them is the Devil."

Satan was regarded as the foe and opposer of all improvement in knowledge and civilization. The same writer thus quaintly expresses this opinion: He "has hindered mankind, for many ages, from hitting those useful inventions which yet were so obvious and facile that it is everybody's wonder that they were not sooner hit upon. The bemisted world must jog on for thousands of years without the knowledge of the loadstone, till a Neapolitan stumbled upon it about three hundred years ago. Nor must the world be blessed with[i.393] such a matchless engine of learning and virtue as that of printing, till about the middle of the fifteenth century. Nor could one old man, all over the face of the whole earth, have the benefit of such a little, though most needful, thing as a pair of spectacles, till a Dutchman, a little while ago, accommodated us. Indeed, as the Devil does begrudge us all manner of good, so he does annoy us with all manner of woe." In one of his sermons, Cotton Mather claimed for himself and his clerical brethren the honor of being particularly obnoxious to the malice of the Evil One. "The ministers of God," says he, "are more dogged by the Devil than other persons are."

Without a knowledge of this sentiment, the witchcraft delusion of our fathers cannot be understood. They were under an impression, that the Devil, having failed to prevent the progress of knowledge in Europe, had abandoned his efforts to obstruct it effectually there; had withdrawn into the American wilderness, intending here to make a final stand; and had resolved to retain an undiminished empire over the whole continent and his pagan allies, the native inhabitants. Our fathers accounted for the extraordinary descent and incursions of the Evil One among them, in 1692, on the supposition that it was a desperate effort to prevent them from bringing civilization and Christianity within his favorite retreat; and their souls were fired with the glorious thought, that, by carrying on the war with vigor against him and his confederates, the witches, they would become chosen and honored[i.394] instruments in the hand of God for breaking down and abolishing the last stronghold on the earth of the kingdom of darkness.

That this opinion was not merely a conceit of their vanity, or an overweening estimate of their local importance, but a calm, deliberate conviction entertained by others as well as themselves, can be shown by abundant evidence from the literature of that period. I will quote a single illustration of the form in which this thought occupied their minds. The subject is worthy of being thoroughly appreciated, as it affords the key that opens to view the motives and sentiments which gave the mighty impetus to the witchcraft prosecution here in New England.

Joseph Mede, B.D., Fellow of Christ's College, in Cambridge, England, died in 1638, at the age of fifty-three years. He was perhaps, all things considered, the most profound scholar of his times. His writings give evidence of a brilliant genius and an enlightened spirit. They were held in the highest esteem by his contemporaries of all denominations, and in all parts of Europe. He was a Churchman; but had, to a remarkable degree, the confidence of nonconformists. He entertained, as will appear by what follows, in the boldest form, the then prevalent opinions concerning diabolical agency and influence; but, at the same time, was singularly free from some of the worst traits of superstition and bigotry. His intimacy with the learned Dr. William Ames, and the general tone and tendency of his writings, naturally made him an[i.395] authority with Protestants, particularly the Pilgrims and Puritans of New England. His posthumous writings, published in 1652, are exceedingly interesting. They contain fragments found among his papers, brief discussions of points of criticism, philosophy, and theology, and a varied correspondence on such subjects with eminent men of his day. Among his principal correspondents was Dr. William Twiss, himself a person of much ingenious learning, and whom John Norton, as we are told by Cotton Mather, "loved and admired" above all men of that age. The following passages between them illustrate the point before us.

In a letter dated March 2, 1634, Twiss writes thus:—

"Now, I beseech you, let me know what your opinion is of our English plantations in the New World. Heretofore, I have wondered in my thoughts at the providence of God concerning that world; not discovered till this Old World of ours is almost at an end; and then no footsteps found of the knowledge of the true God, much less of Christ; and then considering our English plantations of late, and the opinion of many grave divines concerning the gospel's fleeting westward. Sometimes I have had such thoughts, Why may not that be the place of the New Jerusalem? But you have handsomely and fully cleared me from such odd conceits. But what, I pray? Shall our English there degenerate, and join themselves with Gog and Magog? We have heard lately divers ways, that our people there have no hope of the conversion of the natives. And, the very week after I received your last letter, I saw a letter, written from New[i.396] England, discoursing of an impossibility of subsisting there; and seems to prefer the confession of God's truth in any condition here in Old England, rather than run over to enjoy their liberty there; yea, and that the gospel is like to be more dear in New England than in Old. And, lastly, unless they be exceeding careful, and God wonderfully merciful, they are like to lose that life and zeal for God and his truth in New England which they enjoyed in Old; as whereof they have already woful experience, and many there feel it to their smart."

Mr. Mede's answer was as follows:—

"Concerning our plantations in the American world, I wish them as well as anybody; though I differ from them far, both in other things, and on the grounds they go upon. And though there be but little hope of the general conversion of those natives or any considerable part of that continent, yet I suppose it may be a work pleasing to Almighty God and our blessed Saviour to affront the Devil with the sound of the gospel and the cross of Christ, in those places where he had thought to have reigned securely, and out of the din thereof; and, though we make no Christians there, yet to bring some thither to disturb and vex him, where he reigned without check.

"For that I may reveal my conceit further, though perhaps I cannot prove it, yet I think thus,—that those countries were first inhabited since our Saviour and his apostles' times, and not before; yea, perhaps, some ages after, there being no signs or footsteps found among them, or any monuments of older habitation, as there is with us.

"That the Devil, being impatient of the sound of the gospel and cross of Christ, in every part of this Old World,[i.397] so that he could in no place be quiet for it; and foreseeing that he was like to lose all here; so he thought to provide himself of a seed over which he might reign securely, and in a place ubi nec Pelopidarum facta neque nomen audiret. That, accordingly, he drew a colony out of some of those barbarous nations dwelling upon the Northern Ocean (whither the sound of Christ had not yet come), and promising them by some oracle to show them a country far better than their own (which he might soon do), pleasant and large, where never man yet inhabited; he conducted them over those desert lands and islands (of which there are many in that sea) by the way of the north into America, which none would ever have gone, had they not first been assured there was a passage that way into a more desirable country. Namely, as when the world apostatized from the worship of the true God, God called Abraham out of Chaldee into the land of Canaan, of him to raise a seed to preserve a light unto his name: so the Devil, when he saw the world apostatizing from him, laid the foundations of a new kingdom, by deducting this colony from the north into America, where they have increased since into an innumerable multitude. And where did the Devil ever reign more absolutely, and without control, since mankind first fell under his clutches?

"And here it is to be noted, that the story of the Mexican kingdom (which was not founded above four hundred years before ours came thither) relates, out of their own memorials and traditions, that they came to that place from the north, whence their god, Vitziliputzli, led them, going in an ark before them: and, after divers years' travel and many stations (like enough after some generations), they came to the place which the sign he had given them at[i.398] their first setting-forth pointed out; where they were to finish their travels, build themselves a city, and their god a temple, which is the place where Mexico was built. Now, if the Devil were God's ape in this, why might he not be likewise in bringing the first colony of men into that world out of ours? namely, by oracle, as God did Abraham out of Chaldee, whereto I before resembled it.

"But see the hand of Divine Providence. When the offspring of these runagates from the sound of Christ's gospel had now replenished that other world, and began to flourish in those two kingdoms of Peru and Mexico, Christ our Lord sends his mastives, the Spaniards, to hunt them out, and worry them; which they did in so hideous a manner, as the like thereunto scarce ever was done since the sons of Noah came out of the ark. What an affront to the Devil was this, where he had thought to have reigned securely, and been for ever concealed from the knowledge of the followers of Christ!

"Yet the Devil perhaps is less grieved for the loss of his servants by the destroying of them, than he would be to lose them by the saving of them; by which latter way, I doubt the Spaniards have despoiled him but of a few. What, then, if Christ our Lord will give him his second affront with better Christians, which may be more grievous to him than the former? And, if Christ shall set him up a light in this manner to dazzle and torment the Devil at his own home, I hope they (viz., the Americans) shall not so far degenerate (not all of them) as to come into that army of Gog and Magog against the kingdom of Christ, but be translated thither before the Devil be loosed; if not, presently after his tying up."

[i.399]

Dr. Twiss, in a reply to the above, dated April 6, 1635, thanks Mede for his letter, which he says he read "with recreation and delight;" and, particularly in reference to the "peopling of the New World," he affirms that there is "more in this letter of yours than formerly I have been acquainted with. Your conceit thereabouts, if I have any judgment, is grave and ponderous."

This correspondence, while it serves as a specimen of the style of Mede, is a remarkable instance of the power of a sagacious intellect to penetrate through the darkness of theoretical and fanciful errors, and behold the truth that lies behind and beyond. The whole superstructure of the Devil, his oracles, and his schemes of policy and dominion, covers, in this brief familiar epistle, what is, I suppose, the theory most accredited at this day of the origin and traduction of the aboriginal races of America, proceeding from the nearest portions of the ancient continent on the North, and advancing down over the vast spaces towards Central and South America. The letter also foreshadows the decisive conflict which is here to be waged between the elements of freedom and slavery, between social and political systems that will rescue and exalt humanity, and those which depress and degrade it. In the phraseology of that age, it was to be determined whether—the Old World, in the language of Twiss, "being almost at an end"—a "light" should be "set up" here to usher in the "kingdom of Christ,"[i.400] or America also be for ever given over to the "army of Gog and Magog."

Our fathers were justified in feeling that this was the sense of their responsibility entertained by all learned men and true Christians in the Old World; and they were ready to meet and discharge it faithfully and manfully. They were told, and they believed, that it had fallen to their lot to be the champions of the cross of Christ against the power of the Devil. They felt, as I have said, that they were fighting him in his last stronghold, and they were determined to "tie him up" for ever.

This is the true and just explanation of their general policy of administration, in other matters, as well as in the witchcraft prosecutions.

The conclusion to which we are brought, by a review of the seventeenth century up to the period when the prosecutions took place here, is, that the witchcraft delusion pervaded the whole civilized world and every profession and department of society. It received the sanction of all the learned and distinguished English judges who flourished within the century, from Sir Edward Coke to Sir Matthew Hale. It was countenanced by the greatest philosophers and physicians, and was embraced by men of the highest genius and accomplishments, even by Lord Bacon himself. It was established by the convocation of bishops, and preached by the clergy. Dr. Henry More, of Christ's College, Cambridge, in addition to his admirable poetical and philosophical works, wrote volumes to defend it. It[i.401] was considered as worthy of the study of the most cultivated and liberal minds to discover and distinguish "a true witch by proper trials and symptoms." The excellent Dr. Calamy has already been mentioned in this connection; and Richard Baxter wrote his work entitled "The Certainty of the World of Spirits," for the special purpose of confirming and diffusing the belief. He kept up a correspondence with Cotton Mather, and with his father, Increase Mather, through the medium of which he stimulated and encouraged them in their proceedings against supposed witches in Boston and elsewhere. The divines of that day seem to have persuaded themselves into the belief that the doctrines of demonology were essential to the gospel, and that the rejection of them was equivalent to infidelity. A writer in one of our modern journals, in speaking of the prosecutions for witchcraft, happily and justly observes, "It was truly hazardous to oppose those judicial murders. If any one ventured to do so, the Catholics burned him as a heretic, and the Protestants had a vehement longing to hang him for an atheist." The writings of Dr. More, of Baxter, Glanvil, Perkins, and others, had been circulating for a long time in New England before the trials began at Salem. It was such a review of the history of opinion as we have now made, which led Dr. Bentley to declare that "the agency of invisible beings, if not a part of every religion, is not contrary to any one. It may be found in all ages, and in the most remote countries. It is then no just subject for our admiration, that a[i.402] belief so alarming to our fears, so natural to our prejudices, and so easily abused by superstition, should obtain among our fathers, when it had not been rejected in the ages of philosophy, letters, and even revelation."

The works on demonology, the legal proceedings in prosecutions, and the phraseology of the people, gave more or less definite form to certain prominent points which may be summarily noticed. Several terms and expressions were employed to characterize persons supposed to be conversant with supernatural and magic art; such as diviner, enchanter, charmer, conjurer, necromancer, fortune-teller, soothsayer, augur, and sorcerer. These words are sometimes used as more or less synonymous, although, strictly speaking, they have meanings quite distinct. But none of them convey the idea attached to the name of witch. It was sometimes especially used to signify a female, while wizard was exclusively applied to a male. The distinction was not, however, often attempted to be made; the former title being prevailingly applied to either sex. A witch was regarded as a person who had made an actual, deliberate, formal compact with Satan, by which it was agreed that she should become his faithful subject, and do all in her power to aid him in his rebellion against God and his warfare against the gospel and church of Christ; and, in consideration of such allegiance and service, Satan, on his part, agreed to exercise his supernatural powers in her favor, and communicate to her those powers, in a greater or less[i.403] degree, as she proved herself an efficient and devoted supporter of his cause. Thus, a witch was considered as a person who had transferred allegiance and worship from God to the Devil.

The existence of this compact was supposed to confer great additional power on the Devil, as well as on his new subject; for the doctrine seems to have prevailed, that, for him to act with effect upon men, the intervention, instrumentality, and co-operation of human beings was necessary; and almost unlimited potency was ascribed to the combined exertions of Satan and those persons in league with him. A witch was believed to have the power, through her compact with the Devil, of afflicting, distressing, and rending whomsoever she would. She could cause them to pine away, throw them into the most frightful convulsions, choke, bruise, pierce, and craze them, subjecting them to every description of pain, disease, and torture, and even to death itself. She was believed to possess the faculty of being present, in her shape or apparition, at a different place, at any distance whatever, from that which her actual body occupied. Indeed, an indefinite amount of supernatural ability, and a boundless freedom and variety of methods for its exercise, were supposed to result from the diabolical compact. Those upon whom she thus exercised her malignant and mysterious energies were said to be bewitched.

Beside these infernal powers, the alliance with Satan was believed to confer knowledge such as no other mortal possessed. The witch could perform the same[i.404] wonders, in giving information of the things that belong to the invisible world, which is alleged in our day, by spirit-rappers, to be received through mediums. She could read inmost thoughts, suggest ideas to the minds of the absent, throw temptations in the path of those whom she desired to delude and destroy, bring up the spirits of the departed, and hear from them the secrets of their lives and of their deaths, and their experiences in the scenes of being on which they entered at their departure from this.

When we consider that these opinions were not merely prevalent among the common people, but sanctioned by learning and philosophy, science and jurisprudence; that they possessed an authority, which but few ventured to question and had been firmly established by the convictions of centuries,—none can be surprised at the alarm it created, when the belief became current, that there were those in the community, and even in the churches, who had actually entered into this dark confederacy against God and heaven, religion and virtue; and that individuals were beginning to suffer from their diabolical power. It cannot be considered strange, that men looked with more than common horror upon persons against whom what was regarded as overwhelming evidence was borne of having engaged in this conspiracy with all that was evil, and this treason against all that was good.

Elaborate works, scientific, philosophical, and judicial in their pretensions and reputation,—to some of which reference has been made,—defined and par[i.405]ticularized the various forms of evidence by which the crime of confederacy with Satan could be proved.

It was believed that the Devil affixed his mark to the bodies of those in alliance with him, and that the point where this mark was made became callous and dead. The law provided, specifically, the means of detecting and identifying this sign. It required that the prisoner should be subjected to the scrutiny of a jury of the same sex, who would make a minute inspection of the body, shaving the head and handling every part. They would pierce it with pins; and if, as might have been expected, particularly in aged persons, any spot could be found insensible to the torture, or any excrescence, induration, or fixed discoloration, it was looked upon as visible evidence and demonstration of guilt. A physician or "chirurgeon" was required to be present at these examinations. In conducting them, there was liability to great roughness and unfeeling recklessness of treatment; and the whole procedure was barbarous and shocking to every just and delicate sensibility. There is reason to believe, that, in the trials here, there was more considerateness, humanity, and regard to a sense of decent propriety, than in similar proceedings in other countries, so far as this branch of the investigation is regarded.

Another accredited field of evidence, recognized in the books and in legal proceedings, was as follows: It was believed, that, when witches found it inconvenient from any cause to execute their infernal designs upon[i.406] those whom they wished to afflict by going to them in their natural human persons, they transformed themselves into the likeness of some animal,—a dog, hog, cat, rat, mouse, or toad; birds—particularly yellow birds—were often imagined to perform this service, as representing witches or the Devil. They also had imps under their control. These imps were generally supposed to bear the resemblance of some small insect,—such as a fly or a spider. The latter animal was prevailingly considered as most likely to act in this character. The accused person was closely watched, in order that the spider imp might be seen when it approached to obtain its nourishment, as it was thought to do, from the witchmark on the body of the culprit. Within the cells of a prison, spiders were, of course, often seen. Whenever one made its appearance, the guard attacked it with all the zeal and vehemence with which it was natural and proper to assault an agent of the Wicked One. If the spider was killed in the encounter, it was considered as an innocent animal, and all suspicion was removed from its character as the diabolical confederate of the prisoner; but if it escaped into a crack or crevice of the apartment, as spiders often do when assailed, all doubt of its guilty connection with the person accused of witchcraft was removed: it was set down as, beyond question or cavil, her veritable imp; and the evidence of her confederacy with Satan was thenceforward regarded as complete. The books of law and other learned writings, as well as the practice of courts in the old[i.407] countries, recognized this doctrine of transformation into the shapes of animals, and the employment of imps. Where judicial tribunals countenanced the popular credulity in maintaining these ideas, there was no security for innocence, and no escape from wrong. No matter how clear and certain the evidence adduced, that an accused individual, at the time alleged, was absent from the specified place; no matter how far distant, whether twenty or a thousand miles, it availed him nothing; for it was charged that he was present, and acted through his agent or imp. This notion was further enlarged by the establishment of the additional doctrine, that a witch could be present, and act with demoniac power upon her victims, anywhere, at all times, and at any distance, without the instrumental agency of any other animal or being, in her spirit, spectre, or apparition. When the person on trial was accused of having tortured or strangled or pinched or bruised another, it did not break the force of the accusation to bring hundreds of witnesses to prove that he was, at the very time, in another remote place or country; for it was alleged that he was present in the spectral shape in which Satan enabled his spirit to be and to act any and every where at once. It was impossible to disprove the charge, and the last defence of innocence was swept away.

If any thing strange or remarkable could be discovered in the persons, histories, or deportment of accused persons, the usage of the tribunals, and the books of authority on the subject, allowed it to be brought in[i.408] evidence against them. If any thing they had forewarned, or even conjectured, happened to come to pass, any careless speech had been verified by events, any extraordinary knowledge had been manifested, or any marvellous feats of strength or agility been displayed, they were brought up with decisive and fatal effect.

A witch was believed to have the power of operating upon her victims, at any distance, by the instrumentality of puppets. She would procure or make an object like a doll, or a figure of some animal,—any little bunch of cloth or bundle of rags would answer the purpose. She would will the puppet to represent the person whom she proposed to torment or afflict; and then whatever she did to the puppet would be suffered by the party it represented at any distance, however remote. A pin stuck into the puppet would pierce the flesh of the person whom she wished to afflict, and produce the appropriate sensations of pain. So would a pinch, or a blow, or any kind of violence. When any one was arrested on the charge of witchcraft, a search was immediately made for puppets from garret to cellar; and if any thing could be found that might possibly be imagined to possess that character,—any remnant of flannel or linen wrapped up, the foot of an old stocking, or a cushion of any kind, particularly if there were any pins in it,—it was considered as weighty and quite decisive evidence against the accused party.

A writer, in a recent number of the "North-Ameri[i.409]can Review," on the superstitions of the American Indians, makes the following statement:—

"The sorcerer, by charms, magic songs, magic feats, and the beating of his drum, had power over the spirits, and those occult influences inherent in animals and inanimate things. He could call to him the souls of his enemies. They appeared before him in the form of stones. He chopped and bruised them with his hatchet; blood and flesh issued forth; and the intended victim, however distant, languished and died. Like the sorcerer of the middle ages, he made images of those he wished to destroy, and, muttering incantations, punctured them with an awl; whereupon the persons represented sickened and pined away."

It was a received opinion, accredited and acted upon in courts, that a person in confederacy with the Evil One could not weep. Those accused of this crime, both in Europe and America, were, in many instances, of an age and condition which rendered it impossible for them, however innocent, to escape the effect of this test. A decrepit, emaciated person, shrivelled and desiccated by age, was placed at the bar: and if she could not weep on the spot; if, in consequence of her withered frame, her amazement and indignation at the false and malignant charges by which she was circumvented, her exhausted sensibility, her sullen despair, the hopeless horror of her situation, or, from what often was found to be the effect of the treatment such persons received, a high-toned consciousness of innocence, and a brave defiance and stern condemnation of her maligners and persecutors; if, from any cause,[i.410] the fountain of tears was closed or dried up,—their failure to come forth at the bidding of her defamers was regarded as a sure and irrefragable proof of her guilt.

King James explains the circumstance, that witches could not weep, in rather a curious manner:—

"For as, in a secret murther, if the dead carkasse bee at any time thereafter handled by the murtherer it will gush out of bloud, as if the bloud were crying to the heaven for revenge of the murtherer, God having appointed that secret supernaturall signe for triall of that secret unnaturall crime; so it appeares that God hath appointed (for a supernaturall signe of the monstrous impietie of witches), that the water shall refuse to receive them in her bosome that have shaken off them the sacred water of baptisme, and wilfully refused the benefite thereof: no, not so much as their eyes are able to shed teares (threaten and torture them as ye please), while first they repent (God not permitting them to dissemble their obstinacie in so horrible a crime), albeit the woman kind especially be able otherwise to shed teares at every light occasion when they will,—yea, although it were dissemblingly like the crocodiles."

Reginald Scott, in introducing a Romish form of adjuration, makes the following excellent remarks on the trial by tears:—

"But alas that teares should be thought sufficient to excuse or condemn in so great a cause, and so weightie a triall! I am sure that the worst sort of the children of Israel wept bitterlie; yea, if there were any witches at all in Israel, they wept. For it is written, that all the children[i.411] of Israel wept. Finallie, if there be any witches in hell, I am sure they weepe; for there is weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. But God knoweth many an honest matron cannot sometimes in the heaviness of her heart shed teares; the which oftentimes are more readie and common with crafty queans and strumpets than with sober women. For we read of two kinds of teares in a woman's eie; the one of true greefe, and the other of deceipt. And it is written, that 'Dediscere flere foeminam est mendacium;' which argueth that they lie, which saie that wicked women cannot weepe. But let these tormentors take heed, that the teares in this case which runne down the widowe's cheeks, with their crie, spoken of by Jesus Sirach, be not heard above. But, lo, what learned, godlie and lawful meanes these Popish Inquisitors have invented for the triall of true or false teares:—

'I conjure thee, by the amorous tears which Jesus Christ, our Saviour, shed upon the crosse for the salvation of the world; and by the most earnest and burning teares of his mother, the most glorious Virgine Marie, sprinkled upon his wounds late in the evening; and by all the teares which everie saint and elect vessell of God hath poured out heere in the world, and from whose eies he hath wiped awaie all teares,—that, if thou be without fault, thou maist poure downe teares aboundantlie; and, if thou be guiltie, that thou weep in no wise. In the name of the Father, of the Sonne, and of the Holie Ghost. Amen.'

"The more you conjure, the lesse she weepeth."

A distinction was made between black and white witches. The former were those who had leagued with Satan for the purpose of doing injury to others,[i.412] while the latter class was composed of such persons as had resorted to the arts and charms of divination and sorcery in order to protect themselves and others from diabolical influence. They were both considered as highly, if not equally, criminal. Fuller, in his "Profane State," thus speaks of them: "Better is it to lap one's pottage like a dog, than to eat it mannerly, with a spoon of the Devil's giving. Black witches hurt and do mischief; but, in deeds of darkness, there is no difference of colors. The white and the black are both guilty alike in compounding with the Devil." White witches pretended to extract their power from the mysterious virtues of certain plants. The following form of charmed words was used in plucking them:—

"Hail to thee, holy herb,
Growing in the ground;
On the Mount of Calvarie,
First wert thou found;
Thou art good for many a grief,
And healest many a wound:
In the name of sweet Jesu,
I lift thee from the ground."

Then there was the evidence of ocular fascination. The accused and the accusers were brought into the presence of the examining magistrate, and the supposed witch was ordered to look upon the afflicted persons; instantly upon coming within the glance of her eye, they would scream out, and fall down as in a fit. It was thought that an invisible and impalpable fluid darted from the eye of the witch, and penetrated the brain of the bewitched. By bringing the witch so[i.413] near that she could touch the afflicted persons with her hand, the malignant fluid was attracted back into her hand, and the sufferers recovered their senses. It is singular to notice the curious resemblance between this opinion—the joint product of superstition and imposture—and the results to which modern science has led us in the discoveries of galvanism and animal electricity. The doctrine of fascination maintained its hold upon the public credulity for a long time, and gave occasion to the phrase, still in familiar use among us, of "looking upon a person with an evil eye." Its advocates claimed, in its defence, the authority of the Cartesian philosophy; but it cannot be considered, in an age of science and reason, as having any better support than the rural superstition of Virgil's simple shepherd, who thus complains of the condition of his emaciated flock:—

"They look so thin,
Their bones are barely covered with their skin.
What magic has bewitched the woolly dams?
And what ill eyes beheld the tender lambs?"

Witchcraft, in all ages and countries, was recognized as a reality, just as much as any of the facts of nature, or incidents to which mankind is liable. By the laws of all nations, Catholic and Protestant alike, in the old country and in the new, it was treated as a capital offence, and classed with murder and other highest crimes, although regarded as of a deeper dye and blacker character than them all. Indictments and trials of persons accused of it were not, therefore,[i.414] considered as of any special interest, or as differing in any essential particulars from proceedings against any other description of offenders. There had been many such proceedings in the American colonies,—more, perhaps, than have come to our knowledge,—previous to 1692. They were not looked upon as sufficiently extraordinary to be transferred, from the oblivion sweeping like a perpetual deluge over the vast multitude of human experiences, to the ark of history, which rescues only a select few. The following are the principal facts of this class of which we have information:—

William Penn presided, in his judicial character, at the trial of two Swedish women for witchcraft; the grand jury, acting under instructions from him, having found bills against them. They were saved, not in consequence of any peculiar reluctance to proceed against them arising out of the nature of the alleged crime, but only from some technical defect in the indictment. If it had not been for this accidental circumstance, as the annalist of Philadelphia suggests, scenes similar to those subsequently occurring in Salem Village might have darkened the history of the Quakers, Swedes, Germans, and Dutch, who dwelt in the City of Brotherly Love and the adjacent colonies. There had been trials and executions for witchcraft in other parts of New England, and excitements had obtained more or less currency in reference to the assaults of the powers of darkness upon human affairs. These incidents prepared the way for the delusion in Salem, and[i.415] provided elements to form its character. They must not, therefore, be wholly overlooked. But the memorials for their elucidation are very defective. Hutchinson's "History of Massachusetts" is, perhaps, the most valuable authority on the subject. He enjoyed an advantage over any other writer, before, since, or hereafter, so far as relates to the witchcraft proceedings in 1692; for he had access to all the records and documents connected with it, a great part of which have subsequently been lost or destroyed. His treatment of that particular topic is more satisfactory than can elsewhere be found. But of incidents of the sort that preceded it, his information appears to have been very slight and unreliable. It is a singular fact, that we know more of the history of the first century of New England than was known by the most enlightened persons of the intermediate century. There was no regular organized newspaper press, the commemorative age had not begun, and none seem to have been fully aware of the importance of putting events on record. The publication, but a few years since, of the colonial journals of the first half-century of Massachusetts; researches by innumerable hands among papers on file in public offices; the printing of town-histories, and the collections made by historical and genealogical societies,—have rescued from oblivion, and redeemed from error, many points of the greatest interest and importance.

Winthrop, in his "Journal," gives an account of the execution of Margaret Jones, of Charlestown, who had been tried and condemned by the Court of Assistants.[i.416] The charges against her were, that she had a malignant touch, so that many persons,—"men, women, and children,"—on coming in contact with her, were "taken with deafness, vomiting, or other violent pains or sickness;" that she practised physic, and her medicines, "being such things as (by her own confession) were harmless, as aniseed, liquors, &c., yet had extraordinary violent effects;" and that they found on her body, "upon a forced search," the witchmarks, particularly "a teat, as fresh if it had been newly sucked." Other ridiculous allegations were made against her. As for the effects of the touch, it is obvious that they could be easily simulated by evil-disposed persons. The whole substance of her offence seems to have been, that she was very successful in the use of simple prescriptions for the cure of diseases. Her practice was charged as "against the ordinary course, and beyond the apprehension of all physicians and surgeons." A bitter animosity was, accordingly, raised against her. She treated her accusers and defamers with indignant resentment. "Her behavior at her trial," says Winthrop, "was very intemperate, lying notoriously, and railing upon the jury and witnesses, &c.; and, in the like distemper, she died." We shall find that the bold assertion of innocence, and indignant denunciations of the persecutors and defamers who had destroyed their reputations and pursued them to the death, by persons tried and executed for witchcraft, in 1692, were regarded by some, as they were by Winthrop, as proofs of ill-temper and falsehood. The Governor closes his statement[i.417] about Margaret Jones, by relating what he regarded as a demonstration of her guilt: "The same day and hour she was executed, there was a very great tempest at Connecticut, which blew down many trees, &c." The records of the General Court contain no express notice of this case. Perhaps it is referred to in the following paragraph, under date of May 13, 1648:—

"This Court, being desirous that the same course which hath been taken in England for the discovery of witches, by watching, may also be taken here, with the witch now in question, and therefore do order that a strict watch be set about her every night, and that her husband be confined to a private room, and watched also."

Margaret Jones was executed in Boston on the 15th of June. Hutchinson refers to the statement made by Johnson, in the "Wonder-working Providence," that "more than one or two in Springfield, in 1645, were suspected of witchcraft; that much diligence was used, both for the finding them and for the Lord's assisting them against their witchery; yet have they, as is supposed, bewitched not a few persons, among whom two of the reverend elder's children." Johnson's loose and immethodical narrative covers the period from 1645 till toward the end of 1651; and Hutchinson was probably misled in supposing that the Springfield cases occurred as early as 1645. The Massachusetts colonial records, under the date of May 8, 1651, have this entry:[i.418]—

"The Court, understanding that Mary Parsons, now in prison, accused for a witch, is likely, through weakness, to die before trial, if it be deferred, do order, that, on the morrow, by eight o'clock in the morning, she be brought before and tried by the General Court, the rather that Mr. Pinchon may be present to give his testimony in the case."

Mr. Pinchon was probably able to stay a few days longer. She was not brought to trial before the Court until the 13th, under which date is the following:—

"Mary Parsons, wife of Hugh Parsons, of Springfield, being committed to prison for suspicion of witchcraft, as also for murdering her own child, was this day called forth, and indicted for witchcraft. 'By the name of Mary Parsons, you are here, before the General Court, charged, in the name of this Commonwealth, that, not having the fear of God before your eyes nor in your heart, being seduced by the Devil, and yielding to his malicious motion, about the end of February last, at Springfield, to have familiarity, or consulted with, a familiar spirit, making a covenant with him; and have used divers devilish practices by witchcraft, to the hurt of the persons of Martha and Rebecca Moxon, against the word of God and the laws of this jurisdiction, long since made and published.' To which indictment she pleaded 'Not guilty.' All evidences brought in against her being heard and examined, the Court found the evidences were not sufficient to prove her a witch, and therefore she was cleared in that respect.

"At the same time, she was indicted for murdering her child. 'By the name of Mary Parsons, you are here, before the General Court, charged, in the name of this Common[i.419]wealth, that, not having the fear of God before your eyes nor in your heart, being seduced by the Devil, and yielding to his instigations and the wickedness of your own heart, about the beginning of March last, in Springfield, in or near your own house, did wilfully and most wickedly murder your own child, against the word of God and the laws of this jurisdiction, long since made and published.' To which she acknowledged herself guilty.

"The Court, finding her guilty of murder by her own confession, &c., proceeded to judgment: 'You shall be carried from this place to the place from whence you came, and from thence to the place of execution, and there hang till you be dead.'"

Under the same date—May 13—is an order of the Court appointing a day of humiliation "throughout our jurisdiction in all the churches," in consideration, among other things, of the extent to which "Satan prevails amongst us in respect of witchcrafts."

The colonial records, under date of May 31, 1652, recite the facts, that Hugh Parsons, of Springfield, had been tried before the Court of Assistants—held at Boston, May 12, 1652—for witchcraft; that the case was transferred to a "jury of trials," which found him guilty. The magistrates not consenting to the verdict of the jury, the case came legally to the General Court, which body decided that "he was not legally guilty of witchcraft, and so not to die by law."

When these citations are collated and examined, and it is remembered that Mr. Moxon was the "reverend elder" of the church at Springfield, it cannot be doubted[i.420] that the case of the Parsonses is that referred to by Johnson in the "Wonder-working Providence," and that Hutchinson was in error as to the date. We are left in doubt as to the fate of Mary Parsons. There is a marginal entry on the records, to the effect that she was reprieved to the 29th of May. Neither Johnson nor Hutchinson seem to have thought that the sentence was ever carried into effect. It clearly never ought to have been. The woman was in a weak and dying condition, her mind was probably broken down,—the victim of that peculiar kind of mania—partaking of the character of a religious fanaticism and perversion of ideas—that has often led to child-murder.

These instances show, that, at that time, the General Court exercised consideration and discrimination in the treatment of questions of this kind brought before it.

Hutchinson, on the authority of Hale, says that a woman at Dorchester, and another at Cambridge, were executed, not far from this time, for witchcraft; and that they asserted their innocence with their dying breath. He also says, that, in 1650, "a poor wretch,—Mary Oliver,—probably weary of her life from the general reputation of being a witch, after long examination, was brought to a confession of her guilt; but I do not find that she was executed."

In 1656, a very remarkable case occurred. William Hibbins was a merchant in Boston, and one of the most prominent and honored citizens of Massachusetts. He was admitted a freeman in 1640; was deputy in the[i.421] General Court in that and the following year; was elected an assistant for twelve successive years,—from 1643 to 1654; represented the Colony, for a time, as its agent in England, and received the thanks of the General Court for his valuable service there. No one appears to have had more influence, or to have enjoyed more honorable distinction, during his long legislative career. He died in 1654. Hutchinson says, in the text of his first and second volumes, that his widow was tried, condemned, and hanged as a witch in 1655, although he corrects the error in a note to the passage in the first volume. The following is the statement of the case in the Massachusetts colonial records, under the date of May 14, 1656:—

"The magistrates not receiving the verdict of the jury in Mrs. Hibbins her case, having been on trial for witchcraft, it came and fell, of course, to the General Court. Mrs. Ann Hibbins was called forth, appeared at the bar, the indictment against her was read; to which she answered, 'Not guilty,' and was willing to be tried by God and this Court. The evidence against her was read, the parties witnessing being present, her answers considered on; and the whole Court, being met together, by their vote, determined that Mrs. Ann Hibbins is guilty of witchcraft, according to the bill of indictment found against her by the jury of life and death. The Governor, in open Court, pronounced sentence accordingly; declaring she was to go from the bar to the place from whence she came, and from thence to the place of execution, and there to hang till she was dead.

"It is ordered, that warrant shall issue out from the secretary to the marshal general, for the execution of Mrs. Hib[i.422]bins, on the fifth day next come fortnight, presently after the lecture at Boston, being the 19th of June next; the marshal general taking with him a sufficient guard."

Mrs. Hibbins is stated to have been a sister of Richard Bellingham, at that very time deputy-governor, and always regarded as one of the chief men in the country. Strange to say, very little notice appears to have been taken of this event, beyond the immediate locality; but what little has come down to us indicates that it was a case of outrageous folly and barbarity, justly reflecting infamy upon the community at the time. Hutchinson, who wrote a hundred years after the event, and evidently had no other foundation for his opinion than vague conjectural tradition, gives the following explanation of the proceedings against her: "Losses, in the latter part of her husband's life, had reduced his estate, and increased the natural crabbedness of his wife's temper, which made her turbulent and quarrelsome, and brought her under church censures, and at length rendered her so odious to her neighbors as to cause some of them to accuse her of witchcraft."

While this is hardly worthy of being considered a sufficient explanation of the matter,—it being beyond belief, that, even at that time, a person could be condemned and executed merely on account of a "crabbed temper,"—it is not consistent with the facts, as made known to us from the record-offices. She could not have been so reduced in circumstances as to produce such extraordinary effects upon her character, for she[i.423] left a good estate. The truth is, that the tongue of slander was let loose upon her, and the calumnies circulated by reckless gossip became so magnified and exaggerated, and assumed such proportions, as enabled her vilifiers to bring her under the censure of the church, and that emboldened them to cry out against her as a witch. Hutchinson expresses the opinion that she was the victim of popular clamor. But that alone, without some pretence or show of evidence, could not have brought the General Court, in reversal of the judgment of the magistrates, to condemn to death a person of such a high social position.

The only clue we have to the kind of evidence bearing upon the charge of witchcraft that brought this recently bereaved widow to so cruel and shameful a death, is in a letter, written by a clergyman in Jamaica to Increase Mather in 1684, in which he says, "You may remember what I have sometimes told you your famous Mr. Norton once said at his own table,—before Mr. Wilson, the pastor, elder Penn, and myself and wife, &c., who had the honor to be his guests,—that one of your magistrate's wives, as I remember, was hanged for a witch only for having more wit than her neighbors. It was his very expression; she having, as he explained it, unhappily guessed that two of her persecutors, whom she saw talking in the street, were talking of her, which, proving true, cost her her life, notwithstanding all he could do to the contrary, as he himself told us." Nothing was more natural than for her to suppose, knowing the parties, witnessing their[i.424] manner, considering their active co-operation in getting up the excitement against her, which was then the all-engrossing topic, that they were talking about her. But, in the blind infatuation of the time, it was considered proof positive of her being possessed, by the aid of the Devil, of supernatural insight,—precisely as, forty years afterwards, such evidence was brought to bear, with telling effect, against George Burroughs.—The body of this unfortunate lady was searched for witchmarks, and her trunks and premises rummaged for puppets.

It is quite evident that means were used to get up a violent popular excitement against her, which became so formidable as to silence every voice that dared to speak in her favor. Joshua Scottow, a citizen of great respectability and a selectman, ventured to give evidence in her favor, counter, in its bearings, to some testimony against her; and he was dealt with very severely, and compelled to write an humble apology to the Court, to disavow all friendly interest in Mrs. Hibbins, and to pray "that the sword of justice may be drawn forth against all wickedness." He says, "I am cordially sorry that any thing from me, either by word or writing, should give offence to the honored Court, my dear brethren in the church, or any others."

Hutchinson states that there were, however, some persons then in Boston, who denounced the proceedings against Mrs. Hibbins, and regarded her, not merely as a persecuted woman, but as "a saint;" that a deep feeling of resentment against her persecutors long[i.425] remained in their minds; and that they afterwards "observed solemn marks of Providence set upon those who were very forward to condemn her." It is evident that the Court of Magistrates were opposed to her conviction, and that Mr. Norton did what he could to save her. He was one of the four "great Johns," who were the first ministers of the church in Boston; and it is remarkable, as showing the violence of the people against her, that even his influence was of no avail in her favor. But she had other friends, as appears from her will, which, after all, is the only source of reliable information we have respecting her character. It is dated May 27, 1656, a few days after she received the sentence of death. In it she names, as overseers and administrators of her estate, "Captain Thomas Clarke, Lieutenant Edward Hutchinson, Lieutenant William Hudson, Ensign Joshua Scottow, and Cornet Peter Oliver." In a codicil, she says, "I do earnestly desire my loving friends, Captain Johnson and Mr. Edward Rawson, to be added to the rest of the gentlemen mentioned as overseers of my will." It can hardly be doubted, that these persons—and they were all leading citizens—were known by her to be among her friends.

The whole tone and manner of these instruments give evidence, that she had a mind capable of rising above the power of wrong, suffering, and death itself. They show a spirit calm and serene. The disposition of her property indicates good sense, good feeling, and business faculties suitable to the occasion. In the[i.426] body of the will, there is not a word, a syllable, or a turn of expression, that refers to, or is in the slightest degree colored by, her peculiar situation. In the codicil, dated June 16, there is this sentence: "My desire is, that all my overseers would be pleased to show so much respect unto my dead corpse as to cause it to be decently interred, and, if it may be, near my late husband."

When married to Mr. Hibbins, she was a widow, named Moore. There were no children by her last marriage,—certainly none living at the time of her death. There were three sons by her former marriage,—John, Joseph, and Jonathan. These were all in England; but the youngest, hearing of her situation, embarked for America. When she wrote the codicil,—three days before her execution,—she added, at the end, having apparently just heard of his coming, "I give my son Jonathan twenty pounds, over and above what I have already given him, towards his pains and charge in coming to see me, which shall be first paid out of my estate." There is reason to cherish the belief that he reached her in the short interval between the date of the codicil and her death, from the tenor of the following postscript, written and signed on the morning of her execution: "My further mind and will is, out of my sense of the more than ordinary affection and pains of my son Jonathan in the times of my distress, I give him, as a further legacy, ten pounds." The will was proved in Court, July 2, 1656. The will and codicil speak of her "farms at Muddy River;" and[i.427] of chests and a desk, in which were valuables of such importance that she took especial pains to intrust the keys of them to Edward Rawson, in a provision of the codicil. The estate was inventoried at £344. 14s., which was a considerable property in those days, as money was then valued.

Hutchinson mentions a case of witchcraft in Hartford, in 1662, where some women were accused, and, after being proceeded against until they were confounded and bewildered, one of them made the most preposterous confessions, which ought to have satisfied every one that her reason was overthrown; three of them were condemned, and one, certainly,—probably all,—executed. In 1669, he says that Susanna Martin, of Salisbury,—whom we shall meet again,—was bound over to the Court on the same charge, "but escaped at that time." Another case is mentioned by him as having occurred, in 1671, at Groton, in which the party confessed, and thereby avoided condemnation. In 1673, a case occurred at Hampton; but the jury, although, as they said, there was strong ground of suspicion, returned a verdict of "Not guilty;" the evidence not being deemed quite sufficient. There were several other cases, about this time, in which some persons were severely handled in consequence of being reputed witches; and others suffered, as they imagined, "under an evil hand."

In this immediate neighborhood, there had been several attempts, previous to the delusion at Salem Village in 1692, to get up witchcraft prosecutions,[i.428] but without much success. The people of this county had not become sufficiently infected with the fanaticism of the times to proceed to extremities.

In September, 1652, the following presentment was made by the grand jury:—

"We present John Bradstreet, of Rowley, for suspicion of having familiarity with the Devil. He said he read in a book of magic, and that he heard a voice asking him what work he had for him. He answered, 'Go make a bridge of sand over the sea; go make a ladder of sand up to heaven, and go to God, and come down no more.'

"Witness hereof, Francis Parat and his wife, of Rowley.
"Witness, William Bartholomew, of Ipswich."

On the 28th of that month, the jury at Ipswich, "upon examination of the case, found he had told a lie, which was a second, being convicted once before. The Court sets a fine of twenty shillings, or else to be whipped."

Bradstreet was probably in the habit of romancing, and it was wisely concluded not to take a more serious view of his offences.

In 1658, a singular case of this kind occurred in Essex County. The following papers relating to it illustrate the sentiments and forms of thought prevalent at that time, and give an insight of the state of society in some particulars:—

"To the Honored Court to be holden at Ipswich, this twelfth month, '58 or '59.

"Honored Gentlemen,—Whereas divers of esteem with us, and as we hear in other places also, have for[i.429] some time suffered losses in their estates, and some affliction in their bodies also,—which, as they suppose, doth not arise from any natural cause, or any neglect in themselves, but rather from some ill-disposed person,—that, upon differences had betwixt themselves and one John Godfrey, resident at Andover or elsewhere at his pleasure, we whose names are underwritten do make bold to sue by way of request to this honored court, that you, in your wisdom, will be pleased, if you see cause for it, to call him in question, and to hear, at present or at some after sessions, what may be said in this respect.

"James Davis, Sr., in the behalf of his son Ephraim Davis.
John Haseldin, and Jane his wife.
Abraham Whitaker, for his ox and other things.
Ephraim Davis, in the behalf of himself."

The petitioners mention in brief some instances in confirmation of their complaint. There are several depositions. That of Charles Browne and wife says:—

"About six or seven years since, in the meeting-house of Rowley, being in the gallery in the first seat, there was one in the second seat which he doth, to his best remembrance, think and believe it was John Godfrey. This deponent did see him, yawning, open his mouth; and, while he so yawned, this deponent did see a small teat under his tongue. And, further, this deponent saith that John Godfrey was in this deponent's house about three years since. Speaking about the power of witches, he the said Godfrey spoke, that, if witches were not kindly entertained, the Devil will appear unto them, and ask them if they were grieved or vexed with anybody, and ask them what he should do for them; and, if[i.430] they would not give them beer or victuals, they might let all the beer run out of the cellar; and, if they looked steadfastly upon any creature, it would die; and, if it were hard to some witches to take away life, either of man or beast, yet, when they once begin it, then it is easy to them."

The depositions in this case are presented as they are in the originals on file, leaving in blank such words or parts of words as have been worn off. They are given in full.

"The Deposition of Isabel Holdred, who testifieth that John Godfree came to the house of Henry Blazdall, where her husband and herself were, and demanded a debt of her husband, and said a warrant was out, and Goodman Lord was suddenly to come. John Godfree asked if we would not pay him. The deponent answered, 'Yes, to-night or to-morrow, if we had it; for I believe we shall not ... we are in thy debt.' John Godfree answered, 'That is a bitter word;' ... said, 'I must begin, and must send Goodman Lord.' The deponent answered, '... when thou wilt. I fear thee not, nor all the devils in hell!' And, further, this deponent testifieth, that, two days after this, she was taken with those strange fits, with which she was tormented a fortnight together, night and day. And several apparitions appeared to the deponent in the night. The first night, a humble-bee, the next night a bear, appeared, which grinned the teeth and shook the claw: 'Thou sayest thou art not afraid. Thou thinkest Harry Blazdall's house will save thee.' The deponent answered, 'I hope the Lord Jesus Christ will save me.' The apparition then spake: 'Thou sayst thou art not afraid of all the devils in hell; but I will[i.431] have thy heart's blood within a few hours!' The next was the apparition of a great snake, at which the deponent was exceedingly affrighted, and skipt to Nathan Gold, who was in the opposite chimney-corner, and caught hold of the hair of his head; and her speech was taken away for the space of half an hour. The next night appeared a great horse; and, Thomas Hayne being there, the deponent told him of it, and showed him where. The said Tho. Hayne took a stick, and struck at the place where the apparition was; and his stroke glanced by the side of it, and it went under the table. And he went to strike again; then the apparition fled to the ... and made it shake, and went away. And, about a week after, the deponent ... son were at the door of Nathan Gold, and heard a rushing on the ... The deponent said to her son, 'Yonder is a beast.' He answered, ''Tis one of Goodman Cobbye's black oxen;' and it came toward them, and came within ... yards of them. The deponent her heart began to ache, for it seemed to have great eyes; and spoke to the boy, 'Let's go in.' But suddenly the ox beat her up against the wall, and struck her down; and she was much hurt by it, not being able to rise up. But some others carried me into the house, all my face being bloody, being much bruised. The boy was much affrighted a long time after; and, for the space of two hours, he was in a sweat that one might have washed hands on his hair. Further this deponent affirmeth, that she hath been often troubled with ... black cat sometimes appearing in the house, and sometimes in the night ... bed, and lay on her, and sometimes stroking her face. The cat seemed ... thrice as big as an ordinary cat."

"Thomas Hayne testifieth, that, being with Goodwife Holdridge, she told me that she saw a great horse, and[i.432] showed me where it stood. I then took a stick, and struck on the place, but felt nothing; and I heard the door shake, and Good. H. said it was gone out at the door. Immediately after, she was taken with extremity of fear and pain, so that she presently fell into a sweat, and I thought she would swoon. She trembled and shook like a leaf.

"Thomas Hayne."

"Nathan Gould being with Goodwife Holgreg one night, there appeared a great snake, as she said, with open mouth; and she, being weak,—hardly able to go alone,—yet then ran and laid hold of Nathan Gould by the head, and could not speak for the space of half an hour.

"Nathan Gould."

"William Osgood testifieth, that, in the yeare '40, in the month of August,—he being then building a barn for Mr. Spencer,—John Godfree being then Mr. Spencer's herdsman, he on an evening came to the frame, where divers men were at work, and said that he had gotten a new master against the time he had done keeping cows. The said William Osgood asked him who it was. He answered, he knew not. He again asked him where he dwelt. He answered, he knew not. He asked him what his name was. He answered, he knew not. He then said to him, 'How, then, wilt thou go to him when thy time is out?' He said, 'The man will come and fetch me then.' I asked him, 'Hast thou made an absolute bargain?' He answered that a covenant was made, and he had set his hand to it. He then asked of him whether he had not a counter covenant. Godfree answered, 'No.' W.O. said, 'What a mad fellow art thou to make a covenant in this manner!' He said, 'He's an honest man.'—'How knowest thou?' said W.O. J. Godfree answered. 'He looks like one.' W.O. then[i.433] answered, 'I am persuaded thou hast made a covenant with the Devil.' He then skipped about, and said, 'I profess, I profess!'

William Osgood."

The proceedings against Godfrey were carried up to other tribunals, as appears by a record of the County Court at Salem, 28th of June, 1659:—

"John Godfrey stands bound in one hundred pound bond to the treasurer of this county for his appearance at a General Court, or Court of Assistants, when he shall be legally summonsed thereunto."

What action, if any, was had by either of these high courts, I have found no information. But he must have come off unscathed; for, soon after, he commenced actions in the County Court for defamation against his accusers; with the following results:—

"John Godfery plt. agst. Will. Simonds & Sam.^ll his son dfts. in an action of slander that the said Sam.^ll son to Will. Simons, hath don him in his name, Charging him to be a witch, the jury find for the plt. 2^d damage & cost of Court 29^sh., yet notwithstanding doe conceiue, that by the testmonyes he is rendred suspicious."

"John Godfery plt. agst. Jonathan Singletary defendt. in an action of Slander & Defamation for calling him witch & said is this witch on this side Boston Gallows yet, the attachm.^t & other evidences were read, committed to the Jury & are on file. The Jury found for the plt. a publique acknowledgmt, at Haverhill within a month that he hath done the plt. wrong in his words or 10^sh damage & costs of Court £2-16-0."

[i.434]

In the trial of the case between Godfrey and Singletary, the latter attempted to prove the truth of his allegations against the former, by giving the following piece of testimony, which, while it failed to convince the jury, is worth preserving, from the inherent interest of some of its details:—

"Date the fourteenth the twelfth month, '62.—The Deposition of Jonathan Singletary, aged about 23, who testifieth that I, being in the prison at Ipswich this night last past between nine and ten of the clock at night, after the bell had rung, I being set in a corner of the prison, upon a sudden I heard a great noise as if many cats had been climbing up the prison walls, and skipping into the house at the windows, and jumping about the chamber; and a noise as if boards' ends or stools had been thrown about, and men walking in the chambers, and a crackling and shaking as if the house would have fallen upon me. I seeing this, and considering what I knew by a young man that kept at my house last Indian Harvest, and, upon some difference with John Godfre, he was presently several nights in a strange manner troubled, and complaining as he did, and upon consideration of this and other things that I knew by him, I was at present something affrighted; yet considering what I had lately heard made out by Mr. Mitchel at Cambridge, that there is more good in God than there is evil in sin, and that although God is the greatest good, and sin the greatest evil, yet the first Being of evil cannot weane the scales or overpower the first Being of good: so considering that the author of good was of greater power than the author of evil, God was pleased of his goodness to keep me from being out of measure frighted. So this noise above[i.435]said held as I suppose about a quarter of an hour, and then ceased: and presently I heard the bolt of the door shoot or go back as perfectly, to my thinking, as I did the next morning when the keeper came to unlock it; and I could not see the door open, but I saw John Godfre stand within the door and said, 'Jonathan, Jonathan.' So I, looking on him, said, 'What have you to do with me?' He said, 'I come to see you: are you weary of your place yet?' I answered, 'I take no delight in being here, but I will be out as soon as I can.' He said, 'If you will pay me in corn, you shall come out.' I answered, 'No: if that had been my intent, I would have paid the marshal, and never have come hither.' He, knocking of his fist at me in a kind of a threatening way, said he would make me weary of my part, and so went away, I knew not how nor which way; and, as I was walking about in the prison, I tripped upon a stone with my heel, and took it up in my hand, thinking that if he came again I would strike at him. So, as I was walking about, he called at the window, 'Jonathan,' said he, 'if you will pay me corn, I will give you two years day, and we will come to an agreement;' I answered him saying, 'Why do you come dissembling and playing the Devil's part here? Your nature is nothing but envy and malice, which you will vent, though to your own loss; and you seek peace with no man.'—'I do not dissemble,' said he: 'I will give you my hand upon it, I am in earnest.' So he put his hand in at the window, and I took hold of it with my left hand, and pulled him to me; and with the stone in my right hand I thought I struck him, and went to recover my hand to strike again, and his hand was gone, and I would have struck, but there was nothing to strike: and how he went away I know not; for I could[i.436] neither feel when his hand went out of mine, nor see which way he went."

It can hardly be doubted, that Singletary's story was the result of the workings of an excited imagination, in wild and frightful dreams under the spasms of nightmare. We shall meet similar phenomena, when we come to the testimony in the trials of 1692.

Godfrey was a most eccentric character. He courted and challenged the imputation of witchcraft, and took delight in playing upon the credulity of his neighbors, enjoying the exhibition of their amazement, horror, and consternation. He was a person of much notoriety, had more lawsuits, it is probable, than any other man in the colony, and in one instance came under the criminal jurisdiction for familiarity with other than immaterial spirits; for we find, by the record of Sept. 25, 1666, that John Godfrey was "fined for being drunk."

I have allowed so much space to the foregoing documents, because they show the fancies which, fermenting in the public mind, and inflamed by the prevalent literature, theology, and philosophy, came to a head thirty years afterwards; and because they prove that in 1660 a conviction for witchcraft could not be obtained in this county. The evidence against none of the convicts in 1692, throwing out of view the statements and actings of the "afflicted children," was half so strong as that against Godfrey. Short work would have been made with him then.

There is one particularly interesting item in Single[i.437]tary's deposition. It illustrates the value of good preaching. This young man, in his gloomy prison, and overwhelmed with the terrors of superstition, found consolation, courage, and strength in what he remembered of a sermon, to which he had happened to listen, from "Matchless Mitchel." It was indeed good doctrine; and it is to be lamented that it was not carried out to its logical conclusions, and constantly enforced by the divines of that and subsequent times.

In November, 1669, there was a prosecution of "Goody Burt," a widow, concerning whom the most marvellous stories were told. The principal witness against her was Philip Reed, a physician, who on oath declared his belief that "no natural cause" could produce such effects as were wrought by Goody Burt upon persons whom she afflicted. Her range of operations seems to have been confined to Marblehead, Lynn, Salem, and the vicinity: as nothing more was ever heard of the case, another evidence is afforded, that an Essex jury, notwithstanding this positive opinion of a doctor, was not ready to convict on the charge of witchcraft. This same Philip Reed tried very hard to prosecute proceedings, eleven years afterwards, against Margaret Gifford as a witch. But she failed to appear, and no effort is recorded as having been made to apprehend her.

In 1673, Eunice Cole, of Hampton, was tried before a county court, at Salisbury, on the charge of witchcraft; and she was committed to jail, in Boston, for[i.438] further proceedings. She was subsequently indicted by the Grand Jury for the Massachusetts jurisdiction for "familiarity with the Devil." The Court of Assistants found that there was "just ground of vehement suspicion of her having had familiarity with the Devil," and got rid of the case by ordering her "to depart from and abide out of this jurisdiction."

At a County Court, held at Salem, Nov. 24, 1674, a case was brought up, of which the following is all we know:—

"Christopher Browne having reported that he had been treating or discoursing with one whom he apprehended to be the Devil, which came like a gentleman, in order to his binding himself to be a servant to him, upon his examination, his discourse seeming inconsistent with truth, &c., the Court, giving him good counsel and caution, for the present dismiss him."

It would have been well if the action of this Court had been followed as an authoritative precedent.

In the year 1679, the house of William Morse, of Newbury, was, for more than two months, infested in a most strange and vexatious manner. The affair was brought into court, where it played a conspicuous part, and was near reaching a tragical conclusion. The history of the proceedings in reference to it is very curious.

Mr. John Woodbridge, of Newbury, had been for some time an associate county judge, and was commissioned to administer oaths and join persons in marriage. The following is a record of what occurred[i.439] before him, sitting as a magistrate, and as a commissioner to adjudicate in small, local causes, and hold examinations in matters that went to higher courts:—

"Dec. 3, 1679.—Caleb Powell, being complained of for suspicion of working with the Devil to the molesting of William Morse and his family, was by warrant directed to the constable brought in by him. The accusation and testimonies were read, and the complaint respited till the Monday following.

"Dec. 8, 1679.—Caleb Powell appeared according to order, and further testimony produced against him by William Morse, which being read and considered, it was determined that the said William Morse should prosecute the case against said Powell at the County Court to be held at Ipswich the last Tuesday in March ensuing; and, in order hereunto, William Morse acknowledgeth himself indebted to the Treasurer of the County of Essex the full sum of twenty pounds. The condition of this obligation is, that the said William Morse shall prosecute his complaint against Caleb Powell at that Court.

"Caleb Powell was delivered as a prisoner to the constable till he could find security of twenty pounds for the answering of the said complaint, or else he was to be carried to prison.

"Jo: Woodbridge, Commissioner."

Powell was accordingly brought before the Court at Ipswich, March 30, 1680, under an indictment for witchcraft. Before giving the substance of the evidence adduced on this occasion, it will be well to mention the manner in which he got into the case as[i.440] a principal. He was a mate of a vessel. While at home, between voyages, he happened to hear of the wonderful occurrences at Mr. Morse's house. His curiosity was awakened, and he was also actuated by feelings of commiseration for the family under the torments and terrors with which they were said to be afflicted. Determined to see what it all meant, and to put a stop to it if he could, he went to the house, and soon became satisfied that a roguish grandchild was the cause of all the trouble. He prevailed upon the old grandparents to let him take off the boy. Immediately upon his removal, the difficulty ceased.

New-England navigators, at that time and long afterwards, sailed almost wholly by the stars; and Powell probably had often related his own skill, which, as mate of a vessel, he would have been likely to acquire, in calculating his position, rate of sailing, and distances, on the boundless and trackless ocean, by his knowledge and observations of the heavenly bodies. He had said, perhaps, that, by gazing among the stars, he could, at any hour of the night, however long or far he had been tossed and driven on the ocean, tell exactly where his vessel was. Hence the charge of being an astrologist. Probably, like other sailors, Powell may have indulged in "long yarns" to the country people, of the wonders he had seen, "some in one country, and some in another." It is not unlikely, that, in foreign ports, he had witnessed exhibitions of necromancy and mesmerism, which, in various forms and under different names,[i.441] have always been practised. Possibly he may have boasted to be a medium himself, a scholar and adept in the mystic art, able to read and divine "the workings of spirits." At any rate, when it became known, that, at a glance, he attributed to the boy the cause of the mischief, and that it ceased on his taking him away from the house, the opinion became settled that he was a wizard. He was arrested forthwith, and brought to trial, as has been stated, for witchcraft. His astronomy, astrology, and spiritualism brought him in peril of his life.

"The Testimony of William Morse: which saith, together with his wife, aged both about sixty-five years: that, Thursday night, being the twenty-seventh day of November, we heard a great noise without, round the house, of knocking the boards of the house, and, as we conceived, throwing of stones against the house. Whereupon myself and wife looked out and saw nobody, and the boy all this time with us; but we had stones and sticks thrown at us, that we were forced to retire into the house again. Afterwards we went to bed, and the boy with us; and then the like noise was upon the roof of the house.

"2. The same night about midnight, the door being locked when we went to bed, we heard a great hog in the house grunt and make a noise, as we thought willing to get out; and, that we might not be disturbed in our sleep, I rose to let him out, and I found a hog in the house and the door unlocked: the door was firmly locked when we went to bed.

"3. The next morning, a stick of links hanging in the chimney, they were thrown out of their place, and we[i.442] hanged them up again, and they were thrown down again, and some into the fire.

"4. The night following, I had a great awl lying in the window, the which awl we saw fall down out of the chimney into the ashes by the fire.

"5. After this, I bid the boy put the same awl into the cupboard, which we saw done, and the door shut to: this same awl came presently down the chimney again in our sight, and I took it up myself. Again, the same night, we saw a little Indian basket, that was in the loft before, come down the chimney again. And I took the same basket, and put a piece of brick into it, and the basket with the brick was gone, and came down again the third time with the brick in it, and went up again the fourth time, and came down again without the brick; and the brick came down again a little after.

"6. The next day, being Saturday, stones, sticks, and pieces of bricks came down, so that we could not quietly dress our breakfast; and sticks of fire also came down at the same time.

"7. That day in the afternoon, my thread four times taken away, and came down the chimney; again, my awl and gimlet, wanting, came down the chimney; again, my leather, taken away, came down the chimney; again, my nails, being in the cover of a firkin, taken away, came down the chimney. Again, the same night, the door being locked, a little before day, hearing a hog in the house, I rose, and saw the hog to be mine: I let him out.

"8. The next day being sabbath-day, many stones and sticks and pieces of bricks came down the chimney: on the Monday, Mr. Richardson and my brother being there, the frame of my cowhouse they saw very firm. I sent my boy[i.443] out to scare the fowls from my hog's meat: he went to the cowhouse, and it fell down, my boy crying with the hurt of the fall. In the afternoon, the pots hanging over the fire did dash so vehemently one against the other, we set down one that they might not dash to pieces. I saw the andiron leap into the pot, and dance and leap out, and again leap in and dance and leap out again, and leap on a table and there abide, and my wife saw the andiron on the table: also I saw the pot turn itself over, and throw down all the water. Again, we saw a tray with wool leap up and down, and throw the wool out, and so many times, and saw nobody meddle with it. Again, a tub his hoop fly off of itself and the tub turn over, and nobody near it. Again, the woollen wheel turned upside down, and stood up on its end, and a spade set on it; Steph. Greenleafe saw it, and myself and my wife. Again, my rope-tools fell down upon the ground before my boy could take them, being sent for them; and the same thing of nails tumbled down from the loft into the ground, and nobody near. Again, my wife and boy making the bed, the chest did open and shut: the bed-clothes could not be made to lie on the bed, but fly off again.

"Again, Caleb Powell came in, and, being affected to see our trouble, did promise me and my wife, that, if we would be willing to let him keep the boy, we should see ourselves that we should be never disturbed while he was gone with him: he had the boy, and had been quiet ever since.

"Tho. Rogers and George Hardy, being at William Morse his house, affirm that the earth in the chimney-corner moved, and scattered on them; that Tho. Rogers was hit with somewhat, Hardy with an iron ladle as is supposed. Somewhat hit William Morse a great blow, but it was so swift that they could not certainly tell what it was; but,[i.444] looking down after they heard the noise, they saw a shoe. The boy was in the corner at the first, afterwards in the house.

"Mr. Richardson on Saturday testifieth that a board flew against his chair, and he heard a noise in another room, which he supposed in all reason to be diabolical.

"John Dole saw a pine stick of candlewood to fall down, a stone, a firebrand; and these things he saw not what way they came, till they fell down by him.

"The same affirmed by John Tucker: the boy was in one corner, whom they saw and observed all the while, and saw no motion in him.

"Elizabeth Titcomb affirmeth that Powell said that he could find the witch by his learning, if he had another scholar with him: this she saith were his expressions, to the best of her memory.

"Jo. Tucker affirmeth that Powell said to him, he saw the boy throw the shoe while he was at prayer.

"Jo. Emerson affirmeth that Powell said he was brought up under Norwood; and it was judged by the people there, that Norwood studied the black art.

"A further Testimony of William Morse and his Wife.—We saw a keeler of bread turn over against me, and struck me, not any being near it, and so overturned. I saw a chair standing in the house, and not anybody near: it did often bow towards me, and so rise up again. My wife also being in the chamber, the chamber-door did violently fly together, not anybody being near it. My wife, going to make a bed, it did move to and fro, not anybody being near it. I also saw an iron wedge and spade was flying out of the chamber on my wife, and did not strike her. My wife going into the cellar, a drum, standing in the house, did roll[i.445] over the door of the cellar; and, being taken up again, the door did violently fly down again. My barn-doors four times unpinned, I know not how. I, going to shut my barn-door, looking for the pin,—the boy being with me, as I did judge,—the pin, coming down out of the air, did fall down near to me. Again, Caleb Powell came in, as beforesaid, and, seeing our spirits very low by the sense of our great affliction, began to bemoan our condition, and said that he was troubled for our afflictions, and said that he had eyed this boy, and drawed near to us with great compassion: 'Poor old man, poor old woman! this boy is the occasion of your grief; for he hath done these things, and hath caused his good old grandmother to be counted a witch.' 'Then,' said I, 'how can all these things be done by him?' Said he, 'Although he may not have done all, yet most of them; for this boy is a young rogue, a vile rogue: I have watched him, and see him do things as to come up and down.' Caleb Powell also said he had understanding in astrology and astronomy, and knew the working of spirits, some in one country, and some in another; and, looking on the boy, said, 'You young rogue, to begin so soon. Goodman Morse, if you be willing to let me have this boy, I will undertake you shall be free from any trouble of this kind while he is with me.' I was very unwilling at the first, and my wife; but, by often urging me, till he told me whither, and what employment and company, he should go, I did consent to it, and this was before Jo. Badger came; and we have been freed from any trouble of this kind ever since that promise, made on Monday night last, to this time, being Friday in the afternoon. Then we heard a great noise in the other room, oftentimes, but, looking after it, could not see any thing; but, afterwards looking into the room, we saw a board hanged to the press. Then[i.446] we, being by the fire, sitting in a chair, my chair often would not stand still, but ready to throw me backward oftentimes. Afterward, my cap almost taken off my head three times. Again, a great blow on my poll, and my cat did leap from me into the chimney corner. Presently after, this cat was thrown at my wife. We saw the cat to be ours: we put her out of the house, and shut the door. Presently, the cat was throwed into the house. We went to go to bed. Suddenly,—my wife being with me in bed, the lamp-light by our side,—my cat again throwed at us five times, jumping away presently into the floor; and, one of those times, a red waistcoat throwed on the bed, and the cat wrapped up in it. Again, the lamp, standing by us on the chest, we said it should stand and burn out; but presently was beaten down, and all the oil shed, and we left in the dark. Again, a great voice, a great while, very dreadful. Again, in the morning, a great stone, being six-pound weight, did remove from place to place,—we saw it,—two spoons throwed off the table, and presently the table throwed down. And, being minded to write, my inkhorn was hid from me, which I found, covered with a rag, and my pen quite gone. I made a new pen; and, while I was writing, one ear of corn hit me in the face, and fire, sticks, and stones throwed at me, and my pen brought to me. While I was writing with my new pen, my inkhorn taken away: and, not knowing how to write any more, we looked under the table, and there found him; and so I was able to write again. Again, my wife her hat taken from her head, sitting by the fire by me, the table almost thrown down. Again, my spectacles thrown from the table, and thrown almost into the fire by me, and my wife and the boy. Again, my book of all my accounts thrown into the fire, and had been burnt presently, if I had not taken it up. Again,[i.447] boards taken off a tub, and set upright by themselves; and my paper, do what I could, hardly keep it while I was writing this relation, and things thrown at me while a-writing. Presently, before I could dry my writing, a mormouth hat rubbed along it; but I held so fast that it did blot but some of it. My wife and I, being much afraid that I should not preserve it for public use, did think best to lay it in the Bible, and it lay safe that night. Again, the next, I would lay it there again; but, in the morning, it was not there to be found, the bag hanged down empty; but, after, was found in a box alone. Again, while I was writing this morning, I was forced to forbear writing any more, I was so disturbed with so many things constantly thrown at me.

"This relation brought in Dec. 8.

"I, Anthony Morse, occasionally being at my brother Morse's house, my brother showed me a piece of a brick which had several times come down the chimney. I sitting in the corner, I took the piece of brick in my hand. Within a little space of time, the piece of brick was gone from me, I knew not by what means. Quickly after, the piece of brick came down the chimney. Also, in the chimney-corner I saw a hammer on the ground: there being no person near the hammer, it was suddenly gone, by what means I know not. But, within a little space after, the hammer came down the chimney. And, within a little space of time after that, came a piece of wood down the chimney, about a foot long; and, within a little after that, came down a firebrand, the fire being out. This was about ten days ago.

"John Badger affirmeth, that, being at William Morse his house, and heard Caleb Powell say that he thought by astrology, and I think he said by astronomy too, with it, he could find out whether or no there were diabolical means[i.448] used about the said Morse his trouble, and that the said Caleb said he thought to try to find it out.

"The Deposition of Mary Tucker, aged about twenty.—She remembered that Caleb Powell came into her house, and said to this purpose: That he, coming to William Morse his house, and the old man, being at prayer, he thought not fit to go in, but looked in at the window; and he said he had broken the enchantment; for he saw the boy play tricks while he was at prayer, and mentioned some, and, among the rest, that he saw him to fling the shoe at the said Morse's head.

"Taken on oath, March 29, 1680, before me,

"Jo: Woodbridge, Commissioner.

"Mary Richardson confirmed the truth of the above written testimony, on oath, at the same time."

There seem to have been several hearings before Commissioner Woodbridge. The boy had returned to his grandparents before the last deposition of William Morse, and his audacious operations were persisted in to the last. The final decision of the Court was as follows:—

"Upon the hearing the complaint brought to this Court against Caleb Powell for suspicion of working by the Devil to the molesting of the family of William Morse of Newbury, though this court cannot find any evident ground of proceeding further against the said Caleb Powell, yet we determine that he hath given such ground of suspicion of his so dealing that we cannot so acquit him, but that he justly deserves to bear his own share and the costs of the prosecution of the complaint.

"Referred to Mr. Woodbridge to examine and determine the charges."

[i.449]

The entry of this sentence, in the records of the County Court, is as follows; the clerk strangely mistaking the name of the party:—

"The Court held at Ipswich, the 30th of March, 1680.

"In the case of Abell Powell, though the Court do not see sufficient to charge further, yet find so much suspicion as that he pay the charges. The ordering of the charges left to Mr. Jo: Woodbridge."

The matter of Powell's connection with the affair being thus disposed of, and no one seeming to entertain his idea of the guilt of the boy, the next step was to fasten suspicion upon the good old grandmother; and a general outcry was raised against her. Her arrest and condemnation were clamored for. But the result of Powell's trial, and all preceding cases, showed that an Essex jury could not yet be relied on for a conviction in witchcraft cases; and it was resolved to institute proceedings in a more favorable quarter. The Grand Jury returned a bill of indictment against her to the Court of Assistants, sitting in Boston. This was the highest tribunal in the country, subject only to the General Court, and embracing the whole colony in its jurisdiction. The following is the substance of the record of the case:—

At a Court of Assistants, on adjournment, held at Boston, on the 20th of May, 1680.

The Grand Jury having presented Elizabeth Morse, wife of William Morse, she was tried and convicted of the crime of witchcraft. The Governor, on the 27th[i.450] of May, "after the lecture," in the First Church of Boston, pronounced the sentence of death upon her. On the 1st of June, the Governor and Assistants voted to reprieve her "until the next session of the Court in Boston." At the said next session, the reprieval was still further continued. This seems to have produced much dissatisfaction, as is shown by the following extract from the records of the House of Deputies:—

"The Deputies, on perusal of the Acts of the Honored Court of Assistants, relating to the woman condemned for witchcraft, do not understand the reason why the sentence, given against her by said Court, is not executed: and the second reprieval seems to us beyond what the law will allow, and do therefore judge meet to declare ourselves against it, with reference to the concurrence of the honored magistrates hereto.

William Torrey, Clerk."

The action of the magistrates, on this reference, is recorded as follows:—

"3d of November, 1680.—Not consented to by magistrates.

Edward Rawson, Secretary."

The evidence against Mrs. Morse was frivolous to the last degree, without any of the force and effect given to support the prosecutions in Salem, twelve years afterwards, by the astounding confessions of the accused, and the splendid acting of the "afflicted children;" yet she was tried and condemned in Boston, and sentenced there on "Lecture-day." The representatives of the people, in the House of Deputies, cried out against her reprieve. She was saved[i.451] by the courage and wisdom of Governor Bradstreet, subsequently a resident of Salem, where his ashes rest. He was living here, at the age of ninety years, during the witchcraft prosecutions in 1692; but, old as he was, he made known his entire disapprobation of them. It is safe to say, that, if he had not been superseded by the arrival of Sir William Phipps as governor under the new charter, they would never have taken place. Notwithstanding all this,—in spite of the remonstrances, at the time, of Brattle, and afterwards of Hutchinson,—Boston and other towns (earlier, if not equally, committed to such proceedings) have, by a sort of general conspiracy, joined the rest of the world in trying to throw and fasten the whole responsibility and disgrace of witchcraft prosecutions upon Salem.

Things continued in the condition just described,—Mrs. Morse in jail under sentence of death; that sentence suspended by reprieves from the Governor, from time to time, until the next year, when her husband, in her behalf and in her name, presented an earnest and touching petition "to the honored Governor, Deputy-governor, Magistrates, and Deputies now assembled in Court, May the 18th, 1681," that her case might be concluded, one way or another. After referring to her condemnation, and to her attestation of innocence, she says, "By the mercy of God, and the goodness of the honored Governor, I am reprieved." She begs the Court to "hearken to her cry, a poor prisoner." She places herself at the foot of the tribunal[i.452] of the General Court: "I now stand humbly praying your justice in hearing my case, and to determine therein as the Lord shall direct. I do not understand law, nor do I know how to lay my case before you as I ought; for want of which I humbly beg of your honors that my request may not be rejected." The House of Deputies, on the 24th of May, voted to give her a new trial. But the magistrates refused to concur in the vote; and so the matter stood, for how long a time there are, I believe, no means of knowing. Finally, however, she was released from prison, and allowed to return to her own house. This we learn from a publication made by Mr. Hale, of Beverly, in 1697. It seems, that, after getting her out of prison and restored to her home, to use Mr. Hale's words, "her husband, who was esteemed a sincere and understanding Christian by those that knew him, desired some neighbor ministers, of whom I was one, to discourse his wife, which we did; and her discourse was very Christian, and still pleaded her innocence as to that which was laid to her charge." From Mr. Hale's language, it may be inferred that she had not been pardoned or discharged, but still lay under sentence of death, after her removal to her own house: for he and his brethren did not "esteem it prudence to pass any definite sentence upon one under her circumstances;" but they ventured to say that they were "inclined to the more charitable side." Mr. Hale states, that, "in her last sickness, she was in much trouble and darkness of spirit, which occasioned a[i.453] judicious friend to examine her strictly, whether she had been guilty of witchcraft; but she said no, but the ground of her trouble was some impatient and passionate speeches and actions of hers while in prison, upon the account of her suffering wrongfully, whereby she had provoked the Lord by putting contempt upon his Word. And, in fine, she sought her pardon and comfort from God in Christ; and died, so far as I understand, praying to and relying upon God in Christ for salvation."

The cases of Margaret Jones, Ann Hibbins, and Elizabeth Morse illustrate strikingly and fully the history and condition of the public mind in New England, and the world over, in reference to witchcraft in the seventeenth century. They show that there was nothing unprecedented, unusual, or eminently shocking, after all, in what I am about to relate as occurring in Salem, in 1692. The only real offence proved upon Margaret Jones was that she was a successful practitioner of medicine, using only simple remedies. Ann Hibbins was the victim of the slanderous gossip of a prejudiced neighborhood; all our actual knowledge of her being her Will, which proves that she was a person of much more than ordinary dignity of mind, which was kept unruffled and serene in the bitterest trials and most outrageous wrongs which it is possible for folly and "man's inhumanity to man" to bring upon us in this life. Elizabeth Morse appears to have been one of the best of Christian women. The accusations against them, as a whole, cover nearly the[i.454] whole ground upon which the subsequent prosecutions in Salem rested. John Winthrop passed sentence upon Margaret Jones, John Endicott upon Ann Hibbins, and Simon Bradstreet upon Elizabeth Morse. The last-named governor performed the office as an unavoidable act of official duty, and prevented the execution of the sentence by the courageous use of his prerogative, in defiance of public clamor and the wrath of the representatives of the whole people of the colony. These facts sufficiently show, that the proceedings afterwards had in Salem accorded with those in like cases, of that and preceding generations; and were sanctioned by the all but universal sentiments of mankind and a uniform chain of precedents.

The trial of Bridget Bishop, in 1680, before the County Court at Salem, for witchcraft, and her acquittal, have already been mentioned in the account of Salem Village, in the First Part.

In 1688, an Irish woman, named Glover, was executed in Boston for bewitching four children belonging to the family of a Mr. Goodwin. She was a Roman Catholic, represented to have been quite an ignorant person, and seems, moreover, from the accounts given of her, to have been crazy. The oldest of the children was only about thirteen years of age. The most experienced physicians pronounced them bewitched. Their conduct, as it is related by Cotton Mather, was indeed very extraordinary. At one time they would bark like dogs, and then again they would purr like[i.455] cats. "Yea," says he, "they would fly like geese, and be carried with an incredible swiftness, having but just their toes now and then upon the ground, sometimes not once in twenty feet, and their arms waved like the wings of a bird."

One of the children seems to have had a genius scarcely inferior to that of Master Burke himself: there was no part nor passion she could not enact. She would complain that the old Irish woman had tied an invisible noose round her neck, and was choking her; and her complexion and features would instantly assume the various hues and violent distortions natural to a person in such a predicament. She would declare that an invisible chain was fastened to one of her limbs, and would limp about precisely as though it were really the case. She would say that she was in an oven; the perspiration would drop from her face, and she would exhibit every appearance of being roasted: then she would cry out that cold water was thrown upon her, and her whole frame would shiver and shake. She pretended that the evil spirit came to her in the shape of an invisible horse; and she would canter, gallop, trot, and amble round the rooms and entries in such admirable imitation, that an observer could hardly believe that a horse was not beneath her, and bearing her about. She would go up stairs with exactly such a toss and bound as a person on horseback would exhibit.

After some time, Cotton Mather took her into his own family, to see whether he could not exorcise her.[i.456] His account of her conduct, while there, is highly amusing for its credulous simplicity. The cunning and ingenious child seems to have taken great delight in perplexing and playing off her tricks upon the learned man. Once he wished to say something in her presence, to a third person, which he did not intend she should understand. He accordingly spoke in Latin. But she had penetration enough to conjecture what he had said: he was amazed. He then tried Greek: she was equally successful. He next spoke in Hebrew: she instantly detected the meaning. At last he resorted to the Indian language, and that she pretended not to know. He drew the conclusion that the evil being with whom she was in compact was acquainted familiarly with the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, but not with the Indian tongue.

It is curious to notice how adroitly she fell into the line of his prejudices. He handed her a book written by a Quaker, to which sect it is well known he was violently opposed: she would read it off with great ease, rapidity, and pleasure. A book written against the Quakers she could not read at all. She could read Popish books, but could not decipher a syllable of the Assembly's Catechism. Dr. Mather was earnestly opposed to the order and liturgy of the Church of England. The artful little girl worked with great success upon this prejudice. She pretended to be very fond of the Book of Common Prayer, and called it her Bible. It would relieve her of her sufferings, in a moment, to put it into her hands. While she could[i.457] not read a word of the Scriptures in the Bible, she could read them very easily in the Prayer-book; but she could not read the Lord's Prayer even in this her favorite volume. All these things went far to strengthen the conviction of Dr. Mather that she was in league with the Devil; for this was the only explanation that could be given to satisfy his mind of her partiality to the productions of Quakers, Catholics, and Episcopalians, and her aversion to the Bible and the Catechism.

She exhibited the most exquisite ingenuity in beguiling Dr. Mather by the force of a charm, the power of which he could not resist for a moment,—flattery. He thus describes, with a complacency but thinly concealed under the veil of affected modesty, the part she played, in order to give the impression—which it was the great object of his ambition to make upon the public mind—that the Devil stood in special fear of his presence:—

"There then stood open the study of one belonging to the family, into which, entering, she stood immediately on her feet, and cried out, 'They are gone! they are gone! They say that they cannot,—God won't let 'em come here!' adding a reason for it which the owner of the study thought more kind than true; and she presently and perfectly came to herself, so that her whole discourse and carriage was altered into the greatest measure of sobriety."

Upon quitting the study, "the demons" would instantly again take hold of her. Mather continues the statement, by saying that some persons, wishing to try[i.458] the experiment, had her brought "up into the study;" but he says that she at once became—

"so strangely distorted, that it was an extreme difficulty to drag her up stairs. The demons would pull her out of the people's hands, and make her heavier than, perhaps, three of herself. With incredible toil (though she kept screaming, 'They say I must not go in'), she was pulled in; where she was no sooner got, but she could stand on her feet, and, with altered note, say, 'Now I am well.' She would be faint at first, and say 'she felt something to go out of her' (the noises whereof we sometimes heard like those of a mouse); but, in a minute or two, she could apply herself to devotion. To satisfy some strangers, the experiment was, divers times, with the same success, repeated, until my lothness to have any thing done like making a charm of a room, caused me to forbid the repetition of it."

Even in her most riotous proceedings, she kept her eye fixed upon the doctor's weak point. When he called the family to prayers, she would whistle and sing and yell to drown his voice, would strike him with her fist, and try to kick him. But her hand or foot would always recoil when within an inch or two of his body; thus giving the idea that there was a sort of invisible coat of mail, of heavenly temper, and proof against the assaults of the Devil, around his sacred person! After a while, Dr. Mather concluded to prepare an account of these extraordinary circumstances, wherewithal to entertain his congregation in a sermon. She seemed to be quite displeased at the thought of his making public the doings of her master, the Evil[i.459] One, attempted to prevent his writing the intended sermon, and disturbed and interrupted him in all manner of ways. For instance, she once knocked at his study door, and said that "there was somebody down stairs that would be glad to see him." He dropped his pen, and went down. Upon entering the room, he found nobody there but the family. The next time he met her, he undertook to chide her for having told him a falsehood. She denied that she had told a falsehood. "Didn't you say," said he, "that there was somebody down stairs that would be glad to see me?"—"Well," she replied, with inimitable pertness, "is not Mrs. Mather always glad to see you?"

She even went much farther than this in persecuting the good man while he was writing his sermon: she threw large books at his head. But he struggled manfully against these buffetings of Satan, as he considered her conduct to be, finished the sermon, related all these circumstances in it, preached, and published it. Richard Baxter wrote the preface to an edition printed in London, in which he declares that he who will not be convinced by all the evidence Dr. Mather presents that the child was bewitched "must be a very obdurate Sadducee." It is so obvious, that, in this whole affair, Cotton Mather was grossly deceived and audaciously imposed upon by the most consummate and precocious cunning, that it needs no comment. I have given this particular account of it, because there is reason to believe that it originated the delusion in Salem. It occurred only four years[i.460] before. Dr. Mather's account of the transaction filled the whole country; and it is probable that the children in Mr. Parris's family undertook to re-enact it.

There is nothing in the annals of the histrionic art more illustrative of the infinite versatility of the human faculties, both physical and mental, and of the amazing extent to which cunning, ingenuity, contrivance, quickness of invention, and presence of mind can be cultivated, even in very young persons, than such cases as this just related. It seems, at first, incredible that a mere child could carry on such a complex piece of fraud and imposture as that enacted by the little girl whose achievements have been immortalized by the famous author of the "Magnalia." Many other instances, however, are found recorded in the history of the delusion we are discussing.

That of the grandchild of William and Elizabeth Morse, in Newbury, was nearly as marvellous, and perfectly successful in deceiving the whole country except Caleb Powell; and he got into much trouble in consequence of seeing through it. A similar instance of juvenile imposture is related as having occurred at Amsterdam in 1560. Twenty or thirty boys pretended to be suddenly seized with a kind of rage and fury, were cast upon the ground, and tormented with great agony. These fits were intermittent; and, when they had passed off, their subjects did not seem to be conscious of what had taken place. While they lasted, the boys threw up, apparently from their stomachs, large quantities of needles, pins, thimbles, pieces of[i.461] cloth, fragments of pots and kettles, bits of glass, locks of hair, and a variety of other articles. There was no doubt, at the time, that they were suffering under the influence of the Devil; and multitudes crowded round them, and gazed upon them with wonder and horror.

The details of the cases in Newbury and Charlestown were dressed up by Cotton Mather and other writers in the strongest colors that credulous superstition and the peculiar views of that age on the subject of demonology could employ. They were almost universally received as proof that Satan had commenced an onslaught, such as had never before been known, upon the Church and the world! They appear to us as simply absurd, and the result of precocious knavery; not so to the people of that generation. They were looked upon as fearful demonstrations of diabolical power, and preludes to the coming of Satan, with his infernal confederates, to overwhelm the land. The imaginations of all were excited, and their apprehensions morbidly aroused. The very air was filled with rumors, fancies, and fears. The ministers sounded the alarm from their pulpits. The magistrates sharpened the sword of justice. The deputy-governor of the colony, Danforth, began to arrest suspected persons months before proceedings commenced, or were thought of, in Salem Village. It was believed that evil spirits had been seen, by men's bodily eyes, in a neighboring town. They glided over the fields, hovered around the houses, appeared, van[i.462]ished, and re-appeared on the outskirts of the woods, in the vicinity of Gloucester. Their movements were observed by several of the inhabitants; and the whole population of the Cape was kept in a state of agitation and alarm, in consequence of the mysterious phenomena, for three weeks. The inhabitants retired to the garrison, and put themselves in a state of defence against the diabolical besiegers. Sixty men were despatched from Ipswich, in military array, to re-enforce the garrison, and several valiant sallies were made from its walls. Much powder was expended, but no corporeal or incorporeal blood was shed. An account of these events was drawn up by the Rev. John Emerson, then the minister of the first parish in Gloucester, from which the facts now mentioned have been selected. It is very minute and particular. The appearance and dress of the supernatural enemies are described. They wore white waistcoats, blue shirts, and white breeches, and had bushy heads of black hair. Mr. Emerson concludes his account by expressing the hope that "all rational persons will be satisfied that Gloucester was not alarmed last summer for above a fortnight together by real French and Indians, but that the Devil and his agents were the cause of all the molestation which at this time befell the town."

These wonderful things took place at Cape Ann, about the time that the great conflict between the Devil and his confederates on the one hand, and the ministers and magistrates on the other, at Salem Village, was reaching its height. It is said that it was[i.463] regarded by the most considerate persons, at the time, as an artful contrivance of the Devil to create a diversion of the attention of the pious colonists from his operations through the witches in Salem, and, by dividing and distracting their forces, to obtain an advantage over them in the war he was waging against their churches and their religion.

We are now ready to enter upon the story of Salem witchcraft. We have endeavored to become acquainted with the people who acted conspicuous parts in the drama, and to understand their character; and have tried to collect, and bring into appreciating view, the opinions and theories, the habits of thought, the associations of mind, the passions, impulses, and fantasies that guided, moulded, and controlled their conduct. The law, literature, and theology of the age, as they bore on the subject, have been brought before us. The last great display of the effects of the doctrines of demonology, of the belief of the agency of invisible, irresponsible beings, whether fallen angels or departed spirits, upon the actions of men and human affairs, is now to open before us. The final results of superstitions and fables and fancies, accumulating through the ages, are to be exhibited in a transaction, an actual demonstration in real life. They are to present an exemplification that will at once fully display their power, and deal their death-blow.

Without the least purpose or wish to cover up or extenuate the follies, excesses, or outrages I am about[i.464] to describe, into which the community suffered itself to be led in the witchcraft proceedings of 1692,—with a desire, on the contrary, to make the lesson then given of the mischief resulting from misguided enthusiasm, and which will always result when popular excitement is allowed to wield the organized powers of society, as impressive as facts and truth will justify,—I feel bound to say, in advance, that there are some considerations which we must keep before us, while reviewing the incidents of the transaction. The theological, legal, and philosophical doctrines and the popular beliefs, on which it was founded, have, as I have shown, led, in other countries and periods, to similar, and often vastly more shameful, cruel, and destructive results. But there was something in the affair, as it was developed here, that has arrested the notice of mankind, and clothed it with an inherent interest, beyond all other events of the kind that have elsewhere or ever occurred.

The moral force engendered in the civilization planted on these shores, and pervading the whole body of society, supplied a mightier momentum, as it does to this day, and ever will, to the movement of the people, acting in a mass and as a unit, than can anywhere else be found. A population, invigorated by hardy enterprise, and the constant exercise of all the faculties of freedom, and actuated throughout by individual energy of character, must be mightier in motion than any other people. Such a population multiplies tenfold its physical forces, by the addition of[i.465] moral and intellectual energies. The men of the day and scene we are now to contemplate, however deluded, to whatever extremities carried, were controlled by fixed, absolute, sharply defined, and, in themselves, great ideas. They believed in God. They also believed in the Devil. They bowed in an adoration that penetrated their inmost souls, before the one as a being of infinite holiness: they regarded the other as a being of an all but infinite power of evil. They feared and worshipped God. They hated and defied the Devil. They believed that Satan was waging war against Jehovah, and that the conflict was for the dominion of the world, for the establishment or the overthrow of the Church of Christ. The battle, they fully believed, could have no other issue than the salvation or the ruin of the souls of men. This was not, with them, a mere technical, verbal creed. It was a deep-seated conviction, held earnestly with a clear and distinct apprehension of its import, by every individual mind. For this warfare, they put on the whole armor of faith, rallied to the banner of the Most High, and met Satan face to face. In this one great idea, a stern, determined, unflinching, all-sacrificing people concentrated their strength. No wonder that the conflict reached a magnitude which made it observable to the whole country and all countries at the time, and will make it memorable throughout all time. Those engaged in it, with this sentiment absorbing their very souls, passed, for the time, out of the realm of all other sentiments, and were insensible to all other considera[i.466]tions. The nearer and dearer the relatives, the higher and more conspicuous the persons, who, in their belief, were in league with the Devil, the more profound the abhorrence of their crime, and the determination to cut off and destroy them utterly. They believed that Satan had, once before, "against the throne and monarchy of God, raised impious war and battle proud;" and that for this he had been cast out from "heaven, with all his host of rebel angels;" that he, with his army of subordinate wicked spirits, was making a desperate effort to retrieve his lost estate, by a renewed rebellion against God; and they were determined to drive him, and all his confederates, for ever from the confines of the earth. The humble hamlet of Salem Village was felt to be the great and final battle-ground. However wild and absurd this idea is now regarded, it was then sincerely and thoroughly entertained, and must be taken into the account, in coming to a just estimate of the character of the transaction, and of those engaged in it.

One other thought is to be borne in mind, as we pass through the scenes that are to be spread before us. The theology of Christendom, at that time, so far as it relates to the power and agency of Satan and demonology in general,—and this is the only point of view on which I ever refer to theology in this discussion,—and the whole fabric of popular superstitions founded upon it, had reached their culmination. The beginning, middle, and close of the seventeenth century, witnessed the greatest display of those supersti[i.467]tions, and prepared the way for their final explosion. As the hour of their dissolution was at hand, and they were doomed to vanish before the light of science and education, to pass from the realm of supposed reality into that of acknowledged fiction, it seems to have been ordered that they should leave monuments behind them, from which their character, elements, and features, and their terrible influence, might be read and studied in all subsequent ages.

The ideas in reference to the agency and designs of the great enemy of God and man, and all his subordinate hosts, witches, fairies, ghosts, "gorgons and hydras, and chimeras dire," "apparitions, signs, and prodigies," by which the minds of men had so long been filled, and their fearful imaginations exercised, as they took their flight, imprinted themselves, for perpetual remembrance, in productions which, more than any works of mere human genius, are sure to live for ever. They left their forms crystallized, with imperishable lineaments, in the greatest of dramas and the greatest of epics. The plays of Shakespeare, as the century opened, and the verse of Milton in its central period, are their record and their picture.

But there was another shape and aspect in which it was pre-eminently important to have their memory preserved; and that was their application to life, their influence upon the conduct of men, the action of tribunals, and the movements of society, and, in general, their effects, when allowed full operation, upon human happiness and welfare. This want was supplied, as[i.468] the century terminated, by the tragedy in real life, whose scenes are now to be presented in Witchcraft at Salem Village.

However strange it seems, it is quite worthy of observation, that the actors in that tragedy, the "afflicted children," and other witnesses, in their various statements and operations, embraced about the whole circle of popular superstition. How those young country girls, some of them mere children, most of them wholly illiterate, could have become familiar with such fancies, to such an extent, is truly surprising. They acted out, and brought to bear with tremendous effect, almost all that can be found in the literature of that day, and the period preceding it, relating to such subjects. Images and visions which had been portrayed in tales of romance, and given interest to the pages of poetry, will be made by them, as we shall see, to throng the woods, flit through the air, and hover over the heads of a terrified court. The ghosts of murdered wives and children will play their parts with a vividness of representation and artistic skill of expression that have hardly been surpassed in scenic representations on the stage. In the Salem-witchcraft proceedings, the superstition of the middle ages was embodied in real action. All its extravagances, absurdities, and monstrosities appear in their application to human experience. We see what the effect has been, and must be, when the affairs of life, in courts of law and the relations of society, or the conduct or feelings of individuals, are suffered to[i.469] be under the control of fanciful or mystical notions. When a whole people abandons the solid ground of common sense, overleaps the boundaries of human knowledge, gives itself up to wild reveries, and lets loose its passions without restraint, it presents a spectacle more terrific to behold, and becomes more destructive and disastrous, than any convulsion of mere material nature; than tornado, conflagration, or earthquake.

END OF VOL. I.

Go to Volume II

FOOTNOTES

[A] Not only the storms of two hundred and thirty years, but the bolts of heaven, have beat in vain upon this mansion. The view given of it in the frontispiece is from a sketch taken in winter. The leafless branches of a tall elm at its western end are represented. At noon on Saturday, July 28, 1866, during a violent thunder-storm, the electric fluid seems to have passed down the tree, rending and tearing some of its branches, and leaving its traces on the trunk. It flashed into the house. It tore the roof, knocking away one corner, displacing in patches the mortar that coated the old chimney top and sides, hacking the edges of the brick-work, splitting off the side of an extension to the building at the western end, entering a chamber at that point, where two children were sitting at a window, and throwing upon the floor, within two or three feet of them, a considerable portion of the plastered ceiling. It then scattered all through the apartments. What looked like perforations, as if made by shot or pistol-balls, were found in many places; but there were no corresponding marks on the opposite sides of the walls or partitions. Portions of the paper-hangings were stripped off, and small slivers ripped up from the floors. It struck the frames of looking-glasses, cracking off small pieces of the wood, but only in one instance breaking the mirror. It cut a velvet band by which one was hung; and it was found on the floor, the mirror downward and unbroken, as if it had been carefully laid there. In the attic, fragments of the old gnarled and knotted rafters, of different lengths,—from four or five feet to mere chips,—were scattered in quantities upon the floor, and grooves made lengthwise along posts and implements of household use. Large cracks were left in the wooden casings of some of the doors and windows. A family of eight persons were seated around the dinner-table. All were more or less affected. They were deprived for the time of the use of their feet and ancles; were stunned, paralyzed, and rendered insensible for a few moments by the shock; and felt the effects, some of them, for a day or two in their lower limbs. In front of each person at the table was a tall goblet, which had just been filled with water. As soon as they were able to notice, they found the water dripping on all sides to the floor, the whole table-cloth wet, seven of the goblets entirely empty, the eighth half emptied, and not one of them thrown over, or in the slightest manner displaced. The whole house was filled with what seemed, to the sight and smell, to be smoke; but no combustion, scorch, discoloration, or the least indication of heat, could be found on any of the objects struck. The building, in its thirteen rooms, from the garret to the ground-floor, had been flooded with lightning; but, with all its inmates, escaped without considerable or permanent injury.

[B] For a thorough discussion of the several Hebrew words that relate to Divination and Magic, see Wierus de Præstigiis, L. 2, c. 1.

[C] The syllogism was originally designed to serve as a method of determining the arrangement and classification of truth already shown; and, when employed for this purpose, was of great value and excellence. It was its perverted application to the discovery of truth which rendered utterly worthless so large a part of the learning and philosophy of the middle ages. The reader will perceive, that it is to the syllogism, as thus misapplied and misunderstood by the schoolmen, not as designed and used by Aristotle, that the remarks in the text are intended to apply.

[D] The manner in which Dr. Mather brings forward this affair shows how loose and inaccurate he was in his description of events. It also illustrates the tendency of the times to exaggerate, or to paint in the highest colors, whatever was susceptible of being represented as miraculous. There is no reason, however, to doubt that the facts took place substantially as described in the text. The reader is referred, on this as on all points connected with our early history, to Mr. Savage's instructive, elaborate, and entertaining edition of Winthrop's "New England."

[E] It is much to be regretted, that Farmer, after having written with such admirable success upon the temptation, the demoniacs, miracles, and the worship of human spirits, did not live to accomplish his original design, by giving the world a complete discussion and elucidation of the Scripture doctrine of the Devil.

VOLUME II.

THE PHILIP ENGLISH HOUSE.—Vol. II., 142.

[ii.1]

PART THIRD.

WITCHCRAFT AT SALEM VILLAGE.

W E left Mr. Parris in the early part of November, 1691, at the crisis of his controversy with the inhabitants of Salem Village, under circumstances which seemed to indicate that its termination was near at hand. The opposition to him had assumed a form which made it quite probable that it would succeed in dislodging him from his position. But the end was not yet. Events were ripening that were to give him a new and fearful strength, and open a scene in which he was to act a part destined to attract the notice of the world, and become a permanent portion of human history. The doctrines of demonology had produced their full effect upon the minds of men, and every thing was ready for a final display of their power. The story of the Goodwin children, as told by Cotton Mather, was known and read in all the dwellings of the land, and filled the imaginations of a credulous age. [ii.2]Deputy-governor Danforth had begun the work of arrests; and persons charged with witchcraft, belonging to neighboring towns, were already in prison.

Mr. Parris appears to have had in his family several slaves, probably brought by him from the West Indies. One of them, whom he calls, in his church-record book, "my negro lad," had died, a year or two before, at the age of nineteen. Two of them were man and wife. The former was always known by the name of "John Indian;" the latter was called "Tituba." These two persons may have originated the "Salem witchcraft." They are spoken of as having come from New Spain, as it was then called,—that is, the Spanish West Indies, and the adjacent mainlands of Central and South America,—and, in all probability, contributed, from the wild and strange superstitions prevalent among their native tribes, materials which, added to the commonly received notions on such subjects, heightened the infatuation of the times, and inflamed still more the imaginations of the credulous. Persons conversant with the Indians of Mexico, and on both sides of the Isthmus, discern many similarities in their systems of demonology with ideas and practices developed here.

Mr. Parris's former residence in the neighborhood of the Spanish Main, and the prominent part taken by his Indian slaves in originating the proceedings at the village, may account for some of the features of the transaction.

During the winter of 1691 and 1692, a circle of young girls had been formed, who were in the habit of meeting at Mr. Parris's house for the [ii.3]purpose of practising palmistry, and other arts of fortune-telling, and of becoming experts in the wonders of necromancy, magic, and spiritualism. It consisted, besides the Indian servants, mainly of the following persons:—

Elizabeth, daughter of Mr. Parris, was nine years of age. She seems to have performed a leading part in the first stages of the affair, and must have been a child of remarkable precocity. It is a noticeable fact, that her father early removed her from the scene. She was sent to the town, where she remained in the family of Stephen Sewall, until the proceedings at the village were brought to a close. Abigail Williams, a niece of Mr. Parris, and a member of his household, was eleven years of age. She acted conspicuously in the witchcraft prosecutions from beginning to end. Ann Putnam, daughter of Sergeant Thomas Putnam, the parish clerk or recorder, was twelve years of age. The character and social position of her parents gave her a prominence which an extraordinary development of the imaginative faculty, and of mental powers generally, enabled her to hold throughout. This young girl is perhaps entitled to be regarded as, in many respects, the leading agent in all the mischief that followed. Mary Walcot was seventeen years of age. Her father was Jonathan Walcot (vol. i. p. 225). His first wife, Mary Sibley, to whom he was married in 1664, had died in 1683. She was the mother of Mary. It is a singular fact, and indicates the estimation in which Captain Walcot was held, that, although not a church-member, he filled the office of deacon of the parish[ii.4] for several years before the formation of the church. Mercy Lewis was also seventeen years of age. When quite young, she was, for a time, in the family of the Rev. George Burroughs: and, in 1692, was living as a servant in the family of Thomas Putnam; although, occasionally, she seems to have lived, in the same capacity, with that of John Putnam, Jr., the constable of the village. He was a son of Nathaniel, and resided in the neighborhood of Thomas and Deacon Edward Putnam. Mercy Lewis performed a leading part in the proceedings, had great energy of purpose and capacity of management, and became responsible for much of the crime and horror connected with them. Elizabeth Hubbard, seventeen years of age, who also occupies a bad eminence in the scene, was a niece of Mrs. Dr. Griggs, and lived in her family. Elizabeth Booth and Susannah Sheldon, each eighteen years of age, belonged to families in the neighborhood. Mary Warren, twenty years of age, was a servant in the family of John Procter; and Sarah Churchill, of the same age, was a servant in that of George Jacobs, Sr. These two last were actuated, it is too apparent, by malicious feelings towards the families in which they resided, and contributed largely to the horrible tragedy. The facts to be exhibited will enable every one who carefully considers them, to form an estimate, for himself, of the respective character and conduct of these young persons. It is almost beyond belief that they were wholly actuated by deliberate and cold-blooded malignity. Their crime would, in that view, have been[ii.5] without a parallel in monstrosity of wickedness, and beyond what can be imagined of the guiltiest and most depraved natures. For myself, I am unable to determine how much may be attributed to credulity, hallucination, and the delirium of excitement, or to deliberate malice and falsehood. There is too much evidence of guile and conspiracy to attribute all their actions and declarations to delusion; and their conduct throughout was stamped with a bold assurance and audacious bearing. With one or two slight and momentary exceptions, there was a total absence of compunction or commiseration, and a reckless disregard of the agonies and destruction they were scattering around them. They present a subject that justly claims, and will for ever task, the examination of those who are most competent to fathom the mysteries of the human soul, sound its depths, and measure the extent to which it is liable to become wicked and devilish. It will be seen that other persons were drawn to act with these "afflicted children," as they were called, some from contagious delusion, and some, as was quite well proved, from a false, mischievous, and malignant spirit.

Besides the above-mentioned persons, there were three married women, rather under middle life, who acted with the afflicted children,—Mrs. Ann Putnam, the mother of the child of that name; Mrs. Pope; and a woman, named Bibber, who appears to have lived at Wenham. Another married woman,—spoken of as "ancient,"—named Goodell, had also been in the[ii.6] habit of attending their meetings; but she is not named in any of the documents on file, and was probably withdrawn, at an early period, from participating in the transaction.

In the course of the winter, they became quite skilful and expert in the arts they were learning, and gradually began to display their attainments to the admiration and amazement of beholders. At first, they made no charges against any person, but confined themselves to strange actions, exclamations, and contortions. They would creep into holes, and under benches and chairs, put themselves into odd and unnatural postures, make wild and antic gestures, and utter incoherent and unintelligible sounds. They would be seized with spasms, drop insensible to the floor, or writhe in agony, suffering dreadful tortures, and uttering loud and piercing outcries. The attention of the families in which they held their meetings was called to their extraordinary condition and proceedings; and the whole neighborhood and surrounding country soon were filled with the story of the strange and unaccountable sufferings of the "afflicted girls." No explanation could be given, and their condition became worse and worse. The physician of the village, Dr. Griggs, was called in, a consultation had, and the opinion finally and gravely given, that the afflicted children were bewitched. It was quite common in those days for the faculty to dispose of difficult cases by this resort. When their remedies were baffled, and their skill at fault, the patient was[ii.7] said to be "under an evil hand." In all cases, the sage conclusion was received by nurses, and elderly women called in on such occasions, if the symptoms were out of the common course, or did not yield to the prescriptions these persons were in the habit of applying. Very soon, the whole community became excited and alarmed to the highest degree. All other topics were forgotten. The only thing spoken or thought of was the terrible condition of the afflicted children in Mr. Parris's house, or wherever, from time to time, the girls assembled. They were the objects of universal compassion and wonder. The people flocked from all quarters to witness their sufferings, and gaze with awe upon their convulsions. Becoming objects of such notice, they were stimulated to vary and expand the manifestations of the extraordinary influence that was upon them. They extended their operations beyond the houses of Mr. Parris, and the families to which they belonged, to public places; and their fits, exclamations, and outcries disturbed the exercises of prayer meetings, and the ordinary services of the congregation. On one occasion, on the Lord's Day, March 20th, when the singing of the psalm previous to the sermon was concluded, before the person preaching—Mr. Lawson—could come forward, Abigail Williams cried out, "Now stand up, and name your text." When he had read it, in a loud and insolent voice she exclaimed, "It's a long text." In the midst of the discourse, Mrs. Pope broke in, "Now, there is enough of that." In the afternoon of the same day, while re[ii.8]ferring to the doctrine he had been expounding in the preceding service, Abigail Williams rudely ejaculated, "I know no doctrine you had. If you did name one, I have forgot it." An aged member of the church was present, against whom a warrant on the charge of witchcraft had been procured the day before. Being apprised of the proceeding, Abigail Williams spoke aloud, during the service, calling by name the person about to be apprehended, "Look where she sits upon the beam, sucking her yellow-bird betwixt her fingers." Ann Putnam, joining in, exclaimed, "There is a yellow-bird sitting on the minister's hat, as it hangs on the pin in the pulpit." Mr. Lawson remarks, with much simplicity, that these things, occurring "in the time of public worship, did something interrupt me in my first prayer, being so unusual." But he braced himself up to the emergency, and went on with the service. There is no intimation that Mr. Parris rebuked his niece for her disorderly behavior. As at several other times, the people sitting near Ann Putnam had to lay hold of her to prevent her proceeding to greater extremities, and wholly breaking up the meeting. The girls were supposed to be under an irresistible and supernatural impulse; and, instead of being severely punished, were looked upon with mingled pity, terror, and awe, and made objects of the greatest attention. Of course, where members of the minister's family were countenanced in such proceedings, during the exercises of public worship, on the Lord's Day, in the meeting-house, it was not[ii.9] strange that people in general yielded to the excitement. But all did not. Several members of the family of Francis Nurse, Peter Cloyse and wife, and Joseph Putnam, expressed their disapprobation of such doings being allowed, and absented themselves from meeting. Perhaps others took the same course; but whoever did were marked, as the sequel will show.

In the mean while the excitement was worked up to the highest pitch. The families to which several of the "afflicted children" belonged were led to apply themselves to fasting and prayer, on which occasions the neighbors, under the guidance of the minister, would assemble, and unite in invocations to the Divine Being to interpose and deliver them from the snares and dominion of Satan. The "afflicted children" who might be present would not, as a general thing, interrupt the prayers while in progress, but would break out with their wild outcries and convulsive spasms in the intervals of the service. In due time, Mr. Parris sent for the neighboring ministers to assemble at his house, and unite with him in devoting a day to solemn religious services and earnest supplications to the throne of Mercy for rescue from the power of the great enemy of souls. The ministers spent the day in Mr. Parris's house, and the children performed their feats before their eyes. The reverend gentlemen were astounded at what they saw, fully corroborated the opinion of Dr. Griggs, and formally declared their belief that the Evil One had commenced his operations with a bolder front and[ii.10] on a broader scale than ever before in this or any other country.

This judgment of the ministers was quickly made known everywhere; and, if doubt remained in any mind, it was suppressed by the irresistible power of an overwhelming public conviction. Individuals were lost in the universal fanaticism. Society was dissolved into a wild and excited crowd. Men and women left their fields, their houses, their labors and employments, to witness the awful unveiling of the demoniac power, and to behold the workings of Satan himself upon the victims of his wrath.

It must be borne in mind, that it was then an established doctrine in theology, philosophy, and law, that the Devil could not operate upon mortals, or mortal affairs, except through the intermediate instrumentality of human beings in confederacy with him, that is, witches or wizards. The question, of course, in all minds and on all tongues, was, "Who are the agents of the Devil in afflicting these girls? There must be some among us thus acting, and who are they?" For some time the girls held back from mentioning names; or, if they did, it was prevented from being divulged to the public. In the mean time, the excitement spread and deepened. At length the people had become so thoroughly prepared for the work, that it was concluded to begin operations in earnest. The continued pressure upon the "afflicted children," the earnest and importunate inquiry, on all sides, "Who is it that bewitches you?" opened their lips in response, and[ii.11] they began to select and bring forward their victims. One after another, they cried out "Good," "Osburn," "Tituba." On the 29th of February, 1692, warrants were duly issued against those persons. It is observable, that the complainants who procured the warrants in these cases were Joseph Hutchinson, Edward Putnam, Thomas Putnam, and Thomas Preston. This fact shows how nearly unanimous, at this time, was the conviction that the sufferings of the girls were the result of witchcraft. Joseph Hutchinson was a firm-minded man, of strong common sense, and from his general character and ways of thinking and acting, one of the last persons liable to be carried away by a popular enthusiasm, and was found among the earliest rescued from it. Thomas Preston was a son-in-law of Francis Nurse.

As all was ripe for the development of the plot, extraordinary means were taken to give publicity, notoriety, and effect to the first examinations. On the 1st of March the two leading magistrates of the neighborhood, men of great note and influence, whose fathers had been among the chief founders of the settlement, and who were Assistants,—that is, members of the highest legislative and judicial body in the colony, combining with the functions of a senate those of a court of last resort with most comprehensive jurisdiction,—John Hathorne and Jonathan Corwin, entered the village, in imposing array, escorted by the marshal, constables, and their aids, with all the trappings of their offices; reined up at Nathaniel In[ii.12]gersoll's corner, and dismounted at his door. The whole population of the neighborhood, apprised of the occasion, was gathered on the lawn, or came flocking along the roads. The crowd was so great that it was necessary to adjourn to the meeting-house, which was filled at once by a multitude excited to the highest pitch of indignation and abhorrence towards the prisoners, and of curiosity to witness the novel and imposing spectacle and proceedings. The magistrates took seats in front of the pulpit, facing the assembly; a long table or raised platform being placed before them; and it was announced, that they were ready to enter upon the examination. On bringing in and delivering over the accused parties, the officers who had executed the warrants stated that they "had made diligent search for images and such like, but could find none." After prayer, Constable George Locker produced the body of Sarah Good; and Constable Joseph Herrick, the bodies of Sarah Osburn, and Tituba Mr. Parris's Indian woman. The evidence seems to indicate, that, on these occasions, the prisoners were placed on the platform, to keep them from the contact of the general crowd, and that all might see them.

Sarah Good was first examined, the other two being removed from the house for the time. In complaining of her, and bringing her forward first, the prosecutors showed that they were well advised. There was a general readiness to receive the charge against her, as she was evidently the object of much prejudice in the neighborhood. Her husband, who was a weak,[ii.13] ignorant, and dependent person, had become alienated from her. The family were very poor; and she and her children had sometimes been without a house to shelter them, and left to wander from door to door for relief. Whether justly or not, she appears to have been subject to general obloquy. Probably there was no one in the country around, against whom popular suspicion could have been more readily directed, or in whose favor and defence less interest could be awakened. She was a forlorn, friendless, and forsaken creature, broken down by wretchedness of condition and ill-repute. The following are the minutes of her examination, as found among the files:—

"The Examination of Sarah Good before the Worshipful Esqrs. John Hathorne and Jonathan Corwin.

"Sarah Good, what evil spirit have you familiarity with?—None.

"Have you made no contracts with the Devil?—No.

"Why do you hurt these children?—I do not hurt them. I scorn it.

"Who do you employ then to do it?—I employ nobody.

"What creature do you employ then?—No creature: but I am falsely accused.

"Why did you go away muttering from Mr. Parris his house?—I did not mutter, but I thanked him for what he gave my child.

"Have you made no contract with the Devil?—No.

"Hathorne desired the children all of them to look upon her, and see if this were the person that hurt them; and so they all did look upon her, and said this was one of the persons that did torment them. Presently they were all tormented.[ii.14]

"Sarah Good, do you not see now what you have done? Why do you not tell us the truth? Why do you thus torment these poor children?—I do not torment them.

"Who do you employ then?—I employ nobody. I scorn it.

"How came they thus tormented?—What do I know? You bring others here, and now you charge me with it.

"Why, who was it?—I do not know but it was some you brought into the meeting-house with you.

"We brought you into the meeting-house.—But you brought in two more.

"Who was it, then, that tormented the children?—It was Osburn.

"What is it you say when you go muttering away from persons' houses?—If I must tell, I will tell.

"Do tell us then.—If I must tell, I will tell: it is the Commandments. I may say my Commandments, I hope.

"What Commandment is it?—If I must tell you, I will tell: it is a psalm.

"What psalm?

"(After a long time she muttered over some part of a psalm.)

"Who do you serve?—I serve God.

"What God do you serve?—The God that made heaven and earth (though she was not willing to mention the word 'God'). Her answers were in a very wicked, spiteful manner, reflecting and retorting against the authority with base and abusive words; and many lies she was taken in. It was here said that her husband had said that he was afraid that she either was a witch or would be one very quickly. The worshipful Mr. Hathorne, asked him his reason why he[ii.15] said so of her, whether he had ever seen any thing by her. He answered 'No, not in this nature; but it was her bad carriage to him: and indeed,' said he, 'I may say with tears, that she is an enemy to all good.'"

The foregoing is in the handwriting of Ezekiel Cheever. The following is in that of John Hathorne:—

"Salem Village, March the 1st, 1692.—Sarah Good, upon examination, denied the matter of fact (viz.) that she ever used any witchcraft, or hurt the abovesaid children, or any of them.

"The abovenamed children, being all present, positively accused her of hurting of them sundry times within this two months, and also that morning. Sarah Good denied that she had been at their houses in said time or near them, or had done them any hurt. All the abovesaid children then present accused her face to face; upon which they were all dreadfully tortured and tormented for a short space of time; and, the affliction and tortures being over, they charged said Sarah Good again that she had then so tortured them, and came to them and did it, although she was personally then kept at a considerable distance from them.

"Sarah Good being asked if that she did not then hurt them, who did it; and the children being again tortured, she looked upon them, and said that it was one of them we brought into the house with us. We asked her who it was: she then answered, and said it was Sarah Osburn, and Sarah Osburn was then under custody, and not in the house; and the children, being quickly after recovered out of their fit, said that it was Sarah Good and also Sarah Osburn that then did hurt and torment or afflict them, although both of them at the same time at a distance[ii.16] or remote from them personally. There were also sundry other questions put to her, and answers given thereunto by her according as is also given in."

It will be noticed that the examination was conducted in the form of questions put by the magistrate, Hathorne, based upon a foregone conclusion of the prisoner's guilt, and expressive of a conviction, all along on his part, that the evidence of "the afflicted" against her amounted to, and was, absolute demonstration. It will also be noticed, that, severe as was the opinion of her husband in reference to her general conduct, he could not be made to say that he had ever noticed any thing in her of the nature of witchcraft. The torments the girls affected to experience in looking at her must have produced an overwhelming effect on the crowd, as they did on the magistrate, and even on the poor, amazed creature herself. She did not seem to doubt the reality of their sufferings. In this, and in all cases, it must be remembered that the account of the examination comes to us from those who were under the wildest excitement against the prisoners; that no counsel was allowed them; that, if any thing was suffered to be said in their defence by others, it has failed to reach us; that the accused persons were wholly unaccustomed to such scenes and exposures, unsuspicious of the perils of a cross-examination, or of an inquisition conducted with a design to entrap and ensnare; and that what they did say was liable to be misunderstood, as well as misrepresented. We cannot hear their story. All we know is from parties[ii.17] prejudiced, to the highest degree, against them. Sarah Good was an unfortunate and miserable woman in her circumstances and condition: but, from all that appears on the record, making due allowance for the credulity, extravagance, prejudice, folly, or malignity of the witnesses; giving full effect to every thing that can claim the character of substantial force alleged against her, it is undeniable, that there was not, beyond the afflicted girls, a particle of evidence to sustain the charge on which she was arraigned; and that, in the worst aspect of her case, she was an object for compassion, rather than punishment. Altogether, the proceedings against her, which terminated with her execution, were cruel and shameful to the highest degree.

On the conclusion of her examination, she was removed from the meeting-house, and Sarah Osburn brought in. Her selection, as one of the persons to be first cried out upon, was judicious. The public mind was prepared to believe the charge against her. Her original name was Sarah Warren. She was married, April 5, 1662, to Robert Prince, who belonged to a leading family, and owned a valuable farm. He died early, leaving her with two young children, James and Joseph.

In the early colonial period, it was the custom for persons who desired to come from the old country to America, but had not the means to defray the expenses of the passage, to let or sell themselves, for a greater or less length of time, to individuals residing here who needed their service. The practice continued[ii.18] down to the present century. Emigrants who thus sold themselves for a period of years were called "redemptioners." Alexander Osburn came over from Ireland in this character. The widow of Robert Prince bought out the residue of his time from the person to whom he was thus under contract, for fifteen pounds, and employed him to carry on her farm. After a while, she married him. This, it is probable, gave rise to some criticism; and, as her boys grew up, became more and more disagreeable to them. The marriage, as was natural, led to unhappy results. In 1720, after Osburn had been dead some years, a curious case was brought into court, in which the sons of Robert Prince testified that Osburn treated their mother and them with great cruelty and barbarity. They had become of age before their mother's death, and had signed their names to a deed conveying away land belonging to their patrimony. The object of the suit was to invalidate the conveyance by proving that they were compelled by Osburn to sign the deed, he using threats and violence upon them at the time. There was an extraordinary conflict of testimony in the trial; some witnesses strongly corroborating the accusations of the Princes, and some equally strong in vindication of the character of Osburn. It was shown, that, in the opinion of several of his neighbors, he was an industrious, respectable, and worthy person. It is difficult to determine the precise merits of the case. After the death of his wife, Osburn married Ruth, a daughter of William Cantlebury, and widow of William Sibley.[ii.19] She was a woman of unquestioned excellence of character, and of a large landed estate. Osburn was her third husband, the first having been Thomas Small. After her marriage to Osburn, he and she joined the church, and were reputable persons in all respects. He was well regarded as a citizen, and often on the parish committee. Neither he nor the widow Sibley appear to have been implicated in the witchcraft proceedings in any other particular than that he testified that his then wife Sarah had not been for some time at meeting. There is no indication that this was volunteer testimony. He and his wife Ruth were among the firmest opponents of Mr. Parris. There is no mention of his having had children by either of his American wives. His son John, who probably came with him to the country, was an inhabitant of the Village; and his name is on the rate-list, for the last time, in 1718, his father having died some years before. The Osborne family, in this part of the country, does not appear to have sprung from this source.

Without attempting to decide where, or in what proportions, the blame is to be laid, the fact is evident, that the marriage of the widow Sarah Prince to Alexander Osburn was an unhappy one. Her mind became depressed, if not distracted. For some time, she had been bedridden. Of course, as she had occupied a respectable social position, and was a woman of property, her case naturally gave rise to scandal. Rumor was busy and gossip rife in reference to her; and it was quite natural that she should have been suggested[ii.20] for the accusing girls to pitch upon. The following is an account of her examination by the magistrates, in the handwriting of John Hathorne:—

"Sarah Osburne, upon examination, denied the matter of fact, viz., that she ever understood or used any witchcraft, or hurt any of the abovesaid children.

"The children above named, being all personally present, accused her face to face; which, being done, they were all hurt, afflicted, and tortured very much; which, being over, and they out of their fits, they said that said Sarah Osburne did then come to them, and hurt them, Sarah Osburne being then kept at a distance personally from them. Sarah Osburne was asked why she then hurt them. She denied it. It being asked of her how she could so pinch and hurt them, and yet she be at that distance personally from them, she answered she did not then hurt them, nor ever did. She was asked who, then, did it, or who she employed to do it. She answered she did not know that the Devil goes about in her likeness to do any hurt. Sarah Osburne, being told that Sarah Good, one of her companions, had, upon examination, accused her, she, notwithstanding, denied the same, according to her examination, which is more at large given in, as therein will appear."

The following is in the handwriting of Ezekiel Cheever:—

"Sarah Osburn her Examination.

"What evil spirit have you familiarity with?—None.

"Have you made no contract with the Devil?—No: I never saw the Devil in my life.

"Why do you hurt these children?—I do not hurt them.[ii.21]

"Who do you employ, then, to hurt them?—I employ nobody.

"What familiarity have you with Sarah Good?—None: I have not seen her these two years.

"Where did you see her then?—One day, agoing to town.

"What communications had you with her?—I had none, only 'How do you do?' or so. I do not know her by name.

"What did you call her, then?

"(Osburn made a stand at that; at last, said she called her Sarah.)

"Sarah Good saith that it was you that hurt the children.—I do not know that the Devil goes about in my likeness to do any hurt.

"Mr. Hathorne desired all the children to stand up, and look upon her, and see if they did know her, which they all did; and every one of them said that this was one of the women that did afflict them, and that they had constantly seen her in the very habit that she was now in. Three evidences declared that she said this morning, that she was more like to be bewitched than that she was a witch. Mr. Hathorne asked her what made her say so. She answered that she was frighted one time in her sleep, and either saw, or dreamed that she saw, a thing like an Indian all black, which did pinch her in her neck, and pulled her by the back part of her head to the door of the house.

"Did you never see any thing else?—No.

"(It was said by some in the meeting-house, that she had said that she would never believe that lying spirit any more.)

"What lying spirit is this? Hath the Devil ever deceived you, and been false to you?—I do not know the Devil. I never did see him.[ii.22]

"What lying spirit was it, then?—It was a voice that I thought I heard.

"What did it propound to you?—That I should go no more to meeting; but I said I would, and did go the next sabbath-day.

"Were you never tempted further?—No.

"Why did you yield thus far to the Devil as never to go to meeting since?—Alas! I have been sick, and not able to go.

"Her husband and others said that she had not been at meeting three years and two months."

The foregoing illustrates the unfairness practised by the examining magistrate. He took for granted, as we shall find to have been the case in all instances, the guilt of the prisoner, and endeavored to entangle her by leading questions, thus involving her in contradiction. By the force of his own assumptions, he had compelled Sarah Good to admit the reality of the sufferings of the girls, and that they must be caused by some one. The amount of what she had said was, that, if caused by one or the other of them, "then it must be Osburn," for she was sure of her own innocence. This expression, to which she was driven in self-exculpation, was perverted by the reporter, Ezekiel Cheever, and by the magistrate, into an indirect confession and a direct accusation of Osburn. In the absence of Good, the magistrate told Osburn that Good had confessed and accused her. This was a misrepresentation of one, and a false and fraudulent trick upon the other. Considering the feeble condition of Sarah Osburn generally, the snares by which she[ii.23] was beset, the distressing and bewildering circumstances in which she was placed, and the infirm state of her reason, as evidenced in her statement of what she saw, or dreamed that she saw and heard,—not having a clear idea which,—her answers, as reported by the prosecutors, show that her broken and disordered mind was essentially truthful and innocent.

Sarah Osburn was removed from the meeting-house, and Tituba brought in and examined, as follows:—

"Tituba, what evil spirit have you familiarity with?—None.

"Why do you hurt these children?—I do not hurt them.

"Who is it then?—The Devil, for aught I know.

"Did you never see the Devil?—The Devil came to me, and bid me serve him.

"Who have you seen?—Four women sometimes hurt the children.

"Who were they?—Goody Osburn and Sarah Good, and I do not know who the others were. Sarah Good and Osburn would have me hurt the children, but I would not.

"(She further saith there was a tall man of Boston that she did see.)

"When did you see them?—Last night, at Boston.

"What did they say to you?—They said, 'Hurt the children.'

"And did you hurt them?—No: there is four women and one man, they hurt the children, and then they lay all upon me; and they tell me, if I will not hurt the children, they will hurt me.[ii.24]

"But did you not hurt them?—Yes; but I will hurt them no more.

"Are you not sorry that you did hurt them?—Yes.

"And why, then, do you hurt them?—They say, 'Hurt children, or we will do worse to you.'

"What have you seen?—A man come to me, and say, 'Serve me.'

"What service?—Hurt the children: and last night there was an appearance that said, 'Kill the children;' and, if I would not go on hurting the children, they would do worse to me.

"What is this appearance you see?—Sometimes it is like a hog, and sometimes like a great dog.

"(This appearance she saith she did see four times.)

"What did it say to you?—The black dog said, 'Serve me;' but I said, 'I am afraid.' He said, if I did not, he would do worse to me.

"What did you say to it?—I will serve you no longer. Then he said he would hurt me; and then he looks like a man, and threatens to hurt me. (She said that this man had a yellow-bird that kept with him.) And he told me he had more pretty things that he would give me, if I would serve him.

"What were these pretty things?—He did not show me them.

"What else have you seen?—Two cats; a red cat, and a black cat.

"What did they say to you?—They said, 'Serve me.'

"When did you see them?—Last night; and they said, 'Serve me;' but I said I would not.

"What service?—She said, hurt the children.[ii.25]

"Did you not pinch Elizabeth Hubbard this morning?—The man brought her to me, and made pinch her.

"Why did you go to Thomas Putnam's last night, and hurt his child?—They pull and haul me, and make go.

"And what would they have you do?—Kill her with a knife.

"(Lieutenant Fuller and others said at this time, when the child saw these persons, and was tormented by them, that she did complain of a knife,—that they would have her cut her head off with a knife.)

"How did you go?—We ride upon sticks, and are there presently.

"Do you go through the trees or over them?—We see nothing, but are there presently.

"Why did you not tell your master?—I was afraid: they said they would cut off my head if I told.

"Would you not have hurt others, if you could?—They said they would hurt others, but they could not.

"What attendants hath Sarah Good?—A yellow-bird, and she would have given me one.

"What meat did she give it?—It did suck her between her fingers.

"Did you not hurt Mr. Curren's child?—Goody Good and Goody Osburn told that they did hurt Mr. Curren's child, and would have had me hurt him too; but I did not.

"What hath Sarah Osburn?—Yesterday she had a thing with a head like a woman, with two legs and wings.

"(Abigail Williams, that lives with her uncle Mr. Parris, said that she did see the same creature, and it turned into the shape of Goodie Osburn.)

"What else have you seen with Osburn?—Another thing, hairy: it goes upright like a man, it hath only two legs.[ii.26]

"Did you not see Sarah Good upon Elizabeth Hubbard, last Saturday?—I did see her set a wolf upon her to afflict her.

"(The persons with this maid did say that she did complain of a wolf. She further said that she saw a cat with Good at another time.)

"What clothes doth the man go in?—He goes in black clothes; a tall man, with white hair, I think.

"How doth the woman go?—In a white hood, and a black hood with a top-knot.

"Do you see who it is that torments these children now?—Yes: it is Goody Good; she hurts them in her own shape.

"Who is it that hurts them now?—I am blind now: I cannot see.

"Written by Ezekiel Cheever.

"Salem Village, March the 1st, 1692."

Another report of Tituba's examination has been preserved, and may be found in the second volume of the collection edited by Samuel G. Drake, entitled the "Witchcraft Delusion in New England." It is in the handwriting of Jonathan Corwin, very full and minute, and shows that the Indian woman was familiar with all the ridiculous and monstrous fancies then prevalent. The details of her statement cover nearly the whole ground of them. While indicating, in most respects, a mind at the lowest level of general intelligence, they give evidence of cunning and wariness in the highest degree. This document is also valuable, as it affords information about particulars, incidentally mentioned and thus rescued from oblivion, which[ii.27] serve to bring back the life of the past. Tituba describes the dresses of some of the witches: "A black silk hood, with a white silk hood under it, with top-knots." One of them wore "a serge coat, with a white cap." The Devil appeared "in black clothes sometimes, sometimes serge coat of other color." She speaks of the "lean-to chamber" in the parsonage, and describes an aërial night ride "up" to Thomas Putnam's. "How did you go? What did you ride upon?" asked the wondering magistrate. "I ride upon a stick, or pole, and Good and Osburn behind me: we ride taking hold of one another; don't know how we go, for I saw no trees nor path, but was presently there when we were up." In both reports, Tituba describes, quite graphically, the likenesses in which the Devil appeared to his confederates; but Corwin gives the details more fully than Cheever. What the latter reports of the appearances in which the Devil accompanied Osburn, the former amplifies. "The thing with two legs and wings, and a face like a woman," "turns" into a full woman. The "hairy thing" becomes "a thing all over hairy, all the face hairy, and a long nose, and I don't know how to tell how the face looks; is about two or three feet high, and goeth upright like a man; and, last night, it stood before the fire in Mr. Parris's hall."

It is quite evident that the part played by the Indian woman on this occasion was pre-arranged. She had, from the first, been concerned with the circle of girls in their necromantic operations; and her state[ii.28]ments show the materials out of which their ridiculous and monstrous stories were constructed. She said that there were four who "hurt the children." Upon being pressed by the magistrate to tell who they were, she named Osburn and Good, but did "not know who the others were." Two others were marked; but it was not thought best to bring them out until these three examinations had first been made to tell upon the public mind. Tituba had been apprised of Elizabeth Hubbard's story, that she had been "pinched" that morning; and, as well as "Lieutenant Fuller and others," had heard of the delirious exclamation of Thomas Putnam's sick child during the night. "Abigail Williams, that lives with her uncle Parris," had communicated to the Indian slave the story of "the woman with two legs and wings." In fact, she had been fully admitted to their councils, and made acquainted with all the stories they were to tell. But, when it became necessary to avoid specifications touching parties whose names it had been decided not to divulge at that stage of the business, the wily old servant escapes further interrogation, "I am blind now: I cannot see."

Proceedings connected with these examinations were continued several days. The result appears, in the handwriting of John Hathorne, as follows:—

"Salem Village, March 1, 1691/2.—Tituba, an Indian woman, brought before us by Constable Jos. Herrick, of Salem, upon suspicion of witchcraft by her committed, according to the complaint of Jos. Hutchinson and Thomas[ii.29] Putnam, &c., of Salem Village, as appears per warrant granted, Salem, 29th February, 1691/2. Tituba, upon examination, and after some denial, acknowledged the matter of fact, as, according to her examination given in, more fully will appear, and who also charged Sarah Good and Sarah Osburn with the same.

"Salem Village, March the 1st, 1691/2.—Sarah Good, Sarah Osburn, and Tituba, an Indian woman, all of Salem Village, being this day brought before us, upon suspicion of witchcraft, &c., by them and every one of them committed; Tituba, an Indian woman, acknowledging the matter of fact, and Sarah Osburn and Sarah Good denying the same before us; but there appearing, in all their examinations, sufficient ground to secure them all. And, in order to further examination, they were all per mittimus sent to the jails in the county of Essex.

"Salem, March 2.—Sarah Osburn again examined, and also Tituba, as will appear in their examinations given in. Tituba again acknowledged the fact, and also accused the other two.

"Salem, March 3.—Sarah Osburn, and Tituba, Indian, again examined. The examination now given in. Tituba again said the same.

"Salem, March 5.—Sarah Good and Tituba again examined; and, in their examination, Tituba acknowledged the same she did formerly, and accused the other two above said.

signatures

[ii.30]

"Salem, March the 7th, 1691/2.—Sarah Good, Sarah Osburn, and Tituba, an Indian woman, all sent to the jail in Boston, according to their mittimuses, then sent to their Majesties' jail-keeper."

It will be noticed that the magistrates did not venture to put into this their final record, what they had unfairly tried to make Sarah Osborn believe, that Sarah Good had been a witness against her. The jail at Ipswich was at a distance of at least ten miles from the village meeting-house, by any road that could then have been travelled. The transference of the prisoners day after day must have been very fatiguing to a sick woman like Sarah Osburn. Sarah Good seems to have been able to bear it. Samuel Braybrook, an assistant constable, having charge of her, says, that, on the way to Ipswich, she "leaped off her horse three times;" that she "railed against the magistrates, and endeavored to kill herself." He further testified, that, at the very time she was performing these feats, Thomas Putnam's daughter, "at her father's house, declared the same." As Braybrook was many miles from Thomas Putnam's house, at the moment when his wonderful daughter exercised this miraculous extent of vision, it would have been more satisfactory to have had some other testimony to the fact. I mention this to show of what stuff the evidence in these cases was made, and the credulity with which every thing was swallowed. The prisoners were put to examination each day.

Osburn and Good steadily maintained their innocence. Tituba all along declared herself guilty, and[ii.31] accused the other two of having been with her in confederacy with the Devil. Mr. Parris made the following deposition, in relation to these examinations, to which he subsequently swore in Court, at the trial of Sarah Good:—

"The Deposition of Sam: Parris, aged about thirty and nine years.—Testifieth and saith, that Elizabeth Parris, Jr., and Abigail Williams, and Ann Putnam, Jr., and Elizabeth Hubbard, were most grievously and several times tortured during the examination of Sarah Good, Sarah Osburn, and Tituba, Indian, before the magistrates at Salem Village, 1 March, 1692. And the said Tituba being the last of the above said that was examined, they, the above said afflicted persons, were grievously distressed until the said Indian began to confess, and then they were immediately all quiet the rest of the said Indian woman's examination. Also Thomas Putnam, aged about forty years, and Ezekiel Cheever, aged about thirty and six years, testify to the whole of the above said; and all the three deponents aforesaid further testify, that, after the said Indian began to confess, she was herself very much afflicted, and in the face of authority at the same time, and openly charged the abovesaid Good and Osburn as the persons that afflicted her, the aforesaid Indian."

By comparing these depositions with the other documents I have presented, it will be seen how admirably the whole affair was arranged, so far as concerned the part played by Tituba. She commences her testimony by declaring her innocence. The afflicted children are instantly thrown into torments, which, however,[ii.32] subside as soon as she begins to confess. Immediately after commencing her confession, and as she proceeds in it, she herself becomes tormented "in the face of authority," before the eyes of the magistrates and the awestruck crowd. Her power to afflict ceases as she breaks loose from her compact with the Devil, who sends some unseen confederate, not then brought to light, to wreak his vengeance upon her for having confessed. Tituba, as well as the girls, showed herself an adept in the arts taught in the circle.

All we know of Sarah Osburn beyond this date are the following items in the Boston jailer's bill "against the country," dated May 29, 1692: "To chains for Sarah Good and Sarah Osburn, 14 shillings:" "To the keeping of Sarah Osburn, from the 7th of March to the 10th of May, when she died, being nine weeks and two days, £1. 3s. 5d."

The only further information we have of Tituba is from Calef, who says, "The account she since gives of it is, that her master did beat her, and otherwise abuse her, to make her confess and accuse (such as he called) her sister-witches; and that whatsoever she said by way of confessing or accusing others was the effect of such usage: her master refused to pay her fees, unless she would stand to what she had said. Calef further states that she laid in jail until finally "sold for her fees." The jailer's charge for her "diet in prison for a year and a month" appears in a shape that corroborates Calef's statements, which were prepared for publication in 1697, and printed in London in 1700.[ii.33] Although zealously devoted to the work of exposing the enormities connected with the witchcraft prosecutions, there is no ground to dispute the veracity of Calef as to matters of fact. What he says of the declarations of Tituba, subsequent to her examination, is quite consistent with a critical analysis of the details of the record of that examination. It can hardly be doubted, whatever the amount of severity employed to make her act the part assigned her, that she was used as an instrument to give effect to the delusion.

Now let us consider the state of things that had been brought about in the village, and in the surrounding country, at the close of the first week in March, 1692. The terrible sufferings of the girls in Mr. Parris's family and of their associates, for the two preceding months, had become known far and wide. A universal sympathy was awakened in their behalf; and a sentiment of horror sunk deep into all hearts, at the dread demonstration of the diabolical rage in their afflicted and tortured persons. A few, very few, distrusted; but the great majority, ninety-nine in a hundred of all the people, were completely swept into the torrent. Nathaniel Putnam and Nathaniel Ingersoll were entirely deluded, and continued so to the end. Even Joseph Hutchinson was, for a while, carried away. The physicians had all given their opinion that the girls were suffering from an "evil hand." The neighboring ministers, after a day's fasting and prayer, and a scrutinizing inspection of the condition of the afflicted children, had given it, as[ii.34] the result of their most solemn judgment, that it was a case of witchcraft. Persons from the neighboring towns had come to the place, and with their own eyes received demonstration of the same fact. Mr. Parris made it the topic of his public prayers and preaching. The girls, Sunday after Sunday, were under the malign influence, to the disturbance and affrightment of the congregation. In all companies, in all families, all the day long, the sufferings and distraction occurring in the houses of Mr. Parris, Thomas Putnam, and others, and in the meeting-house, were topics of excited conversation; and every voice was loud in demanding, every mind earnest to ascertain, who were the persons, in confederacy with the Devil, thus torturing, pinching, convulsing, and bringing to the last extremities of mortal agony, these afflicted girls. Every one felt, that, if the guilty authors of the mischief could not be discovered, and put out of the way, no one was safe for a moment. At length, when the girls cried out upon Good, Osburn, and Tituba, there was a general sense of satisfaction and relief. It was thought that Satan's power might be checked. The selection of the first victims was well made. They were just the kind of persons whom the public prejudice and credulity were prepared to suspect and condemn. Their examination was looked for with the utmost interest, and all flocked to witness the proceedings.

In considering the state of mind of the people, as they crowded into and around the old meeting-house, we can have no difficulty in realizing the[ii.35] tremendous effects of what there occurred. It was felt that then, on that spot, the most momentous crisis in the world's history had come. A crime, in comparison with which all other crimes sink out of notice, was being notoriously and defiantly committed in their midst. The great enemy of God and man was let loose among them. What had filled the hearts of mankind for ages, the world over, with dread apprehension, was come to pass; and in that village the great battle, on whose issue the preservation of the kingdom of the Lord on the earth was suspended, had begun. Indeed, no language, no imagery, no conception of ours, can adequately express the feeling of awful and terrible solemnity with which all were overwhelmed. No body of men ever convened in a more highly wrought state of excitement than pervaded that assembly, when the magistrates entered, in all their stern authority, and the scene opened on the 1st of March, 1692. A minister, probably Mr. Parris, began, according to the custom of the times, with prayer. From what we know of his skill and talent in meeting such occasions, it may well be supposed that his language and manner heightened still more the passions of the hour. The marshal, of tall and imposing stature and aspect, accompanied by his constables, brought in the prisoners. Sarah Good, a poverty-stricken, wandering, and wretched victim of ill-fortune and ill-usage, was put to the bar. Every effort was made by the examining magistrate, aided by the officious interference of the marshal, or other deluded or[ii.36] evil-disposed persons,—who, like him, were permitted to interpose with charges or abusive expressions,—to overawe and confound, involve in contradictions, and mislead the poor creature, and force her to confess herself guilty and accuse others. In due time, the "afflicted children" were brought in; and a scene ensued, such as no person in that crowd or in that generation had ever witnessed before. Immediately on being confronted with the prisoner, and meeting her eye, they fell, as if struck dead, to the floor; or screeched in agony; or went into fearful spasms or convulsive fits; or cried out that they were pricked with pins, pinched, or throttled by invisible hands. They were severally brought up to the prisoner, and, upon touching her person, instantly became calm, quiet, and fully restored to their senses. With one voice they all declared that Sarah Good had thus tormented them, by her power as a witch in league with the Devil. The truth of this charge, in the effect produced by the malign influence proceeding from her, was thus visible to all eyes. All saw, too, how instantly upon touching her the diabolical effect ceased; the malignant fluid passing back, like an electric stream, into the body of the witch. The spectacle was repeated once and again, the acting perfect, and the delusion consummated. The magistrates and all present considered the guilt of the prisoner demonstrated, and regarded her as wilfully and wickedly obstinate in not at once confessing what her eyes, as well as theirs, saw. Her refusal to confess was considered as the[ii.37] highest proof of her guilt. They passed judgment against her, committed her to the marshal, who hurried her to prison, bound her with cords, and loaded her with irons; for it was thought that no ordinary fastenings could hold a witch. Similar proceedings, with suitable variations, were had with Sarah Osburn and Tituba. The confession of the last-named, the immediate relief thereafter of the afflicted children, and the dreadful torments which Tituba herself experienced, on the spot, from the unseen hand of the Devil wreaking vengeance upon her, put the finishing touch to the delusion. The excitement was kept up, and spread far and wide, by the officers and magistrates riding in cavalcade, day after day, to and from the town and village; and by the constables, with their assistants, carrying their manacled prisoners from jail to jail in Ipswich, Salem, and Boston.

The point was now reached when the accusers could safely strike at higher game. But time was taken to mature arrangements. Great curiosity was felt to know who the other two were whom Tituba saw in connection with Good and Osburn in their hellish operations. The girls continued to suffer torments and fall in fits, and were constantly urged by large numbers of people, going from house to house to witness their sufferings, to reveal who the witches were that still afflicted them. When all was prepared, they began to cry out, with more or less distinctness; at first, in significant but general descriptions, and at last calling names. The next victim was also well chosen. An account[ii.38] has been given, in the First Part, of the notoriety which circumstances had attached to Giles Corey. In 1691 he became a member of the church, being then (Vol. I. p. 182) eighty years of age. Four daughters, all probably by his first wife Margaret, the only children of whom there is any mention, were married to John Moulton, John Parker, and Henry Crosby, of Salem, and William Cleaves, of Beverly. On the 11th of April, 1664, Corey was married to Mary Britt, who died, as appears by the inscription on her gravestone in the old Salem burial-ground, Aug. 27, 1684. Martha was his third wife. Her age is unknown. It was entered on the record of the village church, at the time of her admission to it, April 27, 1690; but the figures are worn away from the edge of the page. She was a very intelligent and devout person.

When the proceedings relating to witchcraft began, she did not approve of them, and expressed her want of faith in the "afflicted children." She discountenanced the whole affair, and would not follow the multitude to the examinations; but was said to have spoken freely of the course of the magistrates, saying that their eyes were blinded, and that she could open them. It seemed to her clear that they were violating common sense and the Word of God, and she was confident that she could convince them of their errors. Instead of falling into the delusion, she applied herself with renewed earnestness to keep her own mind under the influence of prayer, and[ii.39] spent more time in devotion than ever before. Her husband, however, was completely carried away by the prevalent fanaticism, believed all he heard, and frequented the examinations and the exhibitions of the afflicted children. This disagreement became quite serious. Her preferring to stay at home, shunning the proceedings, and expressing her disapprobation of what was going on, caused an estrangement between them. Her peculiar course created comment, in which he and two of his sons-in-law took part. Some strong expressions were used by him, because she acted so strangely at variance with everybody else. Her spending so much time on her knees in devotion was looked upon as a matter of suspicion. It was said that she tried to prevent him from following up the examinations, and went so far as to remove the saddle from the horse brought up to convey him to some meeting at the village connected with the witchcraft excitement. Angry words, uttered by him, were heard and repeated. As she was a woman of notable piety, a professor of religion, and a member of the church, it was evident that her case, if she were proceeded against, would still more heighten the panic, and convulse the public mind. It would give ground for an idea which the managers of the affair desired to circulate, that the Devil had succeeded in making inroads into the very heart of the church, and was bringing into confederacy with him aged and eminent church-members, who, under color of their profession, threatened to extend his influence to the overthrow of[ii.40] all religion. It was, indeed, established in the popular sentiments, as a sign and mark of the Devil's coming, that many professing godliness would join his standard.

For a day or two, it was whispered round that persons in great repute for piety were in the diabolical confederacy, and about to be unmasked. The name of Martha Corey, whose open opposition to the proceedings had become known, was passed among the girls in an under-breath, and caught from one to another among those managing the affair. On the 12th of March, Edward Putnam and Ezekiel Cheever, having heard Ann Putnam declare that Goody Corey did often appear to her, and torture her by pinching and otherwise, thought it their duty to go to her, and see what she would say to this complaint; "she being in church covenant with us." They mounted their horses about "the middle of the afternoon," and first went to the house of Thomas Putnam to see his daughter Ann, to learn from her what clothes Goody Corey appeared to her in, in order to judge whether she might not have been mistaken in the person. The girl told them, that Goody Corey, knowing that they contemplated making this visit, had just appeared in spirit to her, but had blinded her so that she could not tell what clothes she wore. Highly wrought upon by the extraordinary statement of the girl, which they received with perfect credulity, the two brethren remounted, and pursued their way. Goody Corey had heard that her name had been bandied about by the accusing girls: she also knew that it was one of their[ii.41] arts to pretend to see the clothes people were wearing at the time their spectres appeared to them. This required, indeed, no great amount of necromancy; as it is not probable that there was much variety in the costume of farmer's wives, at that time, while about their ordinary domestic engagements.

They found her alone in her house. As soon as they commenced conversation, "in a smiling manner she said, 'I know what you are come for; you are come to talk with me about being a witch, but I am none: I cannot help people's talking of me.'" Edward Putnam acknowledged that their visit was in consequence of complaints made against her by the afflicted children. She inquired whether they had undertaken to describe the clothes she then wore. They answered that they had not, and proceeded to repeat what Ann Putnam had said to them about her blinding her so that she could not see her clothes. At this she smiled, no doubt at Ann's cunning artifice to escape having to say what dress she then had on. She declared to the two brethren, that "she did not think that there were any witches." After considerable talk, in which they did not get much to further their purpose, they took their leave. The account of this interview, given by Putnam and Cheever, indicates that Martha Corey was a sensible, enlightened, and sprightly woman, perfectly free from the delusion of the day, courteous in her manners and bearing, and a Christian, well grounded in Scripture.

The two brethren returned forthwith to Thomas[ii.42] Putnam's house. Ann told them that Goody Corey had not troubled her, nor her spectre appeared, in their absence. She was not inclined to afford them an opportunity to apply the test of the dress. Both the women showed great acuteness and caution. As Corey expected the visit, and had heard that the girls pretended to be able to say what dress persons were wearing, she probably had attired herself in an unusual way on the occasion, to put them at fault, and expose the falseness of their claims to preternatural knowledge; and Ann Putnam—her sagacity suggesting the risk she was running in the matter of Corey's dress—took refuge in the pretence of blindness. The brethren were too much under delusion to see through the sharp practice of both of them, but considered the fact of Corey's inquiring of them whether Ann described her dress, as, under the circumstances, proof positive against the former.

Wishing to make assurance doubly sure, and to fasten the charge upon Martha Corey, the managers of the affair sent for her to come to the house of Thomas Putnam two days after this conference. Edward Putnam was present, and testified that his niece Ann, immediately upon the entrance of Goodwife Corey, experienced the most dreadful convulsions and tortures and distinctly and positively declared that Corey was the author of her sufferings. This was regarded as conclusive evidence; and, on the 19th of March, a warrant was issued for her arrest. She was brought to the house of Nathaniel Ingersoll, on Monday the[ii.43] 21st; and the following is the account of her examination, in the handwriting of Mr. Parris. The proceedings took place in the meeting-house at the village. They were introduced by a prayer from the Rev. Nicholas Noyes. On some of these occasions Mr. Hale and perhaps others, but usually Mr. Noyes or Mr. Parris officiated. We may suppose, from what we know of their general deportment in connection with these scenes, that their performances, under the cover of a devotional exercise, expressed and enforced a decided prejudgment of the case in hand against the prisoners, and partook of the character of indictments as much as of prayers.

"The Examination of Martha Corey.

"Mr. Hathorne: You are now in the hands of authority. Tell me, now, why you hurt these persons.—I do not.

"Who doth?—Pray, give me leave to go to prayer.

"(This request was made sundry times.)

"We do not send for you to go to prayer; but tell me why you hurt these.—I am an innocent person. I never had to do with witchcraft since I was born. I am a gospel woman.

"Do not you see these complain of you?—The Lord open the eyes of the magistrates and ministers: the Lord show his power to discover the guilty.

"Tell us who hurts these children.—I do not know.

"If you be guilty of this fact, do you think you can hide it?—The Lord knows.

"Well, tell us what you know of this matter.—Why, I am a gospel woman; and do you think I can have to do with witchcraft too?

"How could you tell, then, that the child was bid to ob[ii.44]serve what clothes you wore, when some came to speak with you?

"(Cheever interrupted her, and bid her not begin with a lie; and so Edward Putnam declared the matter.)

"Mr. Hathorne: Who told you that?—He said the child said.

"Cheever: You speak falsely.

"(Then Edward Putnam read again.)

"Mr. Hathorne: Why did you ask if the child told what clothes you wore?—My husband told me the others told.

"Who told you about the clothes? Why did you ask that question?—Because I heard the children told what clothes the others wore.

"Goodman Corey, did you tell her?

"(The old man denied that he told her so.)

"Did you not say your husband told you so?

"(No answer.)

"Who hurts these children? Now look upon them.—I cannot help it.

"Did you not say you would tell the truth why you asked that question? how came you to the knowledge?—I did but ask.

"You dare thus to lie in all this assembly. You are now before authority. I expect the truth: you promised it. Speak now, and tell who told you what clothes.—Nobody.

"How came you to know that the children would be examined what clothes you wore?—Because I thought the child was wiser than anybody if she knew.

"Give an answer: you said your husband told you.—He told me the children said I afflicted them.

"How do you know what they came for? Answer me this truly: will you say how you came to know what they[ii.45] came for?—I had heard speech that the children said I troubled them, and I thought that they might come to examine.

"But how did you know it?—I thought they did.

"Did not you say you would tell the truth? who told you what they came for?—Nobody.

"How did you know?—I did think so.

"But you said you knew so.

"(Children: There is a man whispering in her ear.)

"Hathorne continued: What did he say to you?—We must not believe all that these distracted children say.

"Cannot you tell what that man whispered?—I saw nobody.

"But did not you hear?—No.

"(Here was extreme agony of all the afflicted.)

"If you expect mercy of God, you must look for it in God's way, by confession. Do you think to find mercy by aggravating your sins?—A true thing.

"Look for it, then, in God's way.—So I do.

"Give glory to God and confess, then.—But I cannot confess.

"Do not you see how these afflicted do charge you?—We must not believe distracted persons.

"Who do you improve to hurt them?—I improved none.

"Did not you say our eyes were blinded, you would open them?—Yes, to accuse the innocent.

"(Then Crosby gave in evidence.)

"Why cannot the girl stand before you?—I do not know.

"What did you mean by that?—I saw them fall down.

"It seems to be an insulting speech, as if they could not stand before you.—They cannot stand before others.

"But you said they cannot stand before you. Tell me[ii.46] what was that turning upon the spit by you?—You believe the children that are distracted. I saw no spit.

"Here are more than two that accuse you for witchcraft. What do you say?—I am innocent.

"(Then Mr. Hathorne read further of Crosby's evidence.)

"What did you mean by that,—the Devil could not stand before you?

"(She denied it. Three or four sober witnesses confirmed it.)

"What can I do? Many rise up against me.

"Why, confess.—So I would, if I were guilty.

"Here are sober persons. What do you say to them? You are a gospel woman; will you lie?

"(Abigail cried out, 'Next sabbath is sacrament-day; but she shall not come there.')

"I do not care.

"You charge these children with distraction: it is a note of distraction when persons vary in a minute; but these fix upon you. This is not the manner of distraction.—When all are against me, what can I help it?

"Now tell me the truth, will you? Why did you say that the magistrates' and ministers' eyes were blinded, you would open them?

"(She laughed, and denied it.)

"Now tell us how we shall know who doth hurt these, if you do not?—Can an innocent person be guilty?

"Do you deny these words?—Yes.

"Tell us who hurts these. We came to be a terror to evil-doers. You say you would open our eyes, we are blind.—If you say I am a witch.

"You said you would show us.

"(She denied it.)[ii.47]

"Why do you not now show us?—I cannot tell: I do not know.

"What did you strike the maid at Mr. Tho. Putnam's with?—I never struck her in my life.

"There are two that saw you strike her with an iron rod.—I had no hand in it.

"Who had? Do you believe these children are bewitched?—They may, for aught I know: I have no hand in it.

"You say you are no witch. Maybe you mean you never covenanted with the Devil. Did you never deal with any familiar?—No, never.

"What bird was that the children spoke of?

"(Then witnesses spoke: What bird was it?)

"I know no bird.

"It may be you have engaged you will not confess; but God knows.—So he doth.

"Do you believe you shall go unpunished?—I have nothing to do with witchcraft.

"Why was you not willing your husband should come to the former session here?—But he came, for all.

"Did not you take the saddle off?—I did not know what it was for.

"Did you not know what it was for?—I did not know that it would be to any benefit.

"(Somebody said that she would not have them help to find out witches.)

"Did you not say you would open our eyes? Why do you not?—I never thought of a witch.

"Is it a laughing matter to see these afflicted persons?

"(She denied it. Several prove it.)

"Ye are all against me, and I cannot help it.[ii.48]

"Do not you believe there are witches in the country?—I do not know that there is any.

"Do not you know that Tituba confessed it?—I did not hear her speak.

"I find you will own nothing without several witnesses, and yet you will deny for all.

"(It was noted, when she bit her lip, several of the afflicted were bitten. When she was urged upon it that she bit her lip, saith she, What harm is there in it?)

"(Mr. Noyes: I believe it is apparent she practiseth witchcraft in the congregation: there is no need of images.)

"What do you say to all these things that are apparent?—If you will all go hang me, how can I help it?

"Were you to serve the Devil ten years? Tell how many.

"(She laughed. The children cried there was a yellow-bird with her. When Mr. Hathorne asked her about it, she laughed. When her hands were at liberty, the afflicted persons were pinched.)

"Why do not you tell how the Devil comes in your shape, and hurts these? You said you would.—How can I know how?

"Why did you say you would show us?

"(She laughed again.)

"What book is that you would have these children write in?—What book? Where should I have a book? I showed them none, nor have none, nor brought none.

"(The afflicted cried out there was a man whispering in her ears.)

"What book did you carry to Mary Walcot?—I carried none. If the Devil appears in my shape—

"(Then Needham said that Parker, some time ago, thought this woman was a witch.)[ii.49]

"Who is your God?—The God that made me.

"What is his name?—Jehovah.

"Do you know any other name?—God Almighty.

"Doth he tell you, that you pray to, that he is God Almighty?—Who do I worship but the God that made [me]?

"How many gods are there?—One.

"How many persons?—Three.

"Cannot you say, So there is one God in three blessed persons?

[The answer is destroyed, being written in the fold of the paper, and wholly worn off.]

"Do not you see these children and women are rational and sober as their neighbors, when your hands are fastened?

"(Immediately they were seized with fits: and the standers-by said she was squeezing her fingers, her hands being eased by them that held them on purpose for trial.

"Quickly after, the marshal said, 'She hath bit her lip;' and immediately the afflicted were in an uproar.)

"[Tell] why you hurt these, or who doth?

"(She denieth any hand in it.)

"Why did you say, if you were a witch, you should have no pardon?—Because I am a —— woman."

"Salem Village, March the 21st, 1692.—The Reverend Mr. Samuel Parris, being desired to take, in writing, the examination of Martha Corey, hath returned it, as aforesaid.

"Upon hearing the aforesaid, and seeing what we did then see, together with the charges of the persons then pres[ii.50]ent, we committed Martha Corey, the wife of Giles Corey, of Salem Farms, unto the gaol in Salem, as per mittimus then given out."

signatures

The foregoing is a full copy of the original document. One of Giles Corey's daughters, Deliverance, had married, June 5, 1683, Henry Crosby, who lived on land conveyed to him by her father in the immediate neighborhood. He was the person whose written testimony was read by the magistrate. Its purport seems to have been to prove that Martha Corey had said that the accusing girls could not stand before her, and that the Devil could not stand before her. She had, undoubtedly, great confidence in her own innocence, and in the power of truth and prayer, to silence false accusers, and expressed herself in the forcible language which Parris's report of the examination shows that she was well able to use. It is almost amusing to see how the pride of the magistrates was touched, and their wrath kindled, by what she was reported to have said, "that the magistrates' and ministers' eyes were blinded, and that she would open them." It rankled in Hathorne's breast: he returns to it again and again, and works himself up to a higher degree of resentment on each recurrence. Mr. Noyes's ire was[ii.51] roused, and he, too, put in a stroke. It will be noticed, that she avoided a contradiction of her husband, and could not be brought to give the names of persons from whom she had received information. "If you will all go hang me, how can I help it?" "Ye are all against me." "What can I do, when many rise up against me?" "When all are against me, what can I [say to] help it?" Situated as she was, all that she could do was to give them no advantage, or opportunity to ensnare her, and to avoid compromising others; and it must be allowed that she showed much presence and firmness of mind. Her request, made at the opening of the examination, and at "sundry times," to "go to prayer," somewhat confounded them. She probably was led to make and urge the request particularly in consequence of the tenor of Mr. Noyes's prayer at the opening. She felt that it was no more than fair that there should be a prayer on her side, as well as on the other. It might well be feared, that, if allowed to offer a prayer, coming from a person in her situation, an aged professor, and one accustomed to express herself in devotional exercises, it might produce a deep impression upon the whole assembly. To refuse such a request had a hard look; but, as the magistrates saw, it never would have done to have permitted it. It would have reversed the position of all concerned. The latter part of the examination has the appearance that she was suspected to be unsound on a particular article of the prevalent creed. It is much to be regretted that the abrasion of the paper at the[ii.52] folding has obliterated her last answer to this part of the inquisition. It is singular that Mr. Parris has left the blank in her final answer. Probably she used her customary expression, "I am a gospel woman." The writing, at this point, is very clear and distinct; and a vacant space is left, just as it is given above.

The fact that Martha Corey was known to be an eminently religious person, and very much given to acts of devotion, constituted a serious obstacle, no doubt, in the way of the prosecutors. Parris's record of the examination shows how they managed to get over it. They gave the impression that her frequent and long prayers were addressed to the Devil.

The disagreement between her and her husband, touching the witchcraft prosecutions, brought him into a very uncomfortable predicament. With his characteristic imprudence of speech, he had probably expressed himself strongly against her unbelief in the sufferings of the girls and her refusal to attend the exhibitions of their tortures, or the examination of persons accused. He was, unquestionably, highly shocked and incensed at her open repudiation of the whole doctrine of witchcraft. Although he had become, in his old age, a professor and a fervently religious man, perhaps he fell back, in his resentment of her course, into his life-long rough phrases, and said that she acted as though the Devil was in her. He might have said that she prayed like a witch. Being entirely carried away by the delusion, he had his own marvellous stories to tell about his cattle's being be[ii.53]witched, &c. His talk, undoubtedly, came to the ears of the prosecutors; and they seem to have taken steps to induce him to come forward as a witness against her. The following document is among the papers:—

"The evidence of Giles Corey testifieth and saith, that last Saturday, in the evening, sitting by the fire, my wife asked me to go to bed. I told her I would go to prayer; and, when I went to prayer, I could not utter my desires with any sense, nor open my mouth to speak.

"My wife did perceive it, and came towards me, and said she was coming to me.

"After this, in a little space, I did, according to my measure, attend the duty.

"Some time last week, I fetched an ox, well, out of the woods about noon: and, he laying down in the yard, I went to raise him to yoke him; but he could not rise, but dragged his hinder parts, as if he had been hip-shot. But after did rise.

"I had a cat sometimes last week strangely taken on the sudden, and did make me think she would have died presently. My wife bid me knock her in the head, but I did not; and since, she is well.

"Another time, going to duties, I was interrupted for a space; but afterward I was helped according to my poor measure. My wife hath been wont to sit up after I went to bed: and I have perceived her to kneel down on the hearth, as if she were at prayer, but heard nothing.

"At the examination of Sarah Good and others, my wife was willing

"March 24, 1692."

[ii.54]

The foregoing document does not express the idea that he thought his wife was a witch. He states what he observed, and what happened to him and to his cattle. He evidently supposed they were bewitched, and that he was obstructed, in going to prayer, in a strange manner; but he does not, in terms, charge it upon her. It gives an interesting insight of the innermost domestic life of the period, in a farmhouse, and exhibits striking touches of the character and ways of these two old people. It illustrates the state of the imagination prevailing among those who were carried away by the delusion. If an ox had a sprained muscle, or a cat a fit of indigestion, it was thought to be the work of an evil hand. Poor old Giles had come late to a religious life, and, it is to be feared, was a novice in prayer. It is no wonder that he was not an adept in "uttering his desires," and experienced occasionally some difficulty in arranging and expressing his devotional sentiments.

There is something very singular in the appearance of the foregoing deposition. Purporting to be a piece of testimony, it was not given in the usual and regular way. It does not indicate before whom it was made. It is not attested in the ordinary manner; apparently, was not sworn to in the presence of persons authorized to act in such cases; was never offered in court or anywhere. It is a disconnected paper found among the remnants of the miscellaneous collection in the clerk's office, and is evidently an unfinished document; the words in Italics, at the close, being erased by a line running through them.[ii.55]

It is probable that the parties who tried to get the old man to testify against his wife discovered that they could not draw any thing from him to answer their designs, but that there was danger that his evidence would be favorable to her, and gave up the attempt to use him on the occasion. The fact that he would not lend himself to their purposes perhaps led to resentment on their part, which may explain the subsequent proceedings against him.

The document, in its chirography, suggests the idea that it was written by Mr. Noyes, which is not improbable, as Corey was a member of his congregation and church. Noyes was deeply implicated in the prosecutions, and violent in driving them on. The handwriting of the original papers reveals the agency of those who were the most busy in procuring evidence against persons accused. That of Thomas Putnam occurs in very many instances. But Mr. Parris was, beyond all others, the busiest and most active prosecutor. The depositions of the child Abigail Williams, his niece and a member of his family, were written by him, as also a great number of others. He took down most of the examinations, put in a deposition of his own whenever he could, and was always ready to indorse those of others.

It will be remembered, that, when Tituba was put through her examination, she said "four women sometimes hurt the children." She named Good and Osburn, but pretended to have been blinded as to the others. Martha Corey was, in due time, as we[ii.56] have seen, brought out. The fourth was the venerable head of a large and prominent family, and a member of the mother-church in Salem. She had never transferred her relations to the village church, with which, however, she had generally worshipped, and probably communed. Being one of the chief matrons of the place, she was seated in the meeting-house with ladies of similar age and standing, occupying the same bench or compartment with the widow of Thomas Putnam, Sr. The women were seated separately from the men; and the only rule applied among them was eminence in years and respectability.

It has always been considered strange and unaccountable, that a person of such acknowledged worth as Rebecca Nurse, of infirm health and advanced years, should have been selected among the early victims of the witchcraft prosecutions. Jealousies and prejudices, such as often infest rural neighborhoods, may have been engendered, in minds open to such influences, by the prosperity and growing influence of her family. It may be that animosities kindled by the long and violent land controversy, with which many parties had been incidentally connected, lingered in some breasts. There are decided indications, that the passions awakened by the angry contest between the village and "Topsfield men," and which the collisions of a half-century had all along exasperated and hardened, may have been concentrated against the Nurses. Isaac Easty, whose wife was a sister of Rebecca Nurse, and the Townes, who were her brothers or near kins[ii.57]men, were the leaders of the Topsfield men. It is a significant circumstance, in this connection, that to one of the most vehement resolutions passed at meetings of the inhabitants of the village, against the claims of Topsfield, Samuel Nurse, her eldest son, and Thomas Preston, her eldest son-in-law, entered their protest on the record; and, on another similar occasion, her husband Francis Nurse, her son Samuel, and two of her sons-in-law, Preston and Tarbell, took the same course. So far as the family sided with Topsfield in that controversy, it naturally exposed them to the ill-will of the people of the village. An analysis of the names and residences of the persons proceeded against, throughout the prosecutions, will show to what an extent hostile motives were supplied from this quarter. The families of Wildes, How, Hobbs, Towne, Easty, and others who were "cried out" upon by the afflicted children, occupied lands claimed by parties adverse to the village. What, more than all these causes, was sufficient to create a feeling against the Nurses, is the fact that they were opposed to the party which had existed from the beginning in the parish composed originally of the friends of Bayley. To crown the whole, when the excitement occasioned by the extraordinary doings in Mr. Parris's family began to display itself, and the "afflicted children" were brought into notice, the members of this family, with the exception, for a time, of Thomas Preston, discountenanced the whole thing. They absented themselves from meeting, on account of the disturb[ii.58]ances and disorders the girls were allowed to make during the services of worship, in the congregation, on the Lord's Day. Unfriendly remarks, from whatever cause, made in the hearing of the girls, provided subjects for them to act upon. Some persons behind them, suggesting names in this way, whether carelessly or with malicious intent, were guilty of all the misery that was created and blood that was shed.

It became a topic of rumor, that Rebecca Nurse was soon to be brought out. It reached the ears of her friends, and the following document comes in at this point:—

"We whose names are underwritten being desired to go to Goodman Nurse his house, to speak with his wife, and to tell her that several of the afflicted persons mentioned her; and accordingly we went, and we found her in a weak and low condition in body as she told us, and had been sick almost a week. And we asked how it was otherwise with her: and she said she blessed God for it, she had more of his presence in this sickness than sometime she have had, but not so much as she desired; but she would, with the apostle, press forward to the mark; and many other places of Scripture to the like purpose. And then, of her own accord, she began to speak of the affliction that was amongst them, and in particular of Mr. Parris his family, and how she was grieved for them, though she had not been to see them, by reason of fits that she formerly used to have; for people said it was awful to behold: but she pitied them with all her heart, and went to God for them. But she said she heard that there was persons spoke of that were as innocent as she was, she believed; and, after much to this purpose,[ii.59] we told her we heard that she was spoken of also. 'Well,' she said, 'if it be so, the will of the Lord be done:' she sat still a while, being as it were amazed; and then she said, 'Well, as to this thing I am as innocent as the child unborn; but surely,' she said, 'what sin hath God found out in me unrepented of, that he should lay such an affliction upon me in my old age?' and, according to our best observation, we could not discern that she knew what we came for before we told her.

Israel Porter,
Elizabeth Porter.

"To the substance of what is above, we, if called thereto, are ready to testify on oath.

Daniel Andrew,
Peter Cloyse."

Elizabeth Porter, who joins her husband in making this statement, was a sister of John Hathorne, the examining magistrate, and the mother-in-law of Joseph Putnam, who was among the very few that condemned the proceedings from the first. She stood, therefore, between the two parties. The character of each of the signers and indorsers of this interesting paper is sufficient proof that its statements are truthful. It cannot but excite the most affecting sensibilities in every breast. This venerable lady, whose conversation and bearing were so truly saint-like, was an invalid of extremely delicate condition and appearance, the mother of a large family, embracing sons, daughters, grandchildren, and one or more great-grandchildren. She was a woman of piety, and simplicity of heart. In all probability, she shared in the popular belief on the subject of witchcraft, and sup[ii.60]posed that the sufferings of the children were real, and that they were afflicted by an "evil hand." At the very time that she was sorrowfully sympathizing with them and Mr. Parris's family, and praying for them, they were circulating suspicions against her, and maturing their plans for her destruction.

Rebecca Nurse was a daughter of William Towne, of Yarmouth, Norfolk County, England, where she was baptized, Feb. 21, 1621. Her sister Mary, who married Isaac Easty, was baptized at the same place, Aug. 24, 1634. The records of the First Church at Salem, Sept. 3, 1648, give the baptism of "Joseph and Sarah, children of Sister Towne." Sarah was at that time seven years of age. She became the wife of Edmund Bridges, and afterwards of Peter Cloyse.

On the 23d of March, a warrant was issued, on complaint of Edward Putnam, and Jonathan, son of John Putnam, for the arrest of "Rebecca, wife of Francis Nurse;" and the next morning, at eight o'clock, she was brought to the house of Nathaniel Ingersoll, in the custody of George Herrick, the marshal of Essex. There were several distinct indictments, four of which, for having practised "certain detestable arts called witchcraft" upon Ann Putnam, Mary Walcot, Elizabeth Hubbard, and Abigail Williams, are preserved. The examination took place forthwith at the meeting-house. The age, character, connections, and appearance of the prisoner, made the occasion one of the extremest interest. Hathorne, the magistrate, began the proceedings by addressing one of the afflicted:[ii.61] "What do you say? Have you seen this woman hurt you?" The answer was, "Yes, she beat me this morning." Hathorne, addressing another of the afflicted, said, "Abigail, have you been hurt by this woman?" Abigail answered, "Yes." At that point, Ann Putnam fell into a grievous fit, and, while in her spasms, cried out that it was Rebecca Nurse who was thus afflicting her. As soon as Ann's fit was over, and order restored, Hathorne said, "Goody Nurse, here are two, Ann Putnam the child, and Abigail Williams, complain of your hurting them. What do you say to it?" The prisoner replied, "I can say, before my eternal Father, I am innocent, and God will clear my innocency." Hathorne, apparently touched for the moment by her language and bearing, said, "Here is never a one in the assembly but desires it; but, if you be guilty, pray God discover you." Henry Kenney rose up from the body of the assembly to speak. Hathorne permitted the interruption, and said, "Goodman Kenney, what do you say?" Then Kenney complained of the prisoner, "and further said, since this Nurse came into the house, he was seized twice with an amazed condition." Hathorne, addressing the prisoner, said, "Not only these, but the wife of Mr. Thomas Putnam, accuseth you by credible information, and that both of tempting her to iniquity and of greatly hurting her." The prisoner again affirmed her innocence, and said, in answer to the charge of having hurt these persons, that "she had not been able to get out of doors these eight or nine days."[ii.62] Hathorne then called upon Edward Putnam, who, as the record says, "gave in his relate," which undoubtedly was a statement of his having seen the afflicted in their sufferings, and heard them accuse Rebecca Nurse as their tormentor. Hathorne said, "Is this true, Goody Nurse?" She denied that she had ever hurt them or any one else in her life. Hathorne repeated, "You see these accuse you: is it true?" She answered, "No." He again put the question, "Are you an innocent person relating to this witchcraft?" It seems, from his manner, that he was beginning really to doubt whether she might not be innocent; and perhaps the feeling of the multitude was yielding in her favor.

Here Thomas Putnam's wife cried out, "Did you not bring the black man with you? Did you not bid me tempt God, and die? How oft have you eat and drank your own damnation?" This sudden outbreak, from such a source, accompanied with the wild and apparently supernatural energy and uncontrollable vehemence with which the words were uttered, roused the multitude to the utmost pitch of horror; and the prisoner seems to have been shocked at the dreadful exhibition of madness in the woman and in the assembly. Releasing her hands from confinement, she spread them out towards heaven, and exclaimed, "O Lord, help me!" Instantly, the whole company of the afflicted children "were grievously vexed." After a while, the tumult subsided, and Hathorne again addressed her, "Do you not see what a solemn condition[ii.63] these are in? When your hands are loosed, the persons are afflicted." Then Mary Walcot and Elizabeth Hubbard came forward, and accused her. Hathorne again addressed her, "Here are these two grown persons now accuse. What say you? Do not you see these afflicted persons, and hear them accuse you?" She answered, "The Lord knows I have not hurt them. I am an innocent person." Hathorne continued, "It is very awful to all to see these agonies, and you, an old professor, thus charged with contracting with the Devil by the effects of it, and yet to see you stand with dry eyes where there are so many wet." She answered, "You do not know my heart." Hathorne, "You would do well, if you are guilty, to confess, and give glory to God."—"I am as clear as the child unborn." Hathorne continued, "What uncertainty there may be in apparitions, I know not: yet this with me strikes hard upon you, that you are, at this very present, charged with familiar spirits,—this is your bodily person they speak to; they say now they see these familiar spirits come to your bodily person. Now, what do you say to that?"—"I have none, sir."—"If you have, confess, and give glory to God. I pray God clear you, if you be innocent, and, if you are guilty, discover you; and therefore give me an upright answer. Have you any familiarity with these spirits?"—"No: I have none but with God alone." It looks as if again the magistrate began to open his mind to a fair view of the case. He seems to have sought satisfaction in reference to all the charges[ii.64] that had been made against her. She was suffering from infirmities of body, the result not only of age, but of the burdens of life often pressing down the physical frame, particularly of those who have borne large families of children. The magistrate had heard some malignant gossip of this kind, and he asked, "How came you sick? for there is an odd discourse of that in the mouths of many." She replied that she suffered from weakness of stomach. He inquired, more specifically, "Have you no wounds?" Her answer was, that her ailments and weaknesses, all her bodily infirmities, were the natural effects of what she had experienced in a long life. "I have none but old age."—"You do know whether you are guilty, and have familiarity with the Devil; and now, when you are here present, to see such a thing as these testify,—a black man whispering in your ear, and birds about you,—what do you say to it?"—"It is all false: I am clear."—"Possibly, you may apprehend you are no witch; but have you not been led aside by temptations that way?"—"I have not." At this point, it almost seems that Hathorne was yielding to the moral effect of the evidence she bore in her deportment and language, the impress of conscious innocence in her countenance, and the manifestation of true Christian purity and integrity in her whole manner and bearing. Instead of pressing her with further interrogatories, he gave way to an expression, in the form of a soliloquy or ejaculation, "What a sad thing is it, that a church-member here, and now another of Salem,[ii.65] should thus be accused and charged!" Upon hearing this rather ambiguous expression of the magistrate, Mrs. Pope fell into a grievous fit.

Mrs. Pope was the wife of Joseph Pope, living with his mother, the widow Gertrude Pope, on the farm shown on the map. She had followed up the meetings of the circle, been a constant witness of the sufferings of the "afflicted children," and attended all the public examinations, until her nervous system was excited beyond restraint, and for a while she went into fits and her imagination was bewildered. She acted with the accusers, and participated in their sufferings. On some occasions, her conduct was wild and extravagant to the highest degree. At the examination of Martha Corey, she was conspicuous for the violence of her actions. In the midst of the proceedings, and in the presence of the magistrates and hundreds of people, she threw her muff at the prisoner; and, that missing, pulled off her shoe, and, more successful this time, hit her square on the head. Hers seems, however, to have been a case of mere delusion, amounting to temporary insanity. That it was not deliberate and cold-blooded imposture is rendered probable by the fact, that she was rescued from the hallucination, and, with her husband, among the foremost to deplore and denounce the whole affair. But, when a woman of her position acted in this manner, on such an occasion, and then went into convulsions, and the whole company of afflicted persons joined in, the confusion, tumult, and frightfulness of[ii.66] the scene can hardly be imagined, certainly it cannot be described in words.

Quiet being restored, Hathorne proceeded: "Tell us, have you not had visible appearances, more than what is common in nature?"—"I have none, nor never had in my life."—"Do you think these suffer voluntary or involuntary?"—"I cannot tell."—"That is strange: every one can judge."—"I must be silent."—"They accuse you of hurting them; and, if you think it is not unwillingly, but by design, you must look upon them as murderers."—"I cannot tell what to think of it." This answer was considered as very aspersive in its bearing upon the witnesses, and she was charged with having called them murderers. Being hard of hearing, she did not always take in the whole import of questions put to her. She denied that she said she thought them murderers; all she said, and that she stood to to the last, was that she could not tell what to make of their conduct. Finally, Hathorne put this question, and called for an answer, "Do you think these suffer against their wills or not?" She answered, "I do not think these suffer against their wills." To this point she was not afraid or unwilling to go, in giving an opinion of the conduct of the accusing girls. Infirm, half deaf, cross-questioned, circumvented, surrounded with folly, uproar, and outrage, as she was, they could not intimidate her to say less, or entrap her to say more.

Then another line of criminating questions was started by the magistrate: "Why did you never visit[ii.67] these afflicted persons?"—"Because I was afraid I should have fits too." On every motion of her body, "fits followed upon the complainants, abundantly and very frequently." As soon as order was again restored, Hathorne, being, as he always was, wholly convinced of the reality of the sufferings of the "afflicted children," addressed her thus, "Is it not an unaccountable case, that, when you are examined, these persons are afflicted?" Seeing that he and the whole assembly put faith in the accusers, her only reply was, "I have got nobody to look to but God." As she uttered these words, she naturally attempted to raise her hands, whereupon "the afflicted persons were seized with violent fits of torture." After silence was again restored, the magistrate pressed his questions still closer. "Do you believe these afflicted persons are bewitched?" She answered, "I do think they are." It will be noticed that there was this difference between Rebecca Nurse and Martha Corey: The latter was an utter heretic on the point of the popular faith respecting witchcraft; she did not believe that there were any witches, and she looked upon the declarations and actions of the "afflicted children" as the ravings of "distracted persons." The former seems to have held the opinions of the day, and had no disbelief in witchcraft: she was willing to admit that the children were bewitched; but she knew her own innocence, and nothing could move her from the consciousness of it. Mr. Hathorne continued, "When this witchcraft came upon the stage, there was no suspicion[ii.68] of Tituba, Mr. Parris's Indian woman. She professed much love to that child,—Betty Parris; but it was her apparition did the mischief: and why should not you also be guilty, for your apparition doth hurt also?" Her answer was, "Would you have me belie myself?" Weary, probably, of the protracted proceedings, her head drooped on one side; and forthwith the necks of the afflicted children were bent in the same way. This new demonstration of the diabolical power that proceeded from her filled the house with increased awe, and spread horrible conviction of her guilt through all minds. Elizabeth Hubbard's neck was fixed in that direction, and could not be moved. Abigail Williams cried out, "Set up Goody Nurse's head, the maid's neck will be broke." Whereupon, some persons held the prisoner's head up, and "Aaron Way observed that Betty Hubbard's was immediately righted." To consummate the effect of the whole proceeding, Mr. Parris, by direction of the magistrates, "read what he had in characters taken from Mr. Thomas Putnam's wife in her fits." We shall come to the matter thus introduced by Mr. Parris, at a future stage of the story. It is sufficient here to say, that it contained the most positive and minute declarations that the apparition of Rebecca Nurse had appeared to her, on several occasions, and horribly tortured her. After hearing Parris's statement, Hathorne asked the prisoner, "What do you think of this?" Her reply was, "I cannot help it: the Devil may appear in my shape." It may be mentioned, that Mrs. Ann Putnam was present during this[ii.69] examination, and, in the course of it, went into the most dreadful bodily agony, charging it on Rebecca Nurse. Her sufferings were so violent, and held on so long, that the magistrates gave permission to her husband to carry her out of the meeting-house, to free her from the malignant presence of the prisoner. The record of the examination closes thus:—

"Salem Village, March 24th, 1691/2.—The Reverend Mr. Samuel Parris, being desired to take in writing the examination of Rebecca Nurse, hath returned it as aforesaid.

"Upon hearing the aforesaid, and seeing what we then did see, together with the charges of the persons then present, we committed Rebecca Nurse, the wife of Francis Nurse of Salem Village, unto Her Majesty's jail in Salem, as per mittimus then given out, in order to further examination."

signatures

The presence of Ann Putnam, the mother, on this occasion; the statement from her, read by Mr. Parris; and the terrible sufferings she exhibited, produced, no doubt, a deep effect upon the magistrates and all present. Her social position and personal appearance undoubtedly contributed to heighten it. For two months, her house had been the constant scene of the extraordinary actings of the circle of girls of which her daughter and maid-servant were the leading spirits.[ii.70] Her mind had been absorbed in the mysteries of spiritualism. The marvels of necromancy and magic had been kept perpetually before it. She had been living in the invisible world, with a constant sense of supernaturalism surrounding her. Unconsciously, perhaps, the passions, prejudices, irritations, and animosities, to which she had been subject, became mixed with the vagaries of an excited imagination; and, laid open to the inroads of delusion as her mind had long been by perpetual tamperings with spiritual ideas and phantoms, she may have lost the balance of reason and sanity. This, added to a morbid sensibility, probably gave a deep intensity to her voice, action, and countenance. The effect upon the excited multitude must have been very great. Although she lived to realize the utter falseness of all her statements, her monstrous fictions were felt by her, at the time, to be a reality.

In concluding his report of this examination, Mr. Parris says, "By reason of great noises by the afflicted and many speakers, many things are pretermitted." He was probably quite willing to avoid telling the whole story of the disgraceful and shocking scenes enacted in the meeting-house that day. Deodat Lawson was present during the earlier part of the proceedings. He says that Mr. Hale began with prayer; that the prisoner "pleaded her innocency with earnestness;" that, at the opening, some of the girls, Mary Walcot among them, declared that the prisoner had never hurt them. Presently, however, Mary Walcot screamed out that she was bitten, and charged[ii.71] it upon Rebecca Nurse. The marks of teeth were produced on her wrist. Lawson says, "It was so disposed that I had not leisure to attend the whole time of examination." The meaning is, I suppose, that he desired to withdraw into the neighboring fields to con over his manuscript, and make himself more able to perform with effect the part he was to act that afternoon. "There was once," he says, "such an hideous screech and noise (which I heard as I walked at a little distance from the meeting-house) as did amaze me; and some that were within told me the whole assembly was struck with consternation, and they were afraid that those that sat next to them were under the influence of witchcraft." The whole congregation was in an uproar, every one afflicted by and affrighting every other, amid a universal outcry of terror and horror.

As it was a part of the policy of the managers of the business to utterly overwhelm the influence of all natural sentiment in the community, they coupled with this proceeding against a venerable and infirm great-grandmother, another of the same kind against a little child. Immediately after the examination of Rebecca Nurse was concluded, Dorcas, a daughter of Sarah Good, was brought before the magistrates. She was between four and five years old. Lawson says, "The child looked hale and well as other children." A warrant had been issued for her apprehension, the day before, on complaint of Edward and Jonathan Putnam. Herrick the marshal, who was a man that magnified his office, and of much personal pride, did[ii.72] not, perhaps, fancy the idea of bringing up such a little prisoner; and he deputized the operation to Samuel Braybrook, who, the next morning, made return, in due form, that "he had taken the body of Dorcas Good," and sent her to the house of Nathaniel Ingersoll, where she was in custody. It seems that Braybrook did not like the job, and passed the handling of the child over to still another. Whoever performed the service probably brought her in his arms, or on a pillion. The little thing could not have walked the distance from Benjamin Putnam's farm. When led in to be examined, Ann Putnam, Mary Walcot, and Mercy Lewis, all charged her with biting, pinching, and almost choking them. The two former went through their usual evolutions in the presence of the awe and terror stricken magistrates and multitude. They showed the marks of her little teeth on their arms; and the pins with which she pricked them were found on their bodies, precisely where, in their shrieks, they had averred that she was piercing them. The evidence was considered overwhelming; and Dorcas was, per mittimus, committed to the jail, where she joined her mother. By the bill of the Boston jailer, it appears that they both were confined there: as they were too poor to provide for themselves, "the country" was charged with ten shillings for "two blankets for Sarah Good's child." The mother, we know, was kept in chains; the child was probably chained too. Extraordinary fastenings, as has been stated, were thought necessary to hold a witch.[ii.73]

There was no longer any doubt, in the mass of the community, that the Devil had effected a lodgement at Salem Village. Church-members, persons of all social positions, of the highest repute and profession of piety, eminent for visible manifestations of devotion, and of every age, had joined his standard, and become his active allies and confederates.

The effect of these two examinations was unquestionably very great in spreading consternation and bewilderment far and wide; but they were only the prelude to the work, to that end, arranged for the day. The public mind was worked to red heat, and now was the moment to strike the blow that would fix an impression deep and irremovable upon it. It was Thursday, Lecture-day; and the public services usual on the occasion were to be held at the meeting-house.

Deodat Lawson had arrived at the village on the 19th of March, and lodged at Deacon Ingersoll's. The fact at once became known; and Mary Walcot immediately went to the deacon's to see him. She had a fit on the spot, which filled Lawson with amazement and horror. His turn of mind led him to be interested in such an excitement; and he had become additionally and specially exercised by learning that the afflicted persons had intimated that the deaths of his wife and daughter, which occurred during his ministry at the village, had been brought about by the diabolical agency of the persons then beginning to be unmasked, and brought to justice. He was prepared to listen to the hints thus thrown out, and was ready to push[ii.74] the prosecutions on with an earnestness in which resentment and rage were mingled with the blindest credulity. After Mary Walcot had given him a specimen of what the girls were suffering, he walked over, early in the evening, to Mr. Parris's house; and there Abigail Williams went into the craziest manifestations, throwing firebrands about the house in the presence of her uncle, rushing to the back of the chimney as though she would fly up through its wide flue, and performing many wonderful works. The next day being Sunday, he preached; and the services were interrupted, in the manner already described, by the outbreaks of the afflicted, under diabolic influence. The next day, he attended the examination of Martha Corey. On Wednesday, the 23d, he went up to Thomas Putnam's, as he says, "on purpose to see his wife." He "found her lying on the bed, having had a sore fit a little before: her husband and she both desired me to pray with her while she was sensible, which I did, though the apparition said I should not go to prayer. At the first beginning, she attended; but, after a little time, was taken with a fit, yet continued silent, and seemed to be asleep." She had represented herself as being in conflict with the shape, or spectre, of a witch, which, she told Lawson, said he should not pray on the occasion. But he courageously ventured on the work. At the conclusion of the prayer, "her husband, going to her, found her in a fit. He took her off the bed to sit her on his knees; but at first she was so stiff she could not be bended, but she after[ii.75]wards sat down." Then she went into that state of supernatural vision and exaltation in which she was accustomed to utter the wildest strains, in fervid, extravagant, but solemn and melancholy, rhapsodies: she disputed with the spectre about a text of Scripture, and then poured forth the most terrible denunciations upon it for tormenting and tempting her. She was evidently a very intellectual and imaginative woman, and was perfectly versed in all the imagery and lofty diction supplied by the prophetic and poetic parts of Scripture. Again she was seized with a terrible fit, that lasted "near half an hour." At times, her mouth was drawn on one side and her body strained. At last she broke forth, and succeeded, after many violent struggles against the spectre and many convulsions of her frame, in saying what part of the Bible Lawson was to read aloud, in order to relieve her. "It is," she said, "the third chapter of the Revelation."—"I did," says Lawson, "something scruple the reading it." He was loath to be engaged in an affair of that kind in which the Devil was an actor. At length he overcame his scruples, and the effect was decisive. "Before I had near read through the first verse, she opened her eyes, and was well." Bewildered and amazed, he went back to Parris's house, and they talked over the awful manifestations of Satan's power. The next morning, he attended the examination of Rebecca Nurse, retiring from it, at an early hour, to complete his preparation for the service that had been arranged for him that afternoon.[ii.76]

I say arranged, because the facts in this case prove long-concerted arrangement. He was to preach a sermon that day. Word must have been sent to him weeks before. After reaching the village, every hour had been occupied in exciting spectacles and engrossing experiences, filling his mind with the fanatical enthusiasm requisite to give force and fire to the delivery of the discourse. He could not possibly have written it after coming to the place. He must have brought it in his pocket. It is a thoroughly elaborated and carefully constructed performance, requiring long and patient application to compose it, and exhausting all the resources of theological research and reference, and of artistic skill and finish. It is adapted to the details of an occasion which was prepared to meet it. Not only the sermon but the audience were the result of arrangement carefully made in the stages of preparation and in the elements comprised in it. The preceding steps had all been seasonably and appositely taken, so that, when the regular lecture afternoon came, Lawson would have his voluminous discourse ready, and a congregation be in waiting to hear it, with minds suitably wrought upon by the preceding incidents of the day, to be thoroughly and permanently impressed by it. The occasion had been heralded by a train of circumstances drawing everybody to the spot. The magistrates were already there, some of them by virtue of the necessity of official presence in the earlier part of the day, and others came in from the neighborhood; the ministers gathered from[ii.77] the towns in the vicinity; men and women came from all quarters, flocking along the highways and the by-ways, large numbers on horseback, and crowds on foot. Probably the village meeting-house, and the grounds around it, presented a spectacle such as never was exhibited elsewhere. Awe, dread, earnestness, a stern but wild fanaticism, were stamped on all countenances, and stirred the heaving multitude to its depths, and in all its movements and utterances. It is impossible to imagine a combination of circumstances that could give greater advantage and power to a speaker, and Lawson was equal to the situation. No discourse was ever more equal, or better adapted, to its occasion. It was irresistible in its power, and carried the public mind as by storm.

The text is Zechariah, iii. 2: "And the Lord said unto Satan, The Lord rebuke thee, O Satan! even the Lord that hath chosen Jerusalem rebuke thee: is not this a brand plucked out of the fire?" After an allusion to the rebellion of Satan, and his fall from heaven with his "accursed legions," and after representing them as filled "with envy and malice against all mankind," seeking "by all ways and means to work their ruin and destruction for ever, opposing to the utmost all persons and things appointed by the Lord Jesus Christ as means or instruments of their comfort here or salvation hereafter," he proceeds, in the manner of those days, to open his text and spread out his subject, all along exhibiting great ability, skill, and power, showing learning in his illustrations, draw[ii.78]ing aptly and abundantly from the Scriptures, and, at the right points, rising to high strains of eloquence in diction and imagery.

He describes, at great length and with abundant instances ingeniously selected from sacred and profane literature, the marvellous power with which Satan is enabled to operate upon mankind. He says,—

"He is a spirit, and hence strikes at the spiritual part, the most excellent (constituent) part of man. Primarily disturbing and interrupting the animal and vital spirits, he maliciously operates upon the more common powers of the soul by strange and frightful representations to the fancy or imagination; and, by violent tortures of the body, often threatening to extinguish life, as hath been observed in those that are afflicted amongst us. And not only so, but he vents his malice in diabolical operations on the more sublime and distinguishing faculties of the rational soul, raising mists of darkness and ignorance in the understanding.... Sometimes he brings distress upon the bodies of men, by malignant operations in, and diabolical impressions on, the spirituous principle or vehicle of life and motion.... There are certainly some lower operations of Satan (whereof there are sundry examples among us), which the bodies and souls of men and women are liable unto. And whosoever hath carefully observed those things must needs be convinced, that the motions of the persons afflicted, both as to the manner and as to the violence of them, are the mere effects of diabolical malice and operations, and that it cannot rationally be imagined to proceed from any other cause whatever.... Satan exerts his malice mediately by employing some of mankind and other creatures, and he frequently[ii.79] useth other persons or things, that his designs may be the more undiscernible. Thus he used the serpent in the first temptation (Gen. iii. 1). Hence he contracts and indents with witches and wizards, that they shall be the instruments by whom he may more secretly affect and afflict the bodies and minds of others; and, if he can prevail upon those that make a visible profession, it may be the better covert unto his diabolical enterprise, and may the more readily pervert others to consenting unto his subjection. So far as we can look into those hellish mysteries, and guess at the administration of that kingdom of darkness, we may learn that witches make witches by persuading one the other to subscribe to a book or articles, &c.; and the Devil, having them in his subjection, by their consent, he will use their bodies and minds, shapes and representations, to affright and afflict others at his pleasure, for the propagation of his infernal kingdom, and accomplishing his devised mischiefs to the souls, bodies, and lives of the children of men, yea, and of the children of God too, so far as permitted and is possible.... He insinuates into the society of the adopted children of God, in their most solemn approaches to him, in sacred ordinances, endeavoring to look so like the true saints and ministers of Christ, that, if it were possible, he would deceive the very elect (Matt. xxiv. 24) by his subtilty: for it is certain he never works more like the Prince of darkness than when he looks most like an angel of light; and, when he most pretends to holiness, he then doth most secretly, and by consequence most surely, undermine it, and those that most excel in the exercise thereof."

The following is a specimen of the style in which he stirred up the people:[ii.80]—

"The application of this doctrine to ourselves remains now to be attended. Let it be for solemn warning and awakening to all of us that are before the Lord at this time, and to all others of this whole people, who shall come to the knowledge of these direful operations of Satan, which the holy God hath permitted in the midst of us.

"The Lord doth terrible things amongst us, by lengthening the chain of the roaring lion in an extraordinary manner, so that the Devil is come down in great wrath (Rev. xii. 12), endeavoring to set up his kingdom, and, by racking torments on the bodies, and affrightening representations to the minds of many amongst us, to force and fright them to become his subjects. I may well say, then, in the words of the prophet (Mic. vi. 9), 'The Lord's voice crieth to the city,' and to the country also, with an unusual and amazing loudness. Surely, it warns us to awaken out of all sleep, of security or stupidity, to arise, and take our Bibles, turn to, and learn that lesson, not by rote only, but by heart. 1 Pet. v. 8: 'Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the Devil goes about as a roaring lion, seeking whom amongst you he may distress, delude, and devour.'... Awake, awake then, I beseech you, and remain no longer under the dominion of that prince of cruelty and malice, whose tyrannical fury we see thus exerted against the bodies and minds of these afflicted persons!... This warning is directed to all manner of persons, according to their condition of life, both in civil and sacred order; both high and low, rich and poor, old and young, bond and free. Oh, let the observation of these amazing dispensations of God's unusual and strange Providence quicken us to our duty, at such a time as this, in our respective places and stations, relations and capacities! The great God hath done such things amongst us as do[ii.81] make the ears of those that hear them to tingle (Jer. xix. 3); and serious souls are at a loss to what these things may grow, and what we shall find to be the end of this dreadful visitation, in the permission whereof the provoked God as a lion hath roared, who can but fear? the Lord hath spoken, who can but prophesy? (Amos iii. 8.) The loud trumpet of God, in this thundering providence, is blown in the city, and the echo of it heard through the country, surely then the people must and ought to be afraid (Amos iii. 6).... You are therefore to be deeply humbled, and sit in the dust, considering the signal hand of God in singling out this place, this poor village, for the first seat of Satan's tyranny, and to make it (as 'twere) the rendezvous of devils, where they muster their infernal forces; appearing to the afflicted as coming armed to carry on their malicious designs against the bodies, and, if God in mercy prevent not, against the souls, of many in this place.... Be humbled also that so many members of this church of the Lord Jesus Christ should be under the influences of Satan's malice in these his operations; some as the objects of his tyranny on their bodies to that degree of distress which none can be sensible of but those that see and feel it, who are in the mean time also sorely distressed in their minds by frightful representations made by the devils unto them. Other professors and visible members of this church are under the awful accusations and imputations of being the instruments of Satan in his mischievous actings. It cannot but be matter of deep humiliation, to such as are innocent, that the righteous and holy God should permit them to be named in such pernicious and unheard-of practices, and not only so, but that he who cannot but do right should suffer the stain of suspected guilt to be, as it were, rubbed on and[ii.82] soaked in by many sore and amazing circumstances. And it is a matter of soul-abasement to all that are in the bond of God's holy covenant in this place, that Satan's seat should be amongst them, where he attempts to set up his kingdom in opposition to Christ's kingdom, and to take some of the visible subjects of our Lord Jesus, and use at least their shapes and appearances, instrumentally, to afflict and torture other visible subjects of the same kingdom. Surely his design is that Christ's kingdom may be divided against itself, that, being thereby weakened, he may the better take opportunity to set up his own accursed powers and dominions. It calls aloud then to all in this place in the name of the blessed Jesus, and words of his holy apostle (1 Peter v. 6), 'Humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God.'

"It is matter of terror, amazement, and astonishment, to all such wretched souls (if there be any here in the congregation; and God, of his infinite mercy, grant that none of you may ever be found such!) as have given up their names and souls to the Devil; who by covenant, explicit or implicit, have bound themselves to be his slaves and drudges, consenting to be instruments in whose shapes he may torment and afflict their fellow-creatures (even of their own kind) to the amazing and astonishing of the standers-by. I would hope I might have spared this use, but I desire (by divine assistance) to declare the whole counsel of God; and if it come not as conviction where it is so, it may serve for warning, that it may never be so. For it is a most dreadful thing to consider that any should change the service of God for the service of the Devil, the worship of the blessed God for the worship of the cursed enemy of God and man. But, oh! (which is yet a thousand times worse) how shall I name it? if any that are in the visible covenant of[ii.83] God should break that covenant, and make a league with Satan; if any that have sat down and eat at Christ's Table, should so lift up their heel against him as to have fellowship at the table of devils, and (as it hath been represented to some of the afflicted) eat of the bread and drink of the wine that Satan hath mingled. Surely, if this be so, the poet is in the right, "Audax omnia perpeti. Gens humana ruit per vetitum nefas:" audacious mortals are grown to a fearful height of impiety; and we must cry out in Scripture language, and that emphatical apostrophe of the Prophet Jeremy (chap. ii. 12), 'Be astonished, O ye heavens, at this, and be horribly afraid: be ye very desolate, saith the Lord.'... If you are in covenant with the Devil, the intercession of the blessed Jesus is against you. His prayer is for the subduing of Satan's power and kingdom, and the utter confounding of all his instruments. If it be so, then the great God is set against you. The omnipotent Jehovah, one God in three Persons; Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, in their several distinct operations and all their divine attributes,—are engaged against you. Therefore know ye that are guilty of such monstrous iniquity, that He that made you will not save you, and that He that formed you will show you no favor (Isa. xxvii. 11). Be assured, that, although you should now evade the condemnation of man's judgment, and escape a violent death by the hand of justice; yet, unless God shall give you repentance (which we heartily pray for), there is a day coming when the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed by Jesus Christ (Rom. ii. 16). Then, then, your sin will find you out; and you shall be punished with everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord, and doomed to those endless, easeless, and remediless torments prepared for the Devil and his angels (Matt. xxv. 41).... If you[ii.84] have been guilty of such impiety, the prayers of the people of God are against you on that account. It is their duty to pray daily, that Satan's kingdom may be suppressed, weakened, brought down, and at last totally destroyed; hence that all abettors, subjects, defenders, and promoters thereof, may be utterly crushed and confounded. They are constrained to suppress that kindness and compassion that in their sacred addresses they once bare unto you (as those of their own kind, and framed out of the same mould), praying with one consent, as the royal prophet did against his malicious enemies, the instruments of Satan (Ps. cix. 6), 'Set thou a wicked man over him, and let Satan stand at his right hand' (i.e.), to withstand all that is for his good, and promote all that is for his hurt; and (verse 7) 'When he is judged, let him be condemned, and let his prayer become sin.'

"Be we exhorted and directed to exercise true spiritual sympathy with, and compassion towards, those poor, afflicted persons that are by divine permission under the direful influence of Satan's malice. There is a divine precept enjoining the practice of such duty: Heb. xiii. 3, 'Remember them that suffer adversity, as being yourselves also in the body.' Let us, then, be deeply sensible, and, as the elect of God, put on bowels of mercy towards those in misery (Col. iii. 12). Oh, pity, pity them! for the hand of the Lord hath touched them, and the malice of devils hath fallen upon them.

"Let us be sure to take unto us and put on the whole armor of God, and every piece of it; let none be wanting. Let us labor to be in the exercise and practice of the whole company of sanctifying graces and religious duties. This important duty is pressed, and the particular pieces of that armor recited Eph. vi. 11 and 13 to 18. Satan is repre[ii.85]senting his infernal forces; and the devils seem to come armed, mustering amongst us. I am this day commanded to call and cry an alarm unto you: Arm, arm, arm! handle your arms, see that you are fixed and in a readiness, as faithful soldiers under the Captain of our salvation, that, by the shield of faith, ye and we all may resist the fiery darts of the wicked; and may be faithful unto death in our spiritual warfare; so shall we assuredly receive the crown of life (Rev. ii. 10). Let us admit no parley, give no quarter: let none of Satan's forces or furies be more vigilant to hurt us than we are to resist and repress them, in the name, and by the spirit, grace, and strength of our Lord Jesus Christ. Let us ply the throne of grace, in the name and merit of our Blessed Mediator, taking all possible opportunities, public, private, and secret, to pour out our supplications to the God of our salvation. Prayer is the most proper and potent antidote against the old Serpent's venomous operations. When legions of devils do come down among us, multitudes of prayers should go up to God. Satan, the worst of all our enemies, is called in Scripture a dragon, to note his malice; a serpent, to note his subtilty; a lion, to note his strength. But none of all these can stand before prayer. The most inveterate malice (as that of Haman) sinks under the prayer of Esther (chap. iv. 16). The deepest policy (the counsel of Achitophel) withers before the prayer of David (2 Sam. xv. 31); and the vastest army (an host of a thousand thousand Ethiopians) ran away, like so many cowards, before the prayer of Asa (2 Chron. xiv. 9 to 15).

"What therefore I say unto one I say unto all, in this important case, Pray, pray, pray.

"To our honored magistrates, here present this day, to[ii.86] inquire into these things, give me leave, much honored, to offer one word to your consideration. Do all that in you lies to check and rebuke Satan; endeavoring, by all ways and means that are according to the rule of God, to discover his instruments in these horrid operations. You are concerned in the civil government of this people, being invested with power by their Sacred Majesties, under this glorious Jesus (the King and Governor of his church), for the supporting of Christ's kingdom against all oppositions of Satan's kingdom and his instruments. Being ordained of God to such a station (Rom. xiii. 1), we entreat you, bear not the sword in vain, as ver. 4; but approve yourselves a terror of and punishment to evil-doers, and a praise to them that do well (1 Peter ii. 14); ever remembering that ye judge not for men, but for the Lord (2 Chron. xix. 6); and, as his promise is, so our prayer shall be for you, without ceasing, that he would be with you in the judgment, as he that can and will direct, assist, and reward you. Follow the example of the upright Job (chap. xxix. 16): Be a father to the poor; to these poor afflicted persons, in pitiful and painful endeavors to help them; and the cause that seems to be so dark, as you know not how to determine it, do your utmost, in the use of all regular means, to search it out.

"There is comfort in considering that the Lord Jesus, the Captain of our salvation, hath already overcome the Devil. Christ, that blessed seed of the woman, hath given this cursed old serpent called the Devil and Satan a mortal and incurable bruise on the head (Gen. iii. 15). He was too much for him in a single conflict (Matt. iv.). He opposed his power and kingdom in the possessed. He suffered not the devils to speak, because they knew him (Mark i. 34). He com[ii.87]pleted his victory by his death on the cross, and destroyed his dominion (Heb. ii. 14), that through death he might destroy death, and him that had the powers of death, that is the Devil; and by and after his resurrection made show openly unto the world, that he had spoiled principalities and powers, triumphing over them (Col. ii. 15). Hence, if we are by faith united to him, his victory is an earnest and prelibation of our conquest at last. All Satan's strugglings now are but those of a conquered enemy. It is no small comfort to consider, that Job's exercise of patience had its beginning from the Devil; but we have seen the end to be from the Lord (James v. 11). That we also may find by experience the same blessed issue of our present distresses by Satan's malice, let us repent of every sin that hath been committed, and labor to practise every duty which hath been neglected. Then we shall assuredly and speedily find that the kingly power of our Lord and Saviour shall be magnified, in delivering his poor sheep and lambs out of the jaws and paws of the roaring lion."

WILLIAM STOUGHTON.
Eng.^d at J. Andrews's by R. Babson

These extended extracts are given from Lawson's discourse, partly to enable every one to estimate the effect it must have produced, under the circumstances of the occasion, but mainly because they present a living picture of the sentiments, notions, modes of thinking and reasoning, and convictions, then prevalent. No description given by a person looking back from our point of view, not having experienced the delusions of that age, no matter who might attempt the task, could adequately paint the scene. The foregoing extracts show better, I think, than any documents that have come down to us, how the subject lay[ii.88] in the minds of men at that time. They bring before us directly, without the intervention of any secondary agency, the thoughts, associations, sentiments, of that generation, in breathing reality. They carry us back to the hour and to the spot. Deodat Lawson rises from his unknown grave, comes forth from the impenetrable cloud which enveloped the closing scenes of his mortal career, and we listen to his voice, as it spoke to the multitudes that gathered in and around the meeting-house in Salem Village, on Lecture-day, March 24, 1692. He lays bare his whole mind to our immediate inspection. In and through him, we behold the mind and heart, the forms of language and thought, the feelings and passions, of the people of that day. We mingle with the crowd that hang upon his lips; we behold their countenances, discern the passions that glowed upon their features, and enter into the excitement that moved and tossed them like a tempest. We are thus prepared, as we could be in no other way, to comprehend our story.

The sermon answered its end. It re-enforced the powers that had begun their work. It spread out the whole doctrine of witchcraft in a methodical, elaborate, and most impressive form. It justified and commended every thing that had been done, and every thing that remained to be done; every step in the proceedings; every process in the examinations; every kind of accusation and evidence that had been adduced; every phase of the popular belief, however wild and monstrous; every pretension of the afflicted children[ii.89] to preternatural experiences and communications, and every tale of apparitions of departed spirits and the ghosts of murdered men, women, and children, which, engendered in morbid and maniac imaginations, had been employed to fill him and others with horror, inspire revenge, and drive on the general delirium. And it fortified every point by the law and the testimony, by passages and scraps of Scripture, studiously and skilfully culled out, and ingeniously applied. It gave form to what had been vague, and authority to what had floated in blind and baseless dreams of fancy. It crystallized the disordered vagaries, that had been seething in turbulent confusion in the public mind, into a fixed, organized, and permanent shape.

Its publication was forthwith called for. The manuscript was submitted to Increase and Cotton Mather of the North, James Allen and John Bailey of the First, Samuel Willard of the Old South, churches in Boston, and Charles Morton of the church in Charlestown. It was printed with a strong, unqualified indorsement of approval, signed by the names severally of these the most eminent divines of the country. The discourse was dedicated to the "worshipful and worthily honored Bartholomew Gedney, John Hathorne, Jonathan Corwin, Esqrs., together with the reverend Mr. John Higginson, pastor, and Mr. Nicholas Noyes, teacher, of the Church of Christ at Salem," with a preface, addressed to all his "Christian friends and acquaintance, the inhabitants of Salem Village." It was republished in London in 1704, under the immediate direction of its[ii.90] author. The subject is described as "Christ's Fidelity, the only Shield against Satan's Malignity;" and the titlepage is enforced by passages of Scripture (Rev. xii. 12, and Rom. xvi. 20). The interest of the volume is highly increased by an appendix, giving the substance of notes taken by Lawson on the spot, during the examinations and trials. They are invaluable, as proceeding from a chief actor in the scenes, who was wholly carried away by the delusion. They describe, in marvellous colors, the wonderful manifestations of diabolical agency in, upon, and through the afflicted children; resembling, in many respects, reports of spiritual communications prevalent in our day, although not quite coming up to them. These statements, and the preface to the discourse, are given in the Appendix to this volume. In a much briefer form, it was printed by Benjamin Harris, at Boston, in 1692; and soon after by John Dunton, in London.

Before dismissing Mr. Lawson's famous sermon, our attention is demanded to a remarkable paragraph in it. His strong faculties could not be wholly bereft of reason; and he had sense enough left to see, what does not appear to have occurred to others, that there might be a re-action in the popular passions, and that some might be called to account by an indignant public, if not before a stern tribunal of justice, for the course of cruelty and outrage they were pursuing, with so high a hand, against accused persons. He was not entirely satisfied that the appeal he made in his discourse to[ii.91] the people to suppress and crush out all vestiges of human feeling, and to stifle compassion and pity in their breasts, would prevail. He foresaw that the friends and families of innocent and murdered victims might one day call for vengeance; and he attempts to provide, beforehand, a defence that is truly ingenious:—

"Give no place to the Devil by rash censuring of others, without sufficient grounds, or false accusing any willingly. This is indeed to be like the Devil, who hath the title, Διαβολος, in the Greek, because he is the calumniator or false accuser. Hence, when we read of such accusers in the latter days, they are, in the original, called Διαβολοι, calumniatores (2 Tim. iii. 3). It is a time of temptation amongst you, such as never was before: let me entreat you not to be lavish or severe in reflecting on the malice or envy of your neighbors, by whom any of you have been accused, lest, whilst you falsely charge one another,—viz., the relations of the afflicted and relations of the accused,—the grand accuser (who loves to fish in troubled waters) should take advantage upon you. Look at sin, the procuring cause; God in justice, the sovereign efficient; and Satan, the enemy, the principal instrument, both in afflicting some and accusing others. And, if innocent persons be suspected, it is to be ascribed to God's pleasure, supremely permitting, and Satan's malice subordinately troubling, by representation of such to the afflicting of others, even of such as have, all the while, we have reason to believe (especially some of them), no kind of ill-will or disrespect unto those that have been complained of by them. This giving place to the Devil avoid; for it will have uncomforta[ii.92]ble and pernicious influence upon the affairs of this place, by letting out peace, and bringing in confusion and every evil work, which we heartily pray God, in mercy, to prevent."

This artifice of statement, speciously covered,—while it outrages every sentiment of natural justice, and breaks every bond of social responsibility,—is found, upon close inspection, to be a shocking imputation against the divine administration. It represents the Deity, under the phrases "sovereign efficient" and "supremely permitting" in a view which affords equal shelter to every other class of criminals, even of the deepest dye, as well as those who were ready and eager to bring upon their neighbors the charge of confederacy with Satan.

The next Sunday—March 27—was the regular communion-day of the village church; and Mr. Parris prepared duly to improve the occasion to advance the movement then so strongly under way, and to deepen still more the impression made by the events of the week, especially by Mr. Lawson's sermon. He accordingly composed an elaborate and effective discourse of his own; and a scene was arranged to follow the regular service, which could not but produce important results. An unexpected occurrence—a part not in the programme—took place, which created a sensation for the moment; but it tended, upon the whole, to heighten the public excitement, and, without much disturbing the order, only precipitated a little the progress of events.[ii.93]

It may well be supposed, that the congregation assembled that day with minds awfully solemnized, and altogether in a condition to be deeply affected by the services. A respectable person always prominently noticeable for her devout participation in the worship of the sanctuary, and a member of the church, had, on Monday, after a public examination, been committed to prison, and was there in irons, waiting to be tried for her life for the blackest of crimes,—a confederacy with the enemy of the souls of men, the archtraitor and rebel against the throne of God. On Thursday, another venerable, and ever before considered pious, matron of a large and influential family, a participant in their worship, and a member of the mother-church, had been consigned to the same fate, to be tried for the same horrible crime. A little child had been proved to have also joined in the infernal league. No one could tell to what extent Satan had lengthened his chain, or who, whether old or young, were in league with him. Every soul was still alive to the impressions made by Mr. Lawson's great discourse, and by the throngs of excited people, including magistrates and ministers, that had been gathered in the village.

The character and spirit of Mr. Parris's sermon are indicated in a prefatory note in the manuscript, "occasioned by dreadful witchcraft broke out here a few weeks past; and one member of this church, and another of Salem, upon public examination by civil authority, vehemently suspected for she-witches." The running[ii.94] title is, "Christ knows how many devils there are in his church, and who they are;" and the text is John vi. 70, 71, "Jesus answered them, Have not I chosen you twelve, and one of you is a devil? He spake of Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon; for he it was that should betray him, being one of the twelve."

Peter Cloyse was born May 27, 1639. He came to Salem from York, in Maine, and was one of the original members of the village church. He appears to have been a person of the greatest respectability and strength of character. He married Sarah, sister of Rebecca Nurse, and widow of Edmund Bridges. She was admitted to the village church, Jan. 12, 1690, being then about forty-eight years of age. It may well be supposed that she and her family were overwhelmed with affliction and horror by the proceedings against her sister. But, as she and her husband were both communicants, and it was sacrament-day, it was thought best for them to summon resolution to attend the service. After much persuasion, she was induced to go. She was a very sensitive person, and it must have required a great effort of fortitude. Her mind was undoubtedly much harrowed by the allusions made to the events of the week; and, when Mr. Parris announced his text, and opened his discourse in the spirit his language indicates, she could bear it no longer, but rose, and left the meeting. A fresh wind blowing at the time caused the door to slam after her. The congregation was probably startled; but Parris was not long embarrassed by the interruption, and[ii.95] she was attended to in due season. At the close of the service, the following scene occurred. I give it as Parris describes it in his church-record book:—

"After the common auditory was dismissed, and before the church's communion at the Lord's Table, the following testimony against the error of our Sister Mary Sibley, who had given direction to my Indian man in an unwarrantable way to find out witches, was read by the pastor:—

"It is altogether undeniable that our great and blessed God, for wise and holy ends, hath suffered many persons, in several families, of this little village, to be grievously vexed and tortured in body, and to be deeply tempted, to the endangering of the destruction of their souls; and all these amazing feats (well known to many of us) to be done by witchcraft and diabolical operations. It is also well known, that, when these calamities first began, which was in my own family, the affliction was several weeks before such hellish operations as witchcraft were suspected. Nay, it was not brought forth to any considerable light, until diabolical means were used by the making of a cake by my Indian man, who had his direction from this our sister, Mary Sibley; since which, apparitions have been plenty, and exceeding much mischief hath followed. But, by these means (it seems), the Devil hath been raised amongst us, and his rage is vehement and terrible; and, when he shall be silenced, the Lord only knows. But now that this our sister should be instrumental to such distress is a great grief to myself, and our godly honored and reverend neighbors, who have had the knowledge of it. Nevertheless, I do truly hope and believe, that this our sister doth truly[ii.96] fear the Lord; and I am well satisfied from her, that, what she did, she did it ignorantly, from what she had heard of this nature from other ignorant or worse persons. Yet we are in duty bound to protest against such actions, as being indeed a going to the Devil for help against the Devil: we having no such directions from nature, or God's word, it must therefore be, and is, accounted, by godly Protestants who write or speak of such matters, as diabolical; and therefore calls this our sister to deep humiliation for what she has done, and all of us to be watchful against Satan's wiles and devices.

"Therefore, as we, in duty as a church of Christ, are deeply bound to protest against it, as most directly contrary to the gospel, yet, inasmuch as this our sister did it in ignorance as she professeth and we believe, we can continue her in our holy fellowship, upon her serious promise of future better advisedness and caution, and acknowledging that she is indeed sorrowful for her rashness herein.

"Brethren, if this be your mind, that this iniquity should be thus borne witness against, manifest it by your usual sign of lifting up your hands.—The brethren voted generally, or universally: none made any exceptions.

"Sister Sibley, if you are convinced that you herein did sinfully, and are sorry for it, let us hear it from your own mouth.—She did manifest to satisfaction her error and grief for it.

"Brethren, if herein you have received satisfaction, testify it by lifting up your hands.—A general vote passed; no exception made.

"Note.—25th March, 1692. I discoursed said sister in my study about her grand error aforesaid, and also then read to her what I had written as above to be read to the[ii.97] church; and said Sister Sibley assented to the same with tears and sorrowful confession."

This proceeding was of more importance than appears, perhaps, at first view. It was one of Mr. Parris's most skilful moves. The course, pursued by the "afflicted" persons had, thus far, in reference to those engaged in the prosecutions, been in the right direction. But it was manifest, after the exhibitions they had given, that they wielded a fearful power, too fearful to be left without control. They could cry out upon whomsoever they pleased; and against their accusations, armed as they were with the power to fix the charge of guilt upon any one by giving ocular demonstration that he or she was the author of their sufferings, there could be no defence. They might turn, at any moment, and cry out upon Parris or Lawson, or either or both of the deacons. Nothing could withstand the evidence of their fits, convulsions, and tortures. It was necessary to have and keep them under safe control, and, to this end, to prevent any outsiders, or any injudicious or intermeddling people, from holding intimacy with them. Parris saw this, and, with his characteristic boldness of action and fertility of resources, at once put a stop to all trouble, and closed the door against danger, from this quarter.

Samuel Sibley was a member of the church, and a near neighbor of Mr. Parris. He was about thirty-six years of age. His wife Mary was thirty-two years of age, and also a member of the church. They[ii.98] were persons of respectable standing and good repute. Nothing is known to her disadvantage, but her foolish connection with the mystical operations going on in Mr. Parris's family; and of this she was heartily ashamed. Her penitent sensibility is quite touchingly described by Mr. Parris. It is true that what she had done was a trifle in comparison with what was going on every day in the families of Mr. Parris and Thomas Putnam: but she had acted "rashly," without "advisedness" from the right quarter, under the lead of "ignorant persons;" and therefore it was necessary to make a great ado about it, and hold her up as a warning to prevent other persons from meddling in such matters. Her husband was an uncle of Mary Walcot, one of the afflicted children; and it was particularly important to keep their relatives, and members of their immediate families, from taking any part or action in connection with them, except under due "advisedness," and the direction of persons learned in such deep matters. The family connections of the Sibleys were extensive, and a blow struck at that point would be felt everywhere. The procedure was undoubtedly effectual. After Mary Sibley had been thus awfully rebuked and distressingly exposed for dealing with "John Indian," it is not likely that any one else ever ventured to intermeddle with the "afflicted," or have any connection, except as outside spectators, with the marvellous phenomena of "diabolical operations." It will be noticed, that, while Mr. Parris thus waved the sword of disciplinary[ii.99] vengeance against any who should dare to intrude upon the forbidden ground, he occupied it himself without disguise, and maintained his hold upon it. He asserts the reality of the "amazing feats" practised by diabolical power in their midst, and enforces in the strongest language the then prevalent views and pending proceedings.

The operations of the week, including the solemn censure of Mary Sibley, had all worked favorably for the prosecutors and managers of the business. The magistrates, ministers, and whole body of the people, had become committed; the accusing girls had proved themselves apt and competent to their work; the public reason was prostrated, and natural sensibility stunned. All resisting forces were powerless, and all collateral dangers avoided and provided against. The movement was fully in hand. The next step was maturely considered, and, as we shall see, skilfully taken.

It is to be observed, that there was, at this time, a break in the regular government of Massachusetts. In the spring of 1689, the people had risen, seized the royal governor, Sir Edmund Andros, and put him in prison. They summoned their old charter governor, Simon Bradstreet, then living in Salem, eighty-seven years of age, to the chair of state; called the assistants of 1686 back to their seats, who provided for an election of representatives by the people of the towns; and the government thus created conducted affairs until the arrival of Sir William Phipps, in May, 1692, when Massachusetts ceased to be a[ii.100] colony, and was thenceforth, until 1774, a royal province. During these three years, from May, 1689, to May, 1692, the government was based upon an uprising of the people. It was a period of pure and absolute independence of the crown or parliament of England. Although Bradstreet's faculties were unimpaired and his spirit true and firm, his age prevented his doing much more than to give his loved and venerated name to the daring movement, and to the official service, of the people. The executive functions were, for the most part, exercised by the deputy-governor, Thomas Danforth, who was a person of great ability and public spirit. Unfortunately, at this time he was zealously in favor of the witchcraft prosecutions. Bradstreet was throughout opposed to them. Had time held off its hand, and his physical energies not been impaired, he would undoubtedly have resisted and prevented them. Danforth, it is said by Brattle, came to disapprove of them finally: but he began them by arrests in other towns, months before any thing of the kind was thought of in Salem Village; and he contributed, prominently, to give destructive and wide-spread power, in an early stage of its development, to the witchcraft delusion here.

After the lapse of a week, preparations were completed to renew operations, and a higher and more commanding character given to them. On Monday, April 4, Captain Jonathan Walcot and Lieutenant Nathaniel Ingersoll went to the town, and, "for themselves and several of their neighbors," exhibited to the assistants[ii.101] residing there, John Hathorne and Jonathan Corwin, complaints against "Sarah Cloyse, the wife of Peter Cloyse of Salem Village, and Elizabeth Procter of Salem Farms, for high suspicion of sundry acts of witchcraft." There the plan of proceedings in reference to the above-said parties was agreed upon. It was the result of consultation; communications probably passing with the deputy-governor in Boston, or at his residence in Cambridge. On the 8th of April, warrants were duly issued, ordering the marshal to bring in the prisoners "on Monday morning next, being the eleventh day of this instant April, about eleven of the clock, in the public meeting-house in the town." It had been arranged, that the examination should not be, as before, in the ordinary way, before the two local magistrates, but, in an extraordinary way, before the highest tribunal in the colony, or a representation of it. For a preliminary hearing, with a view merely to commitment for trial, this surely may justly be characterized as an extraordinary, wholly irregular, and, in all points of view, reprehensible procedure. When the day came, the meeting-house, which was much more capacious than that at the village, was crowded; and the old town filled with excited throngs. Upon opening proceedings, lo and behold, instead of the two magistrates, the government of the colony was present, in the highest character it then had as "a council"! The record says,—

"Salem, April 11, 1692.—At a Council held at Salem, and present Thomas Danforth, Esq., deputy-governor;[ii.102] James Russell, John Hathorne, Isaac Addington, Major Samuel Appleton, Captain Samuel Sewall, Jonathan Corwin, Esquires."

Russell was of Charlestown, Addington and Sewall of Boston, and Appleton of Ipswich. Mr. Parris, "being desired and appointed to write the examination, did take the same, and also read it before the council in public." This document has not come down to us; but Hutchinson had access to it, and the substance of it is preserved in his "History of Massachusetts."

The marshal (Herrick) brought in Sarah Cloyse and Elizabeth Procter, and delivered them "before the honorable council:" and the examination was begun.

The deputy-governor first called to the stand John Indian, and plied him, as was the course pursued on all these occasions, with leading questions:—

"John, who hurt you?—Goody Procter first, and then Goody Cloyse.

"What did she do to you?—She brought the book to me.

"John, tell the truth: who hurts you? Have you been hurt?—The first was a gentlewoman I saw.

"Who next?—Goody Cloyse.

"But who hurt you next?—Goody Procter.

"What did she do to you?—She choked me, and brought the book.

"How oft did she come to torment you?—A good many times, she and Goody Cloyse.[ii.103]

"Do they come to you in the night, as well as the day?—They come most in the day.

"Who?—Goody Cloyse and Goody Procter.

"Where did she take hold of you?—Upon my throat, to stop my breath.

"Do you know Goody Cloyse and Goody Procter?—Yes: here is Goody Cloyse."

We may well suppose that these two respectable women must have been filled with indignation, shocked, and amazed at the statements made by the Indian, following the leading interrogatories of the Court. Sarah Cloyse broke out, "When did I hurt thee?" He answered, "A great many times." She exclaimed, "Oh, you are a grievous liar!" The Court proceeded with their questions:—

"What did this Goody Cloyse do to you?—She pinched and bit me till the blood came.

"How long since this woman came and hurt you?—Yesterday, at meeting.

"At any time before?—Yes: a great many times."

Having drawn out John Indian, the Court turned to the other afflicted ones:—

"Mary Walcot, who hurts you?—Goody Cloyse.

"What did she do to you?—She hurt me.

"Did she bring the book?—Yes.

"What was you to do with it?—To touch it, and be well.

"(Then she fell into a fit.)"

This put a stop to the examination for a time; but it was generally quite easy to bring witnesses out of a[ii.104] fit, and restore entire calmness of mind. All that was necessary was to lift them up, and carry them to the accused person, the touch of any part of whose body would, in an instant, relieve the sufferer. This having been done, the examination proceeded:—

"Doth she come alone?—Sometimes alone, and sometimes in company with Goody Nurse and Goody Corey, and a great many I do not know.

"(Then she fell into a fit again.)"

She was, probably, restored in the same way as before; but, her part being finished for that stage of the proceeding, another of the afflicted children took the stand:—

"Abigail Williams, did you see a company at Mr. Parris's house eat and drink?—Yes, sir: that was in the sacrament."

I would call attention to the form of the foregoing questions. Hutchinson says that "Mr. Parris was over-officious: most of the examinations, although in the presence of one or more magistrates, were taken by him." He put the questions. They show, on this occasion, a minute knowledge beforehand of what the witnesses are to say, which it cannot be supposed Danforth, Russell, Addington, Appleton, and Sewall, strangers, as they were, to the place and the details of the affair, could have had. The examination proceeded:—

"How many were there?—About forty, and Goody Cloyse and Goody Good were their deacons.[ii.105]

"What was it?—They said it was our blood, and they had it twice that day."

The interrogator again turned to Mary Walcot, and inquired,—

"Have you seen a white man?—Yes, sir: a great many times.

"What sort of a man was he?—A fine grave man; and, when he came, he made all the witches to tremble.

"(Abigail Williams confirmed the same, and that they had such a sight at Deacon Ingersoll's.)

"Who was at Deacon Ingersoll's then?—Goody Cloyse, Goody Nurse, Goody Corey, and Goody Good.

"(Then Sarah Cloyse asked for water, and sat down, as one seized with a dying, fainting fit; and several of the afflicted fell into fits, and some of them cried out, 'Oh! her spirit has gone to prison to her sister Nurse.')"

The audacious lying of the witnesses; the horrid monstrousness of their charges against Sarah Cloyse, of having bitten the flesh of the Indian brute, and drank herself and distributed to others, as deacon, at an infernal sacrament, the blood of the wicked creatures making these foul and devilish declarations, known by her to be utterly and wickedly false; and the fact that they were believed by the deputy, the council, and the assembly,—were more than she could bear. Her soul sickened at such unimaginable depravity and wrong; her nervous system gave way; she fainted, and sunk to the floor. The manner in which the girls turned the incident against her shows how they were hardened to all human feeling, and the[ii.106] cunning art which, on all occasions, characterized their proceedings. That such an insolent interruption and disturbance, on their part, was permitted, without rebuke from the Court, is a perpetual dishonor to every member of it. The scene exhibited at this moment, in the meeting-house, is worthy of an attempt to imagine. The most terrible sensation was naturally produced, by the swooning of the prisoner, the loudly uttered and savage mockery of the girls, and their going simultaneously into fits, screaming at the top of their voices, twisting into all possible attitudes, stiffened as in death, or gasping with convulsive spasms of agony, and crying out, at intervals, "There is the black man whispering in Cloyse's ear," "There is a yellow-bird flying round her head." John Indian, on such occasions, used to confine his achievements to tumbling, and rolling his ugly body about the floor. The deepest commiseration was felt by all for the "afflicted," and men and women rushed to hold and soothe them. There was, no doubt, much loud screeching, and some miscellaneous faintings, through the whole crowd. At length, by bringing the sufferers into contact with Goody Cloyse, the diabolical fluid passed back into her, they were all relieved, and the examination was resumed. Elizabeth Procter was now brought forward.

In the account given, in the First Part, of the population of Salem Village and the contiguous farms, her husband, John Procter, was introduced to our acquaintance. From what we then saw of him, we are well assured that he would not shrink from the protec[ii.107]tion and defence of his wife. He accompanied her from her arrest to her arraignment, and stood by her side, a strong, brave, and resolute guardian, trying to support her under the terrible trials of her situation, and ready to comfort and aid her to the extent of his power, disregardful of all consequences to himself. The examination proceeded:—

"Elizabeth Procter, you understand whereof you are charged; viz., to be guilty of sundry acts of witchcraft. What say you to it? Speak the truth; and so you that are afflicted, you must speak the truth, as you will answer it before God another day. Mary Walcot, doth this woman hurt you?—I never saw her so as to be hurt by her.

"Mercy Lewis, does she hurt you?

"(Her mouth was stopped.)

"Ann Putnam, does she hurt you?

"(She could not speak.)

"Abigail Williams, does she hurt you?

"(Her hand was thrust in her own mouth.)

"John, does she hurt you?—This is the woman that came in her shift, and choked me.

"Did she ever bring the book?—Yes, sir.

"What to do?—To write.

"What? this woman?—Yes, sir.

"Are you sure of it?—Yes, sir.

"(Again Abigail Williams and Ann Putnam were spoke to by the Court; but neither of them could make any answer, by reason of dumbness or other fits.)

"What do you say, Goody Procter, to these things?—I take God in heaven to be my witness, that I know nothing of it, no more than the child unborn.[ii.108]

"Ann Putnam, doth this woman hurt you?—Yes, sir: a great many times.

"(Then the accused looked upon them, and they fell into fits.)

"She does not bring the book to you, does she?—Yes, sir, often; and saith she hath made her maid set her hand to it.

"Abigail Williams, does this woman hurt you?—Yes, sir, often.

"Does she bring the book to you?—Yes.

"What would she have you do with it?—To write in it, and I shall be well."

Turning to the accused, Abigail said, "Did not you tell me that your maid had written?" Goody Procter seems to have been utterly amazed at the conduct and charges of the girls. She knew, of course, that what they said was false; but perhaps she thought them crazy, and therefore objects of pity and compassion, and felt disposed to treat them kindly, and see whether they could not be recalled to their senses, and restored to their better nature: for Parris, in his account, says that at this point she answered the question thus put to her by Abigail thus: "Dear child, it is not so. There is another judgment, dear child." But kindness was thrown away upon them; for Parris says that immediately "Abigail and Ann had fits." After coming out of them, "they cried out, 'Look you! there is Goody Procter upon the beam.'" Instantly, as we may well suppose, the whole audience looked where they pointed. Their manner gave assurance that they saw her "on the beam," among the[ii.109] rafters of the meeting-house; but she was invisible to all other eyes. The people, no doubt, were filled with amazement at such supernaturalism. But John Procter, her husband, did not believe a word of it: and it is not to be doubted that he expressed his indignation at the nonsense and the outrage in his usual bold, strong, and unguarded language, which brought down the vengeance of the girls at once on his own head; for Parris, in his report, goes on to say:—

"(By and by, both of them cried out of Goodman Procter himself, and said he was a wizard. Immediately, many if not all of the bewitched had grievous fits.)

"Ann Putnam, who hurt you?—Goodman Procter, and his wife too.

"(Afterwards, some of the afflicted cried, 'There is Procter going to take up Mrs. Pope's feet!' and her feet were immediately taken up.)

"What do you say, Goodman Procter, to these things?—I know not. I am innocent.

"(Abigail Williams cried out, 'There is Goodman Procter going to Mrs. Pope!' and immediately said Pope fell into a fit.)"

At this point, the deputy, or some member of the Court interposed, if I interpret rightly Parris's report, which is here obscurely expressed, inasmuch as he does not say who spoke; but the import of the words indicates that they proceeded from some member of the Court, who was perfectly deceived:—

"You see, the Devil will deceive you: the children could see what you was going to do before the woman was hurt.[ii.110] I would advise you to repentance, for the Devil is bringing you out.

"(Abigail Williams cried out again, 'There is Goodman Procter going to hurt Goody Bibber!' and immediately Goody Bibber fell into a fit. There was the like of Mary Walcot, and divers others. Benjamin Gould gave in his testimony, that he had seen Goodman Corey and his wife, Procter and his wife, Goody Cloyse, Goody Nurse, and Goody Griggs in his chamber last Thursday night. Elizabeth Hubbard was in a trance during the whole examination. During the examination of Elizabeth Procter, Abigail Williams and Ann Putnam both made offer to strike at said Procter; but, when Abigail's hand came near, it opened,—whereas it was made up into a fist before,—and came down exceeding lightly as it drew near to said Procter, and at length, with open and extended fingers, touched Procter's hood very lightly. Immediately, Abigail cried out, her fingers, her fingers, her fingers burned; and Ann Putnam took on most grievously of her head, and sunk down.)"

Hutchinson, after giving Parris's account of this examination, expresses himself thus: "No wonder the whole country was in a consternation, when persons of sober lives and unblemished characters were committed to prison upon such sort of evidence. Nobody was safe." All things considered, it may perhaps be said, that, filled as the witchcraft proceedings were throughout with folly and outrage, there was nothing worse than this examination, conducted by the deputy-governor and council, on the 11th of April, 1692, in the great meeting-house of the First Church in Salem. It must have been a scene of the wildest disorder, par[ii.111]ticularly in the latter part of it. No wonder that the people in general were deluded, when the most learned councillors of the colony countenanced, participated in, and gave effect to, such disorderly procedures in a house of worship, in the presence of a high judicial tribunal, and of the then supreme government of the colony!

Benjamin Gould gave his volunteer testimony without "advisedness," and quite incontinently. He brought out Goodman Corey before the managers were quite ready to fall upon him; and he antedated, by a considerable length of time, any such imputation upon Goody Griggs. It was well for Elizabeth Hubbard to have been in a trance, so that she could not hear the mention of her aunt's name. The council seems to have adjourned to the next day, at the same place, when Mr. Parris "gave further information against said John Procter," which, unfortunately, has not come down to us. The result was, that Sarah Cloyse, John Procter, and Elizabeth his wife, were all committed for trial, and, with Rebecca Nurse, Martha Corey, and Dorcas Good, were sent to the jail in Boston, in the custody of Marshal Herrick.

The proceedings of the 11th and 12th of April produced a great effect in driving on the general infatuation. Judge Sewall, who was present as one of the council, in his diary at this date, says, "Went to Salem, where, in the meeting-house, the persons accused of witchcraft were examined; was a very great assembly; 'twas awful to see how the afflicted persons[ii.112] were agitated." In the margin is written, apparently some time afterwards, the interjection "Væ!" thrice repeated,—"Alas, alas, alas!" What perfectly deluded him and Danforth, and everybody else, were the exhibitions made by the "afflicted children." This is the grand phenomenon of the witchcraft proceedings here in 1692. It, and it alone, carried them through. Those girls, by long practice in "the circle," and day by day, before astonished and wondering neighbors gathered to witness their distresses, and especially on the more public occasions of the examinations, had acquired consummate boldness and tact. In simulation of passions, sufferings, and physical affections; in sleight of hand, and in the management of voice and feature and attitude,—no necromancers have surpassed them. There has seldom been better acting in a theatre than they displayed in the presence of the astonished and horror-stricken rulers, magistrates, ministers, judges, jurors, spectators, and prisoners. No one seems to have dreamed that their actings and sufferings could have been the result of cunning or imposture. Deodat Lawson was a man of talents, had seen much of the world, and was by no means a simpleton, recluse, or novice; but he was wholly deluded by them. The prisoners, although conscious of their own innocence, were utterly confounded by the acting of the girls. The austere principles of that generation forbade, with the utmost severity, all theatrical shows and performances. But at Salem Village and the old town, in the respective meeting-houses, and at Deacon[ii.113] Nathaniel Ingersoll's, some of the best playing ever got up in this country was practised; and patronized, for weeks and months, at the very centre and heart of Puritanism, by "the most straitest sect" of that solemn order of men. Pastors, deacons, church-members, doctors of divinity, college professors, officers of state, crowded, day after day, to behold feats which have never been surpassed on the boards of any theatre; which rivalled the most memorable achievements of pantomimists, thaumaturgists, and stage-players; and made considerable approaches towards the best performances of ancient sorcerers and magicians, or modern jugglers and mesmerizers.

The meeting of the council at Salem, on the 11th of April, 1692, changed in one sense the whole character of the transaction. Before, it had been a Salem affair. After this, it was a Massachusetts affair. The colonial government at Boston had obtruded itself upon the ground, and, of its own will and seeking, irregularly, and without call or justification, had taken the whole thing out of the hands of the local authorities into its own management. Neither the town nor the village of Salem is responsible, as a principal actor, for what subsequently took place. To that meeting of the deputy-governor and his associates in the colonial administration, at an early period of the transaction, the calamities, outrages, and shame that followed must in justice be ascribed. Had it not taken place, the delusion, as in former instances and other places here and in the mother-country,[ii.114] would have remained within its original local limits, and soon disappeared. That meeting, and the proceedings then had, gave to the fanaticism the momentum that drove it on, and extended its destructive influence far and wide.

The next step in the proceedings is one of the most remarkable features in the case. It is, in some points of view, more suggestive of suspicion, that there was, behind the whole, a skilful and cunning management, ingeniously contriving schemes to mislead the public mind, than almost any other part of the transaction. Mary Warren, as has been said, was a servant in the family of John Procter. She was a member of the "circle" that had so long met at Mr. Parris's house or Thomas Putnam's. She was a constant attendant at its meetings, and a leading spirit among the girls. She did not take an open part against her master or mistress at their examination, although she acted with avidity and malignity against them as an accusing witness at their trials, two months afterwards. It is to be noticed, that Ann Putnam and Abigail Williams, at the examination of Elizabeth Procter, April 11, accused her of having induced or compelled "her maid to set her hand to the book."

On the 18th of April, warrants were got out against Giles Corey and Mary Warren, both of Salem Farms; Abigail Hobbs, daughter of William Hobbs, of Topsfield; and Bridget Bishop, wife of Edward Bishop, of Salem,—to be brought in the next forenoon, at about eight o'clock, at the house of Lieutenant Nathaniel[ii.115] Ingersoll, of Salem Village. How Mary Warren became transformed from an accuser to an accused, from an afflicted person to an afflicter, is the question. It is not easy to fathom the conduct of these girls. They appear to have acted upon a plan deliberately formed, and to have had an understanding with each other. At the same time, occasionally, they had or pretended to have a falling-out, and came into contradiction. This was perhaps a mere blind, to prevent the suspicion of collusion. The accounts given of Mary Warren seem to render it quite certain that she acted with deliberate cunning, and was a guilty conspirator with the other accusers in carrying on the plot from the beginning. No doubt, it frequently occurred to those concerned in it, that suspicions might possibly get into currency that they were acting a part in concert. It was necessary, by all means, to guard against such an idea. This may be the key to interpret the arrest and proceedings against Mary Warren. If it is, the affair, it must be confessed, was managed with great shrewdness and skill. She conducted the stratagem most dexterously. All at once she fell away from the circle, and began to talk against the "afflicted children," and went so far as to say, that they "did but dissemble." Immediately, they cried out upon her, charged her with witchcraft, and had her apprehended. After being carried to prison, she spoke in strong language against the proceedings. Four persons of unquestionable truthfulness, in prison with her, on the same charge, prepared a deposition[ii.116] to this effect: "We heard Mary Warren several times say that the magistrates might as well examine Keysar's daughter that had been distracted many years, and take notice of what she said, as well as any of the afflicted persons. 'For,' said Mary Warren, 'when I was afflicted, I thought I saw the apparitions of a hundred persons;' for she said her head was distempered that she could not tell what she said. And the said Mary told us, that, when she was well again, she could not say that she saw any of the apparitions at the time aforesaid." I will now give the substance of her examination, which commenced on the 19th of April. Mr. Parris was, as usual, requested to take minutes of the proceedings, which have been preserved:—

"Examination of Mary Warren, at a Court held at Salem Village, by John Hathorne and Jonathan Corwin, Esqrs.

"(As soon as she was coming towards the bar, the afflicted fell into fits.)

"Mary Warren, you stand here charged with sundry acts of witchcraft. What do you say for yourself? Are you guilty or not?—I am innocent.

"Hath she hurt you? (Speaking to the sufferers.)

"(Some were dumb. Betty Hubbard testified against her, and then said Hubbard fell into a violent fit.)

"You were, a little while ago, an afflicted person; now you are an afflicter. How comes this to pass?—I look up to God, and take it to be a great mercy of God.

"What! do you take it to be a great mercy to afflict others?

"(Now they were all but John Indian grievously afflicted,[ii.117] and Mrs. Pope also, who was not afflicted before hitherto this day; and, after a few moments, John Indian fell into a violent fit also.)"

"Well, here" (Mr. Parris, the reporter, goes on to say) "was one that just now was a tormenter in her apparition, and she owns that she had made a league with the Devil." The marvel was, that, having before been a sufferer, as one of the afflicted accusers, she had then, at that moment, appeared in the opposite character, and owned herself to have become a confederate with the Evil One. Having established this conviction in the minds of the magistrates and spectators, the point was reached at which she completed the delusion by appearing to break away from her bondage to Satan, assume the functions of a confessing and abjuring witch, and retake her place, with tenfold effect, among the accusing witnesses. The manner in which she rescued herself from the power of Satan exhibits a specimen of acting seldom surpassed. The account proceeds thus:—

"Now Mary Warren fell into a fit, and some of the afflicted cried out that she was going to confess; but Goody Corey, and Procter and his wife, came in, in their apparition, and struck her down, and said she should tell nothing."

What is given here in Italics, as an "apparition," was of course based upon the declarations of the accusing witnesses. It was an art they often practised in offering their testimony. They would cry out, that the Devil, generally in the shape of a black man, appeared to them at the time, whispering in the[ii.118] ear of the accused, or sitting on the beams of the meeting-house in which the examinations were generally conducted. On this occasion, they declared that three of the persons, then in jail in some other place, came in their apparitions, forbade Mary Warren's confession, and struck her down. To give full effect to their statement, she went through the process of tumbling down. Although nothing was seen by any other person present, the deception was perfect. The Rev. Mr. Parris wrote it all down as having actually occurred. His record of the transaction goes on as follows:—

"Mary Warren continued a good space in a fit, that she did neither see nor hear nor speak.

"Afterwards she started up, and said, 'I will speak,' and cried out, 'Oh, I am sorry for it, I am sorry for it!' and wringed her hands, and fell a little while into a fit again, and then came to speak, but immediately her teeth were set; and then she fell into a violent fit, and cried out, 'O Lord, help me! O good Lord, save me!'

"And then afterwards cried again, 'I will tell, I will tell!' and then fell into a dead fit again.

"And afterwards cried, 'I will tell, they did, they did, they did;' and then fell into a violent fit again.

"After a little recovery, she cried, 'I will tell, I will tell. They brought me to it;' and then fell into a fit again, which fits continuing, she was ordered to be led out, and the next to be brought in, viz., Bridget Bishop.

"Some time afterwards, she was called in again, but immediately taken with fits for a while.

"'Have you signed the Devil's book?—No.'[ii.119]

"'Have you not touched it?—No.'

"Then she fell into fits again, and was sent forth for air.

"After a considerable space of time, she was brought in again, but could not give account of things by reason of fits, and so sent forth.

"Mary Warren called in afterwards in private, before magistrates and ministers.

"She said, 'I shall not speak a word: but I will, I will speak, Satan! She saith she will kill me. Oh! she saith she owes me a spite, and will claw me off. Avoid Satan, for the name of God, avoid!' and then fell into fits again, and cried, 'Will ye? I will prevent ye, in the name of God.'"

The magistrate inquired earnestly:—

"'Tell us how far have you yielded?'

"A fit interrupts her again.

"'What did they say you should do, and you should be well?'

"Then her lips were bit, so that she could not speak: so she was sent away."

Mr. Parris, the reporter of the case, adds:—

"Note that not one of the sufferers was afflicted during her examination, after once she began to confess, though they were tormented before."

She was subsequently examined in the prison several times, falling occasionally into fits, and exhibiting the appearance of a long-continued conflict with Satan, who was supposed to be resisting her inclination to confess, and holding her with violence[ii.120] to the contract she had made with him. The magistrates and ministers beheld with amazement and awe what they believed to be precisely a similar scene to that described by the evangelists when the Devil strove against the power of the Saviour and his disciples, and would not quit his hold upon the young man, but "threw him down, and tare him." At length, as in that case, Satan was overcome. After a protracted, most violent, and terrible contest, Mary Warren got released from his clutches, and made a full and circumstantial confession.

Whoever studies carefully the account of Mary Warren's successive examinations can hardly question, I think, that she acted a part, and acted it with wonderful cunning, skill, and effect.

This examination, beginning on Tuesday, the 19th of April, continued after she was committed to prison in Salem, at the jail there, for several days, and was renewed at intervals until the middle of May. After she had thoroughly broken away from Satan, she revealed all that she had seen and heard while associating with him and his confederate subjects: her testimony was implicitly received, and it dealt death and destruction in all directions. It is a circumstance strongly confirming this view, that Mary Warren was soon released from confinement. It was the general practice to keep those, who confessed, in prison, to retain in that way power over them, and prevent their recanting their confessions. She is found, by the papers on file, to have acted afterwards, as a capital witness,[ii.121] against ten persons, all of whom were convicted, and seven executed. Besides these, she testified, with the appearance of animosity and vindictiveness, against her master John Procter, and her mistress his wife; thus contributing to secure the conviction of both, and the death of the former. In how many more cases she figured in the same character and to the same effect is unknown, as the papers in reference to only a very small proportion of them have come down to us. The interpretation I give to the course of Mary Warren exhibits her guilt, and that of those participating in the stratagem, as of the deepest and blackest dye. But it seems to be the only one which a scrutiny of the details of her examinations, and of the facts of the case, allows us to receive. The effect was most decisive. The course of the accusing children in crying out against one of their own number satisfied the public, and convinced still more the magistrates, that they were truthful, honest, and upright. They had before given evidence that they paid no regard to family influence or eminent reputation. They had now proved that they had no partiality and no favoritism, but were equally ready to bring to light and to justice any of their own circle who might fall into the snare of the Evil One, and become confederate with him. No dramatic artist, no cunning impostor, ever contrived a more ingenious plot; and no actors ever carried one out better than Mary Warren and the afflicted children.

Giles Corey incurred hostility, perhaps, because his[ii.122] deposition relating to his wife did not come up to the mark required. It is also highly probable, that, though incensed at her conduct at the time, reflection had brought him to his senses; and that the circumstances of her examination and commitment to prison produced a re-action in his mind. If so, he would have been apt to express himself very freely. His examination took place April 19th, in the meeting-house at the Village. The girls acted their usual part, charging him, one by one, with having afflicted them, and proving it on the spot by tortures and sufferings. After they had severally got through, they all joined at once in their demonstrations. The report made by Parris says, "All the afflicted were seized now with fits, and troubled with pinches. Then the Court ordered his hands to be tied." The magistrates lost all control of themselves, and flew into a passion, exclaiming, "What! is it not enough to act witchcraft at other times, but must you do it now, in face of authority?" He seems to have been profoundly affected by the marvellousness of the accusations, and the exhibition of what to him was inexplicable in the sufferings of the girls; and all he could say was, "I am a poor creature, and cannot help it."—"Upon the motion of his head again, they had their heads and necks afflicted." The magistrates, not having recovered their composure, continued to pour their wrath upon him, "Why do you tell such wicked lies against witnesses?"—"One of his hands was let go, and several were afflicted. He held his head on one side,[ii.123] and then the heads of several of the afflicted were held on one side. He drew in his cheeks, and the cheeks of some of the afflicted were sucked in." Goody Bibber was on hand, and played her accompaniment. She also uttered malignant charges against him, and "was suddenly seized with a violent fit." One of Bibber's statements was that he had called her husband "damned devilish rogue." Through all this outrage, Corey was firm in asserting his innocence. His language and manner were serious, and solemnized by a sense of the helplessness of his situation and the wicked falsehoods heaped upon him. His disagreement with his wife about the witchcraft proceedings being well known, the accusers endeavored to make it out that they had often quarrelled. But he insisted that the only difference which had before existed between them was a conflict of opinion on one point. In his family devotions, he used this expression, "living to God and dying to sin." She "found fault" with the language, and criticised it. He thought it was all right! The characteristic spirit of the old man was roused most strikingly by one of the charges. Bibber and others testified that Corey had said he had seen the Devil in the shape of a black hog and was very much frightened. He could not stand under the imputation of cowardice, and lost sight of every other element in the accusation but that. The magistrate asked, "What did you see in the cow-house? Why do you deny it?"—"I saw nothing but my cattle."—"(Divers witnessed that he told[ii.124] them he was frighted.)"—"Well, what do you say to these witnesses? What was it frighted you?"—"I do not know that ever I spoke the word in my life."

But while his character retained its manliness, and his soul was truly insensible to fear, he was very much oppressed and distressed by his situation. The share he had, with two of his sons-in-law, in bringing his wife into her awful condition, and in driving on the public infatuation at the beginning, was more than he could endure to think of, and he was charged with having meditated suicide. Perhaps he had already formed the purpose afterwards carried into effect, and may have dropped expressions, under that thought, which to others might appear to indicate a design of self-destruction. He was accused of having said that "he would make away with himself, and charge his death upon his son." His sons-in-law, Crosby and Parker, were acting with the crowd that were pursuing him to his death. Little did it enter the imagination of any one then, that there was a method by which he could "make away with himself," leaving the entire act of the destruction of his life upon his persecutors, and the sin to be apportioned between him and them by the All-wise and All-just.

Abigail Hobbs had been a reckless vagrant creature, wandering through the woods at night like a half-deranged person; but she had wit enough to see that there was safety in confession. She pretended to have committed, by witchcraft, crimes enough to have[ii.125] hanged her a dozen times. If she had stood to her confession, we should have heard of her no more.

Bridget Bishop's examination filled the intervals of time while Mary Warren was being carried out of the meeting-house to recover from her fits. Both Parris and Ezekiel Cheever took minutes of it, from which the substance is gathered as follows:—

On her coming in, the afflicted persons, at the same moment, severally fell into fits, and were dreadfully tormented. Hathorne addressed her, calling upon her to give an account of the witchcrafts she was "conversant in." She replied, "I take all this people to witness that I am clear." He then asked the children, "Hath this woman hurt you?" They all cried out that she had. The magistrate continued, "You are here accused by four or five: what do you say to it?"—"I never saw these persons before, nor I never [A] was in this place before. I never did hurt them in my life."

At a meeting of the afflicted children and others, some one declared that Bridget Bishop was present "in her shape" or apparition, and, pointing to a particular spot, said, "There, there she is!" Young Jonathan Walcot, exasperated by his sister's sufferings, struck at the spot with his sword; whereupon Mary cried out, "You have hit her, you have torn her coat, and I heard it tear." This story had been brought to Hathorne's ears; and abruptly, as if to take her off her guard,[ii.126] he said, "Is not your coat cut?" She answered, "No." They then examined the coat, and found what they regarded as having been "cut or torn two ways." It was probably the fashion in which the garment was made; for she was in the habit of dressing more artistically than the women of the Village. At any rate, it did not appear like a direct cut of a sword; but Jonathan got over the difficulty by saying that "the sword that he struck at Goody Bishop was not naked, but was within the scabbard." This explained the whole matter, so that Cheever says, in his report, that "the rent may very probably be the very same that Mary Walcot did tell that she had in her coat, by Jonathan's striking at her appearance"! Parris says, with more caution, more indeed than was usual with him, "Upon some search in the Court, a rent, that seems to answer what was alleged, was found."

Hathorne, having heard the scandals they had circulated against her, proceeded: "They say you bewitched your first husband to death."—"If it please Your Worship, I know nothing of it."—"What do you say of these murders you are charged with?"—"I hope I am not guilty of murder." As she said this, she turned up her eyes, probably to give solemnity to her declaration. At the opening of the examination, she looked round upon the people, and called them to witness her innocence. She had found out by this time, that no justice could be expected from them; and feeling, with Rebecca Nurse on a recent similar occasion, "I have got nobody to look to but[ii.127] God," she turned her eyes heavenward. Instantly, the eyeballs of all the girls were rolled up in their sockets, and fixed. The effect was awful, and still more increased as they went, after a moment or two, into dreadful torments. Hathorne could no longer contain himself, but broke out, "Do you not see how they are tormented? You are acting witchcraft before us! What do you say to this? Why have you not a heart to confess the truth?" She calmly replied, "I am innocent. I know nothing of it. I am no witch. I know not what a witch is." The "afflicted children" charged her with having tried to persuade them to sign the Devil's book. As she had never before seen one of them, she was indignant at this barefaced falsehood, and, as Cheever says, "shook her head" in her resentment; which, as he further says, put them all into great torments. Parris represents that in every motion of her head they were tortured. Marshal Herrick, as usual, put in his oar, and volunteered charges against her. She bore herself well through the shocking scene, and did not shrink, at its close, from expressing her unbelief of the whole thing: "I do not know whether there be any witches or no." When she was removed from the place of examination, the accusers all had fits, and broke forth in outcries of agony. After being taken out, one of the constables in charge of her asked her if she was not troubled to see the afflicted persons so tormented; and she replied, "No." In answer to further questions, she indicated that she could not[ii.128] tell what to think of them, and did not concern herself about them at all.

Giles Corey, Bridget Bishop, Abigail Hobbs, together with Mary Warren, were duly committed to prison.

Two days after, April 21, warrants were issued "against William Hobbs, husbandman, and Deliverance his wife; Nehemiah Abbot, Jr., weaver; Mary Easty, the wife of Isaac Easty; and Sarah Wilds, the wife of John Wilds,—all of the town of Topsfield, or Ipswich; and Edward Bishop, husbandman, and Sarah his wife, of Salem Village; and Mary Black, a negro of Lieutenant Nathaniel Putnam's, of Salem Village also; and Mary English, the wife of Philip English, merchant in Salem." All of them were to be delivered to the magistrates for examination at the house of Lieutenant Nathaniel Ingersoll, at about ten o'clock the next morning, in Salem Village; and were brought in accordingly.

What the papers on file enable us to glean of these nine persons is substantially as follows: William Hobbs was about fifty years of age, and one of the earliest settlers of the Village, although his residence was on the territory afterwards included in Topsfield. His daughter Abigail, of whom I have just spoken, appears from all the accounts to have acted at this stage of the transaction a most wicked part, ready to do all the mischief in her power, and allowing herself to be used to any extent to fasten the imputation of witchcraft upon others. Several persons testified that, long before, she had boasted that[ii.129] she was not afraid of any thing, "for she had sold herself body and soul to the Old Boy;" one witness testified, that, "some time last winter, I was discoursing with Abigail Hobbs about her wicked carriages and disobedience to her father and mother, and she told me she did not care what anybody said to her, for she had seen the Devil, and had made a covenant or bargain with him;" another, Margaret Knight, testified, that, about a year before, "Abigail Hobbs and her mother were at my father's house, and Abigail Hobbs said to me, 'Margaret, are you baptized?' And I said, 'Yes.' Then said she, 'My mother is not baptized, but I will baptize her;' and immediately took water, and sprinkled in her mother's face, and said she did baptize her 'in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.'"

She was arrested, and brought to the Village, on the 19th of April. The next day, she began her operations by declaring that "Judah White, a Jersey maid" that lived with Joseph Ingersoll at Casco, "but now lives at Boston," appeared to her "in apparition" the day before, and advised her to "fly, and not to go to be examined," but, if she did go, "not to confess any thing:" she described the dress of this "apparition,"—she "came to her in fine clothes, in a sad-colored silk mantle, with a top-knot and a hood."—"She confesseth further, that the Devil in the shape of a man came to her," and charged her to afflict the girls; bringing images made of wood in their likeness with thorns for her to prick into the images, which she[ii.130] did: whereupon the girls cried out that they were hurt by her. She further confessed, that, "she was at the great meeting in Mr. Parris's pasture, when they administered the sacrament, and did eat of the red bread and drink of the red wine, at the same time." This confession established her credibility at once; and, the next day, the warrants were issued for the nine persons above mentioned, against whom they had secured in her an effective witness. She had resided for some time at Casco Bay; and we shall soon see how matters began in a few days to work in that direction. There are two indictments against this Abigail Hobbs: one charging her with having made a covenant with "the Evil Spirit, the Devil," at Casco Bay, in 1688; the other with having exercised the arts of witchcraft upon the afflicted girls, at Salem Village, in 1692.

When her unhappy father was brought to examination, he found that his daughter was playing into the hands of the accusers; and that his wife, overwhelmed by the horrors of the situation, although for a time protesting her innocence and lamenting that she had been the mother of such a daughter, had broken down and confessed, saying whatever might be put in her mouth by the magistrates, the girls, or the crowd. Under these circumstances, he was brought forward for examination. Parris took minutes of it. It is to be regretted, that the paper is much dilapidated, and portions of the lines wholly lost. What is left shows that the mind of William Hobbs rose superior[ii.131] to the terrors and powers arrayed against it. The magistrate commenced proceedings by inquiring of the girls, pointing to the prisoner, "Hath this man hurt you?" Several of them answered "Yes." Goody Bibber, who seems generally to have been a very zealous volunteer backer of the girls, on this occasion, for a wonder, answered "No." The magistrate, addressing the prisoner, "What say you? Are you guilty or not?"—Answer: "I can speak in the presence of God safely, as I must look to give account another day, that I am as clear as a new-born babe."—"Clear of what?"—"Of witchcraft."—"Have you never hurt these?"—"No." Abigail Williams cried out that he "was going to Mercy Lewis!" Whereupon Mercy was seized with a fit. Then Abigail cried out again, "He is coming to Mary Walcot!" and Mary went into her fit. The magistrate, in consternation, appealed to him: "How can you be clear," when your appearance is thus seen producing such effects before our eyes? Then the children went into fits all together, and "hallooed" at the top of their voices, and "shouted greatly." The magistrate then brought up the confession of his wife against him, and expostulated with him for not confessing; the afflicted, in the mean while, bringing the whole machinery of their convulsions, shrieks, and uproar to bear against him: but he calmly, and in brief terms, denied it.

The circle of accusing girls seems to have been a receptacle, into which all the scandal, gossip, and[ii.132] defamation of the surrounding country was emptied. Some one had told them that William Hobbs was not a regular attendant at meeting. They passed it on to the magistrate, and he put this question to the accused: "When were you at any public religious meeting?" He replied, "Not a pretty while."—"Why so?"—"Because I was not well: I had a distemper that none knows." The magistrate said, "Can you act witchcraft here, and, by casting your eyes, turn folks into fits?"—"You may judge your pleasure. My soul is clear."—"Do you not see you hurt these by your look?"—"No: I do not know it." After another display of awful sufferings, caused, as they protested, by the mere look of Hobbs, the magistrate, with triumphant confidence, again put it home to him, "Can you now deny it?" He answered, "I can deny it to my dying day." The magistrate inquired of him for what reason he withdrew from the room whenever the Scriptures were read in his family. He plumply denied it. Nathaniel Ingersoll and Thomas Haynes testified that his daughter had told them so. The confessions of his wife and daughter were over and over again brought up against him, but to no effect. "Who do you worship?" said the magistrate. "I hope I worship God only."—"Where?"—"In my heart." The examination failed to confound or embarrass him in the least. He could not be drawn into the expression of any of the feelings which the conduct of his graceless and depraved daughter or his weak and wretched wife must have[ii.133] excited. He quietly protested that he knew nothing about witchcraft; and, towards the close, with solemn earnestness of utterance, declared that his innocence was known to the "great God in heaven."

He was committed for trial. All that the documents in existence inform us further, in relation to William Hobbs, is that he remained in prison until the 14th of the next December, when two of his neighbors, John Nichols and Joseph Towne, in some way succeeded in getting him bailed out; they giving bonds in the sum of two hundred pounds for his appearance at the sessions of the Court the next month. But it was not, even then, thought wholly safe to have him come in; and the fine was incurred. He appeared at the term in May, the fine was remitted, and he discharged by proclamation. On the 26th of March, 1714, he gave evidence in a case of commonage rights. He was then seventy-two years of age. Of his wife and daughter, I shall again have occasion to speak.

For all that is known of the case of Nehemiah Abbot, we are indebted to Hutchinson, who had Parris's minutes of the examination before him. Hutchinson says, that, of "near an hundred" whose examinations he had seen, he was the only one who, having been brought before the magistrates, was finally dismissed by them. Perhaps even this case was not an exception: for a document on file shows that a person named Abbot of the same locality was subsequently arrested and imprisoned; but unfortunately[ii.134] the Christian name has been obliterated, or from some cause is wanting. It seems, from Hutchinson's minutes, that he protested his innocence in manly and firm declarations. Mary Walcot testified that she had seen his shape. Ann Putnam cried out that she saw him "upon the beam." The magistrates told him that his guilt was certainly proved, and that, if he would find mercy of God, he must confess. "I speak before God," he answered, "that I am clear from this accusation."—"What, in all respects?"—"Yes, in all respects." The girls were struck with dumbness; and Ann Putnam, re-affirming that he was the man that hurt her, "was taken with a fit." Mary Walcot began to waver in her confidence, and Mercy Lewis said, "It is not the man." This unprecedented variance in the testimony of the girls brought matters to a stand; and he was sent out for a time, while others were examined:—

"When he was brought in again, by reason of much people, and many in the windows, so that the accusers could not have a clear view of him, he was ordered to be abroad, and the accusers to go forth to him, and view him in the light, which they did in the presence of the magistrates and many others, discoursed quietly with him, one and all acquitting him; but yet said he was like that man, but he had not the wen they saw in his apparition. Note, he was a hilly-faced man, and stood shaded by reason of his own hair; so that for a time he seemed to some bystanders and observers to be considerably like the person the afflicted did describe."

[ii.135]

Such is Parris's statement, as quoted by Hutchinson. What was the real cause or motive of this discrepancy among the witnesses does not appear. The facts, that at first they went into fits in beholding him, were all struck dumb for a while, and Ann Putnam saw him on the beam, were likely to have an unfavorable effect upon the minds of the people, and threatened to explode the delusion. But Ann, with a quickness of wit that never failed to meet any emergency, when Mercy Lewis said it was not the man, cried out in a fit, "Did you put a mist before my eyes?" She conveyed the idea that the power of Satan blinded her, and caused her to mistake the man. This answered the purpose; and, although Abbot got clear, for the time at least, all were more than ever convinced that the Evil One, in misleading Ann, had shown his hand on the occasion.

The examination of Sarah Wildes had no peculiar features. The afflicted children and Goody Bibber saw her apparition sitting on the beam while she was bodily present at the bar, and went through their usual fits and evolutions. She maintained her innocence with dignity and firmness; and the magistrate, prejudging the case against her, rebuked her obstinacy in not confessing, in his accustomed manner.

No account has come down of the examinations of Edward Bishop, or Sarah his wife. He was the third of that name, probably the son of the "Sawyer." His wife Sarah was a daughter of William Wildes of Ipswich, and, it would seem, a sister of John[ii.136] Wildes, the examination of whose wife has just been mentioned. Some of the evidence indicates that she was a niece of Rebecca Nurse. They all belonged to that class of persons who, under the general appellation of "the Topsfield men," had been in such frequent collision with the people of the Village. Edward Bishop was forty-four years of age, and his wife forty-one. They had a family, at the time of their imprisonment, of twelve children. Sarah Bishop had been dismissed from the church at the Village, and recommended to that at Topsfield, May 25, 1690. They had land in Topsfield, as well as in the Village, and were more intimately connected in social relations with the former than the latter place. They effected their escape from prison, and survived the storm. Mary, the wife of Philip English, was committed to prison. We have no record of her examination.

Mary Black, the negro woman, belonged to Nathaniel Putnam, but lived in the family of his son Benjamin. Her examination shows that she was an ignorant but an innocent person. She knew nothing about the matter, and had no idea what it all meant. To the questions with which the magistrate pressed her, her answers were, "I do not know," "I cannot tell." The only fact brought out against her besides the actings of the girls was this: "Her master saith a man sat down upon the form with her about a twelvemonth ago." Parris, in his minutes, gives this piece of evidence, but does not enlighten us as to its import. The magistrate asked her, "What did the man[ii.137] say to you?" Her answer was: "He said nothing." This is all they got out of her; and it is all the light we have on the mysterious fact, that a man was once seated, at some time within twelve months, on the same form or bench with poor Mary Black. The magistrate asked the girls, "Doth this negro hurt you?" They said "Yes."—"Why do you hurt them?"—"I did not hurt them." This question was put to her, "Do you prick sticks?" perhaps the meaning was, Do you prick the afflicted children with sticks? The simple creature evidently did not know what they were driving at, and answered, "No: I pin my neckcloth." The examiner asked her, "Will you take out the pin, and pin it again?" She did so, and several of the afflicted cried out that they were pricked. Mary Walcot was pricked in the arm till the blood came, Abigail Williams was pricked in the stomach, and Mercy Lewis was pricked in the foot. It is probable, that, in this case, the girls, as they often appear to have done, provided themselves by concert beforehand with pins ready to be stuck into the assigned parts of their bodies, and managed to get the queer and unusual question put. The whole thing has the appearance of being pre-arranged; and it answered the purpose, filling the crowd with amazement, and excluding all possible doubt from the minds of the magistrates. Mary was committed to prison, where she remained until discharged, in May, 1693, by proclamation from the governor.

Mary Easty, wife of Isaac Easty, and sister of Re[ii.138]becca Nurse and Sarah Cloyse, was about fifty-eight years of age, and the mother of seven children. Her husband owned and lived upon a large and valuable farm, which not many years since was the property and country residence of the late Hon. B.W. Crowninshield, and is now in the possession of Thomas Pierce, Esq. Her examination was accompanied by the usual circumstances. The girls had fits, and were speechless at times: the magistrate expostulated with her for not confessing her guilt, which he regarded as demonstrated, beyond a question, by the sufferings of the afflicted. "Would you have me accuse myself?"—"How far," he continued, "have you complied with Satan?"—"Sir, I never complied, but prayed against him all my days. What would you have me do?"—"Confess, if you be guilty."—"I will say it, if it was my last time, I am clear of this sin." The magistrate, apparently affected by her manner and bearing, inquired of the girls, "Are you certain this is the woman?" They all went into fits; and presently Ann Putnam, coming to herself, said "that was the woman, it was like her, and she told me her name." The accused clasped her hands together, and Mercy Lewis's hands were clenched; she separated her hands, and Mercy's were released; she inclined her head, and the girls screamed out, "Put up her head; for, while her head is bowed, the necks of these are broken." The magistrate again asked, "Is this the woman?" They made signs that they could not speak; but afterwards Ann Putnam and others[ii.139] cried out: "O Goody Easty, Goody Easty, you are the woman, you are the woman!"—"What do you say to this?"—"Why, God will know."—"Nay, God knows now."—"I know he does."—"What did you think of the actions of others before your sisters came out? did you think it was witchcraft?"—"I cannot tell."—"Why do you not think it is witchcraft?"—"It is an evil spirit; but whether it be witchcraft I do not know." She was committed to prison.

It will be noticed that seven out of the nine examined at this time either lived in Topsfield or were intimately connected with the church and people there. The accusing girls had heard them angrily spoken of by the people around them, and availed themselves, as at all times, of existing prejudices, to guide them in the selection of their victim.

The escape of Abbot, and the wavering, in his case and that of Easty, indicated by the magistrates on this occasion, alarmed the prosecutors; and they felt that something must be done to stiffen Hathorne and Corwin to their previous rigid method of procedure. The following letter was accordingly written to them that very day, immediately after the close of the examinations:—

"These to the Honored John Hathorne and Jonathan Corwin, Esqrs., living at Salem, present.

"Salem Village, this 21st of April, 1692.

"Much Honored,—After most humble and hearty thanks presented to Your Honors for the great care and pains you have already taken for us,—for which you know[ii.140] we are never able to make you recompense, and we believe you do not expect it of us; therefore a full reward will be given you of the Lord God of Israel, whose cause and interest you have espoused (and we trust this shall add to your crown of glory in the day of the Lord Jesus): and we—beholding continually the tremendous works of Divine Providence, not only every day, but every hour—thought it our duty to inform Your Honors of what we conceive you have not heard, which are high and dreadful,—of a wheel within a wheel, at which our ears do tingle. Humbly craving continually your prayers and help in this distressed case,—so, praying Almighty God continually to prepare you, that you may be a terror to evil-doers and a praise to them that do well, we remain yours to serve in what we are able,

"Thomas Putnam."

What was meant by the "wheel within a wheel," the "high and dreadful" things which were making their ears to tingle, but had not yet been disclosed to the magistrates, we shall presently see. On the 30th of April, Captain Jonathan Walcot and Sergeant Thomas Putnam (the writer of the foregoing letter) got out a warrant against Philip English, of Salem, merchant; Sarah Morrel, of Beverly; and Dorcas Hoar, of the same place, widow. Morrel and Hoar were delivered by Marshal Herrick, according to the tenor of the warrant, at 11, a.m., May 2, at the house of Lieutenant Nathaniel Ingersoll, in Salem Village. The warrant has an indorsement in these words: "Mr. Philip English not being to be found. G.H." As the records of the examinations of Philip English[ii.141] and his wife have not been preserved, and only a few fragments of the testimony relating to their case are to be found, all that can be said is that the girls and their accomplices made their usual charges against them. There are two depositions in existence, however, which afford some explanation of the causes that exposed Mr. English to hostility, and indicate the kind of evidence that was brought against him. Having many landed estates, in various places, and extensive business transactions, he was liable to frequent questions of litigation. He was involved, at one time, in a lawsuit about the bounds of a piece of land in Marblehead. A person named William Beale, of that town, had taken great interest in it adversely to the claims of English; and some harsh words passed between them. A year or two after the affair, Beale states, "that, as I lay in my bed, in the morning, presently after it was fair light abroad in the room," "I saw a dark shade," &c. To his vision it soon assumed the shape of Philip English. On a previous occasion, when riding through Lynn to get testimony against English in the aforesaid boundary case, he says, "My nose gushed out bleeding in a most extraordinary manner, so that it bloodied a handkerchief of considerable bigness, and also ran down upon my clothes and upon my horse's mane." He charged it upon English. These depositions were sworn to in Court, in August, 1692, and January, 1693. How they got there does not appear, as English was never brought to trial. All that relates to Mr.[ii.142] English and his wife may be despatched at this point. On the 6th of May, a warrant was procured at Boston, "To the marshal-general, or his lawful deputy," to apprehend Philip English wherever found within the jurisdiction, and convey him to the "custody of the marshal of Essex." Jacob Manning, a deputy-marshal, delivered him to the marshal of Essex on the 30th of May; and he was brought before the magistrates on the next day, and, after examination, committed to prison. He and his wife effected their escape from jail, and found refuge in New York until the proceedings were terminated, when they returned to Salem, and continued to reside here. She survived the shock given by the accusation, the danger to which she had been exposed, and the sufferings of imprisonment, but a short time. They occupied the highest social position. He was a merchant, conducting an extensive business, and had a large estate; owning fourteen buildings in the town, a wharf, and twenty-one sail of vessels. His dwelling-house, represented in the frontispiece of this volume, stood until a recent period, and is remembered by many of us. Its site was on the southern side of Essex Street, near its termination; comprising the area between English and Webb Streets. It must have been a beautiful situation; commanding at that time a full, unobstructed view of the Beverly and Marblehead shores, and all the waters and points of land between them. The mansion was spacious in its dimensions, and bore the marks of having been constructed in the[ii.143] best style of elegance, strength, and finish. It was indeed a curious and venerable specimen of the domestic architecture of its day. A first-class house then; in its proportions, arrangements, and attachments, it would compare well with first-class houses now. Mrs. English was a lady of eminent character and culture. Traditions to this effect have come down with singular uniformity through all the old families of the place. She was the only child of Richard Hollingsworth, and inherited his large property. The Rev. William Bentley, D.D., in his "Description of Salem," and whose daily life made him conversant with all that relates to the locality of Mrs. English's residence, says that the officer came to apprehend her in the evening, after she had retired to rest. He was admitted by the servants, and read his warrant in her bedchamber. Guards were placed around the house. To be accused by the afflicted children was then regarded as certain death. "In the morning," says Bentley, "she attended the devotions of her family, kissed her children with great composure, proposed her plan for their education, took leave of them, and then told the officer she was ready to die." Dr. Bentley suggests that unfriendly feelings may have existed against Mr. English in consequence of some controversies he had been engaged in with the town about the title to lands; that the superior style in which his family lived had subjected them to vulgar prejudice; that the existence of this feeling becoming known to the "afflicted girls" led them[ii.144] to cry out against him and his wife. It may be so. They availed themselves of every such advantage; and particularly liked to strike high, so as the more to astound and overawe the public mind.

I find no further mention of Sarah Morrel. She doubtless shared the fate of those escaping death,—a long imprisonment. When Dorcas Hoar was brought in, there was a general commotion among the afflicted, falling into fits all around. After coming out of them, they vied with each other in heaping all sorts of accusations upon the prisoner; Abigail Williams and Ann Putnam charging her with having choked a woman in Boston; Elizabeth Hubbard crying out that she was pinching her, "and showing the marks to the standers by. The marshal said she pinched her fingers at the time." The magistrate, indignantly believing the whole, said, "Dorcas Hoar, why do you hurt these?"—"I never hurt any child in my life." The girls then charged her with having killed her husband, and with various other crimes. Mary Walcot, Susanna Sheldon, and Abigail Williams said they saw a black man whispering in her ear. The spirit of the prisoner was raised; and she said, "Oh, you are liars, and God will stop the mouth of liars!" The anger of the magistrates was roused by this bold outbreak. "You are not to speak after this manner in the Court."—"I will speak the truth as long as I live," she fearlessly replied. Parris says, at the close of his account, "The afflicted were much distressed[ii.145] during her examination." Of course, she was sent to prison.

Susanna Martin of Amesbury, a widow, was arrested on a warrant dated April 30, and examined at the Village church May 2. She is described as a short active woman, wearing a hood and scarf, plump and well developed in her figure, of remarkable personal neatness. One of the items of the evidence against her was, that, "in an extraordinary dirty season, when it was not fit for any person to travel, she came on foot" to a house at Newbury. The woman of the house, the substance of whose testimony I am giving, having asked, "whether she came from Amesbury afoot," expressed her surprise at her having ventured abroad in such bad walking, and bid her children make way for her to come to the fire to dry herself. She replied "she was as dry as I was," and turned her coats aside; "and I could not perceive that the soles of her shoes were wet. I was startled at it, that she should come so dry; and told her that I should have been wet up to my knees, if I should have come so far on foot." She replied that "she scorned to have a drabbled tail." The good woman who treated Susanna Martin on this occasion with such hospitable kindness received the impression, as appears by the import of her deposition, that, because Martin came into the house so wonderfully dry, she was therefore a witch. The only inference we are likely to draw is, that she was a particularly neat person; careful to pick her[ii.146] way; and did not wear skirts of the dimensions of our times.

The language reported by this witness to have been used by Susanna Martin created in her, at the time, visible mortification, as well as resentment. A writer at the period, not by any means inclined to give a representation favorable to the prisoners, reports her expression thus: "She scorned to be drabbled." She was undoubtedly a woman who spoke her mind freely, and with strength of expression, as the magistrates found. From this cause, perhaps, she had shocked the prejudices and violated the conventional scrupulosities then prevalent, to such a degree as to incur much comment, if not scandal. There had been a good deal of gossip about her; and, some time before, she had been proceeded against as a witch. But there was no ground for any serious charges against her character. Like Mrs. Ann Hibbens, perhaps the head and front of her offending was that she had more wit than her neighbors. She certainly was a strong-minded woman, as her examination shows. Two reports of it, each in the handwriting of Parris, have come down to us. They are almost identical, and in substance as follows:—

On the appearance of the accused, many of the witnesses against her instantly fell into fits. The magistrate inquired of them,—

"Hath this woman hurt you?"

"(Abigail Williams declared that she had hurt her[ii.147] often. 'Ann Putnam threw her glove at her in a fit,' and the rest were struck dumb at her presence.)

"What! do you laugh at it? said the magistrate.—Well I may at such folly.

"Is this folly to see these so hurt?—I never hurt man, woman, or child.

"(Mercy Lewis cried out, 'She hath hurt me a great many times, and plucks me down.' Then Martin laughed again. Several others cried out upon her, and the magistrate again addressed her.)

"What do you say to this?—I have no hand in witchcraft.

"What did you do? did you consent these should be hurt?—No, never in my life.

"What ails these people?—I do not know.

"But what do you think ails them?—I do not desire to spend my judgment upon it.

"Do you think they are bewitched?—No: I do not think they are.

"Well, tell us your thoughts about them.—My thoughts are mine own when they are in; but, when they are out, they are another's.

"Who do you think is their master?—If they be dealing in the black art, you may know as well as I.

"What have you done towards the hurt of these?—I have done nothing.

"Why, it is you, or your appearance.—I cannot help it.

"How comes your appearance just now to hurt these?—How do I know?

"Are you not willing to tell the truth?—I cannot tell. He that appeared in Samuel's shape can appear in any one's shape.[ii.148]

"Do you believe these afflicted persons do not say true?—They may lie, for aught I know.

"May not you lie?—I dare not tell a lie, if it would save my life."

At this point, the marshal declared that "she pinched her hands, and Elizabeth Hubbard was immediately afflicted. Several of the afflicted cried out that they saw her upon the beam" of the meeting-house over their heads; and there was, no doubt, a scene of frightful excitement. The magistrate, in the depth of his awe and distress, earnestly appealed to the accused, "Pray God discover you, if you be guilty." Nothing daunted, she replied, "Amen, amen. A false tongue will never make a guilty person." A great uproar then arose. The accusers fell into dreadful convulsions, among the rest John Indian, who cried out, "She bites, she bites!" The magistrate, overcome by the sight of these sufferings, again appealed to her, "Have not you compassion for these afflicted?" She calmly and firmly answered, "No: I have none." The uproar rose higher. The accusers all declared that they saw the "black man," Satan himself, standing by her side. They pretended to try to approach her, but were suddenly deprived of the power of locomotion. John Indian attempted to rush upon her, but fell sprawling upon the floor. The magistrate again appealed to her: "What is the reason these cannot come near you?"—"I cannot tell. It may be the Devil bears me more malice than another."—"Do[ii.149] you not see God evidently discovering you?"—"No, not a bit for that."—"All the congregation besides think so."—"Let them think what they will."—"What is the reason these cannot come to you?"—"I do not know but they can, if they will; or else, if you please, I will come to them."—"What was that the black man whispered to you?"—"There was none whispered to me." She was committed to prison.

In the mean while, preparations had been going on to bring upon the stage a more striking character, and give to the excited public mind a greater shock than had yet been experienced. Intimations had been thrown out that higher culprits than had been so far brought to light were in reserve, and would, in due time, be unmasked. It was hinted that a minister had joined the standard of the Arch-enemy, and was leading the devilish confederacy. In the accounts given of the diabolical sacraments, a man in black had been described, but no name yet given. As Charles the Second, while they were hanging the regicides, at the Restoration, was looking about for a preacher to hang, and used Hugh Peters for the occasion; so the "afflicted children," or those acting behind them, wanted a minister to complete the dramatis personæ of their tragedy. His connection with the society and its controversies, and the animosities which had thus become attached to him, naturally suggested Mr. Burroughs. He was then pursuing, as usual, a laborious, humble, self-sacrificing ministry, in the midst of perils and privations, away[ii.150] down in the frontier settlements on the coast of Maine, and little dreamed of what was brewing, for his ruin and destruction, in his former parish at the village. This is what Thomas Putnam had in his mind when he spoke of a "wheel within a wheel," and "the high and dreadful" things not then disclosed that were to make "ears tingle."

It was necessary to be at once cautious and rapid in their movements, to prevent the public from getting information which, by reaching the ears of Burroughs, might put him on his guard. It was no easy thing to secure him at the great distance of his place of residence. If he should become apprised of what was going on, his escape into remoter and inaccessible settlements would have baffled the whole scheme. Nothing therefore was done at the village, but the steps to arrest him originated at Boston. Elisha Hutchinson, a magistrate there, issued the proper order, addressed to John Partridge of Portsmouth, Field-marshal of the provinces of New Hampshire and Maine, dated April 30, 1692, to arrest George Burroughs, "preacher at Wells;" he being "suspected of a confederacy with the Devil." Partridge was directed to deliver him to the custody of the marshal of Essex, or, not meeting him, was requested to bring him to Salem, and hand him over to the magistrates there. The "afflicted children" had begun, shortly before, to use his name. Abigail Hobbs had resided some years before at Casco; and from her they obtained all the scandal she had heard there, or chose to fabricate to suit the[ii.151] purpose of the prosecutors. The way in which the minds of the deluded people were worked up against Mr. Burroughs is illustrated in a deposition subsequently made to this effect:—

Benjamin Hutchinson testified, that, on the 21st of April, 1692, about eleven o'clock in the forenoon, Abigail Williams told him that she saw a person whom she described as Mr. George Burroughs, "a little black minister that lived at Casco Bay." Mr. Burroughs was of small stature and dark complexion. She gave an account of his wonderful feats of strength, said that he was a wizard; and that he "had killed three wives, two for himself and one for Mr. Lawson." She affirmed that she saw him then. Mr. Burroughs, it will be borne in mind, was at this time a hundred miles away, at his home in Maine. Hutchinson asked her where she saw him. She said "There," pointing to a rut in the road made by a cart-wheel. He had an iron fork in his hand, and threw it where she said Burroughs was standing. Instantly she fell into a fit; and, when she came out of it, said, "'You have torn his coat, for I heard it tear.'—'Whereabouts?' said I. 'On one side,' said she. Then we came into the house of Lieutenant Ingersoll; and I went into the great room, and Abigail came in and said, 'There he stands.' I said, 'Where? where?' and presently drew my rapier." Then Abigail said, he has gone, but "'there is a gray cat.' Then I said, 'Whereabouts?' 'There!' said she, 'there!' Then I struck with my rapier, and she fell into a fit; and, when it[ii.152] was over, she said, 'You killed her.'" Poor Hutchinson could not see the cat he had killed any more than Burroughs's coat he had torn. Abigail explained the mystery to his satisfaction, by saying that the spectre of Sarah Good had come in at the moment, and carried away the dead cat. This was all in broad daylight; it being, as Hutchinson testified, "about twelve o'clock." The same day, "after lecture, in said Ingersoll's chamber," Abigail Williams and Mary Walcot were present. They said that "Goody Hobbs, of Topsfield, had bit Mary Walcot by the foot." Then both fell into a fit; and on coming out, "they saw William Hobbs and his wife go both of them along the table." Hutchinson instantly stabbed, with his rapier, "Goody Hobbs on her side," as the two girls declared. They further said that the room was "full of them," that is of witches, in their apparitions; then Hutchinson and Eleazer Putnam "stabbed with their rapiers at a venture." The girls cried out, that they "had killed a great black woman of Stonington, and an Indian who had come with her:" the girls said further, "The floor is all covered with blood;" and, rushing to the window, declared that they saw a great company of witches on a hill, and that three of them "lay dead" there,—"the black woman, the Indian, and one more that they knew not." This was about four o'clock in the afternoon. This evidence was given and received in court. It shows the audacity with which the girls imposed upon the credulity of a people wrought up by their arts to the highest pitch of in[ii.153]sane infatuation; and illustrates a condition of things, at that time and place, that is truly astonishing.

On the evening before Hutchinson was imposed upon, as just described, by Abigail Williams and Mary Walcot, Ann Putnam had made most astonishing disclosures, at her father's house, in his presence and that of Peter Prescott, Robert Morrel, and Ezekiel Cheever. An account of the affair was drawn up by her father, and sworn to by her, in these words:—

"The Deposition of Ann Putnam, who testifieth and saith, on the 20th of April, 1692, at evening, she saw the apparition of a minister, at which she was grievously affrighted, and cried out, 'Oh, dreadful, dreadful! here is a minister come! What! are ministers witches too? Whence came you, and what is your name? for I will complain of you, though you be a minister, if you be a wizard.' Immediately I was tortured by him, being racked and almost choked by him. And he tempted me to write in his book, which I refused with loud outcries, and said I would not write in his book though he tore me all to pieces, but told him it was a dreadful thing that he, which was a minister, that should teach children to fear God, should come to persuade poor creatures to give their souls to the Devil. 'Oh, dreadful, dreadful! Tell me your name, that I may know who you are.' Then again he tortured me, and urged me to write in his book, which I refused. And then, presently, he told me that his name was George Burroughs, and that he had had three wives, and that he had bewitched the two first of them to death; and that he killed Mrs. Lawson, because she was so unwilling to go from the Village, and also killed Mr. Lawson's child because he went[ii.154] to the eastward with Sir Edmon, and preached so to the soldiers; and that he had bewitched a great many soldiers to death at the eastward when Sir Edmon was there; and that he had made Abigail Hobbs a witch, and several witches more. And he has continued ever since, by times, tempting me to write in his book, and grievously torturing me by beating, pinching, and almost choking me several times a day. He also told me that he was above a witch. He was a conjurer."

Her father and the other persons present made oath that they saw and heard all this at the time; that "they beheld her tortures and perceived her hellish temptations by her loud outcries, 'I will not, I will not write, though you torment me all the days of my life.'" It will be observed that this was the evening before Thomas Putnam wrote his letter to the magistrates, preparing them for something "high and dreadful" that was soon to be brought to light.

A similar scene took place not long afterwards, in the presence of her father and her uncle Edward, to which they also testify. It was thus described by her under oath:—

"The Deposition of Ann Putnam, who testifieth and saith, that, on the 8th of May, at evening, I saw the apparition of Mr. George Burroughs, who grievously tortured me, and urged me to write in his book, which I refused. He then told me that his two first wives would appear to me presently, and tell me a great many lies, but I should not believe them. Then immediately appeared to me the forms of two women in winding-sheets, and napkins about[ii.155] their heads, at which I was greatly affrighted; and they turned their faces towards Mr. Burroughs, and looked very red and angry, and told him that he had been a cruel man to them, and that their blood did cry for vengeance against him; and also told him that they should be clothed with white robes in heaven, when he should be cast into hell: and immediately he vanished away. And, as soon as he was gone, the two women turned their faces towards me, and looked as pale as a white wall; and told me that they were Mr. Burroughs's two first wives, and that he had murdered them. And one of them told me that she was his first wife, and he stabbed her under the left arm, and put a piece of sealing-wax on the wound. And she pulled aside the winding-sheet, and showed me the place; and also told me, that she was in the house where Mr. Parris now lives, when it was done. And the other told me, that Mr. Burroughs and that wife which he hath now, killed her in the vessel, as she was coming to see her friends, because they would have one another. And they both charged me that I should tell these things to the magistrates before Mr. Burroughs' face; and, if he did not own them, they did not know but they should appear there. This morning, also, Mrs. Lawson and her daughter Ann appeared to me, whom I knew, and told me Mr. Burroughs murdered them. This morning also appeared to me another woman in a winding-sheet, and told me that she was Goodman Fuller's first wife, and Mr. Burroughs killed her because there was some difference between her husband and him."

This was indeed most extraordinary language and imagery to have been used by a child of twelve years of age. It is not strange, that, upon a community,[ii.156] whose fancies and fears had been so long wrought upon, holding their views, the effect was awfully great. The very fact that it was a child that spoke made her declarations seem supernatural. Then, again, they were accompanied with such ocular demonstration, in her terrible bodily sufferings, that none remained in doubt of the truthfulness and reality of what they listened to and beheld. It did not enter their imaginations, for a moment, that there was any deception or imposture, or even delusion, on her part. Her case is truly a problem not easily solved even now. While we are filled with horror and indignation at the thought that she figures as a capital and fatal witness in all the trials, it is impossible not to feel that a wisdom greater than ours is necessary to fathom the dark mystery of the phenomena presented by her and her mother and other accusers, in this monstrous and terrible affair.

These occurrences, happening just before Mr. Burroughs was brought to the village as a prisoner, were bruited from house to house, from mouth to mouth, and worked the people to a state of horrified exasperation against him; and he was met with execration, when, on the 4th of May, Field-marshal Partridge appeared with him at Salem, and delivered him to the jailer there. When we consider the distance and the circumstances of travel at that time, it is evident that the officers charged with the service acted with the greatest promptitude, celerity, and energy. The tradition is, that they found Mr. Burroughs in his humble[ii.157] home, partaking of his frugal meal; that he was snatched from the table without a moment's opportunity to provide for his family, or prepare himself for the journey, and hurried on his way roughly, and without the least explanation of what it all meant. As soon as it was known that he was in jail in Salem, arrangements were commenced for his examination. The public mind was highly excited; and it was determined to make the occasion as impressive, effective, and awe-striking as possible. Another "field-day" was to be had. On the 9th of May, a special session of the Magistracy was held,—William Stoughton coming from Dorchester, and Samuel Sewall from Boston, to sit with Hathorne and Corwin, and give greater solemnity and severity to the proceedings. Stoughton presided. The first step in the proceedings was to have a private hearing, in the presence of the magistrates and ministers only; and the report of what passed there gives proof of what is indicated more or less clearly in several passages in the accounts that have come down to us in reference to Mr. Burroughs,—that he was regarded as not wholly sound in doctrine on points not connected with witchcraft, was treated with special severity on that account, and made the victim of bigoted prejudice among his brethren and in the churches. In this secret inquisition, he was called to account for not attending the communion service on one or two occasions; he being a member of the church at Roxbury. It was also brought against him, that none of his children but the eldest had been[ii.158] baptized. What the facts, in these respects, were, it is impossible to say; as we know of them only through the charges of his enemies. After this, he was carried to the place of public meeting; and, as he entered the room, "many, if not all, the bewitched were grievously tortured." After the confusion had subsided, Susanna Sheldon testified that Burroughs' two wives had appeared to her "in their winding-sheets," and said, "That man killed them." He was ordered to look on the witness; and, as he turned to do so, he "knocked down," as the reporter affirms, "all (or most) of the afflicted that stood behind him." Ann Putnam, and the several other "afflicted children," bore their testimony in a similar strain against him, interspersing at intervals, all their various convulsions, outcries, and tumblings. Mercy Lewis had "a dreadful and tedious fit." Walcot, Hubbard, and Sheldon were cast into torments simultaneously. At length, they were "so tortured" that "authority ordered them" to be removed. Their sufferings were greater than the magistrates and people could longer endure to look upon. The question was put to Burroughs, "what he thought of these things." He answered, "it was an amazing and humbling providence, but he understood nothing of it." Throwing aside all the foolish and ridiculous gossip and all the monstrous fables that belong to the accusations against him, and looking at the only known facts in his history, it appears that Mr. Burroughs was a man of ingenuous nature, free from guile, unsuspicious of guile in[ii.159] others; a disinterested, humble, patient, and generous person. He had suffered much wrong, and endured great hardships in life; but they had not impaired his readiness to labor and suffer for others. There was no combativeness or vindictiveness in his disposition. Even in the midst of the unspeakable outrages he was experiencing on this occasion, he does not appear to be incensed or irritated, but simply "amazed." To have such horrid crimes laid to him, instead of rousing a violent spirit within him, impressed him with a humbling sense of an inscrutable Providence. There is a remarkable similarity in the manner in which Rebecca Nurse and George Burroughs received the dreadful accusations brought against them. "Surely," she said, "what sin hath God found out in me unrepented of that he should lay such an affliction upon me in my old age?" His words are, "It is an humbling providence of God." The more we reflect upon this language, and go to the depths of the spirit that suggested it, the more we realize, that, in each case, it arose from a sanctified Christian heart, and is an attestation in vindication and in honor of the sufferers from whose lips it fell, that outweighs all passions and prejudices, reverses all verdicts, and commands the conviction of all fair and honest minds.

After the "afflicted" had been sent out of the room, there was testimony to show that Mr. Burroughs had given proof of physical strength, which, in a man of his small stature, was sure evidence that he was in league with the Devil. Many marvellous statements[ii.160] were made to this effect, some of the most extravagant of which he denied. He undoubtedly was a person of great strength. He had cultivated muscular exercise and development while an undergraduate at Cambridge, and was early celebrated as a gymnast. After a while, the accusers and afflicted were again brought in. Abigail Hobbs testified that she was present at a "witch meeting, in the field near Mr. Parris's house," in which Mr. Burroughs acted a conspicuous part. Mary Warren swore that "Mr. Burroughs had a trumpet which he blew to summon the witches to their feasts" and other meetings "near Mr. Parris's house." This trumpet had a sound that reached over the country far and wide, sending its blasts to Andover, and wakening its echoes along the Merrimack, to Cape Ann, and the uttermost settlements everywhere; so that the witches, hearing it, would mount their brooms, and alight, in a moment, in Mr. Parris's orchard, just to the north and west of the parsonage; but its sound was not heard by any other ears than those of confederates with Satan. While the girls were giving their testimony, every once in a while they would be dreadfully choked, appearing to be in the last stages of suffocation and strangulation; and, coming to, at intervals, would charge it upon Burroughs or other witches, calling them by name; generally, however, confining their selection to persons already apprehended, and not bringing in others until measures were matured. Mr. Burroughs was committed for trial.[ii.161]

The examination of Mr. Burroughs presented a spectacle, all things considered, of rare interest and curiosity,—the grave dignity of the magistrates; the plain, dark figure of the prisoner; the half-crazed, half-demoniac aspect of the girls; the wild, excited crowd; the horror, rage, and pallid exasperation of Lawson, Goodman Fuller and others, also of the relatives and friends of Burroughs's two former wives, as the deep damnation of their taking off and the secrets of their bloody graves were being brought to light; and the child on the stand telling her awful tale of ghosts in winding-sheets, with napkins round their heads, pointing to their death-wounds, and saying that "their blood did cry for vengeance" upon their murderer. The prisoner stands alone: all were raving around him, while he is amazed; astounded at such folly and wrong in others, and humbly sensible of his own unworthiness; bowed down under the mysterious Providence, that permitted such things for a season, yet strong and steadfast in conscious innocence and uprightness.

To complete the proceedings against Burroughs at this time, and raise to the highest point the public abhorrence of him, effective use was made of Deliverance Hobbs, the wife of William Hobbs, of whom I have spoken before. She was first examined April 22. During the earlier part of the proceedings, she maintained her integrity and protested her innocence in a manner which shows that her self-possession held good. But the examination was protracted; her[ii.162] strength was exhausted; the declarations of the accusers, their dreadful sufferings, the prejudgment of the case against her by the magistrates, and the combined influences of all the circumstances around her, broke her down. Her firmness, courage, and truth fled; and she began to confess all that was laid to her charge. The record is interesting as showing how gradually she was overwhelmed and overcome. But while mentioning the names of others whom she pretended to have been associated with as witches, she did not speak of Burroughs. She referred to those who had been brought out before that date, but not to him. The intended movement against him had not then been divulged. On the 3d of May, the day before he arrived, after it was known that officers had been sent to arrest him, she was examined again. On this occasion, she charged Burroughs with having been present, and taken a leading part in witch-meetings, which she had described in detail, at her first examination, without mentioning him at all. This proves that the confessing prisoners were apprised of what it was desired they should say, and that their testimony was prepared for them by the managers of the affair. The following is one of the confessions made by this woman, subsequent to her public examination. I give it partly to show what a flood of falsehood was poured upon Burroughs, and partly because it will serve as a specimen of the stuff of which the confessions were composed:[ii.163]—

"The First Examination of Deliverance Hobbs in Prison.—She continued in the free acknowledging herself to be a covenant witch: and further confesseth she was warned to a meeting yesterday morning, and that there was present Procter and his wife, Goody Nurse, Giles Corey and his wife, Goody Bishop alias Oliver; and Mr. Burroughs was their preacher, and pressed them to bewitch all in the village, telling them they should do it gradually, and not all at once, assuring them they should prevail. He administered the sacrament unto them at the same time, with red bread and red wine like blood. She affirms she saw Osburn, Sarah Good, Goody Wilds, Goody Nurse: and Goody Wilds distributed the bread and wine; and a man in a long-crowned white hat sat next the minister, and they sat seemingly at a table, and they filled out the wine in tankards. The notice of this meeting was given her by Goody Wilds. She, herself affirms, did not nor would not eat nor drink, but all the rest did, who were there present; therefore they threatened to torment her. The meeting was in the pasture by Mr. Parris's house, and she saw when Abigail Williams ran out to speak with them; but, by that time Abigail was come a little distance from the house, this examinant was struck blind, so that she saw not with whom Abigail spake. She further saith, that Goody Wilds, to prevail with her to sign, told her, that, if she would put her hand to the book, she would give her some clothes, and would not afflict her any more. Her daughter, Abigail Hobbs, being brought in at the same time, while her mother was present, was immediately taken with a dreadful fit; and her mother, being asked who it was that hurt her daughter, answered it was Goodman Corey, and she saw him and the gentlewoman of Boston striving to break her daughter's neck."

[ii.164]

On the next day, warrants were procured against George Jacobs, Sr., and his grand-daughter, Margaret Jacobs. They were forthwith seized and brought in by Constable Joseph Neal, of Salem, whose return is as follows: "May 10, 1692. Then I apprehended the bodies of George Jacobs, Sr., and Margaret, daughter of George Jacobs, Jr., according to the tenor of the above warrant." The examinations, on this occasion, were held at the house of Thomas Beadle, in the town of Salem. All the preliminary examinations, so far as existing documents show, were either in the meeting-house at the village or that of the town; or at the house of Nathaniel Ingersoll at the village, or Thomas Beadle in the town,—both being inns, or places of public entertainment. Beadle's house was on the south side of Essex Street, on land now occupied by Nos. 63 and 65. The eastern boundary of the lot was forty-nine feet from Ingersoll's Lane, now Daniels Street. Its front on Essex Street was about sixty feet, and its depth about one hundred and forty-five feet. What is now No. 65 is on the very spot where Beadle's tavern stood; and with the exception of six feet built, as an addition, on the eastern side, subsequently to 1733, is probably the identical house. The ground now occupied by No. 63 was then an open space. It appears by bills of expenses brought "against the country," that the inn of Samuel Beadle, a brother of Thomas, was also sometimes used for purposes connected with the prosecutions. Thomas Beadle's bill amounted to £58. 11s. 5d.; that of Samuel to £21. The latter, being[ii.165] near the jail, was probably used for the entertainment of constables and the keeping of their horses, as well as other incidental purposes connected with the transportation of prisoners.

A tradition has long prevailed, that the house, still standing, of Judge Jonathan Corwin, at the western corner of North and Essex Streets, was used at these examinations. One form in which this tradition has come down is probably correct. The grand jury was often in session while the jury for trials was hearing cases in the Court-house. There may not have been suitable accommodations for both in that building. The confused sounds and commotions incident to the trials would have been annoying to the grand jury. The tradition is, that a place was provided and used temporarily by that body, in the Corwin house, supposed to have been the spacious room at the southeastern corner. As the investigations of the grand jury were not open to the public, its occasional sittings would not be seriously incompatible with the convenience of a family, or detrimental to the grounds or apartments of a handsome private residence. Indeed, it would hardly have been allowable or practicable to have had the examinations before the magistrates in any other than a public house. They were always frequented by a promiscuous crowd, and generally scenes of tumultuary disorder.

George Jacobs, Sr., was an aged man. He is represented in the evidence as "very gray-headed;" and he must have been quite infirm, for he walked with two[ii.166] staffs. His hair was in long, thin, white locks; and, as he was uncommonly tall of stature, he must have had a venerable aspect. Perhaps he was the "man in a long-crowned white hat," referred to by Deliverance Hobbs. The examination shows that his faculties were vigorous, his bearing fearless, and his utterances strong and decided. The magistrates began: "Here are them that accuse you of acts of witchcraft."—"Well, let us hear who are they and what are they." When Abigail Williams testified against him, going through undoubtedly her usual operations, he could not refrain from expressing his contempt for the whole thing by a laugh; explaining it by saying, "Because I am falsely accused—your worships all of you, do you think this is true?" They answered, "Nay: what do you think?" "I never did it."—"Who did it?"—"Don't ask me." The magistrates always took it for granted that the pretensions and sufferings of the girls were real, and threw upon the accused the responsibility of explaining them. They continued: "Why should we not ask you? Sarah Churchill accuseth you. There she is." Jacobs was of opinion that it was not for him to explain the actions of the girls, but for the prosecuting party to prove his guilt. "If you can prove that I am guilty, I will lie under it." Then Sarah Churchill, who was a servant in his family, said, "Last night, I was afflicted at Deacon Ingersoll's; and Mary Walcot said it was a man with two staves: it was my master." It seems, that, after the proceedings against Burroughs were over, a meeting of "the circle" took place in the[ii.167] evening, at Deacon Ingersoll's, at which there was a repetition of the actings of the girls; and that Mary Walcot suggested to Churchill to accuse her master. This shows the way in which the delusion was kept up. Probably, such meetings were held at one house or another in the village, and fresh accusations brought forward, continually. Jacobs appealed to the magistrates, trying to recall them to a sense of fairness. "Pray, do not accuse me: I am as clear as your worships. You must do right judgment." Sarah Churchill charged him with having hurt her; and the magistrates, pushing her on to make further charges, said to her, "Did he not appear on the other side of the river, and hurt you? Did not you see him?" She answered, "Yes, he did." Then, turning to him, the magistrates said, "There, she accuseth you to your face: she chargeth you that you hurt her twice."—"It is not true. What would you have me say? I never wronged no man in word nor deed."—"Is it no harm to afflict these?"—"I never did it."—"But how comes it to be in your appearance?"—"The Devil can take any likeness."—"Not without their consent." Jacobs rejected the imputation. "You tax me for a wizard: you may as well tax me for a buzzard. I have done no harm." Churchill said, "I know you lived a wicked life." Jacobs, turning to the magistrates, said, "Let her make it out." The magistrates asked her, "Doth he ever pray in his family?" She replied, "Not unless by himself." The magistrates, addressing him: "Why do you not pray in your family?"—"I cannot[ii.168] read."—"Well, but you may pray for all that. Can you say the Lord's Prayer? Let us hear you." The reporter, Mr. Parris, says, "He missed in several parts of it, and could not repeat it right after many trials." The magistrates, addressing her, said, "Were you not frighted, Sarah Churchill, when the representation of your master came to you?"—"Yes." Jacobs exclaimed, "Well, burn me or hang me, I will stand in the truth of Christ: I know nothing of it." In answer to an inquiry from the magistrates, he denied having done any thing to get his son George or grand-daughter Margaret to "sign the book."

The appearance of the old man, his intrepid bearing, and the stamp of conscious innocence on all he said, probably produced some impression on the magistrates, as they did not come to any decision, but adjourned the examination to the next day. The girls then came down from the village in full force, determined to put him through. When he was brought in, they accordingly, all at once, "fell into the most grievous fits and screechings." When they sufficiently came to, the magistrates turned to the girls: "Is this the man that hurts you?" They severally answered,—Abigail Williams: "This is the man," and fell into a violent fit. Ann Putnam: "This is the man. He hurts me, and brings the book to me, and would have me write in the book, and said, if I would write in it, I should be as well as his grand-daughter." Mercy Lewis, after much interruptions by fits: "This is the man: he almost kills me." Elizabeth Hubbard: "He[ii.169] never hurt me till to-day, when he came upon the table." Mary Walcot, after much interruption by fits: "This is the man: he used to come with two staves, and beat me with one of them." After all this, the magistrates, thinking he could deny it no longer, turn to him, "What do you say? Are you not a witch?" "No: I know it not, if I were to die presently." Mercy Lewis advanced towards him, but, as soon as she got near, "fell into great fits."—"What do you say to this?" cried the magistrates. "Why, it is false. I know not of it any more than the child that was born to-night." The reporter says, "Ann Putnam and Abigail Williams had each of them a pin stuck in their hands, and they said it was this old Jacobs." He was committed to prison.

The following piece of evidence is among the loose papers on file in the clerk's office:—

"The Deposition of Sarah Ingersoll, aged about thirty years.—Saith, that, seeing Sarah Churchill after her examination, she came to me crying and wringing her hands, seemingly to be much troubled in spirit. I asked her what she ailed. She answered, she had undone herself. I asked her in what. She said, in belying herself and others in saying she had set her hand to the Devil's book, whereas, she said, she never did. I told her I believed she had set her hand to the book. She answered, crying, and said, 'No, no, no: I never, I never did.' I asked her then what made her say she did. She answered, because they threatened her, and told her they would put her into the dungeon, and put her along with Mr. Burroughs; and thus[ii.170] several times she followed me up and down, telling me that she had undone herself, in belying herself and others. I asked her why she did not deny she wrote it. She told me, because she had stood out so long in it, that now she durst not. She said also, that, if she told Mr. Noyes but once she had set her hand to the book, he would believe her; but, if she told the truth, and said she had not set her hand to the book a hundred times, he would not believe her.

"Sarah Ingersoll."

This paper has also the signature of "Ann Andrews."

This incident probably occurred during the examination of George Jacobs; and the bitter compunction of Churchill was in consequence of the false and malignant course she had been pursuing against her old master. It is a relief to our feelings, so far as she is regarded, to suppose so. Bad as her conduct was as one of the accusers, on other occasions after I am sorry to say as well as before, it shows that she was not entirely dead to humanity, but realized the iniquity of which she had been guilty towards him. It is the only instance of which we find notice of any such a remnant of conscience showing itself, at the time, among those perverted and depraved young persons. The reason, why it is probable that this exhibition of Churchill's penitential tears and agonies of remorse occurred immediately after the first day of Jacobs's examination, is this. It was one of the first, if not the first, held at the house of Thomas Beadle. Sarah Ingersoll would not have been likely to have fallen in[ii.171] with her elsewhere. It is evident, from the tenor and purport of the document, that the deponent was not entirely carried away by the prevalent delusion, and probably did not follow up the proceedings generally. But it was quite natural that her attention should have been called to proceedings of interest at Beadle's house, particularly on that first occasion. She lived in the immediate vicinity. The indorsement by Ann Andrews, the daughter of Jacobs, increases the probability that the occurrence was at his examination.

The representatives of the family of John Ingersoll,—a brother of Deacon Nathaniel Ingersoll,—in 1692, occupied a series of houses on the west side of Daniels Street, leading from Essex Street to the harbor. The widow of John's son Nathaniel lived at the corner of Essex and Daniels Streets; the next in order was the widow of his son John; the next, his daughter Ruth, wife of Richard Rose; the next, the widow of his son Richard; the last, his son Samuel, whose house lot extended to the water. Sarah, the witness in this case, was the wife of Samuel, and afterwards became the second wife of Philip English. One of her children appears to have married a son of Beadle. Their immediate proximity to the Beadle house, and consequent intimacy with his family, led them to become conversant with what occurred there; and Sarah Ingersoll was, in that way, likely to meet Churchill, and to have the conversation with her to which she deposes.

This brief deposition of Sarah Ingersoll is, in many particulars, an important and instructive paper. It[ii.172] exhibits incidentally the means employed to keep the accusing girls and confessing witnesses from falling back, and, by overawing them, to prevent their acknowledging the falseness of their testimony. It shows how difficult it was to obtain a hearing, if they were disposed to recant. It presents Mr. Noyes—as all along there is too much evidence compelling us to admit—acting a part as bad as that of Parris; and it discloses the fact, that Mr. Burroughs, although not yet brought to trial, was immured in a dungeon.

No papers are on file, or have been obtained, in reference to the examination of Margaret Jacobs, which was at the same time and place with that of her grandfather. We shall hear of her in subsequent stages of the transaction.

On the same day—May 10—that George and Margaret Jacobs were apprehended and examined, a warrant was issued against John Willard, "husbandman," to be brought to Thomas Beadle's house in Salem. On the 12th, John Putnam, Jr., constable, made return that he had been to "the house of the usual abode of John Willard, and made search for him, and in several other houses and places, but could not find him;" and that "his relations and friends" said, "that, to their best knowledge, he was fled." On the 15th, a warrant was issued to the marshal of Essex, and the constables of Salem, "or any other marshal, or marshal's constable or constables within this their majesty's colony or territory of the Massachusetts, in New England," requiring them to apprehend said Willard, "if he may be found[ii.173] in your precincts, who stands charged with sundry acts of witchcraft, by him done or committed on the bodies of Bray Wilkins, and Samuel Wilkins, the son of Henry Wilkins," and others, upon complaint made "by Thomas Fuller, Jr., and Benjamin Wilkins, Sr., yeomen; who, being found, you are to convey from town to town, from constable to constable, ... to be prosecuted according to the direction of Constable John Putnam, of Salem Village, who goes with the same." On the 18th of May, Constable Putnam brought in Willard, and delivered him to the magistrates. He was seized in Groton. There is no record of his examination; but we gather, from the papers on file, the following facts relating to this interesting case:—

It is said that Willard had been called upon to aid in the arrest, custody, and bringing-in of persons accused, acting as a deputy-constable; and, from his observation of the deportment of the prisoners, and from all he heard and saw, his sympathies became excited in their behalf: and he expressed, in more or less unguarded terms, his disapprobation of the proceedings. He seems to have considered all hands concerned in the business—accusers, accused, magistrates, and people—as alike bewitched. One of the witnesses against him deposed, that he said, in a "discourse" at the house of a relative, "Hang them: they are all witches." In consequence of this kind of talk, in which he indulged as early as April, he incurred the ill-will of the parties engaged in the prose[ii.174]cutions; and it was whispered about that he was himself in the diabolical confederacy. He was a grandson of Bray Wilkins; and the mind of the old man became prejudiced against him, and most of his family connections and neighbors partook of the feeling. When Willard discovered that such rumors were in circulation against him, he went to his grandfather for counsel and the aid of his prayers. He met with a cold reception, as appears by the deposition of the old man as follows:—

"When John Willard was first complained of by the afflicted persons for afflicting of them, he came to my house, greatly troubled, desiring me, with some other neighbors, to pray for him. I told him I was then going from home, and could not stay; but, if I could come home before night, I should not be unwilling. But it was near night before I came home, and so I did not answer his desire; but I heard no more of him upon that account. Whether my not answering his desire did not offend him, I cannot tell; but I was jealous, afterwards, that it did."

Willard soon after made an engagement to go to Boston, on election-week, with Henry Wilkins, Jr. A son of said Henry Wilkins, named Daniel,—a youth of seventeen years of age, who had heard the stories against Willard, and believed them all, remonstrated with his father against going to Boston with Willard, and seemed much distressed at the thought, saying, among other things, "It were well if the said Willard were hanged."

Old Bray Wilkins must go to election too; and so[ii.175] started off on horseback,—the only mode of travel then practicable from Will's Hill to Winnesimit Ferry,—with his wife on a pillion behind him. He was eighty-two years of age, and she probably not much less; for she had been the wife of his youth. The old couple undoubtedly had an active time that week in Boston. It was a great occasion, and the whole country flocked in to partake in the ceremonies and services of the anniversary. On Election-day, with his wife, he rode out to Dorchester, to dine at the house of his "brother, Lieutenant Richard Way." Deodat Lawson and his new wife, and several more, joined them at table. Before sitting down, Henry Wilkins and John Willard also came in. Willard, perhaps, did not feel very agreeably towards his grandfather, at the time, for having shown an unwillingness to pray with him. The old man either saw, or imagined he saw, a very unpleasant expression in Willard's countenance. "To my apprehension, he looked after such a sort upon me as I never before discerned in any." The long and hard travel, the fatigues and excitements of election-week, were too much for the old man, tough and rugged as he was; and a severe attack of a complaint, to which persons of his age are often subject, came on. He experienced great sufferings, and, as he expressed it, "was like a man on a rack."

"I told my wife immediately that I was afraid that Willard had done me wrong; my pain continuing, and finding no relief, my jealousy continued. Mr. Lawson and others there were all amazed, and knew not what to do for me. There was[ii.176] a woman accounted skilful came hoping to help me, and after she had used means, she asked me whether none of those evil persons had done me damage. I said, I could not say they had, but I was sore afraid they had. She answered, she did fear so too.... As near as I remember. I lay in this case three or four days at Boston, and afterward, with the jeopardy of my life (as I thought), I came home."

On his return, he found his grandson, the same Daniel who had warned Henry Wilkins against going to Boston with John Willard, on his death-bed, in great suffering. Another attack of his own malady came on. There was great consternation in the neighborhood, and throughout the village. The Devil and his confederates, it was thought, were making an awful onslaught upon the people at Will's Hill. Parris and others rushed to the scene. Mercy Lewis and Mary Walcot were carried up to tell who it was that was bewitching old Bray, and young Daniel, and others of the Wilkinses who had caught the contagion, and were experiencing or imagining all sorts of bodily ails. They were taken to the room where Daniel was approaching his death-agonies; and they both affirmed, that they saw the spectres of old Mrs. Buckley and John Willard "upon his throat and upon his breast, and pressed him and choked him;" and the cruel operation, they insisted upon it, continued until the boy died. The girls were carried to the bedroom of the old man, who was in great suffering; and, when they entered, the question was put by the anxious and excited friends in the chamber to Mercy Lewis, whether[ii.177] she saw any thing. She said, "Yes: they are looking for John Willard." Presently she pretended to have caught sight of his apparition, and exclaimed, "There he is upon his grandfather's belly." This was thought wonderful indeed; for, as the old man says in a deposition he drew up afterwards, "At that time I was in grievous pain in the small of my belly."

Mrs. Ann Putnam had her story to tell about John Willard. Its substance is seen in a deposition drawn up about the time, and is in the same vein as her testimony in other cases; presenting a problem to be solved by those who can draw the line between semi-insane hallucination and downright fabrication. Her deposition is as follows:—

"That the shape of Samuel Fuller and Lydia Wilkins this day told me at my own house by the bedside, who appeared in winding-sheets, that, if I did not go and tell Mr. Hathorne that John Willard had murdered them, they would tear me to pieces. I knew them when they were living, and it was exactly their resemblance and shape. And, at the same time, the apparition of John Willard told me that he had killed Samuel Fuller, Lydia Wilkins, Goody Shaw, and Fuller's second wife, and Aaron Way's child, and Ben Fuller's child; and this deponent's child Sarah, six weeks old; and Philip Knight's child, with the help of William Hobbs; and Jonathan Knight's child and two of Ezekiel Cheever's children with the help of William Hobbs; Anne Eliot and Isaac Nichols with the help of William Hobbs; and that if Mr. Hathorne would not believe them,—that is, Samuel Fuller and Lydia Wilkins,—perhaps they would appear to[ii.178] the magistrates. Joseph Fuller's apparition the same day also came to me, and told me that Goody Corey had killed him. The spectre aforesaid told me, that vengeance, vengeance, was cried by said Fuller. This relation is true.

"Ann Putnam."

It appears by such papers as are to be found relating to Willard's case, that a coroner's jury was held over the body of Daniel Wilkins, of which Nathaniel Putnam was foreman. It is much to be regretted that the finding of that jury is lost. It would be a real curiosity. That it was very decisive to the point, affirmed by Mercy Lewis and Mary Walcot, that Daniel was choked and strangled by the spectres of John Willard and Goody Buckley, is apparent from the manner in which Bray Wilkins speaks of it. In an argument between him and some persons who were expressing their confidence that John Willard was an innocent man, he sought to relieve himself from responsibility for Willard's conviction by saying, "It was not I, nor my son Benjamin Wilkins, but the testimony of the afflicted persons, and the jury concerning the murder of my grandson, Daniel Wilkins, that would take away his life, if any thing did." Mr. Parris, of course, was in the midst of these proceedings at Will's Hill; attended the visits of the afflicted girls when they went to ascertain who were the witches murdering young Daniel and torturing the old man; was present, no doubt, at the solemn examinations and investigations of the sages who sat as a jury of inquest[ii.179] over the former, and, in all likelihood, made, as usual, a written report of the same. As soon as he got back to his house, he discharged his mind, and indorsed the verdict of the coroner's jury by this characteristic insertion in his church-records: "Dan: Wilkins. Bewitched to death." The very next entry relates to a case of which this obituary line, in Mr. Parris's church-book, is the only intimation that has come down to us, "Daughter to Ann Douglas. By witchcraft, I doubt not." Willard's examination was at Beadle's, on the 18th. With this deluge of accusations and tempest of indignation beating upon him, he had but little chance, and was committed.

While the marshals and constables were in pursuit of Willard, the time was well improved by the prosecutors. On the 12th of May, warrants were issued to apprehend, and bring "forthwith" before the magistrates sitting at Beadle's, "Alice Parker, the wife of John Parker of Salem; and Ann Pudeator of Salem, widow." Alice, commonly called Elsie, Parker was the wife of a mariner. We know but little of her. We have a deposition of one woman, Martha Dutch, as follows:—

"This deponent testified and saith, that, about two years last past, John Jarman, of Salem, coming in from sea, I (this deponent and Alice Parker, of Salem, both of us standing together) said unto her, 'What a great mercy it was, for to see them come home well; and through mercy,' I said, 'my husband had gone, and come home well, many times.' And I, this deponent, did say unto the said Parker, that 'I[ii.180] did hope he would come home this voyage well also.' And the said Parker made answer unto me, and said, 'No: never more in this world.' The which came to pass as she then told me; for he died abroad, as I certainly hear."

Perhaps Parker had information which had not reached the ears of Dutch, or she may have been prone to take melancholy views of the dangers to which seafaring people are exposed. It was a strange kind of evidence to be admitted against a person in a trial for witchcraft.

Samuel Shattuck, who has been mentioned (vol. i. p. 193) in connection with Bridget Bishop, had a long story to tell about Alice Parker. He seems to have been very active in getting up charges of witchcraft against persons in his neighborhood, and on the most absurd and frivolous grounds. Parker had made a friendly call upon his wife; and, not long after, one of his children fell sick, and he undertook to suspect that it was "under an evil hand." In similar circumstances, he took the same grudge against Bridget Bishop. Alice Parker, hearing that he had been circulating suspicions to that effect against her, went to his house to remonstrate; an angry altercation took place between them; and he gave his version of the affair in evidence. There was no one to present the other side. But the whole thing has, not only a one-sided, but an irrelevant character, in no wise bearing upon the point of witchcraft. All the gossip, scandal, and tittle-tattle of the neighborhood for twenty years back, in this case as in others, was[ii.181] raked up, and allowed to be adduced, however utterly remote from the questions belonging to the trial.

The following singular piece of testimony against Alice Parker may be mentioned. John Westgate was at Samuel Beadle's tavern one night with boon companions; among them John Parker, the husband of Alice. She disapproved of her husband's spending his evenings in such company, and in a bar-room; and felt it necessary to put a stop to it, if she could. Westgate says that she "came into the company, and scolded at and called her husband all to nought; whereupon I, the said deponent, took her husband's part, telling her it was an unbeseeming thing for her to come after him to the tavern, and rail after that rate. With that she came up to me, and called me rogue, and bid me mind my own business, and told me I had better have said nothing." He goes on to state, that, returning home one night some time afterwards, he experienced an awful fright. "Going from the house of Mr. Daniel King, when I came over against John Robinson's house, I heard a great noise; ... and there appeared a black hog running towards me with open mouth, as though he would have devoured me at that instant time." In the extremity of his terror, he tried to run away from the awful monster; but, as might have been expected under the circumstances, he tumbled to the ground. "I fell down upon my hip, and my knife run into my hip up to the haft. When I came home, my knife was in my sheath. When I drew it out of the sheath, then immediately the sheath fell all[ii.182] to pieces." And further this deponent testifieth, that, after he got up from his fall, his stocking and shoe was full of blood, and that he was forced to crawl along by the fence all the way home; and the hog followed him, and never left him till he came home. He further stated that he was accompanied all the way by his "stout dog," which ordinarily was much inclined to attack and "worry hogs," but, on this occasion, "ran away from him, leaping over the fence and crying much." In view of all these things, Westgate concludes his testimony thus: "Which hog I then apprehended was either the Devil or some evil thing, not a real hog; and did then really judge, or determine in my mind, that it was either Goody Parker or by her means and procuring, fearing that she is a witch." The facts were probably these: The sheath was broken by his fall, his skin bruised, and some blood got into his stocking and shoe. The knife was never out of the sheath until he drew it; there was no mystery or witchcraft in it. Nothing was ever more natural than the conduct of the dog. When he saw Westgate frightened out of his wits at nothing, trying to run as for dear life when there was no pursuer, staggering and pitching along in a zigzag direction with very eccentric motions, falling heels over head, and then crawling along, holding himself up by the fence, and all the time looking back with terror, and perhaps attempting to express his consternation, the dog could not tell what to make of it; and ran off, as a dog would be likely to have done, jumping over the fences, barking,[ii.183] and uttering the usual canine ejaculations. Dogs sympathize with their masters, and, if there is a frolic or other acting going on, are fond of joining in it. The whole thing was in consequence of Westgate's not having profited by Alice Parker's rebuke, and discontinued his visits by night to Beadle's bar-room. The only reason why he saw the "black hog with the open mouth," and the dog did not see it, and therefore failed to come to his protection, was because he had been drinking and the dog had not.

We find among the papers relating to these transactions many other instances of this kind of testimony; sounds heard and sights seen by persons going home at night through woods, after having spent the evening under the bewildering influences of talk about witches, Satan, ghosts, and spectres; sometimes, as in this case, stimulated by other causes of excitement.

Perhaps some persons may be curious to know the route by which Westgate made out to reach his home, while pursued by the horrors of that midnight experience. He seems to have frequented Samuel Beadle's bar-room. That old Narragansett soldier owned a lot on the west side of St. Peter's Street, occupying the southern corner of what is now Church Street, which was opened ten years afterwards, that is, in 1702, by the name of Epps's Lane. On that lot his tavern stood. He also owned one-third of an acre at the present corner of Brown and St. Peter's Streets, on which he had a stable and barn; so that his grounds were on both sides of St. Peter's Street,—one parcel on the west,[ii.184] nearly opposite the present front of the church; the other on the east side of St. Peter's Street, opposite the south side of the church. From this locality Westgate started. He probably did not go down Brown Street, for that was then a dark, unfrequented lane, but thought it safest to get into Essex Street. He made his way along that street, passing the Common, the southern side of which, at that time, with the exception of some house-lots on and contiguous to the site of the Franklin Building, bordered on Essex Street. The casualty of his fall; the catastrophe to his hip, stocking, and shoe; and the witchery practised upon his knife and its sheath,—occurred "over against John Robinson's house," which was on the eastern corner of Pleasant and Essex Streets. Christopher Babbage's house, from which he thought the "great noise" came, was next beyond Robinson's. He crawled along the fences and the sides of the houses until he reached the passage-way on the western side of Thomas Beadle's house, and through that managed to get to his own house, which was directly south of said Beadle's lot, between it and the harbor.

There is one item in reference to Alice Parker, which indicates that the zeal of the prosecutors in her case, as in that of Mr. Burroughs, and perhaps others, was aggravated by a suspicion that she was heretical on some points of the prevalent creed of the day. Parris says that "Mr. Noyes, at the time of her examination, affirmed to her face, that, he being with her at a time of sickness, discoursing with her about[ii.185] witchcraft, whether she were not guilty, she answered, 'if she was as free from other sins as from witchcraft, she would not ask of the Lord mercy.'" The manner of expression in this passage shows that it was thought that there was something very shocking in her answer. Mr. Noyes "affirmed to her face." No doubt it was thought that she denied the doctrine of original and transmitted, or imputed sin.

Ann Pudeator (pronounced Pud-e-tor) was the widow of Jacob Pudeator, and probably about seventy years of age. The name is spelt variously, and was originally, as it is sometimes found, Poindexter. She was a woman of property, owning two estates on the north line of the Common; that on which she lived comprised what is between Oliver and Winter Streets. She was arrested and brought to examination on the 12th of May. There is ground to conclude, from the tenor of the documents, that she was then discharged. Some people in the town were determined to gratify their spleen against her, and procured her re-arrest. The examination took place on the 2d of July, and she was then committed. The evidence was, if possible, more frivolous and absurd than in other cases. The girls acted their usual parts, giving, on this occasion, a particularly striking exhibition of the transmission of the diabolical virus out of themselves back into the witch by a touch of her body. "Ann Putnam fell into a fit, and said Pudeator was commanded to take her by the wrist, and did; and said Putnam was well presently. Mary Warren fell into two fits quickly, after[ii.186] one another; and both times was helped by said Pudeator's taking her by the wrist."

When well acted, this must have been one of the most impressive and effective of all the methods employed in these performances. To see a young woman or girl suddenly struck down, speechless, pallid as in death; with muscles rigid, eyeballs fixed or rolled back in their sockets; the stiffened frame either wholly prostrate or drawn up into contorted attitudes and shapes, or vehemently convulsed with racking pains, or dropping with relaxed muscles into a lifeless lump; and to hear dread shrieks of delirious ravings,—must have produced a truly frightful effect upon an excited and deluded assembly. The constables and their assistants would go to the rescue, lift the body of the sufferer, and bear it in their arms towards the prisoner. The magistrates and the crowd, hushed in the deepest silence, would watch with breathless awe the result of the experiment, while the officers slowly approached the accused, who, when they came near, would, in obedience to the order of the magistrates, hold out a hand, and touch the flesh of the afflicted one. Instantly the spasms cease, the eyes open, color returns to the countenance, the limbs resume their position and functions, and life and intelligence are wholly restored. The sufferer comes to herself, walks back, and takes her seat as well as ever. The effect upon the accused person must have been confounding. It is a wonder that it did not oftener break them down. It sometimes did. Poor Deliverance Hobbs, when the[ii.187] process was tried upon her, was wholly overcome, and passed from conscious and calmly asserted innocence to a helpless abandonment of reason, conscience, and herself, exclaiming, "I am amazed! I am amazed!" and assented afterwards to every charge brought against her, and said whatever she was told, or supposed they wished her to say.

On the 14th of May, warrants were issued against Daniel Andrew; George Jacobs, Jr.; his wife, Rebecca Jacobs; Sarah Buckley, wife of William Buckley; and Mary Whittredge, daughter of said Buckley,—all of Salem Village; Elizabeth Hart, wife of Isaac Hart, of Lynn; Thomas Farrar, Sr., also of Lynn; Elizabeth Colson, of Reading; and Bethiah Carter, of Woburn. There is nothing of special interest among the few papers that are on file relating to Hart, Colson, or Carter. The constable made return that he had searched the houses of Daniel Andrew and George Jacobs, Jr., but could not find them. He brought in forthwith the bodies of Sarah Buckley, Mary Whittredge, and Rebecca Jacobs. Farrar and the rest were brought in shortly afterwards.

Daniel Andrew was one of the leading men of the village, and the warrant against him was proof that soon none would be too high to be reached by the prosecutors. He felt that it was in vain to attempt to resist their destructive power; and, getting notice in some way of the approach of the constable, with his near neighbor, friend, and connection, George Jacobs,[ii.188] Jr., effected his escape, and found refuge in a foreign country.

Rebecca, the wife of George Jacobs, Jr., was the victim of a partial derangement. Her daughter Margaret was already in jail. Her husband had escaped by a hurried flight, and his father was in prison awaiting his trial. She was left in a lonely and unprotected condition, in a country but thinly settled, in the midst of woods. The constable came with his warrant for her. She was driven to desperation, and was inclined to resist; but he persuaded her to go with him by holding out the inducement that she would soon be permitted to return. Four young children, one of them an infant, were left in the house; but those who were old enough to walk followed after, crying, endeavoring to overtake her. Some of the neighbors took them into their houses. The imprisonment of a woman in her situation and mental condition was an outrage; but she was kept in irons, as they all were, for eight months. Her mother addressed an humble but earnest and touching petition to the chief-justice of the court at Salem, setting forth her daughter's condition; but it was of no avail. Afterwards, she addressed a similar memorial to "His Excellency Sir William Phips, Knight, Governor, and the Honorable Council sitting at Boston," in the following terms:—

"The Humble Petition of Rebecca Fox, of Cambridge, showeth, that, whereas Rebecca Jacobs (daughter of your humble petitioner) has, a long time,—even many months,—now lain in prison for witchcraft, and is well known to be a[ii.189] person crazed, distracted, and broken in mind, your humble petitioner does most humbly and earnestly seek unto Your Excellency and to Your Honors for relief in this case.

"Your petitioner,—who knows well the condition of her poor daughter,—together with several others of good repute and credit, are ready to offer their oaths, that the said Jacobs is a woman crazed, distracted, and broken in her mind; and that she has been so these twelve years and upwards.

"However, for (I think) above this half-year, the said Jacobs has lain in prison, and yet remains there, attended with many sore difficulties.

"Christianity and nature do each of them oblige your petitioner to be very solicitous in this matter; and, although many weighty cases do exercise your thoughts, yet your petitioner can have no rest in her mind till such time as she has offered this her address on behalf of her daughter.

"Some have died already in prison, and others have been dangerously sick; and how soon others, and, among them, my poor child, by the difficulties of this confinement may be sick and die, God only knows.

"She is uncapable of making that shift for herself that others can do; and such are her circumstances, on other accounts, that your petitioner, who is her tender mother, has many great sorrows, and almost overcoming burdens, on her mind upon her account; but, in the midst of all her perplexities and troubles (next to supplicating to a good and merciful God), your petitioner has no way for help but to make this her afflicted condition known unto you. So, not doubting but Your Excellency and Your Honors will readily hear the cries and groans of a poor distressed woman, and grant what[ii.190] help and enlargement you may, your petitioner heartily begs God's gracious presence with you; and subscribes herself, in all humble manner, your sorrowful and distressed petitioner,

Rebecca Fox."

No heed was paid to this petition; and the unfortunate woman remained in jail until—after the delusion had passed from the minds of the people—a grand jury found a bill against her, on which she was brought to trial, Jan. 3, 1693, and acquitted. There is no more disgraceful feature in all the proceedings than the long imprisonment of this woman, her being brought to trial, and the obdurate deafness to humanity and reason of the chief-justice, the governor, and the council.

No papers are found relating to the examination of Thomas Farrar; but the following deposition shows the manner in which prosecutions were got up:—

"The Deposition of Ann Putnam, who testifieth and saith, that, on the 8th of May, 1692, there appeared to me the apparition of an old, gray-headed man, with a great nose, which tortured me, and almost choked me, and urged me to write in his book; and I asked him what was his name, and from whence he came, for I would complain of him; and he told me he came from Lynn, and people do call him 'old Father Pharaoh;' and he said he was my grandfather, for my father used to call him father: but I told him I would not call him grandfather; for he was a wizard, and I would complain of him. And, ever since, he hath afflicted me by times, beating me and pinching me and almost choking me, and urging me continually to write in his book."[ii.191]

"We, whose names are underwritten, having been conversant with Ann Putnam, have heard her declare what is above written,—what she said she saw and heard from the apparition of old Pharaoh,—and also have seen her tortures, and perceived her hellish temptations, by her loud outcries, 'I will not write, old Pharaoh,—I will not write in your book.'

Thomas Putnam,
Robert Morrell."

She had heard this person spoken of as "old Father Pharaoh," with his "great nose;" and, from a mere spirit of mischief,—for the fun of the thing,—cried out upon him. Many of the documents exhibit a levity of spirit among these girls, which show how hardened and reckless they had become. The following depositions are illustrative of this state of mind among them:—

"The Deposition of Clement Coldum, aged sixty years, or thereabout.—Saith that, on the 29th of May, 1692, being at Salem Village, carrying home Elizabeth Hubbard from the meeting behind me, she desired me to ride faster. I asked her why. She said the woods were full of devils, and said, 'There!' and 'There they be!' but I could see none. Then I put on my horse; and, after I had ridden a while, she told me I might ride softer, for we had outridden them. I asked her if she was not afraid of the Devil. She answered me, 'No: she could discourse with the Devil as well as with me,' and further saith not. This I am ready to testify on oath, if called thereto, as witness my hand.

"Clement Coldum."

"The Testimony of Daniel Elliot, aged twenty-seven years or thereabouts, who testifieth and saith, that I, being[ii.192] at the house of Lieutenant Ingersoll, on the 28th of March, in the year 1692, there being present one of the afflicted persons, who cried out and said, 'There's Goody Procter.' William Raymond, Jr., being there present, told the girl he believed she lied, for he saw nothing. Then Goody Ingersoll told the girl she told a lie, for there was nothing. Then the girl said she did it for sport,—they must have some sport."

Sarah Buckley was examined May 18, and her daughter Mary Whittredge probably on the same day. We have Parris's report of the proceedings in reference to the former. The only witnesses against her were the afflicted children. They performed their grand operation of going into fits, and being carried to the accused and subjected to her touch; Ann Putnam, Susanna Sheldon, and Mary Warren enacting the part in succession. Sheldon cried out, "There is the black man whispering in her ear!" The magistrates and all beholders were convinced. She was committed to prison, and remained in irons for eight months before a trial, which resulted in her acquittal. So eminently excellent was the character of Goodwife Buckley, that her arrest and imprisonment led to expressions in her favor as honorable to those who had the courage to utter them as to her. The following certificates were given, previous to her trial, by ministers in the neighborhood:—

"These are to certify whom it may or shall concern, that I have known Sarah, the wife of William Buckley, of Salem Village, more or less, ever since she was brought out of[ii.193] England, which is above fifty years ago; and, during all that time, I never knew nor heard of any evil in her carriage, or conversation unbecoming a Christian: likewise, she was bred up by Christian parents all the time she lived here at Ipswich. I further testify, that the said Sarah was admitted as a member into the church of Ipswich above forty years since; and that I never heard from others, or observed by myself, any thing of her that was inconsistent with her profession or unsuitable to Christianity, either in word, deed, or conversation, and am strangely surprised that any person should speak or think of her as one worthy to be suspected of any such crime that she is now charged with. In testimony hereof I have here set my hand this 20th of June, 1692.

William Hubbard."

"Being desired by Goodman Buckley to give my testimony to his wife's conversation before this great calamity befell her, I cannot refuse to bear witness to the truth; viz., that, during the time of her living in Salem for many years in communion with this church, having occasionally frequent converse and discourse with her, I have never observed myself, nor heard from any other, any thing that was unsuitable to a conversation becoming the gospel, and have always looked upon her as a serious, Godly woman.

"John Higginson."

"Marblehead, Jan. 2, 1692/3.—Upon the same request, having had the like opportunity by her residence many years at Marblehead, I can do no less than give the alike testimony for her pious conversation during her abode in this place and communion with us.

Samuel Cheever."

William Hubbard was the venerable minister of Ipswich, described by Hutchinson as "a man of learning,[ii.194] and of a candid and benevolent mind, accompanied with a good degree of catholicism." He is described by another writer as "a man of singular modesty, learned without ostentation." He will be remembered with honor for his long and devoted service in the Christian ministry, and as the historian of New England and of the Indian wars.

John Higginson was worthy of the title of the "Nestor of the New-England clergy." He was at this time seventy-six years old, and had been a preacher of the gospel fifty-five years. For thirty-three years he had been pastor of the First Church in Salem, of which his father was the first preacher. No character, in all our annals, shines with a purer lustre. John Dunton visited him in 1686, and thus speaks of him: "All men look to him as a common father; and old age, for his sake, is a reverend thing. He is eminent for all the graces that adorn a minister. His very presence puts vice out of countenance; his conversation is a glimpse of heaven." The fact, that, while his colleague, Nicholas Noyes, took so active and disastrous a part in the prosecutions, he, at an early stage, discountenanced them, shows that he was a person of discrimination and integrity. That he did not conceal his disapprobation of the proceedings is demonstrated, not only by the tenor of his attestation in behalf of Goodwife Buckley, but by the decisive circumstance that the "afflicted children" cried out against his daughter Anna, the wife of Captain William Dolliver, of Gloucester; got a warrant to apprehend her; and[ii.195] had her brought to the Salem jail, and committed as a witch. They never struck at friends, but were sure to punish all who were suspected to disapprove of the proceedings. How long Mrs. Dolliver remained in prison we are not informed. But it was impossible to break down the influence or independence of Mr. Higginson. It is not improbable that he believed in witchcraft, with all the other divines of his day; but he feared not to bear testimony to personal worth, and could not be brought to co-operate in violence, or fall in with the spirit of persecution. The weight of his character compelled the deference of the most heated zealots, and even Cotton Mather himself was eager to pay him homage. Four years afterwards, he thus writes of him: "This good old man is yet alive; and he that, from a child, knew the Holy Scriptures, does, at those years wherein men use to be twice children, continue preaching them with such a manly, pertinent, and judicious vigor, and with so little decay of his intellectual abilities, as is indeed a matter of just admiration."

Samuel Cheever was a clergyman of the highest standing, and held in universal esteem through a long life.

From passages incidentally given, it has appeared that it was quite common, in those times, to attribute accidents, injuries, pains, and diseases of all kinds, to an "evil hand." It was not confined to this locality. When, however, the public mind had become excited to so extraordinary a degree by circumstances con[ii.196]nected with the prosecutions in 1692, this tendency of the popular credulity was very much strengthened. Believing that the sufferer or patient was the victim of the malignity of Satan, and it also being a doctrine of the established belief that he could not act upon human beings or affairs except through the instrumental agency of some other human beings in confederacy with him, the question naturally arose, in every specific instance, Who is the person in this diabolical league, and doing the will of the Devil in this case? Who is the witch? It may well be supposed, that the suffering person, and all surrounding friends, would be most earnest and anxious in pressing this question and seeking its solution. The accusing girls at the village were thought to possess the power to answer it. This gave them great importance, gratified their vanity and pride, and exalted them to the character of prophetesses. They were ready to meet the calls made upon them in this capacity; would be carried to the room of a sick person; and, on entering it, would exclaim, on the first return of pain, or difficulty of respiration, or restless motion of the patient, "There she is!" There is such a one's appearance, choking or otherwise tormenting him or her. If the minds of the accusing girls had been led towards a new victim, his or her name would be used, and a warrant issued for his apprehension. If not, then the name of some one already in confinement would be used on the occasion. It was also a received opinion, that, while ordinary fastenings would not prevent a[ii.197] witch from going abroad, "in her apparition," to any distance to afflict persons, a redoubling of them might. Whenever one of the accusing girls pretended to see the spectres of persons already in jail afflicting any one, orders would forthwith be given to have them more heavily chained. Every once in a while, a wretched prisoner, already suffering from bonds and handcuffs, would be subjected to additional manacles and chains. This was one of the most cruel features in these proceedings. It is illustrated by the following document:—

"The Deposition of Benjamin Hutchinson, who testifieth and saith, that my wife was much afflicted, presently after the last execution, with violent pains in her head and teeth, and all parts of her body; but, on sabbath day was fortnight in the morning, she being in such excessive misery that she said she believed that she had an evil hand upon her: whereupon I went to Mary Walcot, one of our next neighbors, to come and look to see if she could see anybody upon her; and, as soon as she came into the house, she said that our two next neighbors, Sarah Buckley and Mary Whittredge, were upon my wife. And immediately my wife had ease, and Mary Walcot was tormented. Whereupon I went down to the sheriff, and desired him to take some course with those women, that they might not have such power to torment: and presently he ordered them to be fettered, and, ever since that, my wife has been tolerable well; and I believe, in my heart, that Sarah Buckley and Mary Whittredge have hurt my wife and several others by acts of witchcraft.

"Benjamin Hutchinson owned the above-written evi[ii.198]dence to be the truth, upon oath, before the grand inquest, 15-7, 1692."

The evidence is quite conclusive, from considerations suggested by the foregoing document, and indications scattered through the papers generally, that all persons committed on the charge of witchcraft were kept heavily ironed, and otherwise strongly fastened. Only a few of the bills of expenses incurred are preserved. Among them we find the following: For mending and putting on Rachel Clenton's fetters; one pair of fetters for John Howard; a pair of fetters each for John Jackson, Sr., and John Jackson, Jr.; eighteen pounds of iron for fetters; for making four pair of iron fetters and two pair of handcuffs, and putting them on the legs and hands of Goodwife Cloyse, Easty, Bromidg, and Green; chains for Sarah Good and Sarah Osburn; shackles for ten prisoners; and one pair of irons for Mary Cox. When we reflect upon the character of the prisoners generally,—many of them delicate and infirm, several venerable for their virtues as well as years,—and that they were kept in this cruelly painful condition from early spring to the middle of the next January, and the larger part to the May of 1693, in the extremes of heat and cold, exposed to the most distressing severities of both, crowded in narrow, dark, and noisome jails under an accumulation of all their discomforts, restraints, privations, exposures, and abominations, our wonder is, not that many of them died, but that all did not break down in body and mind.[ii.199]

Sarah Buckley and her daughter were not brought to trial until after the power of the prosecution to pursue to the death had ceased. They were acquitted in January, 1692. Their goods and chattels had all been seized by the officers, as was the usual practice, at the time of their arrest. In humble circumstances before, it took their last shilling to meet the charges of their imprisonment. They, as all others, were required to provide their own maintenance while in prison; and, after trial and acquittal, were not discharged until all costs were paid. Five pounds had to be raised, to satisfy the claims of the officers of the court and of the jails, for each of them. The result was, the family was utterly impoverished. The poor old woman, with her aged husband, suffered much, there is reason to fear, from absolute want during all the rest of their days. Their truly Christian virtues dignified their poverty, and secured the respect and esteem of all good men. The Rev. Joseph Green has this entry in his diary: "Jan. 2, 1702.—Old William Buckley died this evening. He was at meeting the last sabbath, and died with the cold, I fear, for want of comforts and good tending. Lord forgive! He was about eighty years old. I visited him and prayed with him on Monday, and also the evening before he died. He was very poor; but, I hope, had not his portion in this life." The ejaculation, "Lord forgive!" expresses the deep sense Mr. Green had, of which his whole ministry gave evidence, of the inexpressible sufferings and wrongs brought upon families[ii.200] by the witchcraft prosecutions. The case of Sarah Buckley, her husband and family, was but one of many. The humble, harmless, innocent people who experienced that fearful and pitiless persecution had to drink of as bitter a cup as ever was permitted by an inscrutable Providence to be presented to human lips. In reference to them, we feel as an assurance, what good Mr. Green humbly hoped, that "they had not their portion in this life." Those who went firmly, patiently, and calmly through that great trial without losing love or faith, are crowned with glory and honor.

The examination and commitment of Mary Easty, on the 21st of April, have already been described. For some reason, and in a way of which we have no information, she was discharged from prison on the 18th of May, and wholly released. This seems to have been very distasteful to the accusing girls. They were determined not to let it rest so; and put into operation their utmost energies to get her back to imprisonment. On the 20th of May, Mercy Lewis, being then at the house of John Putnam, Jr., was taken with fits, and experienced tortures of unprecedented severity. The particular circumstances on this occasion, as gathered from various depositions, illustrate very strikingly the skilful manner in which the girls managed to produce the desired effect upon the public mind.

Samuel Abbey, a neighbor, whether sent for or not we are not informed, went to John Putnam's house that morning, about nine o'clock. He found Mercy in[ii.201] a terrible condition, crying out with piteous tones of anguish, "Dear Lord, receive my soul."—"Lord, let them not kill me quite."—"Pray for the salvation of my soul, for they will kill me outright." He was desired to go to Thomas Putnam's house to bring his daughter Ann, "to see if she could see who it was that hurt Mercy Lewis." He found Abigail Williams with Ann, and they accompanied him back to John Putnam's. On the way, they both cried out that they saw the apparition of Goody Easty afflicting Mercy Lewis. When they reached the scene, they exclaimed, "There is Goody Easty and John Willard and Mary Whittredge afflicting the body of Mercy Lewis;" Mercy at the time laboring for breath, and appearing as choked and strangled, convulsed, and apparently at the last gasp. "Thus," says Abbey, "she continued the greatest part of the day, in such tortures as no tongue can express." Mary Walcot was sent for. Upon coming in, she cried out, "There is the apparition of Goody Easty choking Mercy Lewis, pressing upon her breasts with both her hands, and putting a chain about her neck." A message was then despatched for Elizabeth Hubbard. She, too, saw the shape of Goody Easty, "the very same woman that was sent home the other day," aided in her diabolical operations by Willard and Whittredge, "torturing Mercy in a most dreadful manner." Intelligence of the shocking sufferings of Mercy was circulated far and wide, and people hurried to the spot from all directions. Jonathan Putnam, James Darling, Benja[ii.202]min Hutchinson, and Samuel Braybrook reached the house during the evening, and found Mercy "in a case as if death would have quickly followed." Occasionally, Mercy would have a respite; and, at such intervals, Elizabeth Hubbard would fill the gap. "These two fell into fits by turns; the one being well while the other was ill." Each of them continued, all the while, crying out against Goody Easty, uttering in their trances vehement remonstrances against her cruel operations, representing her as bringing their winding-sheets and coffins, and threatening to kill them "if they would not sign to her book." Their acting was so complete that the bystanders seem to have thought that they heard the words of Easty, as well as the responses of the girls; and that they saw the "winding-sheet, coffin," and "the book." In the general consternation, Marshal Herrick was sent for. What he saw, heard, thought, and did, appears from the following:—

"May 20, 1692.—The Testimony of George Herrick, aged thirty-four or thereabouts, and John Putnam, Jr., of Salem Village, aged thirty-five years or thereabouts.—Testifieth and saith, that, being at the house of the above-said John Putnam, both saw Mercy Lewis in a very dreadful and solemn condition, so that to our apprehension she could not continue long in this world without a mitigation of those torments we saw her in, which caused us to expedite a hasty despatch to apprehend Mary Easty, in hopes, if possible, it might save her life; and, returning the same night to said John Putnam's house about midnight,[ii.203] we found the said Mercy Lewis in a dreadful fit, but her reason was then returned. Again she said, 'What! have you brought me the winding-sheet, Goodwife Easty? Well, I had rather go into the winding-sheet than set my hand to the book;' but, after that, her fits were weaker and weaker, but still complaining that she was very sick of her stomach. About break of day, she fell asleep, but still continues extremely sick, and was taken with a dreadful fit just as we left her; so that we perceived life in her, and that was all."

Edward Putnam, after stating that the grievous afflictions and tortures of Mercy Lewis were charged, by her and the other four girls, upon Mary Easty, deposes as follows:—

"I myself, being there present with several others, looked for nothing else but present death for almost the space of two days and a night. She was choked almost to death, insomuch we thought sometimes she had been dead; her mouth and teeth shut; and all this very often until such time as we understood Mary Easty was laid in irons."

Mercy's fits did not cease immediately upon Easty's being apprehended, but on her being committed to prison and chains by the magistrate in Salem.

An examination of distances, with the map before us, will show the rapidity with which business was despatched on this occasion. Abbey went to John Putnam, Jr.'s house at nine o'clock in the morning of May 20. He was sent to Thomas Putnam's house for Ann, and brought her and Abigail Williams back with him. Mary Walcot was sent for to the house of her father, Captain Jonathan Walcot, and went up at one[ii.204] o'clock, "about an hour by sun." Then Elizabeth Hubbard, who lived at the house of Dr. Griggs, "was carried up to Constable John Putnam's house:" Jonathan Putnam, James Darling, Benjamin Hutchinson, and Samuel Braybrook got there in the evening, as they say, "between eight and eleven o'clock." In the mean time, Marshal Herrick had arrived. Steps were taken to get out a warrant. John Putnam and Benjamin Hutchinson went to Salem to Hathorne for the purpose. They must have started soon after eight. Hathorne issued the warrant forthwith. It is dated May 20. Herrick went with it to the house of Isaac Easty, made the arrest, sent his prisoner to the jail in Salem, and returned himself to John Putnam's house "about midnight;" staid to witness the apparently mortal sufferings of Mercy until "about break of day;" returned to Salem; had the examination before Hathorne, at Thomas Beadle's: the whole thing was finished, Mary Easty in irons, information of the result carried to John Putnam's, and Mercy's agonies ceased that afternoon, as Edward Putnam testifies.

I have given this particular account of the circumstances that led to and attended Mary Easty's second arrest, because the papers belonging to the case afford, in some respects, a better insight of the state of things than others, and because they enable us to realize the power which the accusing girls exercised. The continuance of their convulsions and spasms for such a length of time, the large number of persons who witnessed and watched them in the broad daylight, and[ii.205] the perfect success of their operations, show how thoroughly they had become trained in their arts. I have presented the occurrences in the order of time, so that, by estimating the distances traversed and the period within which they took place, an idea can be formed of the vehement earnestness with which men acted in the "hurrying distractions of amazing afflictions" and overwhelming terrors. This instance also gives us a view of the horrible state of things, when any one, however respectable and worthy, was liable, at any moment, to be seized, maligned, and destroyed.

Mary Easty had previously experienced the malice of the persecutors. For two months she had suffered the miseries of imprisonment, had just been released, and for two days enjoyed the restoration of liberty, the comforts of her home, and a re-union with her family. She and they, no doubt, considered themselves safe from any further outrage. After midnight, she was roused from sleep by the unfeeling marshal, torn from her husband and children, carried back to prison, loaded with chains, and finally consigned to a dreadful and most cruel death. She was an excellent and pious matron. Her husband, referring to the transaction nearly twenty years afterwards, justly expressed what all must feel, that it was "a hellish molestation."

One of the most malignant witnesses against Mary Easty was "Goodwife Bibber." She obtruded herself in many of the cases, acting as a sort of outside member of the "accusing circle," volunteering her aid in[ii.206] carrying on the persecutions. It was an outrage for the magistrates or judges to have countenanced such a false defamer. There are, among the papers, documents which show that she ought to have been punished as a calumniator, rather than be called to utter, under oath, lies against respectable people. The following deposition was sworn to in Court:—

"The Testimony of Joseph Fowler, who testifieth that Goodman Bibber and his wife lived at my house; and I did observe and take notice that Goodwife Bibber was a woman who was very idle in her calling, and very much given to tattling and tale-bearing, making mischief amongst her neighbors, and very much given to speak bad words, and would call her husband bad names, and was a woman of a very turbulent, unruly spirit."

Joseph Fowler lived in Wenham, and was a person of respectability and influence. His brother Philip was also a leading man; was employed as attorney by the Village Parish in its lawsuit with Mr. Parris; and married a sister of Joseph Herrick. They were the grandsons of the first Philip, who was an early emigrant from Wales, settling in Ipswich, where he had large landed estates. Henry Fowler and his two brothers, now of Danvers, are the descendants of this family: one of them, Augustus, distinguished as a naturalist, especially in the department of ornithology; the other, Samuel Page Fowler, as an explorer of our early annals and local antiquities. In 1692, one of the Fowlers conducted the proceedings in Court[ii.207] against the head and front of the witchcraft prosecution; and the other had the courage, in the most fearful hour of the delusion, to give open testimony in the defence of its victims. It is an interesting circumstance, that one of the same name and descent, in his reprint of the papers of Calef and in other publications, has done as much as any other person of our day to bring that whole transaction under the light of truth and justice.

John Porter, who was a grandson of the original John Porter and the original William Dodge and a man of property and family, with his wife Lydia; Thomas Jacobs and Mary his wife; and Richard Walker,—all of Wenham, and for a long time neighbors of this Bibber,—testify, in corroboration of the statement of Fowler, that she was a woman of an unruly, turbulent spirit, double-tongued, much given to tattling and tale-bearing, making mischief amongst her neighbors, very much given to speak bad words, often speaking against one and another, telling lies and uttering malicious wishes against people. It was abundantly proved that she had long been known to be able to fall into fits at any time. One witness said "she would often fall into strange fits when she was crossed of her humor;" and another, "that she could fall into fits as often as she pleased."

On the 21st of May, warrants were issued against the wife of William Basset, of Lynn; Susanna Roots, of Beverly; and Sarah, daughter of John Procter of Salem Farms; a few days after, against Benjamin, a son of[ii.208] said John Procter; Mary Derich, wife of Michael Derich, and daughter of William Basset of Lynn; and the wife of Robert Pease of Salem. Such papers as relate to these persons vary in no particular worthy of notice from those already presented.

On the 28th of May, warrants were issued against Martha Carrier, of Andover; Elizabeth Fosdick, of Malden; Wilmot Read, of Marblehead; Sarah Rice, of Reading; Elizabeth How, of Topsfield; Captain John Alden, of Boston; William Procter, of Salem Farms; Captain John Flood, of Rumney Marsh; —— Toothaker and her daughter, of Billerica; and ---- Abbot, between Topsfield and Wenham line. On the 30th, a warrant was issued against Elizabeth, wife of Stephen Paine, of Charlestown; on the 4th of June, against Mary, wife of Benjamin Ireson, of Lynn. Besides these, there are notices of complaints made and warrants issued against a great number of people in all parts of the country: Mary Bradbury, of Salisbury; Lydia and Sarah Dustin, of Reading; Ann Sears, of Woburn; Job Tookey, of Beverly; Abigail Somes, of Gloucester; Elizabeth Carey, of Charlestown; Candy, a negro woman; and many others. Some of them have points of interest, demanding particular notice.

The case of Martha Carrier has some remarkable features. It has been shown, by passages already adduced, that every idle rumor; every thing that the gossip of the credulous or the fertile imaginations of the malignant could produce; every thing, gleaned from the memory or the fancy, that could have an unfavora[ii.209]ble bearing upon an accused person, however foreign or irrelevant it might be to the charge, was allowed to be brought in evidence before the magistrates, and received at the trials. We have seen that a child under five years of age was arrested, and put into prison. Children were not only permitted, but induced, to become witnesses against their parents, and parents against their children. Husbands and wives were made to criminate each other as witnesses in court. When Martha Carrier was arrested, four of her children were also taken into custody. An indictment against one of them is among the papers. Under the terrors brought to bear upon them, they were prevailed on to be confessors. The following shows how these children were trained to tell their story:—

"It was asked Sarah Carrier by the magistrates,—

"How long hast thou been a witch?—Ever since I was six years old.

"How old are you now?—Near eight years old: brother Richard says I shall be eight years old in November next.

"Who made you a witch?—My mother: she made me set my hand to a book.

"How did you set your hand to it?—I touched it with my fingers, and the book was red: the paper of it was white.

"She said she never had seen the black man: the place where she did it was in Andrew Foster's pasture, and Elizabeth Johnson, Jr., was there. Being asked who was there besides, she answered, her aunt Toothaker and her cousin.[ii.210] Being asked when it was, she said, when she was baptized.

"What did they promise to give you?—A black dog.

"Did the dog ever come to you?—No.

"But you said you saw a cat once: what did that say to you?—It said it would tear me in pieces, if I would not set my hand to the book.

"She said her mother baptized her, and the Devil, or black man, was not there, as she saw; and her mother said, when she baptized her, 'Thou art mine for ever and ever. Amen.'

"How did you afflict folks?—I pinched them.

"And she said she had no puppets, but she went to them that she afflicted. Being asked whether she went in her body or her spirit, she said in her spirit. She said her mother carried her thither to afflict.

"How did your mother carry you when she was in prison?—She came like a black cat.

"How did you know it was your mother?—The cat told me so, that she was my mother. She said she afflicted Phelps's child last Saturday, and Elizabeth Johnson joined with her to do it. She had a wooden spear, about as long as her finger, of Elizabeth Johnson; and she had it of the Devil. She would not own that she had ever been at the witch-meeting at the village. This is the substance.

"Simon Willard."

The confession of another of her children is among the papers. It runs thus:—

"Have you been in the Devil's snare?—Yes.

"Is your brother Andrew ensnared by the Devil's snare?—Yes.[ii.211]

"How long has your brother been a witch?—Near a month.

"How long have you been a witch?—Not long.

"Have you joined in afflicting the afflicted persons?—Yes.

"You helped to hurt Timothy Swan, did you?—Yes.

"How long have you been a witch?—About five weeks.

"Who was in company when you covenanted with the Devil?—Mrs. Bradbury.

"Did she help you afflict?—Yes.

"Who was at the village meeting when you were there?—Goodwife How, Goodwife Nurse, Goodwife Wildes, Procter and his wife, Mrs. Bradbury, and Corey's wife.

"What did they do there?—Eat, and drank wine.

"Was there a minister there?—No, not as I know of.

"From whence had you your wine?—From Salem, I think, it was.

"Goodwife Oliver there?—Yes: I knew her."

In concluding his report of the trial of this wretched woman, whose children were thus made to become the instruments for procuring her death, Dr. Cotton Mather expresses himself in the following language:—

"This rampant hag (Martha Carrier) was the person of whom the confessions of the witches, and of her own children among the rest, agreed that the Devil had promised her that she should be queen of Hell."

It is quite evident that this "rampant hag" had no better opinion of the dignitaries and divines who managed matters at the time than they had of her.[ii.212] The record of her examination shows that she was not afraid to speak her mind, and in plain terms too. When brought before the magistrates, the following were their questions and her answers. The accusing witnesses having severally made their charges against her, declaring that she had tormented them in various ways, and threatened to cut their throats if they would not sign the Devil's book, which, they said, she had presented to them, the magistrates addressed her in these words: "What do you say to this you are charged with?" She answered, "I have not done it." One of the accusers cried out that she was, at that moment, sticking pins into her. Another declared that she was then looking upon "the black man,"—the shape in which they pretended the Devil appeared. The magistrate asked the accused, "What black man is that?" Her answer was, "I know none." The accusers cried out that the black man was present, and visible to them. The magistrate asked her, "What black man did you see?" Her answer was, "I saw no black man but your own presence." Whenever she looked upon the accusers, they were knocked down. The magistrate, entirely deluded by their practised acting, said to her, "Can you look upon these, and not knock them down?" Her answer was, "They will dissemble, if I look upon them." He continued: "You see, you look upon them, and they fall down." She broke out, "It is false: the Devil is a liar. I looked upon none since I came into the room but you." Susanna Sheldon cried out, in a trance, "I wonder what could[ii.213] you murder thirteen persons for." At this, her spirit became aroused: the accusers fell into the most intolerable outcries and agonies. The accused rebuked the magistrate, charging him with unfairness in not paying any regard to what she said, and receiving every thing that the accusers said. "It is a shameful thing, that you should mind these folks that are out of their wits;" and, turning to those who were bringing these false and ridiculous charges against her, she said, "You lie: I am wronged." The energy and courage of the prisoner threw the accusers, magistrates, and the whole crowd into confusion and uproar. The record closes the description of the scene in these words: "The tortures of the afflicted were so great that there was no enduring of it, so that she was ordered away, and to be bound hand and foot with all expedition; the afflicted, in the mean while, almost killed, to the great trouble of all spectators, magistrates, and others."

Parris closes his report of this examination as follows:—

"Note.—As soon as she was well bound, they all had strange and sudden ease. Mary Walcot told the magistrates that this woman told her she had been a witch this forty years."

This shows the sort of communications the girls were allowed to hold with the magistrates, exciting their prejudices against accused persons, and filling their ears with all sorts of exaggerated and false stories. However much she may have been maligned[ii.214] by her neighbors, some of whom had long been in the habit of circulating slanders against her, the whole tenor of the papers relating to her shows that she always indignantly repelled the charge of being a witch, and was the last person in the world to have volunteered such a statement as Mary Walcot reported.

The examination of Martha Carrier must have been one of the most striking scenes of the whole drama of the witchcraft proceedings. The village meeting-house presented a truly wild and exciting spectacle. The fearful and horrible superstition which darkened the minds of the people was displayed in their aspect and movements. Their belief, that, then and there, they were witnessing the great struggle between the kingdoms of God and of the Evil One, and that every thing was at stake on the issue, gave an awe-struck intensity to their expression. The blind, unquestioning confidence of the magistrates, clergy, and all concerned in the prosecutions, in the evidence of the accusers; the loud outcries of their pretended sufferings; their contortions, swoonings, and tumblings, excited the usual consternation in the assembly. In addition to this, there was the more than ordinary bold and defiant bearing of the prisoner, stung to desperation by the outrage upon human nature in the abuse practised upon her poor children; her firm and unshrinking courage, facing the tempest that was raised to overwhelm her, sternly rebuking the magistrates,—"It is a shameful thing that you should mind these folks[ii.215] that are out of their wits;"—her whole demeanor, proclaiming her conscious innocence, and proving that she chose chains, the dungeon, and the scaffold, rather than to belie herself. Seldom has a scene in real life, or a picture wrought by the inspiration of genius and the hand of art, in its individual characters or its general grouping, surpassed that presented on this occasion.

Hutchinson has preserved the record of another examination of a different character. An ignorant negro slave-woman was brought before the magistrates. She was cunning enough, not only to confess, but to cover herself with the cloak of having been led into the difficulty by her mistress.

"Candy, are you a witch?—Candy no witch in her country. Candy's mother no witch. Candy no witch, Barbados. This country, mistress give Candy witch.

"Did your mistress make you a witch in this country?—Yes: in this country, mistress give Candy witch.

"What did your mistress do to make you witch?—Mistress bring book and pen and ink; make Candy write in it."

Upon being asked what she wrote, she took a pen and ink, and made a mark. Upon being asked how she afflicted people, and where were the puppets she did it with, she said, that, if they would let her go out for a moment, she would show them how. They allowed her to go out, and she presently returned with two pieces of cloth or linen,—one with two knots, the other with one tied in it. Immediately on seeing these articles, the "afflicted children" were "greatly[ii.216] affrighted," and fell into violent fits. When they came to, they declared that the "black man," Mrs. Hawkes, and the negro, stood by the puppets of rags, and pinched them. Whereupon they fell into fits again. "A bit of one of the rags being set on fire," they all shrieked that they were burned, and "cried out dreadfully." Some pieces being dipped in water, they went into the convulsions and struggles of drowning persons; and one of them rushed out of the room, and raced down towards the river.

Candy and the girls having played their parts so well, there was no escape for poor Mrs. Hawkes but in confession, which she forthwith made. They were both committed to prison. Fortunately, it was not convenient to bring them to trial until the next January, when, the delusion having blown over, they were acquitted.

Besides those already mentioned, there were others, among the victims of this delusion, whose cases excite our tenderest sensibility, and deepen our horror in the contemplation of the scene. It seems, that, some time before the transactions took place in Salem Village, a difficulty arose between two families on the borders of Topsfield and Ipswich, such as often occur among neighbors, about some small matter of property, fences, or boundaries. Their names were Perley and How. A daughter of Perley, about ten years of age, hearing, probably, strong expressions by her parents, became excited against the Hows, and charged the wife of How with bewitching her. She acted much[ii.217] after the manner of the "afflicted girls" in Salem Village, which was near the place of her residence. Very soon the idea became current that Mrs. How was a witch; and every thing that happened amiss to any one was laid at her door. She was cried out against by the "afflicted children" in Salem Village, and carried before the magistrates for examination on the 31st of May, 1692. Upon being brought into her presence, the accusers fell into their usual fits and convulsions, and charged her with tormenting them. To the question, put by the magistrates, "What say you to this charge?" her answer was, "If it was the last moment I was to live, God knows I am innocent of any thing in this nature." The papers connected with her trial bear abundant testimony to the excellent character of this pious and amiable woman. A person, who had lived near her twenty-four years, states, in her deposition, "that she had found her a neighborly woman, conscientious in her dealing, faithful to her promises, and Christianlike in her conversation." Several others join in a deposition to this effect: "For our own parts, we have been well acquainted with her for above twenty years. We never saw but that she carried it very well, and that both her words and actions were always such as well became a good Christian."

The following passages illustrate the wicked arts sometimes used to bring accusations upon innocent persons, and give affecting proof of the excellence of the character and heart of Elizabeth How:[ii.218]—

"The Testimony of Samuel Phillips, aged about sixty-seven, minister of the word of God in Rowley, who saith that Mr. Payson (minister of God's word also in Rowley) and myself went, being desired, to Samuel Perly, of Ipswich, to see their young daughter, who was visited with strange fits; and, in her fits (as her father and mother affirmed), did mention Goodwife How, the wife of James How, Jr., of Ipswich, as if she was in the house, and did afflict her. When we were in the house, the child had one of her fits, but made no mention of Goodwife How; and, when the fit was over, and she came to herself, Goodwife How went to the child, and took her by the hand, and asked her whether she had ever done her any hurt; and she answered, 'No, never; and, if I did complain of you in my fits, I knew not that I did so.' I further can affirm, upon oath, that young Samuel Perley, brother to the afflicted girl, looked out of a chamber window (I and the afflicted child being without doors together), and said to his sister, 'Say Goodwife How is a witch,—say she is a witch;' and the child spake not a word that way. But I looked up to the window where the youth stood, and rebuked him for his boldness to stir up his sister to accuse the said Goodwife How; whereas she had cleared her from doing any hurt to his sister in both our hearing; and I added, 'No wonder that the child, in her fits, did mention Goodwife How, when her nearest relations were so frequent in expressing their suspicions, in the child's hearing, when she was out of her fits, that the said Goodwife How was an instrument of mischief to the child.'"

Mr. Payson, in reference to the same occasion, deposed as follows:[ii.219]—

"Being in Perley's house some considerable time before the said Goodwife How came in, their afflicted daughter, upon something that her mother spake to her with tartness, presently fell into one of her usual strange fits, during which she made no mention (as I observed) of the abovesaid How her name, or any thing relating to her. Some time after, the said How came in, when said girl had recovered her capacity, her fit being over. Said How took said girl by the hand, and asked her whether she had ever done her any hurt. The child answered, 'No; never,' with several expressions to that purpose."

The bearing of Elizabeth How, under accusations so cruelly and shamefully fabricated and circulated against her, exhibits one of the most beautiful pictures of a truly forgiving spirit and of Christlike love anywhere to be found. Several witnesses say, "We often spoke to her of some things that were reported of her, that gave some suspicion of that she is now charged with; and she, always professing her innocency, often desired our prayers to God for her, that God would keep her in his fear, and support her under her burden. We have often heard her speaking of those persons that raised those reports of her, and we never heard her speak badly of them for the same; but, in our hearing, hath often said that she desired God that he would sanctify that affliction, as well as others, for her spiritual good." Others testified to the same effect. Simon Chapman, and Mary, his wife, say that "they had been acquainted with the wife of James How, Jr., as a neighbor, for this nine or[ii.220] ten years;" that they had resided in the same house with her "by the fortnight together;" that they never knew any thing but what was good in her. They "found, at all times, by her discourse, she was a woman of affliction, and mourning for sin in herself and others; and, when she met with any affliction, she seemed to justify God and say that it was all better than she deserved, though it was by false accusations from men. She used to bless God that she got good by affliction; for it made her examine her own heart. We never heard her revile any person that hath accused her with witchcraft, but pitied them, and said, 'I pray God forgive them; for they harm themselves more than me. Though I am a great sinner, I am clear of that; and such kind of affliction doth but set me to examining my own heart, and I find God wonderfully supporting me and comforting me by his word and promises.'"

Joseph Knowlton and his wife Mary, who had lived near her, and sometimes in the same family with her, testified, that, having heard the stories told about her, they were led to—

"take special notice of her life and conversation ever since. And I have asked her if she could freely forgive them that raised such reports of her. She told me yes, with all her heart, desiring that God would give her a heart to be more humble under such a providence; and, further, she said she was willing to do any good she could to those who had done unneighborly by her. Also this I have taken notice, that she would deny herself to do a neighbor a good turn."

[ii.221]

The father of her husband,—James How, Sr., aged about ninety-four years,—in a communication addressed to the Court, declared that—

"he, living by her for about thirty years, hath taken notice that she hath carried it well becoming her place, as a daughter, as a wife, in all relations, setting aside human infirmities, as becometh a Christian; with respect to myself as a father, very dutifully; and as a wife to my son, very careful, loving, obedient, and kind,—considering his want of eyesight, tenderly leading him about by the hand. Desiring God may guide your honors, ... I rest yours to serve."

The only evidence against this good woman—beyond the outcries and fits of the "afflicted children," enacted in their usual skilful and artful style—consisted of the most wretched gossip ever circulated in an ignorant and benighted community. It came from people in the back settlements of Ipswich and Topsfield, and disclosed a depth of absurd and brutal superstition, which it is difficult to believe ever existed in New England. So far as those living in secluded and remote localities are regarded, this was the most benighted period of our history. Except where, as in Salem Village, special circumstances had kept up the general intelligence, there was much darkness on the popular mind. The education that came over with the first emigrants from the mother-country had gone with them to their graves. The system of common schools had not begun to produce its fruit in the thinly peopled outer settlements. There is no more disgraceful page in our annals than that which[ii.222] details the testimony given at the trial, and records the conviction and execution, of Elizabeth How.

But the dark shadows of that day of folly, cruelty, and crime, served to bring into a brighter and purer light virtues exhibited by many persons. We meet affecting instances, all along, of family fidelity and true Christian benevolence. James How, as has been stated, was stricken with blindness. He had two daughters, Mary and Abigail. Although their farm was out of the line of the public-roads, travel very difficult, and they must have encountered many hardships, annoyances, and, it is to be feared, sometimes unfeeling treatment by the way, one of them accompanied their father, twice every week, to visit their mother in her prison-walls. They came on horseback; she managing the bridle, and guiding him by the hand after alighting. Their humble means were exhausted in these offices of reverence and affection. One of the noble girls made her way to Boston, sought out the Governor, and implored a reprieve for her mother; but in vain. The sight of these young women, leading their blind father to comfort and provide for their "honored mother,—as innocent," as they declared her to be, "of the crime charged, as any person in the world,"—so faithful and constant in their filial love and duty, relieved the horrors of the scene; and it ought to be held in perpetual remembrance. The shame of that day is not, and will not be, forgotten; neither should its beauty and glory.

The name of Elizabeth How, before marriage, was[ii.223] Jackson. Among the accounts rendered against the country for expenses incurred in the witchcraft prosecutions are these two items: "For John Jackson, Sr., one pair of fetters, five shillings; for John Jackson, Jr., one pair of fetters, five shillings." There is also an item for carrying "the two Jacksons" from one jail to another, and back again. No other reference to them is found among the papers. They were, perhaps, a brother and nephew of Elizabeth How. There is reason to suppose that her husband, James How, Jr., was a nephew of the Rev. Francis Dane, of Andover.

The examination of Job Tookey, of Beverly, presents some points worthy of notice. He is described as a "laborer," but was evidently a person, although perhaps inconsiderate of speech, of more than common discrimination, and not wholly deluded by the fanaticism of the times. He is charged with having said that he "would take Mr. Burroughs's part;" "that he was not the Devil's servant, but the Devil was his." When the girls testified that they saw his shape afflicting persons, he answered, like a sensible man, if they really saw any such thing, "it was not he, but the Devil in his shape, that hurts the people." Susanna Sheldon, Mary Warren, and Ann Putnam, all declared, that, at that very moment while the examination was going on, two men and two women and one child "rose from the dead, and cried, 'Vengeance! vengeance!'" Nobody else saw or heard any thing: but the girls suddenly became dumb; their eyes were[ii.224] fixed on vacancy, all looking towards the same spot; and their whole appearance gave assurance of the truth of what they said. In a short time, Mary Warren recovered the use of her vocal organs, and exclaimed, "There are three men, and three women, and two children. They are all in their winding-sheets: they look pale upon us, but red upon Tookey,—red as blood." Again, she exclaimed, in a startled and affrighted manner, "There is a young child under the table, crying out for vengeance." Elizabeth Booth, pointing to the same place, was struck speechless. In this way, the murder of about every one who had died at Royal Side, for a year or two past, was put upon Tookey. Some of them were called by name; the others, the girls pretended not to recognize. The wrath and horror of the whole community were excited against him, and he was committed to jail, by the order of the magistrates,—Bartholomew Gedney, Jonathan Corwin, and John Hathorne.

No character, indeed, however blameless lovely or venerable, was safe. The malignant accusers struck at the highest marks, and the consuming fire of popular frenzy was kindled and attracted towards the most commanding objects. Mary Bradbury is described, in the indictment against her, as the "wife of Captain Thomas Bradbury, of Salisbury, in the county of Essex, gentleman." A few of the documents that are preserved, belonging to her case, will give some idea what sort of a person she was:[ii.225]—

"The Answer of Mary Bradbury to the Charge of Witchcraft, or Familiarity with the Devil.

"I do plead 'Not guilty.' I am wholly innocent of any such wickedness, through the goodness of God that have kept me hitherto. I am the servant of Jesus Christ, and have given myself up to him as my only Lord and Saviour, and to the diligent attendance upon him in all his holy ordinances, in utter contempt and defiance of the Devil and all his works, as horrid and detestable, and, accordingly, have endeavored to frame my life and conversation according to the rules of his holy word; and, in that faith and practice, resolve, by the help and assistance of God, to continue to my life's end.

"For the truth of what I say, as to matter of practice, I humbly refer myself to my brethren and neighbors that know me, and unto the Searcher of all hearts, for the truth and uprightness of my heart therein (human frailties and unavoidable infirmities excepted, of which I bitterly complain every day).

Mary Bradbury."

"July 28, 1692.—Concerning my beloved wife, Mary Bradbury, this is what I have to say: We have been married fifty-five years, and she hath been a loving and faithful wife to me. Unto this day, she hath been wonderful laborious, diligent, and industrious, in her place and employment, about the bringing-up of our family (which have been eleven children of our own, and four grandchildren). She was both prudent and provident, of a cheerful spirit, liberal and charitable. She being now very aged and weak, and grieved under her affliction, may not be able to speak much for herself, not being so free of speech as some others may be. I hope her life and conversation have been such amongst her[ii.226] neighbors as gives a better and more real testimony of her than can be expressed by words.

"Owned by me,

Tho. Bradbury."

The Rev. James Allin made oath before Robert Pike, an assistant and magistrate, as follows:—

"I, having lived nine years at Salisbury in the work of the ministry, and now four years in the office of a pastor, to my best notice and observation of Mrs. Bradbury, she hath lived according to the rules of the gospel amongst us; was a constant attender upon the ministry of the word, and all the ordinances of the gospel; full of works of charity and mercy to the sick and poor: neither have I seen or heard any thing of her unbecoming the profession of the gospel."

Robert Pike also affirmed to the truth of Mr. Allin's statement, from "upwards of fifty years' experience," as did John Pike also: they both declared themselves ready and desirous to give their testimony before the Court.

One hundred and seventeen of her neighbors—the larger part of them heads of families, and embracing the most respectable people of that vicinity—signed their names to a paper, of which the following is a copy:—

"Concerning Mrs. Bradbury's life and conversation, we, the subscribers, do testify, that it was such as became the gospel: she was a lover of the ministry, in all appearance, and a diligent attender upon God's holy ordinances, being of a courteous and peaceable disposition and carriage. Neither did any of us (some of whom have lived in the town with her[ii.227] above fifty years) ever hear or ever know that she ever had any difference or falling-out with any of her neighbors,—man, woman, or child,—but was always ready and willing to do for them what lay in her power night and day, though with hazard of her health, or other danger. More might be spoken in her commendation, but this for the present."

Although this aged matron and excellent Christian lady was convicted and sentenced to death, it is most satisfactory to find that she escaped from prison, and her life was saved.

The following facts show the weight which ought to have been attached to these statements. The position, as well as character and age, of Mary [Perkins] Bradbury entitled her to the highest consideration, in the structure of society at that time. This is recognized in the title "Mrs.," uniformly given her. She had been noted, through life, for business capacity, energy, and influence; and, in 1692, was probably seventy-five years of age, and somewhat infirm in health. Her husband, Thomas Bradbury, had been a prominent character in the colony for more than fifty years. In 1641, he was appointed, by the General Court, Clerk of the Writs for Salisbury, with the functions of a magistrate, to execute all sorts of legal processes in that place. He was a deputy in 1651 and many subsequent years; a commissioner for Salisbury in 1657, empowered to act in all criminal cases, and bind over offenders, where it was proper, to higher courts, to take testimonies upon oath, and to join persons in marriage. He was required to keep a record of all his[ii.228] doings. If the parties agreed to that effect, he was authorized to hear and determine cases of every kind and degree, without the intervention of a jury. The towns north of the Merrimac, and all beyond now within the limits of New Hampshire, constituted the County of Norfolk; and Thomas Bradbury, for a long series of years, was one of its commissioners and associate judges. From the first, he was conspicuous in military matters; having been commissioned by the General Court, in 1648, Ensign of the trainband in Salisbury. He rose to its command; and, in the latter portion of his life, was universally spoken of as "Captain Bradbury." All along, the records of the General Court, for half a century, demonstrate the estimation in which he was held; various important trusts and special services requiring integrity and ability being from time to time committed to him. His family was influentially connected. His son William married the widow of Samuel Maverick, Jr., who was the son of one of the King's Commissioners in 1664: she was the daughter of the Rev. John Wheelwright, a man of great note, intimately related to the celebrated Anne Hutchinson, and united with her by sympathy in sentiment and participation in exile.

Robert Pike, born in 1616, was a magistrate in 1644. He was deputy from Salisbury in 1648, and many times after; Associate Justice for Norfolk in 1650; and Assistant in 1682, holding that high station, by annual elections, to the close of the first charter, and during the whole period of the intervening and insur[ii.229]gent government. He was named as one of the council that succeeded to the House of Assistants, when, under the new charter, Massachusetts became a royal province. He was always at the head of military affairs, having been commissioned, by the General Court, Lieutenant of the Salisbury trainband in 1648; and, in the later years of his life, he held the rank and title of major. John Pike, probably his son, resided in Hampton in 1691, and was minister of Dover at his death in 1710.

Surely, the attestations of such men as the Pikes, father and son, and the Rev. James Allin, to the Christian excellence of Mary Bradbury, must be allowed to corroborate fully the declarations of her neighbors, her husband, and herself.

The motives and influences that led to her arrest and condemnation in 1692 demand an explanation. The question arises, Why should the attention of the accusing girls have been led to this aged and most respectable woman, living at such a distance, beyond the Merrimac? A critical scrutiny of the papers in the case affords a clew leading to the true answer.

The wife of Sergeant Thomas Putnam, as has been stated (vol. i. p. 253), was Ann Carr of Salisbury. Her father, George Carr, was an early settler in that place, and appears to have been an enterprising and prosperous person. The ferry for the main travel of the country across the Merrimac was from points of land owned by him, and always under his charge. He was engaged in ship-building,—employing, and[ii.230] having in his family, young men; among them a son of Zerubabel Endicott, bearing the same name.

Among the papers in the case is the following:—

"The Deposition of Richard Carr, who testifieth and saith, that, about thirteen years ago, presently after some difference that happened to be between my honored father, Mr. George Carr, and Mrs. Bradbury, the prisoner at the bar, upon a sabbath at noon, as we were riding home, by the house of Captain Tho: Bradbury, I saw Mrs. Bradbury go into her gate, turn the corner of, and immediately there darted out of her gate a blue boar, and darted at my father's horse's legs, which made him stumble; but I saw it no more. And my father said, 'Boys, what do you see?' We both answered, 'A blue boar.'

"Zerubabel Endicott testifieth and saith, that I lived at Mr. George Carr, now deceased, at the time above mentioned, and was present with Mr. George Carr and Mr. Richard Carr. And I also saw a blue boar dart out of Mr. Bradbury's gate to Mr. George Carr's horse's legs, which made him stumble after a strange manner. And I also saw the blue boar dart from Mr. Carr's horse's legs in at Mrs. Bradbury's window. And Mr. Carr immediately said, 'Boys, what did you see?' And we both said, 'A blue boar.' Then said he, 'From whence came it?' And we said, 'Out of Mr. Bradbury's gate.' Then said he, 'I am glad you see it as well as I.' Jurat in Curia, Sept. 9, '92."

Stephen Sewall, the clerk of the courts, with his usual eagerness to make the most of the testimony against persons accused, adds to the deposition the following:[ii.231]—

"And they both further say, on their oaths, that Mr. Carr discoursed with them, as they went home, about what had happened, and they all concluded that it was Mrs. Bradbury that so appeared as a blue boar."

At the date of this occurrence, Richard Carr was twenty years of age, and Zerubabel Endicott a lad of of fifteen.

It is not to be wondered at that there was "some difference between" George Carr and Mrs. Bradbury, if he was in the habit of indulging in such talk about her as he took the leading part in on this occasion. He evidently encouraged in his "boys" the absurd imaginations with which their credulity had been stimulated. They were prepared by preconceived notions to witness something preternatural about the premises of Mrs. Bradbury; and, in their jaundiced vision, any animal, moving in and out of the gate, might naturally assume the likeness of a "blue boar." Such ideas circulating in the family, and among the apprentices of Carr, would soon be widely spread. No doubt, Zerubabel, on his visits to his home, told wondrous stories about Mrs. Bradbury. His brother Samuel, then a youth of eighteen, had his imagination filled with them; and some time after, on a voyage to "Barbadoes and Saltitudos," in which severe storms and various disasters were experienced, attributed them all to Mrs. Bradbury; and, "in a bright moonshining night, sitting upon the windlass, to which he had been sent forward to look out for land," the wild fancies of his excited imagination took effect. He heard "a[ii.232] rumbling noise," and thought he saw the legs of some person. "Presently he was shook, and looked over his shoulder, and saw the appearance of a woman, from her middle upwards, having a white cap and white neckcloth on her, which then affrighted him very much; and, as he was turning of the windlass, he saw the aforesaid two legs." Such superstitious phantasms seem to be natural to the experiences of sailor-life, and perhaps still linger in the forecastle and at the night-watch.

The habit of maligning Mrs. Bradbury as a witch dated back in the Carr family more than thirteen years, as the following deposition proves. I give it precisely as it is in the original. As in a few other instances in this work, the spelling and punctuation are preserved as curiosities. Like all the papers in the case, with one exception, presented in court against Mrs. Bradbury, it is in the handwriting of Sergeant Thomas Putnam:—

[Transcriber's Note: Spelling and punctuation in the passage below are as in the original.]

"The Deposistion of James Carr. who testifieth and saith that about 20 years agoe one day as I was accidently att the house of mr wheleright and his daughter the widdow maverick then liued there: and she then did most curtuously invite me to com oftener to the house and wondered I was grown such a stranger. and with in a few days affter one evening I went thether againe: and when I came thether againe: william Bradbery was y^r who was then a suter to the said widdow but I did not know it tell affterwards: affter I came in the widdow did so corsely treat the sd william Bradbery that he went away semeing to be angury:[ii.233] presently affter this I was taken affter a strange maner as if liueing creaturs did run about euery part of my body redy to tare me to peaces and so I continewed for about 3 qurters of a year by times & I applyed myself to doctor Crosbe who gave me a grate deal of visek but could make non work tho he steept tobacco in bosit drink he could make non to work where upon he tould me that he beleved I was behaged: and I tould him I had thought so a good while: and he asked me by hom I tould him I did not care for spaking for one was counted an honest woman: but he uging I tould him and he said he did beleve that m^is Bradbery was a grat deal worss then goody martin: then presently affter this one night I being a bed & brod awake there came sumthing to me which I thought was a catt and went to strick it ofe the bed and was sezed fast that I could not stir hedd nor foot. but by and coming to my strenth I herd sumthing a coming to me againe and I prepared my self to strick it: and it coming upon the bed I did strick at it and I beleve I hit it: and after that visek would work on me and I beleve in my hart that m^is Bradbery the prisoner att the barr has often afflected me by acts of wicthcraft.

"Jurat in Curia Sep.^mr. 9. 92."[B]

[ii.234]

But the whole of George Carr's family did not sympathize in this morbid state of prejudice, or cherish such foolish and malignant fancies, against Mrs. Bradbury. One of the sons, William, had married, Aug. 20, 1672, Elizabeth, daughter of Robert Pike. It appears, by the following deposition, which is in the handwriting of Major Pike, that there had been another love affair between the families, leading to a melancholy result, inflaming still more the morbid and malign prejudice against Mrs. Bradbury; but William repudiated it utterly:—

"The Testimony of William Carr, aged forty-one, or thereabouts, is that my brother John Carr, when he was young, was a man of as good capacity as most men of his age; but falling in love with Jane True (now wife of Captain[ii.235] John March), and my father being persuaded by [——] of the family (which I shall not name) not to let him marry so young, my father would not give him a portion, whereupon the match broke off, which my brother laid so much to heart that he grew melancholy, and by degrees much crazed, not being the man, that he was before, to his dying day.

"I do further testify that my said brother was sick about a fortnight or three weeks, and then died; and I was present with him when he died. And I do affirm that he died peaceably and quietly, never manifesting the least trouble in the world about anybody, nor did not say any thing of Mrs. Bradbury nor anybody else doing him hurt; and yet I was with him till the breath and life were out of his body."

The usual form, jurat in curia, is written at the foot of this deposition, but evidently by a much later hand; and this leads me to mention the improbability that any testimony in favor of the accused ever reached the Court at the trials. They had no counsel: the attorney-general had prejudged all the cases; and his mind and those of the judges repudiated utterly any thing like an investigation. Every friendly voice was silenced. The doors were closed against the defence. Robert Pike, an assistant under the old and a councillor under the new government, endeavored in vain to enter them.

William Carr was a person of great respectability, and bore the appointment, by the General Court, of land-surveyor for the towns in the northern part of the present county of Essex.

The member of the family who—as stated in the[ii.236] foregoing deposition—prevented the match, all the circumstances seem to indicate, was Mrs. Ann Putnam. She perhaps had experienced the effects of a too early marriage, bringing the burden of life upon the constitution and the character before they are mature enough to bear it. She may have attributed to this cause the troubles and trials with which her cup had been so bitterly filled, and the blasting of the happiness of her youth. Half deranged, as perpetual excitement from the parish quarrels in reference to Mr. Bayley had made her, she may have become morbidly opposed to the equally early marriage of a brother. Added to this was the fact that Henry True had married one of Mrs. Bradbury's daughters, and that Jane True was his sister. It cannot be doubted that she entertained the same ideas about Mrs. Bradbury as her father and brothers, James and Richard; and, for this reason, also opposed the match of her brother John. Wishing to be relieved from the self-reproach of having caused his derangement and death, when the witchcraft delusion broke out at Salem Village and she became wholly absorbed by it, as all other deaths and misfortunes were ascribed to it, she avowed and maintained the belief, as some had suspected at the time, that the happiness, health, reason, and life of her brother had been destroyed by diabolical agency, practised by Mrs. Bradbury.

In the state of things long subsisting between the Bradbury and Carr families, we find an explanation of the movement made against Mrs. Bradbury. Young[ii.237] Ann Putnam may have often heard her unpleasantly spoken of by her mother, and it was natural that she should have "cried out against her."

The family of Mrs. Ann Putnam seem to have had constitutional traits that illustrate and explain her own character and conduct. They were excitable and sensitive to an extraordinary degree. Their judgment, reason, and physical systems, were subject to the power of their fancies and affections. One of her brothers, in consequence of being badly coquetted with and jilted by a young widow, was thrown into an awful condition of body and mind "for about three-quarters of a year." The reason, health, and heart of another were broken; and he sunk into an early grave, in consequence of having been crossed in love. The death of her sister Bayley may have been caused by the unhappy controversies in the village parish. We have seen, and shall see, the all but maniac condition to which excitement brought her own mind. At last, the heaviest blow that can fall upon a fond wife suddenly snapped the brittle cord of her life. These considerations must be borne in mind, while we attempt to explain her conduct, and should throw the weight of pity and charity into the scales, if mortal judgment ventures to estimate her guilt. They are known to the Infinite Mind, and never overlooked by divine mercy.

I have introduced these singular private details to illustrate what the documents all along show,—that the proceedings against persons charged with witch[ii.238]craft, in 1692, were instigated by all sorts of personal grudges and private piques, many of them of long standing, fomented and kept alive by an unhappy indulgence of unworthy feelings, always ready to mix themselves with popular excitements, and leading all concerned headlong to the utmost extent of mischief and wrong.

The case of Mary Bradbury has been allowed to occupy so large a space, because I desire to disabuse the public mind of a great error on this subject. It has been too much supposed, that the sufferers in the witchcraft delusion were generally of the inferior classes of society, and particularly ignorant and benighted. They were the very reverse. They mostly belonged to families in the better conditions of life, and, many of them, to the highest social level. They were all persons of great moral firmness and rectitude, as was demonstrated by their bearing under persecutions and outrage, and when confronting the terrors of death. Their names do not deserve reproach, and their memories ought to be held in honor.

The following account of the examination of Elizabeth Cary of Charlestown, given by her husband, Captain Cary, a shipmaster, has the highest interest, as written at the time by one who was an eye-witness, and participated in the sufferings of the occasion:—

"May 24.—I having heard, some days, that my wife was accused of witchcraft; being much disturbed at it, by advice went to Salem Village, to see if the afflicted knew her: we arrived there on the 24th of May. It happened[ii.239] to be a day appointed for examination; accordingly, soon after our arrival, Mr. Hathorne and Mr. Corwin, &c., went to the meeting-house, which was the place appointed for that work. The minister began with prayer; and, having taken care to get a convenient place, I observed that the afflicted were two girls of about ten years old, and about two or three others of about eighteen: one of the girls talked most, and could discern more than the rest.

"The prisoners were called in one by one, and, as they came in, were cried out at, &c. The prisoners were placed about seven or eight feet from the justices, and the accusers between the justices and them. The prisoners were ordered to stand right before the justices, with an officer appointed to hold each hand, lest they should therewith afflict them: and the prisoners' eyes must be constantly on the justices; for, if they looked on the afflicted, they would either fall into fits, or cry out of being hurt by them. After an examination of the prisoners, who it was afflicted these girls, &c., they were put upon saying the Lord's Prayer, as a trial of their guilt. After the afflicted seemed to be out of their fits, they would look steadfastly on some one person, and frequently not speak; and then the justices said they were struck dumb, and after a little time would speak again: then the justices said to the accusers, 'Which of you will go and touch the prisoner at the bar?' Then the most courageous would adventure, but, before they had made three steps, would ordinarily fall down as in a fit: the justices ordered that they should be taken up and carried to the prisoner, that she might touch them; and as soon as they were touched by the accused, the justices would say, 'They are well,' before I could discern any alteration,—by which I observed that the justices understood the manner of it.[ii.240] Thus far I was only as a spectator: my wife also was there part of the time, but no notice was taken of her by the afflicted, except once or twice they came to her, and asked her name. But I, having an opportunity to discourse Mr. Hale (with whom I had formerly acquaintance), I took his advice what I had best do, and desired of him that I might have an opportunity to speak with her that accused my wife; which he promised should be, I acquainting him that I reposed my trust in him. Accordingly, he came to me after the examination was over, and told me I had now an opportunity to speak with the said accuser, Abigail Williams, a girl eleven or twelve years old; but that we could not be in private at Mr. Parris's house, as he had promised me: we went therefore into the alehouse, where an Indian man attended us, who, it seems, was one of the afflicted; to him we gave some cider: he showed several scars, that seemed as if they had been long there, and showed them as done by witchcraft, and acquainted us that his wife, who also was a slave, was imprisoned for witchcraft. And now, instead of one accuser, they all came in, and began to tumble down like swine; and then three women were called in to attend them. We in the room were all at a stand to see who they would cry out of; but in a short time they cried out 'Cary;' and, immediately after, a warrant was sent from the justices to bring my wife before them, who were sitting in a chamber near by, waiting for this. Being brought before the justices, her chief accusers were two girls. My wife declared to the justices, that she never had any knowledge of them before that day. She was forced to stand with her arms stretched out. I requested that I might hold one of her hands, but it was denied me: then she desired me to wipe the tears from her eyes, and the sweat from her[ii.241] face, which I did; then she desired she might lean herself on me, saying she should faint. Justice Hathorne replied she had strength enough to torment these persons, and she should have strength enough to stand. I speaking something against their cruel proceedings, they commanded me to be silent, or else I should be turned out of the room. The Indian before mentioned was also brought in, to be one of her accusers; being come in, he now (when before the justices) fell down, and tumbled about like a hog, but said nothing. The justices asked the girls who afflicted the Indian: they answered she (meaning my wife), and that she now lay upon him. The justices ordered her to touch him, in order to his cure, but her head must be turned another way, lest, instead of curing, she should make him worse by her looking on him, her hand being guided to take hold of his; but the Indian took hold of her hand, and pulled her down on the floor in a barbarous manner: then his hand was taken off, and her hand put on his, and the cure was quickly wrought. I being extremely troubled at their inhuman dealings, uttered a hasty speech, 'That God would take vengeance on them, and desired that God would deliver us out of the hands of unmerciful men.' Then her mittimus was writ. I did with difficulty and charge obtain the liberty of a room, but no beds in it; if there had been, could have taken but little rest that night. She was committed to Boston prison; but I obtained a habeas corpus to remove her to Cambridge prison, which is in our county of Middlesex. Having been there one night, next morning the jailer put irons on her legs (having received such a command); the weight of them was about eight pounds: these irons and her other afflictions soon brought her into con[ii.242]vulsion fits, so that I thought she would have died that night. I sent to entreat that the irons might be taken off; but all entreaties were in vain, if it would have saved her life, so that in this condition she must continue. The trials at Salem coming on, I went thither to see how things were managed: and finding that the spectre evidence was there received, together with idle, if not malicious stories, against people's lives, I did easily perceive which way the rest would go; for the same evidence that served for one would serve for all the rest. I acquainted her with her danger; and that, if she were carried to Salem to be tried, I feared she would never return. I did my utmost that she might have her trial in our own county; I with several others petitioning the judge for it, and were put in hopes of it: but I soon saw so much, that I understood thereby it was not intended; which put me upon consulting the means of her escape, which, through the goodness of God, was effected, and she got to Rhode Island, but soon found herself not safe when there, by reason of the pursuit after her; from thence she went to New York, along with some others that had escaped their cruel hands, where we found his Excellency Benjamin Fletcher, Esq., Governor, who was very courteous to us. After this, some of my goods were seized in a friend's hands, with whom I had left them, and myself imprisoned by the sheriff, and kept in custody half a day, and then dismissed; but to speak of their usage of the prisoners, and the inhumanity shown to them at the time of their execution, no sober Christian could bear. They had also trials of cruel mockings, which is the more, considering what a people for religion, I mean the profession of it, we have been; those that suffered being many of[ii.243] them church members, and most of them unspotted in their conversation, till their adversary the Devil took up this method for accusing them.

Jonathan Cary."

The only account we have, written by one who had actually experienced, in his own person, what it was to fall into the hands of those who got up and carried on the prosecutions, is the following. Captain Alden had probably been from an early stage in their operations in the eye of the accusing girls. He was meant, perhaps, by what often fell from them about "the tall man in Boston." We are left entirely to conjecture as to the reason why they singled him out, as not one of them, we may be quite sure, had ever seen him. It may be that some person who had experienced discipline under his orders as a naval commander bore him a grudge, and took pains to suggest his name to the girls, and provided them with the coarse, vulgar, and ridiculous scandal they so recklessly poured out upon him:—

"An Account how John Alden, Sr., was dealt with at Salem Village.

"John Alden, Sr., of Boston, in the county of Suffolk, mariner, on the twenty-eighth day of May, 1692, was sent for by the magistrates of Salem, in the county of Essex, upon the accusation of a company of poor distracted or possessed creatures or witches; and, being sent by Mr. Stoughton, arrived there on the 31st of May, and appeared at Salem Village before Mr. Gedney, Mr. Hathorne, and Mr. Corwin.

"Those wenches being present who played their jug[ii.244]gling tricks, falling down, crying out, and staring in people's faces, the magistrates demanded of them several times, who it was, of all the people in the room, that hurt them. One of these accusers pointed several times at one Captain Hill, there present, but spake nothing. The same accuser had a man standing at her back to hold her up. He stooped down to her ear: then she cried out, 'Alden, Alden afflicted her.' One of the magistrates asked her if she had ever seen Alden. She answered, 'No.' He asked her how she knew it was Alden. She said the man told her so.

"Then all were ordered to go down into the street, where a ring was made; and the same accuser cried out, 'There stands Alden, a bold fellow, with his hat on before the judges: he sells powder and shot to the Indians and French, and lies with the Indian squaws, and has Indian papooses.' Then was Alden committed to the marshal's custody, and his sword taken from him; for they said he afflicted them with his sword. After some hours, Alden was sent for to the meeting-house in the Village, before the magistrates, who required Alden to stand upon a chair, to the open view of all the people.

"The accusers cried out that Alden pinched them then, when he stood upon the chair, in the sight of all the people, a good way distant from them. One of the magistrates bid the marshal to hold open Alden's hands, that he might not pinch those creatures. Alden asked them why they should think that he should come to that village to afflict those persons that he never knew or saw before. Mr. Gedney bid Alden to confess, and give glory to God. Alden said he hoped he should give glory to God, and hoped he should never gratify the Devil: but appealed to all that ever knew him, if they ever suspected him to be such a person;[ii.245] and challenged any one that could bring in any thing on their own knowledge, that might give suspicion of his being such an one. Mr. Gedney said he had known Alden many years, and had been at sea with him, and always looked upon him to be an honest man; but now he saw cause to alter his judgment. Alden answered, he was sorry for that, but he hoped God would clear up his innocency, that he would recall that judgment again; and added, that he hoped that he should, with Job, maintain his integrity till he died. They bid Alden look upon the accusers, which he did, and then they fell down. Alden asked Mr. Gedney what reason there could be given why Alden's looking upon him did not strike him down as well; but no reason was given that I heard. But the accusers were brought to Alden to touch them; and this touch, they said, made them well. Alden began to speak of the providence of God in suffering these creatures to accuse innocent persons. Mr. Noyes asked Alden why he should offer to speak of the providence of God: God, by his providence (said Mr. Noyes), governs the world, and keeps it in peace; and so went on with discourse, and stopped Alden's mouth as to that. Alden told Mr. Gedney that he could assure him that there was a lying spirit in them; for I can assure you that there is not a word of truth in all these say of me. But Alden was again committed to the marshal, and his mittimus written.

"To Boston Alden was carried by a constable: no bail would be taken for him, but was delivered to the prison-keeper, where he remained fifteen weeks; and then, observing the manner of trials, and evidence then taken, was at length prevailed with to make his escape.

"Per John Alden."

[ii.246]

Alden made his escape about the middle of September, at the bloodiest crisis of the tragedy, and just before the execution of nine of the victims, including that of Giles Corey. He is understood to have fled to Duxbury, where his relatives secreted him. He made his appearance among them late at night; and, on their asking an explanation of his unexpected visit at that hour, replied that he was flying from the Devil, and the Devil was after him. After a while, when the delusion had abated, and people were coming to their senses, he delivered himself up, and was bound over to the Superior Court at Boston, the last Tuesday in April, 1693, when, no one appearing to prosecute, he, with some hundred and fifty others, was discharged by proclamation, and all judicial proceedings brought to a close. It is to be feared, that ever after, to his dying day, when the subject of his experience on the 31st of May, 1692, was referred to, the old sailor indulged in rather strong expressions in relating his reminiscences of Rev. "Mr. Nicholas Noyes," "Mr. Bartholomew Gedney," and the "wenches" of Salem Village.

Captain John Alden was a son of John Alden, ever memorable as one of the first founders of Plymouth Colony. He had been for more than thirty years a resident of Boston, a member of the church, and in all respects a leading and distinguished man. For some time, he had been commander of the armed vessel belonging to the colony, and was a brave and efficient officer and an able and experienced mari[ii.247]ner. He had seen service in French and Indian wars, had acted two years before, that is in 1690, as commissioner in conducting negotiations with the native tribes, and, at a later period, was charged with important trusts as a naval commander. He was a man of large property, and seventy years of age. He was, as well he might be, utterly confounded and amazed in finding himself charged as a principal culprit in the Salem witchcraft. The accusing girls were evidently delighted to get hold of such a notable and doughty character; and their tongues were released, on the occasion, from all restraints of decorum and decency. When the ring was formed around him "in the street," in front of Deacon Ingersoll's door, his sword unbuckled from his side, and such foul and vulgar aspersions cast upon his good name, he felt, no doubt, that it would have been better to have fallen into the hands of savages of the wilderness or pirates on the sea, than of the crowd of audacious girls that hustled him about in Salem Village. It was a relief to his wounded honor, and gave leisure for the workings of his indignant resentment, to escape from them into Boston jail. Not only his old shipmate, Bartholomew Gedney, but, as will be seen, the learned attorney-general, who was present, and witnessed the whole affair, was fully convinced of his guilt.

The wife of an honest and worthy man in Andover was sick of a fever. After all the usual means had failed to check the symptoms of her disease, the idea[ii.248] became prevalent that she was suffering under an "evil hand." The husband, pursuant of the advice of friends, posted down to Salem Village to ascertain from the afflicted girls who was bewitching his wife. Two of them returned with him to Andover. Never did a place receive such fatal visitors. The Grecian horse did not bring greater consternation to ancient Ilium. Immediately after their arrival, they succeeded in getting more than fifty of the inhabitants into prison, several of whom were hanged. A perfect panic swept like a hurricane over the place. The idea seized all minds, as Hutchinson expresses it, that the only "way to prevent an accusation was to become an accuser."—"The number of the afflicted increased every day, and the number of the accused in proportion." In this state of things, such a great accession being made to the ranks of the confessing witches, the power of the delusion became irresistibly strengthened. Mr. Dudley Bradstreet, the magistrate of the place, after having committed about forty persons to jail, concluded he had done enough, and declined to arrest any more. The consequence was that he and his wife were cried out upon, and they had to fly for their lives. They accused his brother, John Bradstreet, with having "afflicted" a dog. Bradstreet escaped by flight. The dog was executed. The number of persons who had publicly confessed that they had entered into a league with Satan, and exercised the diabolical power thus acquired, to the injury, torment, and death of innocent parties, pro[ii.249]duced a profound effect upon the public mind. At the same time, the accusers had everywhere increased in number, owing to the inflamed state of imagination universally prevalent which ascribed all ailments or diseases to the agency of witches, to a mere love of notoriety and a passion for general sympathy, to a desire to be secure against the charge of bewitching others, or to a malicious disposition to wreak vengeance upon enemies. The prisons in Salem, Ipswich, Boston, and Cambridge, were crowded. All the securities of society were dissolved. Every man's life was at the mercy of every other man. Fear sat on every countenance, terror and distress were in all hearts, silence pervaded the streets; all who could, quit the country; business was at a stand; a conviction sunk into the minds of men, that a dark and infernal confederacy had got foot-hold in the land, threatening to overthrow and extirpate religion and morality, and establish the kingdom of the Prince of darkness in a country which had been dedicated, by the prayers and tears and sufferings of its pious fathers, to the Church of Christ and the service and worship of the true God. The feeling, dismal and horrible indeed, became general, that the providence of God was removed from them; that Satan was let loose, and he and his confederates had free and unrestrained power to go to and fro, torturing and destroying whomever he willed. We cannot, by any extent of research or power of imagination, enter fully into the ideas of the people of that day; and it is there[ii.250]fore absolutely impossible to appreciate the awful condition of the community at the point of time to which our narrative has led us.

In the midst of this state of things, the old colony of Massachusetts was transformed into a royal province, and a new government organized. Sir William Phips, the governor, arrived at Boston, with the new charter, on the evening of the 14th of May. William Stoughton, of Dorchester, superseded Thomas Danforth as deputy-governor. In the Council, which took the place of the Assistants, most of the former body were retained. Bartholomew Gedney had a few years before been dropped from the board of Assistants. He was now placed in the Council with John Hathorne, Jonathan Corwin, Samuel Appleton, and Robert Pike, of this county. The new government did not interfere with the proceedings in progress relating to the witchcraft prosecutions, at the moment. Examinations and commitments went on as before; only the magistrates, acting on those occasions, were re-enforced by Mr. Gedney, who presided at their sessions. The affair had become so formidable, and the public infatuation had reached such a point, that it was difficult to determine what ought to be done. Sir William Phips, no doubt, felt that it was beyond his depth, and yielded himself to the views of the leading men of his council. Stoughton was in full sympathy with Cotton Mather, whose interest had been used in procuring his appointment over Danforth. Through him, Mather acquired, and held for some time, great as[ii.251]cendency with the governor. It was concluded best to appoint a special court of Oyer and Terminer for the witchcraft trials. Stoughton, the deputy-governor, was commissioned as chief-justice. Nathaniel Saltonstall of Haverhill; Major John Richards of Boston; Major Bartholomew Gedney of Salem; Mr. Wait Winthrop, Captain Samuel Sewall, and Mr. Peter Sargent, all three of Boston,—were made associate judges. Saltonstall early withdrew from the service; and Jonathan Corwin, of Salem, succeeded to his place on the bench of the special court. A majority of the judges were citizens of Boston.

Jonathan Corwin had been associated with Hathorne in conducting the examinations that have been described. He was a son of George Corwin, who has been noticed in the account of Salem Village.

A shade of illegality rests upon the very existence of this special court. There has always been a question whether the new charter gave to the governor and council power to create it without the concurrence of the House of Representatives. It has been held that such a court could have no other lawful foundation than an act of the General Court. Hutchinson was evidently of this opinion. This question was a very serious one; for, as that considerate and able historian and eminent judicial officer says, the tribunal that passed sentence in the witchcraft prosecutions was "the most important court to the life of the subject which was ever held in the province." The time required to convene the popular branch of the[ii.252] government is itself, in all cases, an element of safety. In this case, it would have carried the country beyond the period of the delusion, and saved its annals from their darkest and bloodiest page. The condition of things when he arrived, had his counsellors been wise, would have led Sir William Phips forthwith to issue writs of election of deputies, before taking any action whatever. In a free republican government, the executive department ought never to attempt to dispose of difficult matters of vital importance without the joint deliberations and responsibility of the representatives of the people.

So far as the composition of the court is considered, no objection can be made. The justices were all members of the council, and belonged to the highest order, not only of the magistracy, but of society generally. They constituted as respectable a body of gentlemen as could have been collected. Thomas Newton, of Boston, was commissioned to act as attorney-general. The official title of marshal ceasing with the new government, George Corwin was appointed sheriff of the county of Essex. Herrick appears to have continued in the service as deputy. Sheriff Corwin was twenty-six years of age. He was the grandson of the original George Corwin, and the son of John. His mother was grand-daughter of Governor Winthrop of Massachusetts, and daughter of Governor Winthrop of Connecticut. His wife was a daughter of Bartholomew Gedney; so that it appears that two of the judges were his uncles, and one his[ii.253] father-in-law. These personal connections may be borne in mind, as affording ground to believe, that, in the discharge of his painful duties, he did not act without advice and suggestions from the highest quarter.

The court-house in which the trials were held stood in the middle of what is now Washington Street, near where Lynde and Church Streets, which did not then exist, now enter it, fronting towards Essex Street. The building was also used as a town-house; Washington Street being, for this reason, then called "Town-house Lane." Off against the court-house, on the west side of the lane, was the house of the Rev. Nicholas Noyes, on the site of the residence of the late Robert Brookhouse. Opposite to it was the estate of Edward Bishop, which fronted westerly on "Town-house Lane" a little over a hundred feet, including the present Jeffrey Court, and extending a few feet beyond the corner of the house of Dr. S.M. Cate, over a portion of Church Street. Its depth, towards St. Peter Street, was about three hundred and forty-five feet. Edward Bishop held this estate in the right of his wife Bridget, the widow of Thomas Oliver who had died about 1679. Not long after this marriage, Bishop removed to his farm at Royal Side. In 1685, the "old Oliver house" was either removed or rebuilt, and a new one erected on the same premises, which was occupied by tenants in 1692. These items are given because they will help to illustrate the narrative, and enable us to understand points of evidence in the approaching trial. It is a curious[ii.254] circumstance, that the first public victim of the prosecutions, Bridget Bishop, had been the nearest neighbor and lived directly opposite, to the person who, more than any other inhabitant of the town, was responsible for the blood that was shed,—Nicholas Noyes. The jail, at that time, was on the western side of Prison Lane, now St. Peter Street, north of the point where Federal Street now enters it. The meeting-house stood on what has always been the site of the First Church. The "Ship Tavern" was on ground the front of which is occupied, at present, by "West's Block," nearly opposite the head of Central Street. It had long been owned and kept by John Gedney, Sr. Two of his sons, John and Bartholomew, had married Susanna and Hannah Clarke. John died in 1685. His widow moved into the family of her father-in-law; and, after his death in 1688, continued to keep the house. In 1698 she was married to Deliverance Parkman, and died in 1728. The tavern, in 1692, was known as the "Widow Gedney's." The estate had an extensive orchard in the rear, contiguous, along its northern boundary, to the orchard of Bridget Bishop, which occupied ground now covered by the Lyceum building, and one or two others to the east of it.

The Court was opened at Salem in the first week of June, 1692. In the mean time, the attorney-general, to prepare for the management of the cases, came to Salem. He addressed the following letter to Isaac Addington, Secretary of the province:[ii.255]—

"Salem, 31st May, 1692.

"Worthy Sir,—I have herewith sent you the names of the prisoners that are desired to be transmitted by habeas corpus; and have presumed to send you a copy thereof, being more, as I presume, accustomed to that practice than yourself, and beg pardon if I have infringed upon you therein. I fear we shall not this week try all that we have sent for; by reason the trials will be tedious, and the afflicted persons cannot readily give their testimonies, being struck dumb and senseless, for a season, at the name of the accused. I have been all this day at the Village, with the gentlemen of the council, at the examination of the persons, where I have beheld strange things, scarce credible but to the spectators, and too tedious here to relate; and, amongst the rest, Captain Alden and Mr. English have their mittimus. I must say, according to the present appearances of things, they are as deeply concerned as the rest; for the afflicted spare no person of what quality soever, neither conceal their crimes, though never so heinous. We pray that Tituba the Indian, and Mrs. Thacher's maid, may be transferred as evidence, but desire they may not come amongst the prisoners but rather by themselves; with the records in the Court of Assistants, 1679, against Bridget Oliver, and the records relating to the first persons committed, left in Mr. Webb's hands by the order of the council. I pray pardon that I cannot now further enlarge; and, with my cordial service, only add that I am, sir, your most humble servant,

signature

[ii.256]

Hutchinson says that there was no colony or province law against witchcraft in force when the trials began; and that the proceedings were under an act of James the First, passed in 1603. By that act, persons convicted were to be sentenced to "the pains and penalties of death as felons." By the colonial law, conviction of capital crimes did not incapacitate the party affected from disposing of property. In this and other respects, there were points of difference, which caused some inconvenience in carrying out the practice of the mother-country; and the attorney-general had to supply the want of experience in the local officers.

It may here be mentioned, that no record of the doings of this special court are now to be found, and our only information respecting them is obtained in brief and imperfect statements of writers of the time. Perhaps Hutchinson had the use of the records. He gives the dates of the several sessions of the courts, and of the conviction and execution of the prisoners. Some of the depositions sworn to in court are on file, but without giving in many instances the date when thus offered in the trials. In some cases, they state when they were laid before the grand jury. Only a small part of them are preserved. The matter they contain was, to a considerable extent, brought forward at the preliminary examinations, and has been already adduced. In the following account of the trials, some further use will be made of these depositions.

Bridget Bishop was the only person tried at the first session of the Court. She was brought through[ii.257] Prison Lane, up Essex Street, by the First Church, into Town-house Lane, to the Court-house. Cotton Mather says,—

"There was one strange thing with which the court was newly entertained. As this woman was under a guard, passing by the great and spacious meeting-house, she gave a look towards the house; and immediately a demon, invisibly entering the meeting-house, tore down a part of it: so that, though there was no person to be seen there, yet the people, at the noise, running in, found a board, which was strongly fastened with several nails, transported into another quarter of the house."

It is probable that the streets were thronged by crowds eager to get a sight of the prisoner; and that the doors, fences, and house-tops were occupied. Some, perhaps, got into the meeting-house; and, in clambering up to the windows, a board may have been put in requisition, and left misplaced. Incredible almost as it is, this circumstance seems, from Mather's language,—"the court was entertained,"—to have been brought in evidence at the trial, and regarded as weighty and conclusive proof of Bridget's guilt.

One or two points in the evidence adduced against her, in addition to those mentioned heretofore, deserve consideration. The position taken, at her trial, by the Rev. John Hale of Beverly demands criticism. The charge of witchcraft had been made against her on more than one occasion before; particularly about the year 1687, when she resided near the bounds of Beverly, at Royal Side. A woman in the neighbor[ii.258]hood, subject to fits of insanity, had, while passing into one of them, brought the accusation against her; but, on the return of her reason, solemnly recanted, and deeply lamented the aspersion. In a violent recurrence of her malady, this woman committed suicide. Mr. Hale had examined the case at the time, and exonerated Bridget Bishop, who was a communicant in his church, from the charge made against her by the unhappy lunatic. He was satisfied, as he states, that "Sister Bishop" was innocent, and in no way deserved to be ill thought of. He hoped "better of said Goody Bishop at that time." Without any pretence of new evidence touching the facts of the case, he came into court in 1692, and related them, to the effect and with the intent to make them bear against her. He described the appearance of the throat of the woman, after death, as follows:—

"As to the wounds she died of, I observed three deadly ones; a piece of her windpipe cut out, and another wound above that through the windpipe and gullet, and the vein they call jugular. So that I then judged and still do apprehend it impossible for her, with so short a pair of scissors, to mangle herself so without some extraordinary work of the Devil or witchcraft."

If this was his impression at the time, it is strange that he did not then say so. But there is no appearance of any criminal proceedings having been had, by the grand jury or otherwise, against "Sister Bishop" on the occasion. On the contrary, Mr. Hale seems to have acquiesced in the opinion, that the derangement of[ii.259] the woman was aggravated, if not caused, by her being overmuch given to searching and pondering upon the dark passages and mysterious imagery of prophecy. The truth, in all probability, is, that Mr. Hale's suspicion was an after-thought. The effect produced upon his mental condition by the statements and actings of the "afflicted children" in 1692 was unconsciously transferred to 1687. The delusion, in which he was then fully participating, led him to put a different interpretation upon the suicidal wounds and horrible end of the wretched maniac, five or six years before.

A piece of evidence, which illustrates the state of opinion at that time, relating to our subject, given in this case, is worthy of notice. Samuel Shattuck was a hatter and dyer. His house was on the south side of Essex Street, opposite the western entrance to the grounds of the North Church. Before her removal to the village, Bridget Bishop was in the habit of calling at Shattuck's to have articles of dress dyed. He states that she treated him and his family politely and kindly; or, as he characterized her deportment after his mind had become jaundiced against her, "in a smooth and flattering manner." He tells his story in a deposition written by him, and signed and sworn to in Court by himself and wife, June 2, 1692. It is as follows:—

"Our eldest child, who promised as much health and understanding, both by countenance and actions, as any other children of his years, was taken in a very drooping[ii.260] condition; and, as she came oftener to the house, he grew worse and worse. As he would be standing at the door, would fall out, and bruise his face upon a great step-stone, as if he had been thrust out by an invisible hand; oftentimes falling, and hitting his face against the sides of the house, bruising his face in a very miserable manner.... This child taken in a terrible fit, his mouth and eyes drawn aside, and gasped in such a manner as if he was upon the point of death. After this, he grew worse in his fits, and, out of them, would be almost always crying. That, for many months, he would be crying till nature's strength was spent, and then would fall asleep, and then awake, and fall to crying and moaning; and that his very countenance did bespeak compassion. And at length, we perceived his understanding decayed: so that we feared (as it has since proved) that he would be quite bereft of his wits; for, ever since, he has been stupefied and void of reason, his fits still following of him. After he had been in this kind of sickness some time, he has gone into the garden, and has got upon a board of an inch thick, which lay flat upon the ground, and we have called him; he would come to the edge of the board, and hold out his hand, and make as if he would come, but could not till he was helped off the board.... My wife has offered him a cake and money to come to her; and he has held out his hand, and reached after it, but could not come till he had been helped off the board, by which I judge some enchantment kept him on.... Ever since, this child hath been followed with grievous fits, as if he would never recover more; his head and eyes drawn aside so as if they would never come to rights more; lying as if he were, in a manner, dead; falling anywhere, either into fire or water, if he be not constantly looked to; and, generally, in such an uneasy,[ii.261] restless frame, almost always running to and fro, acting so strange that I cannot judge otherwise but that he is bewitched: and, by these circumstances, do believe that the aforesaid Bridget Oliver—now called Bishop—is the cause of it: and it has been the judgment of doctors, such as lived here and foreigners, that he is under an evil hand of witchcraft."

The means used to give this direction to the suspicions of Shattuck and his wife are described in the notice of Bridget Bishop, in the First Part of this work.

Shattuck was a son of the sturdy Quaker of that name who, thirty years before, had given the government of the colony so much trouble, and seems to have inherited some of his notions. In his deposition, he mentions, as corroborative proof of Bridget Bishop's being a witch, that she used to bring to his dye-house "sundry pieces of lace," of shapes and dimensions entirely outside of his conceptions of what could be needed in the wardrobe, or for the toilet, of a plain and honest woman. He evidently regarded fashionable and vain apparel as a snare and sign of the Devil.

The imaginations of several persons in Shattuck's immediate neighborhood seem to have been wrought up to a high point against Bridget Bishop. John Cook lived on the south side of the street, directly opposite the eastern entrance to the grounds of the North Church, on its present site. John Bly's house was on a lot contiguous to the rear of Cook's, fronting on Summer Street. One of Cook's sons (John), aged eighteen, testified, that,[ii.262]—

"About five or six years ago, one morning about sun-rising, as I was in bed, before I rose, I saw Goodwife Bishop, alias Oliver, stand in the chamber by the window: and she looked on me and grinned on me, and presently struck me on the side of the head, which did very much hurt me; and then I saw her go out under the end window at a little crevice, about so big as I could thrust my hand into. I saw her again the same day,—which was the sabbath-day,—about noon, walk across the room; and having, at the time, an apple in my hand, it flew out of my hand into my mother's lap, who sat six or eight foot distance from me, and then she disappeared: and, though my mother and several others were in the same room, yet they affirmed they saw her not."

Bly and his wife Rebecca had a difficulty with Bishop in reference to payment for a hog they had bought of her. The following is from their testimony at her trial. After stating that she came to their house and quarrelled with them about it, they go on to say that the animal—

"was taken with strange fits, jumping up, and knocking her head against the fence, and seemed blind and deaf, and would not eat, neither let her pigs suck, but foamed at the mouth; which Goody Henderson, hearing of, said she believed she was overlooked, and that they had their cattle ill in such a manner at the Eastward, when they lived there, and used to cure them by giving of them red ochre and milk, which we also gave the sow. Quickly after eating of which, she grew better; and then, for the space of near two hours together, she, getting into the street, did set off, jumping and running between the house of said deponents and said Bishop's, as if[ii.263] she were stark mad, and, after that, was well again: and we did then apprehend or judge, and do still, that said Bishop had bewitched said sow."

William Stacey testified, that, as he was "agoing to mill," meeting Bishop in the street, some conversation passed between them, and that,—

"being gone about six rods from her, the said Bishop, with a small load in his cart, suddenly the off-wheel slumped or sunk down into a hole upon plain ground; that this deponent was forced to get one to help him get the wheel out. Afterwards, this deponent went back to look for said hole where his wheel sunk in, but could not find any hole."

Stacey further deposed, that, on another occasion, he—

"met the said Bishop by Isaac Stearns's brick-kiln. After he had passed by her, this deponent's horse stood still with a small load going up the hill; so that, the horse striving to draw, all his gears and tackling flew in pieces, and the cart fell down."

These mishaps and marvels occurred in Summer Street, near the foot of Chestnut Street, where the ground was then much lower than it is now. Stacey was ascending the street, on his way through High Street to his father's mill, at the South River.

Stacey concluded his testimony as follows:—

"This deponent hath met with several other of her pranks at several times, which would take up a great time to tell of.

"This deponent doth verily believe that the said Bridget Bishop was instrumental to his daughter Priscilla's death.[ii.264] About two years ago, the child was a likely, thriving child; and suddenly screeched out, and so continued, in an unusual manner, for about a fortnight, and so died in that lamentable manner."

Many of the extraordinary "pranks," charged upon Bridget Bishop, had their scene near to her dwelling-house. John Louder, a servant of John Gedney, Sr., some years before, had a controversy with her about her fowls, "that used to come into our orchard or garden." He swore as follows:—

"Some little time after which, I, going well to bed, about the dead of the night, felt a great weight upon my breast, and, awakening, looked; and, it being bright moonlight, did clearly see said Bridget Bishop, or her likeness, sitting upon my stomach; and, putting my arms off of the bed to free myself from the great oppression, she presently laid hold of my throat, and almost choked me, and I had no strength or power in my hands to resist, or help myself; and, in this condition, she held me to almost day. Some time after this, my mistress (Susannah Gedney) was in our orchard, and I was then with her; and said Bridget Bishop, being then in her orchard,—which was next adjoining to ours,—my mistress told said Bridget that I said or affirmed that she came, one night, and sat upon my breast, as aforesaid, which she denied, and I affirmed to her face to be true, and that I did plainly see her; upon which discourse with her, she threatened me. And, some time after that, I, being not very well, stayed at home on a Lord's Day; and, on the afternoon of said day, the doors being shut, I did see a black pig in the room coming towards me; so I went towards it to kick it, and it vanished away."

[ii.265]

Louder goes on to say, that, immediately after this, on the same occasion while he was staying at home from meeting, he saw a black thing jump into the window, and it came and stood just before his face "upon the bar." The body of it looked like a monkey, only the feet were like a cock's feet with claws, and the face somewhat more like a man's than a monkey's. He says that he was greatly affrighted, "not being able to speak or help myself by reason of fear, I suppose;" and that his mysterious visitor made quite a speech to him, representing that it was a messenger sent to say, that, if he would "be ruled by him, he should want for nothing in this world." The virtuous and indignant Louder says that he answered, "You devil, I will kill you!" and gave it a blow with his fist, but "could feel no substance; and it jumped out of the window again." It immediately came in by the porch, although the doors were shut, and said, "You had better take my counsel." Hereupon Louder struck at it with a stick, hitting the ground-sill and breaking the stick, but felt no substance. Louder concludes his testimony as follows:—

"The arm with which I struck was presently disenabled. Then it vanished away, and I opened the back-door and went out; and, going towards the house-end, I espied said Bridget Bishop in her orchard going towards her house, and, seeing her, had no power to set one foot forward, but returned in again: and, going to shut the door, I again did see that or the like creature, that I before did see within doors, in such a posture as it seemed to be agoing to fly at me;[ii.266] upon which I cried out, 'The whole armor of God be between me and you.' So it sprang back and flew over the apple-tree, flinging the dirt with its feet against my stomach, upon which I was struck dumb, and so continued for about three days' time; and also shook many of the apples off from the tree which it flew over."

Before removing to his farm, Edward and Bridget Bishop made the alterations, before mentioned, on their town estate. John Bly, Sr., aged fifty-seven years, and William Bly, aged fifteen, were employed in the operation of removing the cellar wall of "the ould house;" and testified, that they found in holes and crevices of said cellar wall "several puppets made up of rags and hogs' bristles, with headless pins in them with the points outward."

Upon such evidence, Bridget Bishop was condemned, and executed the next week. The death-warrants, in these trials, were collected together in one envelope, marked as such. The envelope remains, but its contents have all been abstracted. The death-warrant of Bridget Bishop was probably overlooked when the others were gathered together. The consequence is that it has been preserved, and is the only one known to be in existence.

The sheriff seems to have proceeded, immediately after the execution, to the clerk's office, and indorsed his return on the warrant. When he wrote it, he added, after the word "dead,"—"and buried her on the spot." On its occurring to him that the burying of the body was not mentioned in the warrant, he drew [ii.267] his pen through the words; as is seen in the photograph. This superfluous clause, thus partially obliterated, is the only positive evidence we have of the disposal of the bodies at the time. They were undoubtedly all thrown into pits dug among the rocks, on the spot, and hastily covered by the officers having in charge the details of the executions. There were no prayers over their graves, except those uttered by themselves in their last moments.

[View larger image (383K)]

[View larger image (327K)]

The descendants of Bridget Bishop are very numerous in Salem; embracing some of our oldest and most respectable families, and branching widely from them. There is no evidence of issue by her first marriage. Thomas Oliver, her second husband, had daughters by a former wife, who were represented in the next generation under the names of Hilliard, Hooper, and Jones. By his wife Bridget, he had but one child,—a daughter, Christian, born May 8, 1667. She married Thomas Mason, and died in 1693; leaving an only child, Susannah, born August 23, 1687. Edward Bishop was her guardian. She married John Becket in 1711, and by him had a son, John, and six daughters, as follows: Susannah, married to David Felt, Elizabeth to William Peele, Sarah to Nathaniel Silsbee, Rebecca to William Fairfield, Eunice to Thorndike Deland, and Hannah to William Cloutman.

After the condemnation of Bridget Bishop, the Court took a recess, and consulted the ministers of Boston and the neighborhood respecting the prosecutions. The response of the reverend gentlemen, while urging,[ii.268] in general terms, the importance of caution and circumspection in the methods of examination, decidedly and earnestly recommended that the proceedings should be vigorously carried on; and they were, indeed, vigorously carried on.

Hutchinson says, that, "at the first trial, there was no colony or provincial law against witchcraft in force. The statute of James the First must therefore have been considered as in force in the province, witchcraft not being an offence at common law. Before the adjournment, the old colony law, which makes witchcraft a capital offence, was revived with the other local laws, as they were called, and made a law of the province." The General Court, which thus revived the law making witchcraft a capital offence, met, June 8, two days before the execution of Bridget Bishop. The proceedings that took place at Salem were thus assumed as a provincial matter, for which the immediate locality was not responsible, but the legislature, clergy, and people of the country at large.

The Court met again on Wednesday, the 29th of June; and, after trial, sentenced to death Sarah Good, Sarah Wildes, Elizabeth How, Susanna Martin, and Rebecca Nurse, who were all executed on the 19th of July.

Calef says, that, at the trial of Sarah Good,—

"One of the afflicted fell in a fit; and, after coming out of it, cried out of the prisoner for stabbing her in the breast with a knife, and that she had broken the knife in stabbing of her. Accordingly, a piece of the blade of a knife was [ii.269]found about her. Immediately, information being given to the Court, a young man was called, who produced a haft and part of the blade, which the Court, having viewed and compared, saw it to be the same; and, upon inquiry, the young man affirmed that yesterday he happened to break that knife, and that he cast away the upper part,—this afflicted person being then present. The young man was dismissed and she was bidden by the Court not to tell lies; and was improved after (as she had been before) to give evidence against the prisoners."

Hutchinson, in relating this circumstance, refers to a case tried before Sir Matthew Hale, when a similar kind of falsehood was proved against an "afflicted" witness; notwithstanding which he says the person on trial was found guilty, "and the judge and all the court were fully satisfied with the verdict."

Sarah Good appears to have been an unfortunate woman, having been subject to poverty, and consequent sadness and melancholy. But she was not wholly broken in spirit. Mr. Noyes, at the time of her execution, urged her very strenuously to confess. Among other things, he told her "she was a witch, and that she knew she was a witch." She was conscious of her innocence, and felt that she was oppressed, outraged, trampled upon, and about to be murdered, under the forms of law; and her indignation was roused against her persecutors. She could not bear in silence the cruel aspersion; and, although she was just about to be launched into eternity, the torrent of her feelings could not be restrained, but burst upon[ii.270] the head of him who uttered the false accusation. "You are a liar," said she. "I am no more a witch than you are a wizard; and, if you take away my life, God will give you blood to drink." Hutchinson says that, in his day, there was a tradition among the people of Salem, and it has descended to the present time, that the manner of Mr. Noyes's death strangely verified the prediction thus wrung from the incensed spirit of the dying woman. He was exceedingly corpulent, of a plethoric habit, and died of an internal hemorrhage, bleeding profusely at the mouth.

We have no information relating to the execution of Elizabeth How. Her gentle, patient, humble, benignant, devout, and tender heart bore her, no doubt, with a spirit of saint-like love and faith, through the dreadful scenes. We cannot doubt, that, in death as in life, she forgave, prayed for, and invoked blessing upon her persecutors. Neither has any thing come down in reference to the deportment of Sarah Wildes or Susanna Martin. We may take it for granted, that the former was a patient and humble, but firm and faithful sufferer; and that the latter displayed the great energy of spirit, and probably the strength of language, for which she was remarkable. Of the case of Rebecca Nurse we have more information.

The character, age, and position of this venerable matron created an impression, which called, to the utmost, all the arts and efforts of the prosecution to counteract. Many who had gone fully and earnestly in support of the proceedings against others paused[ii.271] and hesitated in reference to her; and large numbers who had been overawed into silence before, bravely came forward in her defence. The character of Nathaniel Putnam has been described. He was a man of extraordinary strength and acuteness of mind, and in all his previous life had been proof against popular excitement. The death of his brother Thomas, seven years before, had left him the head and patriarch of his great family: as such, he was known as "Landlord Putnam." Entire confidence was felt by all in his judgment, and deservedly. But he was a strong religionist, a life-long member of the Church, and extremely strenuous and zealous in his ecclesiastical relations. He was getting to be an old man; and Mr. Parris had wholly succeeded in obtaining, for the time, possession of his feelings, sympathy, and zeal in the management of the Church, and secured his full co-operation in the witchcraft prosecutions. He had been led by Parris to take the very front in the proceedings. But even Nathaniel Putnam could not stand by in silence, and see Rebecca Nurse sacrificed. A curious paper, written by him, is among those which have been preserved:—

"Nathaniel Putnam, Sr., being desired by Francis Nurse, Sr., to give information of what I could say concerning his wife's life and conversation, I, the abovesaid, have known this said aforesaid woman forty years, and what I have observed of her, human frailties excepted, her life and conversation have been according to her profession; and she hath brought up a great family of children and educated[ii.272] them well, so that there is in some of them apparent savor of godliness. I have known her differ with her neighbors; but I never knew or heard of any that did accuse her of what she is now charged with."

A similar paper was signed by thirty-nine other persons of the village and the immediate vicinity, all of the highest respectability. The men and women who dared to do this act of justice must not be forgotten:—

"We whose names are hereunto subscribed, being desired by Goodman Nurse to declare what we know concerning his wife's conversation for time past,—we can testify, to all whom it may concern, that we have known her for many years; and, according to our observation, her life and conversation were according to her profession, and we never had any cause or grounds to suspect her of any such thing as she is now accused of.

"Israel Porter.	Samuel Abbey.
Elizabeth Porter.	Hepzibah Rea.
Edward Bishop, Sr.	Daniel Andrew.
Hannah Bishop.	Sarah Andrew.
Joshua Rea.	Daniel Rea.
Sarah Rea.	Sarah Putnam.
Sarah Leach.	Jonathan Putnam.
John Putnam.	Lydia Putnam.
Rebecca Putnam.	Walter Phillips, Sr.
Joseph Hutchinson, Sr.	Nathaniel Felton, Sr.
Lydia Hutchinson.	Margaret Phillips.
William Osburn.	Tabitha Phillips.
Hannah Osburn.	Joseph Houlton, Jr.
Joseph Holton, Sr.	Samuel Endicott.
Sarah Holton.	Elizabeth Buxton.
Benjamin Putnam.	Samuel Aborn, Sr.
Sarah Putnam.	Isaac Cook.
Job Swinnerton.	Elizabeth Cook.
Esther Swinnerton.	Joseph Putnam."
Joseph Herrick, Sr.

[ii.273]

An examination of the foregoing names in connection with the history of the Village will show conclusive proof, that, if the matter had been left to the people there, it would never have reached the point to which it was carried. It was the influence of the magistracy and the government of the colony, and the public sentiment prevalent elsewhere, overruling that of the immediate locality, that drove on the storm.

Israel Porter was the head of a great and powerful family. His wife Elizabeth was, as has been stated, a sister of Hathorne, the examining magistrate. Edward and Hannah Bishop were the venerable heads and founders of a large family. They lived in Beverly, and must each have been about ninety years of age. The list contains the names of the heads of the principal families in the village,—such as John and Rebecca Putnam, the Hutchinsons, Reas, Leaches, Houltons, and Herricks; and, in the neighborhood, such as the Feltons, Osbornes, and Samuel Endicott. The most remarkable fact it discloses is that it contains the name of one of the two complainants who procured the warrant against Rebecca Nurse,—Jonathan Putnam, the eldest son of John; and also of his wife Lydia. Subsequent reflection, and the return of his better judgment, satisfied him that he had done a great wrong to an innocent and worthy person; and he had the manliness to come out in her favor. This document ought to have been effectual in saving the life of Rebecca Nurse. It will for ever vindicate her character, and reflect honor upon each and every name subscribed to it.[ii.274]

One of the most cruel features in the prosecution of the witchcraft trials, and which was practised in all countries where they took place, was the examination of the bodies of the prisoners by a jury of the same sex, under the direction and in the presence of a surgeon or physician. The person was wholly exposed, and every part subjected to the most searching scrutiny. The process was always an outrage upon human nature; and in the cases of the victims on this occasion, many of them of venerable years and delicate feelings, it was shocking to every natural and instinctive sentiment. There is reason to fear that it was often conducted in a rough, coarse, and brutal manner. Marshal Herrick testifies, that, "by order of Their Majesties' justices," he, accompanied by the jail-keeper Dounton, and Constable Joseph Neal, made an examination of the body of George Jacobs. In persons of his great age, there would, in all likelihood, be shrivelled, desiccated, and callous places. They found one on the old man, under his right shoulder. Herrick made oath that it was a veritable witch teat, and his deposition describes it as follows: "About a quarter of an inch long or better, with a sharp point drooping downwards, so that I took a pin, and run it through the said teat; but there was neither water, blood, or corruption, nor any other matter." As proof positive that this was "the Devil's mark," Herrick and the turnkey testify that "the said Jacobs was not in the least sensible of what had been done"!

The mind loathes the thought of handling in this[ii.275] way refined and sensitive females of matronly character, or persons of either sex, with infirmities of body rendered sacred by years. The results of the examination were reduced to written reports, going into details, and, among other evidences in the trials, spread before the Court and jury.[C]

The evidence in the case of Rebecca Nurse was made up of the usual representations and actings of the "afflicted children." Mary Walcot and Abigail Williams charged her with having committed several murders; mentioning particularly Benjamin Houlton, John Harwood, and Rebecca Shepard, and averring that she was aided therein by her sister Cloyse. Mr. Parris, too, gave in a deposition against her; from which it ap[ii.276]pears, that, a certain person being sick, Mercy Lewis was sent for. She was struck dumb on entering the chamber. She was asked to hold up her hand, if she saw any of the witches afflicting the patient. Presently she held up her hand, then fell into a trance; and after a while, coming to herself, said that she saw the spectres of Goody Nurse and Goody Carrier having hold of the head of the sick man. Mr. Parris swore to this statement with the utmost confidence in Mercy's declarations.

The testimony of three persons particularly is required to be given, as illustrating the extraordinary extent to which the minds of those involved in the affair were under infatuation or hallucination.

Mrs. Ann Putnam was about thirty years of age. For six months she had been constantly absorbed in what was then, as now, regarded as spiritualism. Her[ii.277] house had been the scene of a perpetual series of wonders supposed to be disclosures and manifestations of a supernatural character. Apparitions, spectral shapes of living witches, ghosts of their murdered victims, and demons generally, were of daily and hourly occurrence. The dread secrets of the world unknown had been revealed to her in waking fancies and dreams by night. An originally sensitive and imaginative nature had been wrought into a condition in which her mental faculties were at once enfeebled and exalted. Besides all this, there were the trials to which her constitution had been subjected by the experiences of maternity so early begun, and the pressure upon her mind and heart of the anxieties and cares incident to a large family of young children. An accumulation of disappointments, vexations, and consuming griefs, spread like a dark cloud over her life,—the deaths of her own children, and of her sister Bayley and her children, and of her sister Baker's children; and, finally, the long-continued, and constantly recurring sufferings, tortures, convulsions, fits, and trances of her daughter Ann, and her servant-woman Mercy Lewis, under, as she fully believed, a diabolical hand.—These things must have given to her countenance and tones of voice a wonderful impressiveness to all who looked upon or listened to them. Her eminent social position, her general reputation,—for Lawson, who knew her well, calls her "a very sober and pious woman," so far as he could judge,—the stamp of profound earnestness marked on all her[ii.278] language, the glow which morbid excitement long experienced gave to her expression, must have arrested, to a high degree, the attention of the assembled multitude. An air of sadness, in the wild ravings of imagination, pervades her testimony. I present her deposition in full, as one of the phenomena of this strange transaction:—

"The Deposition of Ann Putnam, the wife of Thomas Putnam, aged about thirty years, who testifieth and saith, that, on the 18th March, 1692, I being wearied out in helping to tend my poor afflicted child and maid, about the middle of the afternoon I lay me down on the bed to take a little rest; and immediately I was almost pressed and choked to death, that, had it not been for the mercy of a gracious God and the help of those that were with me, I could not have lived many moments: and presently I saw the apparition of Martha Corey, who did torture me so as I cannot express, ready to tear me all to pieces, and then departed from me a little while; but, before I could recover strength or well take breath, the apparition of Martha Corey fell upon me again with dreadful tortures, and hellish temptation to go along with her. And she also brought to me a little red book in her hand and a black pen, urging me vehemently to write in her book; and several times that day she did most grievously torture me, almost ready to kill me. And, on the 19th March, Martha Corey again appeared to me; and also Rebecca Nurse, the wife of Francis Nurse, Sr.: and they both did torture me a great many times this day with such tortures as no tongue can express, because I would not yield to their hellish temptations, that, had I not been upheld by an Almighty arm, I could not have lived[ii.279] while night. The 20th March, being sabbath-day, I had a great deal of respite between my fits. 21st March, being the day of the examination of Martha Corey, I had not many fits, though I was very weak; my strength being, as I thought, almost gone: but, on the 22d March, 1692, the apparition of Rebecca Nurse did again set upon me in a most dreadful manner, very early in the morning, as soon as it was well light. And now she appeared to me only in her shift, and brought a little red book in her hand, urging me vehemently to write in her book; and, because I would not yield to her hellish temptations, she threatened to tear my soul out of my body, blasphemously denying the blessed God, and the power of the Lord Jesus Christ to save my soul; and denying several places of Scripture which I told her of, to repel her hellish temptations. And for near two hours together, at this time, the apparition of Rebecca Nurse did tempt and torture me, and also the greater part of this day, with but very little respite. 23d March, am again afflicted by the apparitions of Rebecca Nurse and Martha Corey, but chiefly by Rebecca Nurse. 24th March, being the day of the examination of Rebecca Nurse, I was several times afflicted in the morning by the apparition of Rebecca Nurse, but most dreadfully tortured by her in the time of her examination, insomuch that the honored magistrates gave my husband leave to carry me out of the meeting-house; and, as soon as I was carried out of the meeting-house doors, it pleased Almighty God, for his free grace and mercy's sake, to deliver me out of the paws of those roaring lions, and jaws of those tearing bears, that, ever since that time, they have not had power so to afflict me until this 31st May, 1692. At the same moment that I was hearing my evidence read by the honored magistrates, to take my[ii.280] oath, I was again re-assaulted and tortured by my before-mentioned tormentor, Rebecca Nurse."

"The Testimony of Ann Putnam, Jr., witnesseth and saith, that, being in the room when her mother was afflicted, she saw Martha Corey, Sarah Cloyse, and Rebecca Nurse, or their apparition, upon her mother."

Mrs. Ann Putnam made another deposition under oath, at the same trial, which shows that she was determined to overwhelm the prisoner by the multitude of her charges. She says that Rebecca Nurse's apparition declared to her that "she had killed Benjamin Houlton, John Fuller, and Rebecca Shepard;" and that she and her sister Cloyse, and Edward Bishop's wife, had killed young John Putnam's child; and she further deposed as followeth:—

"Immediately there did appear to me six children in winding-sheets, which called me aunt, which did most grievously affright me; and they told me that they were my sister Baker's children of Boston; and that Goody Nurse, and Mistress Carey of Charlestown, and an old deaf woman at Boston, had murdered them, and charged me to go and tell these things to the magistrates, or else they would tear me to pieces, for their blood did cry for vengeance. Also there appeared to me my own sister Bayley and three of her children in winding-sheets, and told me that Goody Nurse had murdered them."

There is in this deposition a passage which illustrates one of the doctrines held at the time on the subject of witchcraft. Mrs. Ann Putnam "testifieth and saith, that, on the first day of June, 1692, the[ii.281] apparition of Rebecca Nurse did again fall upon me, and almost choke me; and she told me, that, now she was come out of prison, she had power to afflict me, and that now she would afflict me all this day long." The reference here is probably to the fact, that, on the 1st of June, she with many other prisoners was transferred from the jail in Boston to that in Salem; and that, "all that day long" being outside of prison walls, she had greater power to afflict than when chained in a cell. This was undoubtedly the received opinion, and it is curiously illustrated in the foregoing passage.

The only breath of disparagement against the character of Goodwife Nurse that can be found in any of the papers is in the following deposition:—

"The Deposition of Sarah Houlton, relict of Benjamin Houlton, deceased, who testifieth and saith, that, about this time three years, my dear and loving husband, Benjamin Houlton, deceased, was as well as ever I knew him in my life till one Saturday morning, that Rebecca Nurse, who now stands charged for witchcraft, came to our house, and fell a railing at him because our pigs got into her field. Though our pigs were sufficiently yoked, and their fence was down in several places, yet all we could say to her could no ways pacify her; but she continued railing and scolding a great while together, calling to her son Benj. Nurse to go and get a gun and kill our pigs, and let none of them go out of the field, though my poor husband gave her never a misbeholding word. And, within a short time after this, my poor husband going out very early in the morning, as he[ii.282] was coming in again, he was taken with a strange fit in the entry; being struck blind and stricken down two or three times, so that, when he came to himself, he told me he thought he should never have come into the house any more. And, all summer after, he continued in a languishing condition, being much pained at his stomach, and often struck blind: but, about a fortnight before he died, he was taken with strange and violent fits, acting much like to our poor bewitched persons when we thought they would have died; and the doctor that was with him could not find what his distemper was. And, the day before he died, he was very cheerly; but, about midnight, he was again most violently seized upon with violent fits, till the next night, about midnight, he departed this life by a cruel death.

"Jurat in Curia."

In explanation of the import of this testimony, it is to be observed, that the estate of Benjamin Houlton was contiguous to that of Francis Nurse. They were separated by a fence, which, as in such cases, was required for half its length to be kept in order by one party, the remaining half by the other. What the exact facts were cannot be ascertained, as we have the story of one side only. The widow Houlton appears to have been a tender-hearted, and, for aught we know, good woman. Some years afterwards, she was married, as his second wife, to Benjamin Putnam,—a very respectable person, and, on the death of his father Nathaniel, the head of that branch of the family. He was, for many years, deacon of the church. But she was, it must be conceded, a prejudiced witness; and[ii.283] her judgment for the time was wholly beclouded by the prevalent superstitions. The garden had been, from the days of Townsend Bishop, a choice portion of the Nurse estate. In all farms, it was a most important and valuable item; and was generally under the special care and management of the wife, daughters, and younger lads of the husbandman. Rebecca Nurse was an efficient helpmeet; contributing her whole share to the success of the great enterprise of clearing the estate, as well as in bringing up and educating a large family. It was, no doubt, very provoking to her, as it would be to any one, to have vegetable and flower beds devastated by the ravages of a neighbor's stray pigs. To what extent her "railing and scolding" went, she was not allowed to contribute her statement, to enable us to judge. The affair probably produced considerable gossip, and seems to be alluded to in Nathaniel Putnam's certificate in behalf of Rebecca Nurse. There is reason to believe that the widow Houlton was one of the first to realize what great injustice had been done by her and others to the good name of Rebecca Nurse.

Notwithstanding this evidence, so deeply were the jury impressed with the eminent virtue and true Christian excellence of this venerable woman, that, in spite of the clamors of the outside crowd, the monstrous statements of accusing witnesses, and the strong leaning of the Court against her, the jury brought in a verdict of "Not guilty." Calef, and Hutchinson after him, describe the effect, and what followed:[ii.284]—

"Immediately, all the accusers in the Court, and, suddenly after, all the afflicted out of Court, made an hideous outcry; to the amazement, not only of the spectators, but the Court also seemed strangely surprised. One of the judges expressed himself not satisfied: another of them, as he was going off the bench, said they would have her indicted anew. The chief-justice said he would not impose on the jury, but intimated as if they had not well considered one expression of the prisoner when she was upon trial; viz., that when one Hobbs, who had confessed herself to be a witch, was brought into Court to witness against her, the prisoner, turning her head to her, said, 'What! do you bring her? She is one of us;' or words to that effect. This, together with the clamors of the accusers, induced the jury to go out again, after their verdict, 'Not guilty.'"

The foreman of the jury, Thomas Fisk, made this statement on the 4th of July, a few days after the trial:—

"After the honored Court had manifested their dissatisfaction of the verdict, several of the jury declared themselves desirous to go out again, and thereupon the Court gave leave; but, when we came to consider the case, I could not tell how to take her words as an evidence against her, till she had a further opportunity to put her sense upon them, if she would take it. And then, going into Court, I mentioned the words aforesaid, which by one of the Court were affirmed to have been spoken by her, she being then at the bar, but made no reply nor interpretation of them; whereupon these words were to me a principal evidence against her."

[ii.285]

Upon being informed of the use made of her words, the prisoner put in the following declaration:—

"These presents do humbly show to the honored Court and jury, that I being informed that the jury brought me in guilty upon my saying that Goodwife Hobbs and her daughter were of our company; but I intended no otherwise than as they were prisoners with us, and therefore did then, and yet do, judge them not legal evidence against their fellow-prisoners. And I being something hard of hearing and full of grief, none informing me how the Court took up my words, and therefore had no opportunity to declare what I intended when I said they were of our company."

It was perfectly natural for her to have spoken of them as "of our company," not only from the fact that they had long been crowded together in the same jails, but as they had accompanied each other in the transferrence from one jail to another, from time to time. A few days before, a large party, of which she was one, had been brought from Boston, spending the whole day together on the route. Sarah Good, John Procter and wife, Susanna Martin, Bridget Bishop, and Alice Parker happen to be mentioned as belonging to it. Calef further states:—

"After her condemnation, the governor saw cause to grant a reprieve, which, when known (and some say immediately upon granting), the accusers renewed their dismal outcries against her; insomuch that the governor was by some Salem gentlemen prevailed with to recall the reprieve, and she was executed with the rest.[ii.286]

"The testimonials of her Christian behavior, both in the course of her life and at her death, and her extraordinary care in educating her children, and setting them a good example, under the hands of so many, are so numerous, that for brevity they are here omitted."

The extraordinary conduct of "the Salem gentlemen," in preventing the intended exercise of executive discretion and clemency on this occasion, is explained, it is probable, by the fact, stated by Neal in his "History of New England," that there was an organized association of private individuals, a committee of vigilance, in Salem, during the continuance of the delusion, who had undertaken to ferret out and prosecute all suspected persons. He says that many were arrested and thrown into prison by their influence and interference. It is hardly to be doubted, that the persons who busied themselves to prevent the reprieve of Rebecca Nurse acted under the authority and by the direction of this self-constituted body of inquisitors. The agency of such unauthorized and irresponsible combinations is always of questionable expediency. When acting in the same line with an excited populace, they are extremely dangerous.

There is no more disgraceful record in the judicial annals of the country, than that which relates the trial of this excellent woman. The wave of popular fury made a clear breach over the judgment-seat. The loud and malignant outcry of an infatuated mob, inside and outside of the Court-house, instead of being yielded to, ought to have been, not only sternly rebuked, but[ii.287] visited with prompt and exemplary punishment. The judges were not only overcome and intimidated from the faithful discharge of their sacred duty by a clamoring crowd, but they played into their hands. Hutchinson justly remarks, that their conduct was in violation of that rule to execute "law and justice in mercy," which ought always to be written on their hearts. "In a capital case, the Court often refuses a verdict of 'Guilty;' but rarely, if ever, sends a jury out again upon one of 'Not guilty.'" The statement made by the foreman of the jury, with the subsequent explanation of the prisoner, taken in connection with the ground on which the chief-justice sent the jury out again after rendering their verdict of "Not guilty," made it the duty of the Court and the executive to give to her the benefit of that verdict.

At the trial of her mother, Sarah Nurse—aged twenty-eight years or thereabouts—offered this piece of testimony: that, "being in the Court, this 29th of June, 1692, I saw Goodwife Bibber pull pins out of her clothes, and held them between her fingers, and clasped her hands round her knee; and then she cried out, and said, Goody Nurse pinched her." In all these trials, Mercy Lewis was a principal witness and actor; yet we find, among the papers, testimony from the most respectable and reliable persons, that she was not to be trusted. There was also testimony which ought to have broken the force of the depositions of Ann Putnam and her mother. Four days after the examination and commitment of Rebecca Nurse, John[ii.288] Tarbell and Samuel Nurse went to the house of Thomas Putnam to find out in what way their mother had been made the object of such shocking accusations. They were men whose credibility was never brought in question. Their declarations, on this occasion, were not disputed, and, if not true, might have been overthrown; for there were many witnesses of the facts they stated. Tarbell swore as follows: "Upon discourse of many things, I asked whether the girl that was afflicted did first speak of Goody Nurse, before others mentioned her to her. They said she told them she saw the apparition of a pale-faced woman that sat in her grandmother's seat, but did not know her name. Then I replied and said, 'But who was it that told her that it was Goody Nurse?' Mercy Lewis said it was Goody Putnam that said it was Goody Nurse. Goody Putnam said that it was Mercy Lewis that told her. Thus they turned it upon one another, saying, 'It was you,' and 'It was you that told her.'" Samuel Nurse testified to the same.

There was another piece of evidence, which, though brought against Rebecca Nurse, bears harder, as we read it now, upon Ann Putnam than any one else, and makes it more difficult to palliate her conduct on the supposition of partial insanity. It is, all along, one of the obscure problems of our subject to determine how far delusion may have been accompanied by fraud and imposture. Edward Putnam testified, that "Ann Putnam, Jr., was bitten by Rebecca Nurse, as she said, about two of the clock of the day" after Rebecca[ii.289] Nurse had been committed to jail, and while she was several miles distant, in Salem; and the said Nurse also struck said Ann Putnam with her spectral chain, leaving a mark, "being in a kind of a round ring, and three streaks across the ring: she had six blows with a chain in the space of half an hour; and she had one remarkable one, with six streaks across her arm." Edward Putnam swears, "I saw the mark, both of bite and chains." The Court, no doubt, were solemnly impressed by this amazing evidence; but it is hard to avoid the conclusion that Ann Putnam was guilty of elaborate falsehood and a studied trick.

In the trials at this session, one of the "afflicted children" cried out against the Rev. Samuel Willard, of the Old South Church, in Boston. "She was sent out of Court, and it was told about that she was mistaken in the person." There was surely evidence enough against the honesty and credibility of the accusers to leave the judges without excuse, and justly meriting perpetual condemnation for not paying heed to it.

The case of Rebecca Nurse proves that a verdict could not have been obtained against a person of her character charged with witchcraft in this county, had not the most extraordinary efforts been made by the prosecuting officer, aided by the whole influence of the Court and provincial authorities. The odium of the proceedings at the trials and at the executions cannot fairly be laid upon Salem, or the people of this vicinity.[ii.290]

But nothing can extenuate the infamy that must for ever rest upon the names of certain parties to the proceedings. Not to attempt here to measure the guilt of the accusing witnesses, it may be mentioned that it was the deliberate conviction of the family of Rebecca Nurse, that Mr. Parris, more than all other persons, was responsible for her execution; whether by his officious activity in driving on the prosecution, or in preventing her reprieve, cannot be known. Of the prominent part taken by Mr. Noyes in the cruel treatment of this woman, there is no room for doubt. The records of the First Church in Salem are darkened by the following entry:—

"1692, July 3.—After sacrament, the elders propounded to the church,—and it was, by an unanimous vote, consented to,—that our sister Nurse, being a convicted witch by the Court, and condemned to die, should be excommunicated; which was accordingly done in the afternoon, she being present."

The scene presented on this occasion must have been truly impressive at the time, as it is shocking to us in the retrospect. The action of the church, at the close of the morning service, of course became universally known; and the "great and spacious meeting-house" was thronged by a crowd that filled every nook and corner of its floor, galleries, and windows. The sheriff and his subordinates brought in the prisoner, manacled, and the chains clanking from her aged form. She was placed in the broad aisle. Mr.[ii.291] Higginson and Mr. Noyes—the elders, as the clergy were then called—were in the pulpit. The two ruling elders—who were lay officers—and the two deacons were in their proper seats, directly below and in front of the pulpit. Mr. Noyes pronounced the dread sentence, which, for such a crime, was then believed to be not merely an expulsion from the church on earth, but an exclusion from the church in heaven. It was meant to be understood as an eternal doom. As it had been proved, in his estimation, beyond a question, that she had given her soul to the Devil, he delivered her over to the great adversary of God and man.

From the dismal cell, which, for but a few days longer, was to hold her body, he proclaimed the transferrence of her soul to—

"A dungeon horrible on all sides round,
As one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames
No light, but rather darkness visible;
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell; hope never comes
That comes to all; but torture without end,
As far removed from God, and light of heaven,
As from the centre thrice to the utmost pole."

Language and imagery, exhausting the resources of the divine genius of the greatest of poets, fail to give expression to what was felt to be the import of this fearful sentence. It sunk the recipient of it below the reach of human sympathy. She was regarded, by that blinded multitude, with a horror that cast out pity, and was full of hate. But in our view now, and, as we believe, in the view of God and angels then, she[ii.292] occupied an infinite height above her persecutors. Her mind was serenely fixed upon higher scenes, and filled with a peace which the world could not take away, or its cruel wrongs disturb. She went back to her prison walls, and then to the scaffold, with a pious and humble faith which has not failed to be recorded among men, as it has been rewarded where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.

Calef, as already quoted, gives the impression produced by her demeanor at her death. Hutchinson expresses in the following words the judgment of history and the sense of all coming times:—

"Mr. Noyes, the minister of Salem, a zealous prosecutor, excommunicated the poor old woman, and delivered her to Satan, to whom he supposed she had formally given herself up many years before; but her life and conversation had been such, that the remembrance thereof, in a short time after, wiped off all the reproach occasioned by the civil or ecclesiastical sentence against her."

It is impossible to close the story of the lot assigned to this good woman by an inscrutable Providence, without again contemplating it in a condensed recapitulation. In her old age, experiencing a full share of all the delicate infirmities which the instincts of humanity require to be treated with careful and reverent tenderness, she was ruthlessly snatched from the bosom of a loving family reared by her pious fidelity in all Christian graces, from the side of the devoted companion of her long life, from a home that was endeared[ii.293] by every grateful association and comfort; immured in the most wretched and crowded jails; kept loaded with irons and bound with cords for months; insulted and maligned at the preliminary examinations; outraged in her person by rough and unfeeling handling and scrutiny; and in her rights, by the most flagrant and detestable judicial oppression, by which the benefit of a verdict, given in her favor, had been torn away; carried to the meeting-house to receive the sentence of excommunication in a manner devised to harrow her most sacred sentiments; and finally carted through the streets by a route every foot of which must have been distressing to her infirm and enfeebled frame; made to ascend a rough and rocky path to the place of execution, and there consigned to the hangman. Surely, there has seldom been a harder fate.

Her body was probably thrown with the rest into a hole in the crevices of the rock, and covered hastily and thinly over by the executioners. It has been the constant tradition of the family, that, in some way, it was recovered; and the spot is pointed out in the burial-place belonging to the estate, where her ashes rest by the side of her husband, and in the midst of her children. It is certain, that, at least, one other body was thus exhumed, and taken to its own proper place of burial. From the known character of Francis Nurse and his sons and sons-in-law, we may be sure that what others could do they did not suffer to remain undone. It is left to the imagination to present the details of the sad and secret enterprise. In the[ii.294] darkness of midnight, they found and identified the body, and bore it tenderly in their arms along the silent roads and by-ways, across fields and over fences, to the old home, where it was received by the assembled family, mourned over, and cared for; and, during that or the ensuing night, deposited, with tears and prayers, in their own consecrated grounds. Her descendants of successive generations owned and reverently guarded the spot. They own and guard it to-day. The interesting reminiscences connected with the early history of the Nurse house have been alluded to. It has witnessed an extraordinary variety of the conditions of domestic vicissitude. Scenes rising before the mind in contemplative retrospection, while gazing upon it, present the extremest contrasts of human experience. On the evening of the 25th of October, 1678, Mary and Elizabeth Nurse were married. Such an occurrence was undoubtedly the occasion of the highest joy and gladness in a happy household. The old mansion shone in light, and echoed voices of cheer. How altered its aspect! What darkness and silence brooded over and within it, while those same daughters waited, watched, and listened, through the solemn hours of that night of woe and horror, for the coming of their father, husbands, and brothers, bearing to the home, from which she had been so cruelly torn, the remains of their slaughtered mother!

The subsequent history of the house presents a circumstance of singular interest in connection with[ii.295] our story. All the members of the three branches of the Putnam family, with the exception of Joseph, seem to have been carried away by the witchcraft delusion, in its early stages, and were more or less active in pushing on the prosecutions. We have seen how fierce was the maniac testimony of Mrs. Ann Putnam and her daughter against Rebecca Nurse. The lapse of time, by a Providence that wonderfully works its ends, has repaired the breaches made by folly and wrong. The descendants of the numerous family of Mrs. Ann Putnam have disappeared from the scene: none of them bearing the name are in the village. The descendants of Deacon Edward Putnam have also scattered in emigration to other places. Nathaniel and John, the heads of the other two branches of the family, although involved in the witchcraft delusion, each signed papers in favor of Rebecca Nurse; their descendants, as well as those of Joseph, are still numerous in the village, hold their old position of respectability and influence, and many of them occupy the lands of their ancestors. Stephen, the grandson of Nathaniel, married Miriam, the grand-daughter of John. Their son Phinehas, in 1784, bought the Nurse homestead from Benjamin Nurse, the great-grandson of Rebecca. Orin Putnam, the great-grandson of Phinehas, to whom the estate descends, married in 1836 the daughter of Allen Nurse, a direct descendant of Rebecca, and placed her at the head of her old ancestral homestead. The children of that marriage, with their father and grandfather, constitute the family[ii.296] that dwell in and own the venerable mansion. This singular restoration, suggesting such pleasing sentiments, adds another to the remarkable elements of interest belonging to the history of the Townsend-Bishop House.

The descendants of Francis and Rebecca Nurse are numerous, and have honorably perpetuated the name. Among them may be mentioned the Rev. Peter Nurse, a graduate of Harvard College in 1802, for some years librarian of that institution, an excellent scholar, and long universally respected as a clergyman; and Amos Nurse, a graduate of the same college in 1812,—an eminent physician connected with the medical faculty of Bowdoin College, a man of distinguished talent and influence in public affairs, and senator in Congress from the State of Maine.

The Court met again on the 5th of August, and tried George Burroughs; John Procter and Elizabeth, his wife; George Jacobs, Sr.; John Willard; and Martha Carrier. They were all condemned, and, with the exception of Elizabeth Procter, executed on the 19th of the same month.

Hutchinson describes the trial of Burroughs. After speaking of the evidence of the "afflicted persons" and the confessing witches, he mentions other circumstances which were thought to corroborate it: "One was, that, being a little man, he had performed feats beyond the strength of a giant; viz., had held out a gun of seven feet barrel with one hand, and had carried a barrel full of cider from a canoe to the shore." Bur[ii.297]roughs said that an Indian present at the time did the same. Instantly, the accusers said it was "the black man, or the Devil, who," they swore, "looks like an Indian." Another piece of evidence was, that he went from one place to another, on a certain occasion, in a shorter time than was possible had not the Devil helped him. He said, in answer, that another man accompanied him. Their reply to this was, that it was the Devil, using the appearance of another man. So whatever he said was turned against him. Hutchinson says, "Upon the whole, he was confounded, and used many twistings and turnings, which, I think, we cannot wonder at." This fair and judicious writer, like Brattle, appears in the foregoing remark to have adopted the common scandal, put in circulation by parties interested to disparage Mr. Burroughs. The papers in this case, that have come down to us, are more numerous than in reference to many others among the sufferers; and they do not bear such an impression. Mr. Burroughs was astounded at the monstrous folly and falsehood with which he was surrounded. He was a man without guile, and incapable of appreciating such wickedness. He tried, in simplicity and ingenuousness, to explain what was brought against him; and this, probably, was all the "twisting and turning" he exhibited.

Hutchinson had the benefit of consulting all the papers belonging to this and other trials; but neither he nor Calef seems to have noticed one remarkable fact: many of the depositions, how many we cannot[ii.298] tell, were procured after the trials were over, and surreptitiously foisted in among the papers to bolster up the proceedings. We find, for instance, the following deposition:—

"Thomas Greenslitt, aged about forty years, being deposed, testifieth that, about the first breaking-out of this last Indian war, being at the house of Captain Joshua Scotto at Black Point, he saw Mr. George Burrows, who was lately executed at Salem, lift a gun of six-foot barrel or thereabouts, putting the forefinger of his right hand into the muzzle of said gun, and that he held it out at arms' end, only with that finger: and further this deponent testifieth, that, at the same time, he saw the said Burrows take up a full barrel of molasses with but two of the fingers of one of his hands in the bung, and carry it from the stage head to the door at the end of the stage, without letting it down; and that Lieutenant Richard Hunniwell and John Greenslitt were then present, and some others that are dead. Sept. 15, '92."

Not only the date to this deposition, but its express language, proves that it could not have been used at the trial. There is another, to the same effect and of the same date, that is, nearly a month after Burroughs was thrown into his grave. There are others of the same kind. This stamps the management of the prosecutions, and of those concerned in the charge of the papers, with an irregularity of the grossest kind, which partakes strongly of the character of fraud and falsehood.

When it was found that there was beginning to grow up a want of confidence in "spectre evidence" and the testimony of the afflicted children, those con[ii.299]cerned in the prosecutions became alarmed lest a re-action of public sentiment might take place. The persons who had brought Mr. Burroughs to his death concluded that their best escape from public indignation was to accumulate evidence against him after he was in his grave, particularly on the point of his superhuman strength; and they got up these depositions, and caused them to be put among the papers on file. Great stress was laid, by those who were interested in damaging his character and suppressing sympathy in his fate, upon this particular proof of his having been in confederacy with the Devil. Increase Mather said, that, in his judgment, it was conclusive evidence that he "had the Devil to be his familiar," and that, had he been on the jury, he could not, on this account, have concurred in a verdict of acquittal; and Cotton Mather, feeling the importance of making the most of Mr. Burroughs's extraordinary strength, gives way to his tendency to indulge in the marvellous, as follows:—

"God had been pleased so to leave this George Burroughs, that he had ensnared himself by several instances which he had formerly given of preternatural strength, and which were now produced against him. He was a very puny man, yet he had often done things beyond the strength of a giant. A gun of about seven-foot barrel, and so heavy that strong men could not steadily hold it out with both hands,—there were several testimonies given in by persons of credit and honor, that he made nothing of taking up such a gun behind the lock with but one hand, and holding it out, like a pistol, at arms' end. Yea, there were two[ii.300] testimonies, that George Burroughs, with only putting the forefinger of his right hand into the muzzle of a heavy gun, a fowling-piece of about six or seven foot barrel, did lift up the gun, and hold it out at arms' end,—a gun which the deponents thought strong men could not with both hands lift up, and hold at the butt end, as is usual."

It is further observable, in reference to the foregoing deposition from Greenslitt, that it was given six days after the condemnation of his mother, Ann Pudeator, and a week before her execution. Cotton Mather says that he "was overpersuaded by others to be out of the way upon George Burroughs's trial," six weeks before. He did not fail, however, to come to Salem to be with his mother at her trial and until her death, and being here was compelled to give his deposition. His mother's life was at the mercy of the prosecutors; and he was tempted, in the vain hope of conciliating that mercy, to gratify them by making the statement about Burroughs a month after his execution, and whom it could not then harm. What he said was probably no more than the truth. It has been found that the power of the human muscles can be cultivated to a surprising extent; and the feats ascribed to Burroughs, without making much allowance for a natural degree of exaggeration, have been fully equalled in our day.

Calef gives the following account of his execution:—

"Mr. Burroughs was carried in a cart with the others, through the streets of Salem, to execution. When he was upon the ladder, he made a speech for the clearing of his[ii.301] innocency, with such solemn and serious expressions as were to the admiration of all present. His prayer (which he concluded by repeating the Lord's Prayer) was so well worded, and uttered with such composedness and such (at least seeming) fervency of spirit, as was very affecting, and drew tears from many, so that it seemed to some that the spectators would hinder the execution. The accusers said the black man stood and dictated to him. As soon as he was turned off, Mr. Cotton Mather, being mounted upon a horse, addressed himself to the people, partly to declare that he (Mr. Burroughs) was no ordained minister, and partly to possess the people of his guilt, saying that the Devil often had been transformed into an angel of light; and this somewhat appeased the people, and the executions went on. When he was cut down, he was dragged by a halter to a hole, or grave, between the rocks, about two feet deep; his shirt and breeches being pulled off, and an old pair of trousers of one executed put on his lower parts: he was so put in, together with Willard and Carrier, that one of his hands, and his chin, and a foot of one of them, was left uncovered."

Cotton Mather, not satisfied with this display of animosity, at a moment when every human heart, however imbittered by prejudice, is hushed for the time in solemn silence, attempts, in an account afterwards given of Mr. Burroughs's trial, to blacken his character by an elaborate dressing-up of the absurd stories told by the accusers, and a perverse misrepresentation of the demeanor of the accused. He relates with apparent glee what was regarded as a wonderful achievement of adroitness on the part of Chief-justice Stoughton in trapping Mr. Burroughs, and putting the laugh upon him in Court.[ii.302]

"It cost the Court a wonderful deal of trouble to hear the testimonies of the sufferers; for, when they were going to give in their depositions, they would for a long while be taken with fits, that made them quite uncapable of saying any thing. The chief judge asked the prisoner, who he thought hindered these witnesses from giving their testimonies; and he answered, he supposed it was the Devil. The honorable person then replied, 'How comes the Devil so loath to have any testimony borne against you?' Which cast him into very great confusion."

From what fell from him, at the preliminary examination, it is evident that it did not occur to him as a possibility that human nature could be capable of the guilt of such a wilful fabrication and imposture on the part of the "afflicted children." He beheld their sufferings, and he knew his own innocence. He felt, whatever his theological creed might have been, that a Devil was required to explain the mystery. The apparent sufferings of the accusing witnesses convinced Court, jury, and all, of the guilt of the accused. The logic of the chief-justice was perfectly absurd. For, if the Devil caused the sufferings, he was an adverse party to the prisoner. This, however, overthrows the whole theory of the prosecution, which was that the prisoner and the Devil were in league with each other. But the judge, jury, and people, all equally blinded and stupefied by the delusion, did not see it; and they chuckled over the alleged confusion of the prisoner. All thoughtful persons will concur in Mr. Burroughs's opinion, that, if ever a diabolical power had possession[ii.303] of human beings, it was in the case of the wretched creatures who enacted the part of the accusing girls in the witchcraft proceedings. In his account of the trial, Mather makes statements which show that he was privy to the fact, that testimony, subsequently taken, was lodged with the evidence belonging to the case. The documents prove that it was done to an extent beyond what he acknowledges.

Considering that none dared to show the least sympathy with the persons on trial, that they had none to counsel or stand by them, that the public passions were incensed against them as against no other persons ever charged with crime,—it being vastly more flagrant than any other crime, a rebellion against heaven and earth, God and man; a deliberate selling of the soul to the Arch-enemy of souls for the ruin of all other souls,—in view of all these things, it is truly astonishing, that, by the documents themselves, proceeding, as in almost all cases they do, from hostile and imbittered sources, we are compelled to the conviction, that, in their imprisonments, trials, and deaths, the victims of this savage delusion manifested—in most cases eminently, and in all substantially—the marks, not only of innocent, but of elevated and heroic minds. A review of what can be gleaned in reference to Mr. Burroughs at Casco Bay and Salem Village, and a considerate survey and scrutiny of all that has reached us from the day of his arrest to the moment of his death, have left a decided impression, that he was an able, intelligent, true-minded man; ingenuous,[ii.304] sincere, humble in his spirit; faithful and devoted as a minister; and active, generous, and disinterested as a citizen. His descendants, under his own name and the names of Newman, Fowle, Holbrook, Fox, Thomas, and others, have been numerous and respectable. The late Isaiah Thomas, LL.D., was one of them.

From the account given of John Procter, in the First Part, it is apparent that he was a person of decided character, and, although impulsive and liable to be imprudent, of a manly spirit, honest, earnest, and bold in word and deed. He saw through the whole thing, and was convinced that it was the result of a conspiracy, deliberate and criminal, on the part of the accusers. He gave free utterance to his indignation at their conduct, and it cost him his life.

A few days before his trial, he made his will. There is no reference in it to his particular situation. His signature to the document is accurately represented among the autographs given in this work. It was written while the manacles were on him. Notwithstanding the danger to which any one was exposed who expressed sympathy for convicted or accused persons, or doubt of their guilt, a large number had the manliness to try to save this worthy and honest citizen. John Wise, one of the ministers of Ipswich, heads the list of petitioners from that place. The document is in his handwriting. Thirty-one others joined in the act, many of them among the most respectable citizens of that town. Mr. Wise was a learned, able, and enlightened man. He had a free spirit, and was per[ii.305]haps the only minister in the neighborhood or country, who was discerning enough to see the erroneousness of the proceedings from the beginning. The petition is as follows:—

"The Humble and Sincere Declaration of us, Subscribers, Inhabitants in Ipswich, on the Behalf of our Neighbors, John Procter and his Wife, now in Trouble and under Suspicion of Witchcraft.

"TO THE HONORABLE COURT OF ASSISTANTS NOW SITTING IN BOSTON.

"Honored and Right Worshipful,—The aforesaid John Procter may have great reason to justify the Divine Sovereignty of God under these severe remarks of Providence upon his peace and honor, under a due reflection upon his life past; and so the best of us have reason to adore the great pity and indulgence of God's providence, that we are not exposed to the utmost shame that the Devil can invent, under the permissions of sovereignty, though not for that sin forenamed, yet for our many transgressions. For we do at present suppose, that it may be a method within the severer but just transactions of the infinite majesty of God, that he sometimes may permit Sathan to personate, dissemble, and thereby abuse innocents and such as do, in the fear of God, defy the Devil and all his works. The great rage he is permitted to attempt holy Job with; the abuse he does the famous Samuel in disquieting his silent dust, by shadowing his venerable person in answer to the charms of witchcraft; and other instances from good hands,—may be arguments. Besides the unsearchable footsteps of God's judgments, that are brought to light every morning, that as[ii.306]tonish our weaker reasons; to teach us adoration, trembling, dependence, &c. But we must not trouble Your Honors by being tedious. Therefore, being smitten with the notice of what hath happened, we reckon it within the duties of our charity, that teacheth us to do as we would be done by, to offer thus much for the clearing of our neighbors' innocency; viz., that we never had the least knowledge of such a nefandous wickedness in our said neighbors, since they have been within our acquaintance. Neither do we remember any such thoughts in us concerning them, or any action by them or either of them, directly tending that way, no more than might be in the lives of any other persons of the clearest reputation as to any such evils. What God may have left them to, we cannot go into God's pavilion clothed with clouds of darkness round about; but, as to what we have ever seen or heard of them, upon our consciences we judge them innocent of the crime objected. His breeding hath been amongst us, and was of religious parents in our place, and, by reason of relations and properties within our town, hath had constant intercourse with us. We speak upon our personal acquaintance and observation; and so leave our neighbors, and this our testimony on their behalf, to the wise thoughts of Your Honors.

Jn^o. Wise.	Nathanill Perkins.	Benjamin Marshall.
William Story. Sen^r.	Thomas Lovkine.	John Andrews Ju^r.
Reinalld Foster.	William Cogswell.	William Butler.
Thos. Chote.	Thomas Varny.	William Andrews.
John Burnum S^r.	John Fellows.	John Andrews.
William Thomsonn.	Wm. Cogswell Ju^r.	John Chote Se^r.
Tho. Low Sen^r.	Jonathan Cogswell.	Joseph Procter.
Isaac Foster.	John Cogswell Ju.	Samuel Gidding.
John Burnum jun^r.	John Cogswell.	Joseph Evleth.
William Goodhew.	Thomas Andrews.	James White.
Isaac Perkins.	Joseph Andrews."

[ii.307]

I have given the names of the men who signed this paper, as copied from the original. It is due to their memory; and their descendants may well be gratified by the testimony thus borne to their courage and justice.

Their neighbors living near the bounds of the village presented the following paper, in the handwriting of Felton, the first signer. From the appearance of the document, it seems that a portion of it, probably containing an equal number of names, has been cut out by scissors.

"We whose names are underwritten, having several years known John Procter and his wife, do testify that we never heard or understood that they were ever suspected to be guilty of the crime now charged upon them; and several of us, being their near neighbors, do testify, that, to our apprehension, they lived Christian-like in their family, and were ever ready to help such as stood in need of their help.

"Nathaniel Felton, Sr., and Mary his wife.
Samuel Marsh, and Priscilla his wife.
James Houlton, and Ruth his wife.
John Felton.
Nathaniel Felton, Jr.
Samuel Frayll, and An his wife.
Zachariah Marsh, and Mary his wife.
Samuel Endecott, and Hanah his wife.
Samuel Stone.
George Locker.
Samuel Gaskil, and Provided his wife.
George Smith.
Edward Gaskil."

In addition to this testimony in their favor, evidence was offered, at their trial, that one of the accusing[ii.308] witnesses had denied, out of Court, what she had sworn to in Court; and declared that she must, at the time, have been "out of her head," and that she had never intended to accuse them. It was further proved, that another of the accusing witnesses acknowledged that she had sworn falsely, and tried to explain away her testimony in Court, acknowledging that what the girls said was "for sport. They must have some sport." But neither the testimony in their favor from those who had known them through life, nor the palpable and decisive manner in which the evidence against them had been impeached and exposed, could open the eyes of the infatuated Court and jury.

After his conviction, he requested, in vain, time enough to prepare himself for death, and make the necessary arrangements of his business and for the welfare of his family; and the statement has come down to us, that Mr. Noyes refused to pray with him, unless he would confess himself guilty. The following letter, addressed by him to the ministers named, in behalf of himself and fellow-prisoners, gives a truly shocking account of the outrages connected with the prosecutions. It illustrates the courage of the writer in exposing them, and is a sensible and manly appeal and remonstrance. There is ground for supposing that the ministers addressed were known not to be entirely carried away by the delusion. The fact that Mr. Mather—meaning, of course, Increase Mather—is the first named, corroborates other evidence that he was beginning to entertain doubts about the propriety[ii.309] of the proceedings. Of the Rev. James Allen, much has been said in connection with the Townsend-Bishop farm. He had been a clergyman in England, and was silenced by the Act of Uniformity, in 1662. He came to New England; and, after officiating as an assistant to the Rev. Mr. Davenport, in the First Church at Boston, for six years, was ordained as its preacher in 1668. He was of independent fortune, and subsequently took a leading part with those opposed to the party that had favored the witchcraft prosecutions. He must have known Rebecca Nurse quite intimately, and much of the influence used in her favor, and which almost saved her, may be attributed to him; there was a particular intimacy between him and Increase Mather, and together they held Cotton Mather somewhat in check, occasionally at least. The Rev. Joshua Moody had been settled in the ministry at Portsmouth, New Hampshire. In the maintenance of the principles of religious liberty he suffered a long imprisonment, and was afterwards exiled by arbitrary power. He was then invited to the First Church in Boston, where he preached from 1684 to 1693, when he returned to Portsmouth. He died in 1697. By his active exertions, Mr. and Mrs. English were enabled to escape from the jail at Boston. The Rev. Samuel Willard, pastor of the Old South Church in Boston, was one of the most revered and beloved ministers in the country. His publications were numerous, learned, and valuable; consisting of discourses, tracts, and volumes. His "Body of Divinity" is an elaborate and systematic[ii.310] work, comprising two hundred and fifty lectures on the Assembly's Catechism. That Procter was not in error in supposing Mr. Willard open to reason on the subject is demonstrated by the fact, that the "afflicted girls" were beginning to cry out against this eminent divine. The Rev. John Bailey was one of the ejected ministers who had here sought refuge from oppression in the mother-country. He was a distinguished person, associated with Mr. Allen and Mr. Moody in the ministry of the First Church at Boston. Cotton Mather made him the subject of the strongest eulogium in his "Magnalia." Procter addressed his letter to these persons because he believed them to be superior in wisdom and candid in spirit. It cannot be doubted that the good men did what they could in his behalf, but in vain.

"Salem Prison, July 23, 1692.

"Mr. Mather, Mr. Allen, Mr. Moody, Mr. Willard, and Mr. Bailey.

"Reverend Gentlemen,—The innocency of our case, with the enmity of our accusers and our judges and jury, whom nothing but our innocent blood will serve, having condemned us already before our trials, being so much incensed and enraged against us by the Devil, makes us bold to beg and implore your favorable assistance of this our humble petition to His Excellency, that if it be possible our innocent blood may be spared, which undoubtedly otherwise will be shed, if the Lord doth not mercifully step in; the magistrates, ministers, juries, and all the people in general, being[ii.311] so much enraged and incensed against us by the delusion of the Devil, which we can term no other, by reason we know, in our own consciences, we are all innocent persons. Here are five persons who have lately confessed themselves to be witches, and do accuse some of us of being along with them at a sacrament, since we were committed into close prison, which we know to be lies. Two of the five are (Carrier's sons) young men, who would not confess any thing till they tied them neck and heels, till the blood was ready to come out of their noses; and it is credibly believed and reported this was the occasion of making them confess what they never did, by reason they said one had been a witch a month, and another five weeks, and that their mother made them so, who has been confined here this nine weeks. My son, William Procter, when he was examined, because he would not confess that he was guilty, when he was innocent, they tied him neck and heels till the blood gushed out at his nose, and would have kept him so twenty-four hours, if one, more merciful than the rest, had not taken pity on him, and caused him to be unbound.

"These actions are very like the Popish cruelties. They have already undone us in our estates, and that will not serve their turns without our innocent blood. If it cannot be granted that we can have our trials at Boston, we humbly beg that you would endeavor to have these magistrates changed, and others in their room; begging also and beseeching you, that you would be pleased to be here, if not all, some of you, at our trials, hoping thereby you may be the means of saving the shedding of our innocent blood. Desiring your prayers to the Lord in our behalf, we rest, your poor afflicted servants,

"John Procter [and others]."

[ii.312]

The bitterness of the prosecutors against Procter was so vehement, that they not only arrested, and tried to destroy, his wife and all his family above the age of infancy, in Salem, but all her relatives in Lynn, many of whom were thrown into prison. The helpless children were left destitute, and the house swept of its provisions by the sheriff. Procter's wife gave birth to a child, about a fortnight after his execution. This indicates to what alone she owed her life.

John Procter had spoken so boldly against the proceedings, and all who had part in them, that it was felt to be necessary to put him out of the way. He had denounced the entire company of the accusers, and their revenge demanded his sacrifice. They brought the whole power of their cunning and audacious arts to bear against him, and pursued him to the death with violence and rage. The manly and noble deportment exhibited in his dying hour seems to have made a deep impression on the minds of some, and gave an effectual blow to the delusion. The descendants of John Procter have always understood that his remains were recovered from the spot where the hangman deposited them, and placed in his own grounds, where they rest to-day.

[ii.313]

signatures

[ii.314]

signatures

No account has come to us of the deportment of George Jacobs, Sr., at his execution. As he was remarkable in life for the firmness of his mind, so he probably was in death. He had made his will before the delusion arose. It is dated Jan. 29, 1692; and shows that he, like Procter, had a considerable estate.[ii.315] Bartholomew Gedney is one of the attesting witnesses, and probably wrote the document. After his conviction, on the 12th of August, he caused another to be written, which, in its provisions, reflects light upon the state of mind produced by the condition in which he found himself. In his infirm old age, he had been condemned to die for a crime of which he knew himself innocent, and which there is some reason to believe he did not think any one capable of committing. He regarded the whole thing as a wicked conspiracy and absurd fabrication. He had to end his long life upon a scaffold in a week from that day. His house was desolated, and his property sequestered. His only son, charged with the same crime, had eluded the sheriff,—leaving his family, in the hurry of his flight, unprovided for—and was an exile in foreign lands. The crazy wife of that son was in prison and in chains, waiting trial on the same charge; her little children, including an unweaned infant, left in a deserted and destitute condition in the woods. The older children were scattered, he knew not where, while one of them had completed the bitterness of his lot by becoming a confessor, upon being arrested with her mother as a witch. This grand-daughter, Margaret, overwhelmed with fright and horror, bewildered by the statements of the accusers, and controlled probably by the arguments and arbitrary methods of address employed by her minister, Mr. Noyes,—whose peculiar function in these proceedings seems to have been to drive persons accused to make confession—had been betrayed into[ii.316] that position, and became a confessor, and accuser of others. Under these circumstances, the old man made a will, giving to his son George his estates, and securing the succession of them to his male descendants. But, in the mean while, without his then knowing it, Margaret had recalled her confession, as appears from the following documents, which tell their own story:—

"The Humble Declaration of Margaret Jacobs unto the Honored Court now sitting at Salem showeth, that, whereas your poor and humble declarant, being closely confined here in Salem jail for the crime of witchcraft,—which crime, thanks be to the Lord! I am altogether ignorant of, as will appear at the great day of judgment,—may it please the honored Court, I was cried out upon by some of the possessed persons as afflicting them; whereupon I was brought to my examination; which persons at the sight of me fell down, which did very much startle and affright me. The Lord above knows I knew nothing in the least measure how or who afflicted them. They told me, without doubt I did, or else they would not fall down at me; they told me, if I would not confess, I should be put down into the dungeon, and would be hanged, but, if I would confess, I should have my life: the which did so affright me, with my own vile, wicked heart, to save my life, made me make the like confession I did, which confession, may it please the honored Court, is altogether false and untrue. The very first night after I had made confession, I was in such horror of conscience that I could not sleep, for fear the Devil should carry me away for telling such horrid lies. I was, may it please the honored Court, sworn to my confession, as I understand[ii.317] since; but then, at that time, was ignorant of it, not knowing what an oath did mean. The Lord, I hope, in whom I trust, out of the abundance of his mercy, will forgive me my false forswearing myself. What I said was altogether false against my grandfather and Mr. Burroughs, which I did to save my life, and to have my liberty: but the Lord, charging it to my conscience, made me in so much horror, that I could not contain myself before I had denied my confession, which I did, though I saw nothing but death before me; choosing rather death with a quiet conscience, than to live in such horror, which I could not suffer. Where, upon my denying my confession, I was committed to close prison, where I have enjoyed more felicity in spirit, a thousand times, than I did before in my enlargement. And now, may it please Your Honors, your declarant having in part given Your Honors a description of my condition, do leave it to Your Honors' pious and judicious discretions to take pity and compassion on my young and tender years, to act and do with me as the Lord above and Your Honors shall see good, having no friend but the Lord to plead my cause for me; not being guilty, in the least measure, of the crime of witchcraft, nor any other sin that deserves death from man. And your poor and humble declarant shall for ever pray, as she is bound in duty, for Your Honors' happiness in this life, and eternal felicity in the world to come. So prays Your Honors' declarant,

Margaret Jacobs."

The following letter was written by this same young person to her father. Let it be observed that her grandfather had been executed the day before, partly upon her false testimony.[ii.318]

"From the Dungeon in Salem Prison.

"August 20, 1692.

"Honored Father,—After my humble duty remembered to you, hoping in the Lord of your good health, as, blessed be God! I enjoy, though in abundance of affliction, being close confined here in a loathsome dungeon: the Lord look down in mercy upon me, not knowing how soon I shall be put to death, by means of the afflicted persons; my grandfather having suffered already, and all his estate seized for the king. The reason of my confinement is this: I having, through the magistrates' threatenings, and my own vile and wretched heart, confessed several things contrary to my conscience and knowledge, though to the wounding of my own soul; (the Lord pardon me for it!) but, oh! the terrors of a wounded conscience who can bear? But, blessed be the Lord! he would not let me go on in my sins, but in mercy, I hope, to my soul, would not suffer me to keep it any longer: but I was forced to confess the truth of all before the magistrates, who would not believe me; but it is their pleasure to put me in here, and God knows how soon I shall be put to death. Dear father, let me beg your prayers to the Lord on my behalf, and send us a joyful and happy meeting in heaven. My mother, poor woman, is very crazy, and remembers her kind love to you, and to uncle; viz., D.A. So, leaving you to the protection of the Lord, I rest, your dutiful daughter,

Margaret Jacobs."

A temporary illness led to the postponement of her trial; and, before the next sitting of the Court, the delusion had passed away.

The "uncle D.A.," referred to, was Daniel Andrew, their nearest neighbor, who had escaped at the[ii.319] same time with her father. She calls him "uncle." He was, it is probable, a brother of John Andrew who had married Ann Jacobs, sister of her father. Words of relationship were then used with a wide sense.

Margaret read the recantation of her confession before the Court, and was, as she says, forthwith ordered by them into a dungeon. She obtained permission to visit Mr. Burroughs the day before his execution, acknowledged that she had belied him, and implored his forgiveness. He freely forgave, and prayed with her and for her. It is probable, that, at the same time, she obtained an interview with her grandfather for the same purpose. At any rate, the old man heard of her heroic conduct, and forthwith crowded into the space between two paragraphs in his will, in small letters closely written (the jailer probably being the amanuensis), a clause giving a legacy of "ten pounds to be paid in silver" to his grand-daughter, Margaret Jacobs. There is the usual declaration, that it "was inserted before sealing and signing." This will having been made after conviction and sentence to death, and having but two witnesses, one besides the jailer, was not allowed in Probate, but remains among the files of that Court. As a link in the foregoing story, it is an interesting relic. The legacy clause, although not operative, was no doubt of inexpressible value to the feelings of Margaret: and the circumstance seems to have touched the heart even of the General Court, nearly twenty years afterwards; for they took pains specifically to[ii.320] provide to have the same sum paid to Margaret, out of the Province treasury.

She was not tried at the time appointed, in consequence, it is stated, of "an imposthume in the head," and finally escaped the fate to which she chose to consign herself, rather than remain under a violated conscience. In judging of her, we cannot fail to make allowance for her "young and tender years," and to sympathize in the sufferings through which she passed. In making confession, and in accusing others, she had done that which filled her heart with horror, in the retrospect, so long as she lived. In recanting it, and giving her body to the dungeon, and offering her life at the scaffold, she had secured the forgiveness of Mr. Burroughs and her aged grandfather, and deserves our forgiveness and admiration. Every human heart must rejoice that this young girl was saved. She lived to be a worthy matron and the founder of a numerous and respectable family.

George Jacobs, Sr., is the only one, among the victims of the witchcraft prosecutions, the precise spot of whose burial is absolutely ascertained.

THE JACOBS HOUSE.

The tradition has descended through the family, that the body, after having been obtained at the place of execution, was strapped by a young grandson on the back of a horse, brought home to the farm, and buried beneath the shade of his own trees. Two sunken and weather-worn stones marked the spot. There the remains rested until 1864, when they were exhumed. They were enclosed again, and reverently redeposited[ii.321] in the same place. The skull was in a state of considerable preservation. An examination of the jawbones showed that he was a very old man at the time of his death, and had previously lost all his teeth. The length of some parts of the skeleton showed that he was a very tall man. These circumstances corresponded with the evidence, which was that he was tall of stature; so infirm as to walk with two staffs; with long, flowing white hair. The only article found, except the bones, was a metallic pin, which might have been used as a breastpin, or to hold together his aged locks. It is an observable fact, that he rests in his own ground still. He had lived for a great length of time on that spot; and it remains in his family and in his name to this day, having come down by direct descent. It is a beautiful locality: the land descends with a gradual and smooth declivity to the bank of the river. It is not much more than a mile from the city of Salem, and in full view from the main road.

John Willard appears to have been an honest and amiable person, an industrious farmer, having a comfortable estate, with a wife and three young children. He was a grandson of Old Bray Wilkins; whether by blood or marriage, I have not been able to ascertain. The indications are that he married a daughter of Thomas or Henry Wilkins, most probably the former, with both of whom he was a joint possessor of lands. He came from Groton; and it is for local antiquaries to discover whether he was a relative of the Rev. Samuel Willard of Boston. If so, the fact would[ii.322] shed much light upon our story. There is but one piece of evidence among the papers relating to his trial that deserves particular notice. It shows the horrid character of the charges made by the girls against prisoners at the bar, from their nature incapable of being refuted and which the prisoners knew to be false, but the Court, jury, and crowd implicitly believed. It also illustrates the completeness of the machinery got up by the "accusing girls" to give effect to their evidence. In addition to the evil gossip that could be scoured from all the country round, and to spectres of witches and ghosts of the dead, they brought into the scene angels and divine beings, and testified to what they were told by them. "The shining man," or the white man, was meant, in the following deposition, to be a spirit of this description:—

"The Testimony of Susanna Sheldon, aged eighteen years or thereabouts.—Testifieth and saith, that, the day of the date hereof (9th of May, 1692), I saw at Nathaniel Ingersoll's house the apparitions of these four persons,—William Shaw's first wife, the Widow Cook, Goodman Jones and his child; and among these came the apparition of John Willard, to whom these four said, 'You have murdered us.' These four having said thus to Willard, they turned as red as blood. And, turning about to look at me, they turned as pale as death. These four desired me to tell Mr. Hathorne. Willard, hearing them, pulled out a knife, saying, if I did, he would cut my throat."

The deponent goes on to say, that these several apparitions came before her on another occasion, and the same language and actions took place, and adds:[ii.323]—

"There did appear to me a shining man, who said I should go and tell what I had heard and seen to Mr. Hathorne. This Willard, being there present, told me, if I did, he would cut my throat. At this time and place, this shining man told me, that if I did go to tell this to Mr. Hathorne, that I should be well, going and coming, but I should be afflicted there. Then said I to the shining man, 'Hunt Willard away, and I would believe what he said, that he might not choke me.' With that the shining man held up his hand, and Willard vanished away. About two hours after, the same appeared to me again, and the said Willard with them; and I asked them where their wounds were, and they said there would come an angel from heaven, and would show them. And forthwith the angel came. I asked what the man's name was that appeared to me last, and the angel told his name was Southwick. And the angel lifted up his winding-sheet, and out of his left side he pulled a pitchfork tine, and put it in again, and likewise he opened all the winding-sheets, and showed all their wounds. And the white man told me to tell Mr. Hathorne of it, and I told him to hunt Willard away, and I would; and he held up his hand, and he vanished away."

In the same deposition, this girl testifies that "she saw this Willard suckle the apparitions of two black pigs on his breasts;" that Willard told her he had been a witch twenty years; that she saw Willard and other wizards kneel in prayer "to the black man with a long-crowned hat, and then they vanished away."

Such was the kind of testimony which the Court received with awe-struck and bewildered credulity,[ii.324] and which took away the lives of valuable and blameless men. All we know of the manner of Willard's death is a passage from Brattle, who states that a deep impression was produced by the admirable deportment of the sufferers during the awful scenes before and at their executions; giving every evidence of conscious innocence and a Christian character and faith, on the part especially of "Procter and Willard, whose whole management of themselves from the jail to the gallows, and whilst at the gallows, was very affecting, and melting to the hearts of some considerable spectators whom I could mention to you: but they are executed, and so I leave them."

On the 9th of September, the Court met again; and Martha Corey, Mary Easty, Alice Parker, Ann Pudeator, Dorcas Hoar, and Mary Bradbury were tried and condemned; and, on the 17th, Margaret Scott, Wilmot Reed, Samuel Wardwell, Mary Parker, Abigail Faulkner, Rebecca Eames, Mary Lacy, Ann Foster, and Abigail Hobbs received the same sentence. Those in Italics were executed Sept. 22, 1692. Of the circumstances in relation to them, in reference to their death and at the time of their execution, but little information has reached us. The following extract from Mr. Parris's church-records presents a striking picture:—

"11 September, Lord's Day.—Sister Martha Corey—taken into the church 27 April, 1690—was, after examination upon suspicion of witchcraft, 27 March, 1692, committed to prison for that fact, and was condemned to the[ii.325] gallows for the same yesterday; and was this day in public, by a general consent, voted to be excommunicated out of the church, and Lieutenant Nathaniel Putnam and the two deacons chosen to signify to her, with the pastor, the mind of the church herein. Accordingly, this 14 September, 1692, the three aforesaid brethren went with the pastor to her in Salem Prison; whom we found very obdurate, justifying herself, and condemning all that had done any thing to her just discovery or condemnation. Whereupon, after a little discourse (for her imperiousness would not suffer much), and after prayer,—which she was willing to decline,—the dreadful sentence of excommunication was pronounced against her."

Calef informs us, that "Martha Corey, protesting her innocency, concluded her life with an eminent prayer upon the ladder."

Nothing has reached us particularly relating to the manner of death of Alice or Mary Parker, Ann Pudeator, Margaret Scott, or Wilmot Reed. They all asserted their innocence; and their deportment gave no ground for any unfavorable comment by their persecutors, who were on the watch to turn every act, word, or look of the sufferers to their disparagement. Wilmot Reed probably adhered to the unresisting demeanor which marked her examination. It was all a mystery to her; and to every question she answered, "I know nothing about it." Of Mary Easty it is grateful to have some account. Her own declarations in vindication of her innocence are fortunately preserved; and her noble record is complete in the fol[ii.326]lowing documents. The first appears to have been addressed to the Special Court, and was presented immediately before the trial of Mary Easty. No explanation has come down to us why Sarah Cloyse was not then also brought to trial. Circumstances to which we have no clew rescued her from the fate of her sisters.

"The Humble Request of Mary Easty and Sarah Cloyse to the Honored Court humbly showeth, that, whereas we two sisters, Mary Easty and Sarah Cloyse, stand now before the honored Court charged with the suspicion of witchcraft, our humble request is—First, that, seeing we are neither able to plead our own cause, nor is counsel allowed to those in our condition, that you who are our judges would please to be of counsel to us, to direct us wherein we may stand in need. Secondly, that, whereas we are not conscious to ourselves of any guilt in the least degree of that crime whereof we are now accused (in the presence of the living God we speak it, before whose awful tribunal we know we shall ere long appear), nor of any other scandalous evil or miscarriage inconsistent with Christianity, those who have had the longest and best knowledge of us, being persons of good report, may be suffered to testify upon oath what they know concerning each of us; viz., Mr. Capen, the pastor, and those of the town and church of Topsfield, who are ready to say something which we hope may be looked upon as very considerable in this matter, with the seven children of one of us; viz., Mary Easty: and it may be produced of like nature in reference to the wife of Peter Cloyse, her sister. Thirdly, that the testimony of witches, or such as are afflicted as is supposed by witches, may not be improved to[ii.327] condemn us without other legal evidence concurring. We hope the honored Court and jury will be so tender of the lives of such as we are, who have for many years lived under the unblemished reputation of Christianity, as not to condemn them without a fair and equal hearing of what may be said for us as well as against us. And your poor suppliants shall be bound always to pray, &c."

The following was presented by Mary Easty to the judges after she had received sentence of death. It would be hard to find, in all the records of human suffering and of Christian deportment under them, a more affecting production. It is a most beautiful specimen of strong good-sense, pious fortitude and faith, genuine dignity of soul, noble benevolence, and the true eloquence of a pure heart; and was evidently composed by her own hand. It may be said of her—and there can be no higher eulogium—that she felt for others more than for herself.

"The Humble Petition of Mary Easty unto his Excellency Sir William Phips, and to the Honored Judge and Bench now sitting in Judicature in Salem, and the Reverend Ministers, humbly showeth, that, whereas your poor and humble petitioner, being condemned to die, do humbly beg of you to take it in your judicious and pious consideration, that your poor and humble petitioner, knowing my own innocency, blessed be the Lord for it! and seeing plainly the wiles and subtilty of my accusers by myself, cannot but judge charitably of others that are going the same way of myself, if the Lord steps not mightily in. I was confined a whole month upon the same account that I am condemned[ii.328] now for, and then cleared by the afflicted persons, as some of Your Honors know. And in two days' time I was cried out upon them, and have been confined, and now am condemned to die. The Lord above knows my innocency then, and likewise does now, as at the great day will be known to men and angels. I petition to Your Honors not for my own life, for I know I must die, and my appointed time is set; but the Lord he knows it is that, if it be possible, no more innocent blood may be shed, which undoubtedly cannot be avoided in the way and course you go in. I question not but Your Honors do to the utmost of your powers in the discovery and detecting of witchcraft and witches, and would not be guilty of innocent blood for the world. But, by my own innocency, I know you are in the wrong way. The Lord in his infinite mercy direct you in this great work, if it be his blessed will that no more innocent blood be shed! I would humbly beg of you, that Your Honors would be pleased to examine these afflicted persons strictly, and keep them apart some time, and likewise to try some of these confessing witches; I being confident there is several of them, has belied themselves and others, as will appear, if not in this world, I am sure in the world to come, whither I am now agoing. I question not but you will see an alteration of these things. They say myself and others having made a league with the Devil, we cannot confess. I know, and the Lord knows, as will ... appear, they belie me, and so I question not but they do others. The Lord above, who is the Searcher of all hearts, knows, as I shall answer it at the tribunal seat, that I know not the least thing of witchcraft; therefore I cannot, I dare not, belie my own soul. I beg Your Honors not to deny this my humble petition from a poor, dying, innocent person. And I question not but the Lord will give a blessing to your endeavors."

[ii.329]

The parting interview of this admirable woman with her husband, children, and friends, as she was about proceeding to the place of execution, is said to have been a most solemn, affecting, and truly sublime scene. Calef says that her farewell communications, on this occasion, were reported, by persons who listened to them, to have been "as serious, religious, distinct, and affectionate as could well be expressed, drawing tears from the eyes of almost all present."

Ann Pudeator had been formerly the wife of a person named Greenslitt, who left her with five children. Her subsequent husband, Jacob Pudeator, died in 1682, and by will gave her his whole estate, after the payment of legacies, of five pounds each, to her Greenslitt children, who appear to have been living in 1692 at Casco Bay. These provisions, as well as the expressions used by Pudeator, indicate that he regarded her with affection and esteem. The following document is all that we know else of her character particularly, except that she was a kind neighbor, and ever prompt in offices of charity and sympathy.

"The Humble Petition of Ann Pudeator unto the Honored Judge and Bench now sitting in Judicature in Salem, humbly showeth, that, whereas your poor and humble petitioner, being condemned to die, and knowing in my own conscience, as I shall shortly answer it before the great God of heaven, who is the Searcher and Knower of all hearts, that the evidence of Jno. Best, Sr., and Jno. Best, Jr., and Samuel Pickworth, which was given in against me in Court, were all of them altogether false and untrue, and, besides the[ii.330] abovesaid Jno. Best hath been formerly whipped and likewise is recorded for a liar. I would humbly beg of Your Honors to take it into your judicious and pious consideration, that my life may not be taken away by such false evidences and witnesses as these be; likewise, the evidence given in against me by Sarah Churchill and Mary Warren I am altogether ignorant of, and know nothing in the least measure about it, nor nothing else concerning the crime of witchcraft, for which I am condemned to die, as will be known to men and angels at the great day of judgment. Begging and imploring your prayers at the Throne of Grace in my behalf, and your poor and humble petitioner shall for ever pray, as she is bound in duty, for Your Honors' health and happiness in this life, and eternal felicity in the world to come."

Abigail, the wife of Francis Faulkner, and daughter of the Rev. Francis Dane, of Andover, who was among those sentenced on the 17th of September, had been examined, on the 11th of August, by Hathorne, Corwin, and Captain John Higginson, sitting as magistrates. Upon the prisoner's being brought in, the afflicted fell down, and went into fits, as usual. The magistrates asked the prisoner what she had to say. She replied, "I know nothing of it." The girls then renewed their performances, declaring that her shape was at that moment torturing them. The magistrates asked her if she did not see their sufferings. She answered, "Yes; but it is the Devil does it in my shape." Ann Putnam said that her spectre had afflicted her a few days before, pulling her off her horse.[ii.331] Upon the touch of her person, the sufferings of the afflicted would cease for a time. The prisoner held a handkerchief in her hand. The girls would screech out, declaring that, as she pressed the handkerchief, they were dreadfully squeezed. She threw the handkerchief on the table; and they said, "There are the shapes of Daniel Eames and Captain Floyd [two persons then in prison on the charge of witchcraft] sitting on her handkerchief." Mary Warren enacted the part of being dragged against her will under the table by an invisible hand, from whose grasp she was at once released, upon the prisoner's being made to touch her. Notwithstanding all this, she protested her innocence, and was remanded to jail. On the 30th, she was brought out again. In the mean while, six had been executed. The usual means were employed to break her down; but all that was gained was, that she owned she had expressed her indignation at the conduct of the afflicted, and was much excited against them "for bringing her kindred out, and she did wish them ill: and, her spirit being raised, she did pinch her hands together, and she knew not but that the Devil might take that advantage; but it was the Devil, and not she, that afflicted them." This was the only concession she would make; and they were puzzled to determine whether it was a confession, or not,—it having rather the appearance of clearing herself from all implication with the Devil, and leaving him on their hands—at any rate, they concluded to regard it in the latter sense; and she was[ii.332] duly convicted, and sentenced to death. Sir William Phips ordered a reprieve; and, after she had been thirteen weeks in prison, he directed her to be discharged on the ground of insufficient evidence. This, I think, is the only instance of a special pardon granted during the proceedings.

Samuel Wardwell, like most of the accused belonging to Andover, had originally joined the crowd of the confessors; but he was too much of a man to remain in that company. He took back his confession, and met his death. While he was speaking to the people, at the gallows, declaring his innocency, a puff of tobacco-smoke from the pipe of the executioner, as Calef informs us, "coming in his face, interrupted his discourse: those accusers said that the Devil did hinder him with smoke." The wicked creatures followed their victims to the last with their malignant outrages. The cart that carried the prisoners, on this occasion, to the hill, "was for some time at a set: the afflicted and others said that the Devil hindered it," &c.

The route by which they were conveyed from the jail, which was at the north corner of Federal and St. Peter's Streets, to the gallows, must have been a cruelly painful and fatiguing one, particularly to infirm and delicate persons, as many of them were. It was through St. Peter's, up the whole length of Essex, and thence probably along Boston Street, far towards Aborn Street; for the hill could only be ascended from that direction. It must have been a rough and jolting[ii.333] operation; and it is not strange that the cart got "set." It seems that the prisoners were carried in a single cart. It was a large one, provided probably for the occasion; and it is not unlikely that the reason why some who had been condemned were not executed, was that the cart could not hold them all at once. They were executed, one in June, five in July, five in August, and eight in September, with the intention, no doubt, by taking them in instalments, to extend the acts of the tragedy, from month to month, indefinitely.

It was necessary for the safety of the accusers and prosecutors to prevent a revulsion of the public mind, or even the least diminution of the popular violence against the supposed witches. As they all protested their innocence to the moment of death, and exhibited a remarkably Christian deportment throughout the dreadful scenes they were called to encounter from their arrest to their execution, there was reason to apprehend that the people would gradually be led to feel a sympathy for them, if not to entertain doubts of their guilt. To prevent this, and remove any impressions favorable to them that might be made by the conduct and declarations of the convicts, the prosecutors were on the alert. After the prisoners had been swung off, on the 22d of September, "turning him to the bodies, Mr. Noyes said, 'What a sad thing it is to see eight firebrands of hell hanging there!'" It was the last time his eyes were regaled by such a sight. There were no more executions on Witch Hill.[ii.334]

Three days before, a life had been taken by the officers of the law in a manner so extraordinary, and marked by features so shocking, that they find no parallel in the annals of America, and will continue to arrest for ever the notice of mankind. The history and character of old Giles Corey have been given in preceding parts of this work. The only papers relating to him, on file as having been sworn to before the Grand Jury, are a few brief depositions. If he had been put on trial, we might have had more. Elizabeth Woodwell testifies, that "she saw Giles Corey at meeting at Salem on a lecture-day, since he has been in prison. He or his apparition came in, and sat in the middlemost seat of the men's seats, by the post. This was the lecture-day before Bridget Bishop was hanged. And I saw him come out with the rest of the people." Mary Walcot, of course, swore to the same. And Mary Warren swore that Corey was hostile to her and afflicted her, because he thought she "caused her master (John Procter) to ask more for a piece of meadow than he (Corey) was willing to give." She also charged him with "afflicting of her" by his spectre while he was in prison, and "described him in all his garments, both of hat, coat, and the color of them,—with a cord about his waist and a white cap on his head, and in chains." There is reason to believe, that, while in prison, he experienced great distress of mind. Although he had been a rough character in earlier life, and given occasion to much scandal by his disregard of public opinion, he always exhibited symp[ii.335]toms of a generous and sensitive nature. His foolish conduct in becoming so passionately engaged in the witchcraft proceedings, at their earliest stage, as to be incensed against his wife because she did not approve of or believe in them, and which led him to utter sentiments and expressions that had been used against her; and so far yielding to the accusers as to allow them to get from him the deposition, which, while it failed to satisfy their demands, it was shameful for him to have been persuaded to give,—all these things, which after his own apprehension and imprisonment he had leisure to ponder upon, preyed on his mind. He saw the awful character of the delusion to which he had lent himself; that it had brought his prayerful and excellent wife to the sentence of death, which had already been executed upon many other devout and worthy persons. He knew that he was innocent of the crime of witchcraft, and was now satisfied that all others were. Besides his own unfriendly course towards his wife, two of his four sons-in-law had turned against her. One (Crosby) had testified, and another (Parker) had allowed his name to be used, as an adverse witness. In view of all this, Corey made up his mind, determined on his course, and stood to that determination. He resolved to expiate his own folly by a fate that would satisfy the demands of the sternest criticism upon his conduct; proclaim his abhorrence of the prosecutions; and attest the strength of his feelings towards those of his children who had been false, and those who had been true, to his wife.[ii.336] He caused to be drawn up what has been called a will, although it is in reality a deed, and was duly recorded as such. Its phraseology is very strongly guarded, and made to give it clear, full, and certain effect. It begins thus: "Know ye, &c., that I, Giles Corey, lying under great trouble and affliction, through which I am very weak in body, but in perfect memory,—knowing not how soon I may depart this life; in consideration of which, and for the fatherly love and affection which I have and do bear unto my beloved son-in-law, William Cleeves, of the town of Beverly, and to my son-in-law, John Moulton, of the town of Salem, as also for divers other good causes and considerations me at the present especially moving;" and proceeds to convey and confirm all his property—"lands, meadow, housing, cattle, stock, movables and immovables, money, apparel, ... and all other the aforesaid premises, with their appurtenances"—to the said Cleeves and Moulton "for ever, freely and quietly, without any manner of challenge, claim, or demand of me the said Giles Corey, or of any other person or persons whatsoever for me in my name, or by my cause, means, or procurement;" and, in the use of all the language applicable to that end, he warrants and binds himself to defend the aforesaid conveyance and grant to Cleeves and Moulton, their heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns for ever. The document was properly signed, sealed, and delivered in the presence of competent witnesses, whose several signatures are indorsed to that effect. It was duly acknowledged[ii.337] before "Thomas Wade, Justice of the Peace in Essex," and recorded forthwith. This transaction took place in the jail at Ipswich.

His whole property being thus securely conveyed to his faithful sons-in-law, and placed beyond the reach of his own weakness or change of purpose, Corey resolved on a course that would surely try to the utmost the power of human endurance and firmness. He knew, that, if brought to trial, his death was certain. He did not know but that conviction and execution, through the attainder connected with it, might invalidate all attempts of his to convey his property. But it was certain, that, if he should not be brought to trial and conviction, his deed would stand, and nothing could break it, or defeat its effect. He accordingly made up his mind not to be tried. When called into court to answer to the indictment found by the Grand Jury, he did not plead "Guilty," or "Not guilty," but stood mute. How often he was called forth, we are not informed; but nothing could shake him. No power on earth could unseal his lips.

He knew that he could have no trial that would deserve the name. To have pleaded "Not guilty" would have made him, by his own act, a party to the proceeding, and have been, by implication, an assent to putting his case to the decision of a blind, maddened, and utterly perverted tribunal. He would not, by any act or utterance of his, leave his case with "the country" represented by a jury that embodied the passions of the deluded and infatuated multitude[ii.338] around him. He knew that the gates of justice were closed, and that truth had fled from the scene. He would have no part nor lot in the matter; refused to recognize the court, made no response to its questions, and was dumb in its presence. He stands alone in the resolute defiance of his attitude. He knew the penalty of suffering and agony he would have to pay; but he freely and fearlessly encountered it. All that was needed to carry his point was an unconquerable firmness, and he had it. He rendered it impossible to bring him to trial; and thereby, in spite of the power and wrath of the whole country and its authorities, retained his right to dispose of his property; and bore his testimony against the wickedness and folly of the hour in tones that reached the whole world, and will resound through all the ages.

When Corey took this ground, the Court found itself in a position of no little difficulty, and was probably at a loss what to do. No information has come to us of the details of the proceedings. If the usages in England on such occasions were adopted, the prisoner was three times brought before the Court, and called to plead; the consequences of persisting in standing mute being solemnly announced to him at each time. If he remained obdurate, the sentence of peine forte et dure was passed upon him; and, remanded to prison, he was put into a low and dark apartment. He would there be laid on his back on the bare floor, naked for the most part. A weight of iron would be placed upon him, not quite enough to crush him. He[ii.339] would have no sustenance, save only, on the first day, three morsels of the worst bread; and, on the second day, three draughts of standing water that should be nearest to the prison door: and, in this situation, such would be alternately his daily diet till he died, or till he answered. The object of this terrible punishment was to induce the prisoner to plead to the indictment; upon doing which, he would be brought to trial in the ordinary way. The motive that led prisoners to stand mute in England is stated to have been, most generally, to save their property from confiscation. The practice of putting weights upon them, and gradually increasing them, was to force them, by the slowly increasing torture, to yield.

How far the English practice was imitated in the case of Corey will remain for ever among the dread secrets of his prison-house. The tradition is, that the last act in the tragedy was in an open field near the jail, somewhere between Howard-street Burial Ground and Brown Street. It is said that Corey urged the executioners to increase the weight which was crushing him, that he told them it was of no use to expect him to yield, that there could be but one way of ending the matter, and that they might as well pile on the rocks. Calef says, that, as his body yielded to the pressure, his tongue protruded from his mouth, and an official forced it back with his cane. Some persons now living remember a popular superstition, lingering in the minds of some of the more ignorant class, that Corey's ghost haunted the grounds where this barbar[ii.340]ous deed was done; and that boys, as they sported in the vicinity, were in the habit of singing a ditty beginning thus:—

"'More weight! more weight!'
Giles Corey he cried."

For a person of more than eighty-one years of age, this must be allowed to have been a marvellous exhibition of prowess; illustrating, as strongly as any thing in human history, the power of a resolute will over the utmost pain and agony of body, and demonstrating that Giles Corey was a man of heroic nerve, and of a spirit that could not be subdued.

It produced a deep effect, as it was feared that it would. The bearing of all the sufferers at all the stages of the proceedings, and at their execution, had told in their favor; but the course of Giles Corey profoundly affected the public mind. This must have been noticed by the managers of the prosecutions; and they felt that some extraordinary expedient was necessary to renew, and render more intense than ever, the general infatuation. From the very beginning, there had been great skill and adroitness in arranging the order of incidents, and supplying the requisite excitements at the right moments and the right points. Some persons—it can only be conjectured who—had, all along, been behind the scenes, giving direction and materials to the open actors. This unseen power was in the village; and the movements it devised generally proceeded from Thomas Putnam's house, or the parsonage. It was on hand to meet the contingency[ii.341] created by Corey's having actually carried out to the last his resolution to meet a form of death that would, if any thing could, cause a re-action in the public mind; and the following stratagem was contrived to turn the manner of his death into the means of more than ever blinding and infatuating the people. It was the last and one of the most artful strokes of policy by the prosecutors. On the day after the death of Corey, and two days before the execution of his wife, Mary Easty, and the six others, Judge Sewall, then in Salem, received a letter from Thomas Putnam to this effect:—

"Last night, my daughter Ann was grievously tormented by witches, threatening that she should be pressed to death before Giles Corey; but, through the goodness of a gracious God, she had at last a little respite. Whereupon there appeared unto her (she said) a man in a winding-sheet, who told her that Giles Corey had murdered him by pressing him to death with his feet; but that the Devil there appeared unto him, and covenanted with him, and promised him that he should not be hanged. The apparition said God hardened his heart, that he should not hearken to the advice of the Court, and so die an easy death; because, as it said, it must be done to him as he has done to me. The apparition also said that Giles Corey was carried to the Court for this, and that the jury had found the murder; and that her father knew the man, and the thing was done before she was born."

Cotton Mather represented this vision, made to Ann Putnam, as proof positive of a divine communication to her, because, as he says, she could not have received[ii.342] her information from a human source, as everybody had forgotten the affair long ago; and that she never could have heard of it, happening, as it did, before she was born. Bringing up this old matter to meet the effect produced by Corey's death was indeed a skilful move; and it answered its purpose probably to a considerable extent. The man whom Corey was thus charged with having murdered seventeen years before died in a manner causing some gossip at the time; and a coroner's jury found that he had been "bruised to death, having clodders of blood about the heart." Bringing the affair back to the public mind, with the story of Ann Putnam's vision, was well calculated to meet and check any sympathy that might threaten to arise in favor of Corey. But the trick, however ingenious, will not stand the test of scrutiny. Mather's statement that everybody had forgotten the transaction, and that Ann could only have known of it supernaturally, is wholly untenable; for it was precisely one of those things that are never forgotten in a country village: it had always been kept alive as a part of the gossip of the neighborhood in connection with Corey; and her own father, as is unwittingly acknowledged, knew the man, and all about it. Of course, the girl had heard of it from him and others. The industry that had ransacked the traditions and collected the scandal of the whole country, far and near, for stories that were brought in evidence against all the prisoners, had not failed to pick up this choice bit against Corey. The only reason why it had not[ii.343] before been brought out was because he had not been on trial. The man who died with "clodders of blood about his heart," seventeen years before, was an unfortunate and worthless person, who had incurred punishment for his misconduct while a servant on Corey's farm, and afterwards at the hands of his own family: and he does not appear to have mended his morals upon passing into the spiritual world; for the statement of his ghost to Ann Putnam, that the jury had found Corey guilty of murder, and that the Court was hindered by some enchantment from proceeding against him, is disproved by the record which is—as has been mentioned in the First Part, vol. i. p. 185—that the man was carried back to his house by Corey's wife, and died there some time after; and the Court did no more than fine Corey for the punishment he had inflicted upon him while in his service, and which the evidence showed was repeated by his parents after his return to his own family.

Thomas Putnam's letter and Ann's vision were the last things of the kind that occurred. The delusion was approaching its close, and the people were beginning to be restored to their senses.

When it became known that Corey's resolution was likely to hold out, and that no torments or cruelties of any kind could subdue his firm and invincible spirit, Mr. Noyes hurried a special meeting of his church on a week-day, and had the satisfaction of dealing the same awful doom upon him as upon Rebecca Nurse. The entry in the record of the First Church is as follows:[ii.344]—

"Sept. 18, G. Corey was excommunicated: the cause of it was, that he being accused and indicted for the sin of witchcraft, he refused to plead, and so incurred the sentence and penalty of pain fort dure; being undoubtedly either guilty of the sin of witchcraft, or of throwing himself upon sudden and certain death, if he were otherwise innocent."

This attempt to introduce a form of argument into a church act of excommunication is a slight but significant symptom of its having become felt that the breath of reason had begun to raise a ripple upon the surface of the public mind. It increased slowly, but steadily to a gale that beat with severity upon Mr. Noyes and all his fellow-persecutors to their dying day.

After the executions, on the 22d of September, the Court adjourned to meet some weeks subsequently; and it was, no doubt, their expectation to continue from month to month to hold sessions, and supply, each time, new cart-loads of victims to the hangman. But a sudden collapse took place in the machinery, and they met no more. The executive authority intervened, and their functions ceased. The curtain fell unexpectedly, and the tragedy ended. It is not known precisely what caused this sudden change. It is probable, that a revolution had been going on some time in the public mind, which was kept for a while from notice, but at last became too apparent and too serious to be disregarded. It has generally been attributed to the fact, that the girls became over-confident, and struck too high. They had ventured, as we have seen, to cry[ii.345] out against the Rev. Samuel Willard, but were rebuked and silenced by the Court. Whoever began to waver in his confidence of the correctness of the proceedings was in danger of being attacked by them; and, as a general thing, when a person was "cried out upon," it may be taken as proof that he had spoken against them. Increase Mather, the president of Harvard College, called by Eliot "the father of the New-England clergy," was understood not to go so far as his son Cotton in sustaining the proceedings; and a member of his family was accused. The wife of Sir William Phips sympathized with those who suffered prosecution, and is said to have written an order for the release of a prisoner from jail. She was cried out upon. It may have been noticed, that, though Jonathan Corwin sat with Hathorne as an examining magistrate and assistant, and signed the commitments of the prisoners, he never took an active part, but was a silent and passive agent in the scene. He was subsequently raised to the bench; but there is reason to believe that his mind was not clear as to the correctness of the proceedings. This probably became known to the accusing girls; for they cried out repeatedly against his wife's mother, a respectable and venerable lady in Boston. The accusers, in aiming at such characters, overestimated their power; and the tide began to turn against them. But what finally broke the spell by which they had held the minds of the whole colony in bondage was their accusation, in October, of Mrs. Hale, the wife of the[ii.346] minister of the First Church in Beverly. Her genuine and distinguished virtues had won for her a reputation, and secured in the hearts of the people a confidence, which superstition itself could not sully nor shake. Mr. Hale had been active in all the previous proceedings; but he knew the innocence and piety of his wife, and he stood forth between her and the storm he had helped to raise: although he had driven it on while others were its victims, he turned and resisted it when it burst in upon his own dwelling. The whole community became convinced that the accusers in crying out upon Mrs. Hale, had perjured themselves, and from that moment their power was destroyed; the awful delusion was dispelled, and a close put to one of the most tremendous tragedies in the history of real life. The wildest storm, perhaps, that ever raged in the moral world, became a calm; the tide that had threatened to overwhelm every thing in its fury, sunk back to its peaceful bed. There are few, if any, other instances in history, of a revolution of opinion and feeling so sudden, so rapid, and so complete. The images and visions that had possessed the bewildered imaginations of the people flitted away, and left them standing in the sunshine of reason and their senses; and they could have exclaimed, as they witnessed them passing off, in the language of the great master of the drama and of human nature, but that their rigid Puritan principles would not, it is presumed, have permitted them, even in that moment of rescue and deliverance, to quote Shakspeare,[ii.347]—

"The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,
And these are of them. Whither are they vanished?
Into the air; and what seemed corporal, melted
As breath into the wind."

Sir William Phips well knew that the public sentiment demanded a stop to be put to the prosecutions. Besides that many of the people had lost all faith in the grounds on which they had been conducted, an influence from the higher orders of society began to make itself felt. Hutchinson says, "Although many such had suffered, yet there remained in prison a number of women of as reputable families as any in the towns where they lived, and several persons, of still superior rank, were hinted at by the pretended bewitched, or by the confessing witches. Some had been publicly named. Dudley Bradstreet, a justice of peace, who had been appointed one of President Dudley's council, and who was son to the worthy old governor, then living, found it necessary to abscond. Having been remiss in prosecuting, he had been charged by some of the afflicted as a confederate. His brother, John Bradstreet, was forced to fly also."

The termination of the proceedings was probably effectually secured by the spirited course of certain parties in Andover, who, at the first moment of its appearing that the public sentiment was changing, commenced actions for slander against the accusers.

The result of the whole matter was, that, while some of the judges, magistrates, and ministers persisted in their fanatical zeal, the great body of the people, high and low, were rescued from the delusion.[ii.348]

While, in the course of our story, we have witnessed some shocking instances of the violation of the most sacred affections and obligations of life, in husbands and wives, parents and children, testifying against each other, and exerting themselves for mutual destruction, we must not overlook the many instances in which filial, parental, and fraternal fidelity and love have shone conspicuously. It was dangerous to befriend an accused person. Procter stood by his wife to protect her, and it cost him his life. Children protested against the treatment of their parents, and they were all thrown into prison. Daniel Andrew, a citizen of high standing, who had been deputy to the General Court, asserted, in the boldest language, his belief of Rebecca Nurse's innocence; and he had to fly the country to save his life. Many devoted sons and daughters clung to their parents, visited them in prison in defiance of a bloodthirsty mob; kept by their side on the way to execution; expressed their love, sympathy, and reverence to the last; and, by brave and perilous enterprise, got possession of their remains, and bore them back under the cover of midnight to their own thresholds, and to graves kept consecrated by their prayers and tears. One noble young man is said to have effected his mother's escape from the jail, and secreted her in the woods until after the delusion had passed away, provided food and clothing for her, erected a wigwam for her shelter, and surrounded her with every comfort her situation would admit of. The poor creature must,[ii.349] however, have endured a great amount of suffering; for one of her larger limbs was fractured in the all but desperate attempt to rescue her from the prison-walls.

The Special Court being no longer suffered to meet, a permanent and regular tribunal, called the Superior Court of Judicature, was established, consisting of the Deputy-governor, William Stoughton, Chief-justice; and Thomas Danforth, John Richards, Wait Winthrop, and Samuel Sewall, associate justices. They held a Court at Salem, in January, 1693. Hutchinson says that, on this occasion, the Grand Jury found about fifty indictments. The following persons were brought to trial: Rebecca Jacobs, Margaret Jacobs, Sarah Buckley, Job Tookey, Hannah Tyler, Candy, Mary Marston, Elizabeth Johnson, Abigail Barker, Mary Tyler, Sarah Hawkes, Mary Wardwell, Mary Bridges, Hannah Post, Sarah Bridges, Mary Osgood, Mary Lacy, Jr., Sarah Wardwell, Elizabeth Johnson, Jr., and Mary Post. The three last were condemned, but not executed: all the rest were acquitted. Considering that the "spectral evidence" was wholly thrown out at these trials, the facts that the grand jury, under the advice of the Court, brought in so many indictments, and that three were actually convicted, are as discreditable to the regular Court as the convictions at the Special Court are to that body. It has been said that the Special Court had not an adequate representation of lawyers in its composition; and the results of its proceedings have been ascribed to that circumstance. It has been[ii.350] held up disparagingly in comparison with the regular Court that succeeded it. But, in fact, the regular Court consisted of persons all of whom sat in the Special Court, with the exception of Danforth. But his proceedings in originating the arrests for witchcraft in the fall of 1691, and his action when presiding at the preliminary examination of John Procter, Elizabeth Procter, and Sarah Cloyse, at Salem, April 11, 1692, show that, so far as the permission of gross irregularities and the admission of absurd kinds of testimony are concerned, the regular Court gained nothing by his sitting with it, unless his views had been thoroughly changed in the mean time. The truth is, that the judges, magistrates, and legislature were as much to blame, in this whole business, as the ministers, and much more slow to come to their senses, and make amends for their wrong-doing.

All the facts known to us, and all the statements that have come down to us, require us to believe, that none who confessed, and stood to their confession, were brought to trial. All who were condemned either maintained their innocence from the first, or, if persuaded or overcome into a confession, voluntarily took it back and disowned it before trial. If this be so, then the name of every person condemned ought to be held in lasting honor, as preferring to die rather than lie, or stand to a lie. It required great strength of mind to take back a confession; relinquish life and liberty; go down into a dungeon, loaded with irons; and from thence to ascend the gallows. It relieves[ii.351] the mind to think, that Abigail Hobbs, wicked and shocking as her conduct had been towards Mr. Burroughs and others, came to herself, and offered her life in atonement for her sin.

The Court continued the trials at successive sessions during the spring, all resulting in acquittals, until in May, 1693, Sir William Phips, by proclamation, discharged all. Hutchinson says, "Such a jail-delivery has never been known in New England." The number then released is stated to have been one hundred and fifty. How many had been apprehended, during the whole affair, we have no means of knowing. Twenty, counting Giles Corey, had been executed. Two at least, Ann Foster and Sarah Osburn, had died in jail: it is not improbable that others perished under the bodily and mental sufferings there. We find frequent expressions indicating that many died in prison. A considerable number of children, and some adults whose friends were able to give the heavy bonds required and had influence enough to secure the favor, had some time before been removed to private custody. Quite a considerable number had succeeded in breaking jail and eluding recapture. Upon the whole, there must have been several hundreds committed. Even after acquittal by a jury, and the Governor's proclamation, none were set at liberty until they had paid all charges; including board for the whole time of their imprisonment, jailer's fees, and fees of Court of all kinds. The families of many had become utterly impoverished.[ii.352]

The sufferings of the prisoners and of their relatives and connections are perhaps best illustrated by presenting the substance of a few of the petitions for their release, found among the files. The friends of the parties, in these cases, were not in a condition to give the bonds, and they probably remained in jail until the general discharge; and how long after, before the means could be raised to pay all dues, we cannot know.[D]

[ii.353]

Margaret Jacobs had to remain in jail after the Governor's proclamation had directed the release of all prisoners, because she could not pay the fees and charges. Her grandfather had been executed, and all his furniture, stock, and moveable property seized by the marshal or sheriff. Her father escaped the warrant by a sudden flight from his home under the cover of midnight, and was in exile "beyond the seas;" her mother and herself taken at the time by the officers serving the warrants against them; the younger children of the family, left without protection, had dispersed, and been thrown upon the charity of neighbors; the house had been stripped of its contents, left open, and deserted. She had not a shilling in the world, and knew not where to look for aid. She[ii.354] was taken back to prison, and remained there for some time, until a person named Gammon, apparently a stranger, happened to hear of her case, and, touched with compassion, raised the money required, and released her. It was long before the affairs of the Jacobs' family were so far retrieved as to enable them to refund the money to the noble-hearted fisherman. How many others lingered in prison, or how long, we have no means of ascertaining.

In reviewing the proceedings at the examinations and trials, it is impossible to avoid being struck with the infatuation of the magistrates and judges. They acted throughout in the character and spirit of prosecuting officers, put leading and ensnaring questions to the prisoners, adopted a browbeating deportment towards them, and pursued them with undisguised hostility. They assumed their guilt from the first,[ii.355] and endeavored to force them to confess; treating them as obstinate culprits because they would not. Every kind of irregularity was permitted. The marshal was encouraged in perpetual interference to prejudice the persons on trial, watching and reporting aloud to the Court every movement of their hands or heads or feet. Other persons were allowed to speak out, from the body of the crowd, whatever they chose to say adverse to the prisoner. Accusers were suffered to make private communications to the magistrates and judges before or during the hearings. The presiding officers showed off their smartness in attempts to make the persons on trial before them appear at a disadvantage. In some instances, as in the case of Sarah Good, the magistrate endeavored to deceive the accused by representing falsely the testimony given by another. The people in and around the court-room were allowed to act the part of a noisy mob, by clamors and threatening outcries; and juries were overawed to bring in verdicts of conviction, and rebuked from the bench if they exercised their rightful prerogative without regard to the public passions. The chief-justice, in particular, appears to have been actuated by violent prejudice against the prisoners, and to have conducted the trials, all along, with a spirit that bears the aspect of animosity.

There is one point of view in which he must be held responsible for the blood that was shed, and the infamy that, in consequence, attaches to the proceedings. It may well be contended, that not a conviction would[ii.356] have taken place, but for a notion of his which he arbitrarily enforced as a rule of law. It was a part of the theory relating to witchcraft, that the Devil made use of the spectres, or apparitions, of some persons to afflict others. From this conceded postulate, a division of opinion arose. Some maintained that the Devil could employ only the spectres of persons in league with him; others affirmed, that he could send upon his evil errands the spectres of innocent persons, without their consent or knowledge. The chief-justice held the former opinion, against the judgment of many others, arbitrarily established it as a rule of Court, and peremptorily instructed juries to regard it as binding upon them in making their verdicts. The consequence was that a verdict of "Guilty" became inevitable. But few at that time doubted the veracity of the "afflicted persons," which was thought to be demonstrated to the very senses by their fits and sufferings, in the presence of the Court, jury, and all beholders. When they swore that they saw the shapes of Bridget Bishop, or Rebecca Nurse, or George Burroughs, choking or otherwise torturing a person, the fact was regarded as beyond question.

The prisoners took the ground, that the statements made by the witnesses, even if admitted, were not proof against them; for the Devil might employ the spectres of innocent persons, or of whomsoever he chose, without the knowledge of the persons whose shapes were thus used by him. When Mrs. Ann Putnam swore that she had seen the spectre of Rebecca Nurse[ii.357] afflicting various persons; and that the said spectre acknowledged to her, that "she had killed Benjamin Houlton, and John Fuller, and Rebecca Shepard,"—the answer of the prisoner was, "I cannot help it: the Devil may appear in my shape." When the examining magistrate put the question to Susanna Martin, "How comes your appearance to hurt these?" Martin replied, "I cannot tell. He that appeared in Samuel's shape, a glorified saint, can appear in any one's shape." The Rev. John Wise, in his noble appeal in favor of John Procter, argued to the same point. But the chief-justice was inexorably deaf to all reason; compelled the jury to receive, as absolute law, that the Devil could not use the shape of an innocent person; and, as the "afflicted" swore that they saw the shapes of the prisoners actually engaged in the diabolical work, there was no room left for question, and they must return a verdict of "Guilty."

In this way, innocent persons were slaughtered by a dogma in the mind of an obstinate judge. Dogmas have perverted courts and governments in all ages. A fabrication of fancy, an arbitrary verbal proposition, has been exalted above reason, and made to extinguish common sense. The world is full of such dogmas. They mislead the actions of men, and confound the page of history. "The king cannot die" is one of them. It is held as an axiom of political and constitutional truth. So an entire dynasty, crowded with a more glorious life than any other, is struck from the annals of an empire. In the public records of Eng[ii.358]land, the existence of the Commonwealth is ignored; and the traces of its great events are erased from the archives of the government, which, in all its formulas and official papers, proclaims a lie. A hunted fugitive, wandering in disguise through foreign lands, without a foot of ground on the globe that he could call his own, is declared in all public acts, parliamentary and judicial, and even by those assuming to utter the voice of history, to have actually reigned all the time. In our country and in our day, we are perplexed, and our public men bewildered, by a similar dogma. The merest fabric of human contrivance, a particular form of political society, is impiously clothed with an essential attribute of God alone; and ephemeral politicians are announcing, as an eternal law of Providence, that "a State cannot die." The mischiefs that result, in the management of human affairs, from enthroning dogmas over reason, truth, and fact, are, as they ever have been, incalculable.

Chief-justice Stoughton appears to have kept his mind chained to his dogma to the last. It rendered him wholly incapable of opening his eyes to the light of truth. He held on to spectral evidence, and his corollary from it, when everybody else had abandoned both. He would not admit that he, or any one concerned, had been in error. He never could bear to hear any persons express penitence or regret for the part they had taken in the proceedings. When the public delusion had so far subsided that it became difficult to procure the execution of a witch, he was[ii.359] disturbed and incensed to such a degree that he abandoned his seat on the bench. During a session of the Court at Charlestown, in January, 1692-3, "word was brought in, that a reprieve was sent to Salem, and had prevented the execution of seven of those that were there condemned, which so moved the chief judge that he said to this effect: 'We were in a way to have cleared the land of them; who it is that obstructs the cause of justice, I know not: the Lord be merciful to the country!' and so went off the bench, and came no more into that Court."

I have spoken of the judges as appearing to be infatuated, not on account of the opinions they held on the subject of witchcraft, for these were the opinions of their age; nor from the peculiar doctrine their chief enforced upon them, for that was entertained by many, and, as a mere theory, was perhaps as logically deducible from the prevalent doctrines as any other. Their infatuation consisted in not having eyes to see, or ears to hear, evidences continually occurring of the untruthful arts and tricks of the afflicted children, of their cunning evasions, and, in some instances, palpable falsehoods. Then, further, there was solid and substantial evidence before them that ought to have made them pause and consider, if not doubt and disbelieve. We find the following paper among the files:—

The Testimony of John Putnam, Sr., and Rebecca his Wife, saith that our son-in-law John Fuller, and our daughter Rebecca Shepard, did both of them die a most violent death (and died acting very strangely at the time of[ii.360] their death); further saith, that we did judge then that they both died of a malignant fever, and had no suspicion of withcraft of any, neither can we accuse the prisoner at the bar of any such thing."

When we recall the testimony of Ann Putnam the mother, and find that the afflicted generally charged the death of the above-named persons upon the shape of Rebecca Nurse, we perceive how absolutely Captain John Putnam and his wife discredit their testimony. The opinion of the father and mother of Fuller and Shepard ought to have had weight with the Court. They were persons of the highest standing, and of recognized intelligence and judgment. They were old church-members, and eminently orthodox in all their sentiments. They were the heads of a great family. He had represented the town in the General Court the year before. No man in this part of the country was more noted for strong good sense than Captain John Putnam. This deposition is honorable to their memory, and clears them from all responsibility for the extent to which the afflicted persons were allowed to sway the judgment of the Court. Taken in connection with the paper signed by so large a portion of the best people of the village, in behalf of Rebecca Nurse, it proves that the blame for the shocking proceedings in the witchcraft prosecutions cannot be laid upon the local population, but rests wholly upon the Court and the public authorities.

The Special Court that condemned the persons charged with witchcraft in 1692 is justly open to[ii.361] censure for the absence of all discrimination of evidence, and for a prejudgment of the cases submitted to them. In view of the then existing law and the practice in the mother-country under it, they ought to have the benefit of the admission that they did, in other respects than those mentioned, no more and no worse than was to be expected. And Cotton Mather, in the "Magnalia," vindicates them on this ground:—

"They consulted the precedents of former times, and precepts laid down by learned writers about witchcraft; as, Keeble on the Common Law, chap. 'Conjuration' (an author approved by the twelve judges of our nation): also, Sir Matthew Hale's Trials of Witches, printed anno 1682; Glanvill's Collection of Sundry Trials in England and Ireland in the years 1658, '61, '63, '64, and '81; Bernard's Guide to Jury-men; Baxter's and R.B., their histories about Witches, and their Discoveries; Cotton Mather's Memorable Providences relating to Witchcraft, printed 1685."

So far as the medical profession at the time is concerned, it must be admitted that they bear a full share of responsibility for the proceedings. They gave countenance and currency to the idea of witchcraft in the public mind, and were very generally in the habit, when a patient did not do well under their prescriptions, of getting rid of all difficulty by saying that "an evil hand" was upon him. Their opinion to this effect is cited throughout, and appears in a large number of the documents. There were coroners' juries in cases where it was suspected that a person[ii.362] died of witchcraft. It is much to be regretted that none of their verdicts have been preserved. Drawn up by an attending "chirurgeon," they would illustrate the state of professional science at that day, by informing us of the marks, indications, and conditions of the bodily organization by which the traces of the Devil's hand were believed to be discoverable. All we know is that, in particular cases, as that of Bray Wilkins's grandson Daniel, the jury found decisive proof that he had died by "an evil hand."

It is not to be denied or concealed, that the clergy were instrumental in bringing on the witchcraft delusion in 1692. As the supposed agents of the mischief belonged to the supernatural and spiritual world, which has ever been considered their peculiar province, it was thought that the advice and co-operation of ministers were particularly appropriate and necessary. Opposition to prevailing vices and attempts to reform society were considered at that time in the light of a conflict with Satan himself; and he was thought to be the ablest minister who had the greatest power over the invisible enemy, and could most easily and effectively avert his blows, and counteract his baleful influence. This gave the clergy the front in the battle against the hosts of Belial. They were proud of the position, and were stimulated to distinguish themselves in the conflict. Cotton Mather represents that ministers were honored by the special hostility of the great enemy of souls, "more dogged by the Devil than any other men," just as, according to his philosophy,[ii.363] the lightning struck the steeples of churches more frequently than other buildings because the Prince of the Power of the Air particularly hated the places where the sound of the gospel was heard. There were, moreover, it is to be feared, ministers whose ambition to acquire influence and power had been allowed to become a ruling principle, and who favored the delusion because thereby their object could be most surely achieved by carrying the people to the greatest extremes of credulity, superstition, and fanatical blindness.

But justice requires it to be said that the ministers, as a general thing, did not take the lead after the proceedings had assumed their most violent aspect, and the disastrous effects been fully brought to view. It may be said, on the contrary, that they took the lead, as a class, in checking the delusion, and rescuing the public mind from its control. Prior to the time when they were called upon to give their advice to the government, they probably followed Cotton Mather: after that, they seemed to have freed themselves generally from his influence. The names of Dane and Barnard of Andover, Higginson of Salem, Cheever of Marblehead, Hubbard and Wise of Ipswich, Payson and Phillips of Rowley, Allin of Salisbury, and Capen of Topsfield, appear in behalf of persons accused. To come forward in their defence shows courage, and proves that their influence was in the right direction, even while the proceedings were at their height. Mr. Hale, of Beverly, abandoned the prosecutions, and ex[ii.364]pressed his disapprobation of them, before the government or the Court relaxed the vigor of their operations, as is sufficiently proved by the fact that the "afflicted children" cried out against his wife. Willard, and James Allen, and Moody, and John Bailey, and even Increase Mather, of Boston, openly discountenanced the course things were taking. The latter circulated a letter from his London correspondent, a person whose opinion was entitled to weight, condemning in the strongest terms the doctrine of the chief-justice, as follows: "All that I speak with much wonder that any man, much less a man of such abilities, learning, and experience as Mr. Stoughton, should take up a persuasion that the Devil cannot assume the likeness of an innocent, to afflict another person. In my opinion, it is a persuasion utterly destitute of any solid reason to render it so much as probable." The ministers may have been among the first to bring on the delusion; but the foregoing facts prove, that, as a profession, they were the first to attempt to check and discountenance the prosecutions. While we are required, in all fairness, to give this credit to the clergy in general, it would be false to the obligations of historical truth and justice to attempt to palliate the conduct of some of them. Whoever considers all that Mr. Parris, according to his own account, said and did, cannot but shrink from the necessity of passing judgment upon him, and find relief in leaving him to that tribunal which alone can measure the extent of human responsibility,[ii.365] and sound the depths of the heart. Lawson threw into the conflagration all the combustible materials his eloquence and talents, heated, it is to be feared, by resentment, could contribute. Dr. Bentley, in his "Description and History of Salem" (Mass. Hist. Coll., 1st series, vol. vi.) says, "Mr. Noyes came out and publicly confessed his error, never concealed a circumstance, never excused himself; visited, loved, blessed, the survivors whom he had injured; asked forgiveness always, and consecrated the residue of his life to bless mankind." It is to be hoped that the statement is correct. There were several points of agreement between Noyes and Bentley. Both were men of ability and learning. Like Bentley, Noyes lived and died a bachelor; and, like him, was a man of lively and active temperament, and, in the general tenor of his life, benevolent and disinterested. Perhaps congeniality in these points led Bentley to make the statement, just quoted, a little too strong. He wrote more than a century after the witchcraft proceedings; just at that point when tradition had become inflated by all manner of current talk, of fable mixed with fact, before the correcting and expunging hand of a severe scrutiny of records and documents had commenced its work. The drag-net of time had drawn along with it every thing that anybody had said; but the process of sifting and discrimination had not begun. His kindly and ingenuous nature led him to believe, and prompted him to write down, all that was amiable, and pleasing to a mind like his. So far as the[ii.366] records and documents give us information, there is reason to apprehend, that Mr. Noyes, like Stoughton, another old bachelor, never recovered his mind from the frame of feeling or conviction in which it was during the proceedings. His name is not found, as are those of other ministers, to any petitions, memorials or certificates, in favor of the sufferers during the trials, or of reparation to their memories or to the feelings of their friends. He does not appear to have taken any part in arresting the delusion or rectifying the public mind.

Of Cotton Mather, more is required to be said. He aspired to be considered the leading champion of the Church, and the most successful combatant against the Satanic powers. He seems to have longed for an opportunity to signalize himself in this particular kind of warfare; seized upon every occurrence that would admit of such a coloring to represent it as the result of diabolical agency; circulated in his numerous publications as many tales of witchcraft as he could collect throughout New and Old England, and repeatedly endeavored to get up cases of the kind in Boston. There is some ground for suspicion that he was instrumental in originating the fanaticism in Salem; at any rate, he took a leading part in fomenting it. And while there is evidence that he endeavored, after the delusion subsided, to escape the disgrace of having approved of the proceedings, and pretended to have been in some measure opposed to them, it can be too clearly shown that he was secretly and cunningly endeavoring to[ii.367] renew them during the next year in his own parish in Boston.[E]

How blind is man to the future! The state of things which Cotton Mather labored to bring about, in order that he might increase his own influence over an infatuated people, by being regarded by them as mighty[ii.368] to cast out and vanquish evil spirits, and as able to hold Satan himself in chains by his prayers and his piety, brought him at length into such disgrace that his power was broken down, and he became the object of public ridicule and open insult. And the excitement that had been produced for the purpose of[ii.369] restoring and strengthening the influence of the clerical and spiritual leaders resulted in effects which reduced that influence to a still lower point. The intimate connection of Dr. Mather and other prominent ministers with the witchcraft delusion brought a reproach upon the clergy from which they have not yet recovered.[ii.370]

In addition to the designing exertions of ambitious ecclesiastics, and the benevolent and praiseworthy efforts of those whose only aim was to promote a real and thorough reformation of religion, all the passions of our nature stood ready to throw their concentrated energy into the excitement (as they are sure to do, whatever may be its character), so soon as it became sufficiently strong to encourage their action.

The whole force of popular superstition, all the[ii.371] fanatical propensities of the ignorant and deluded multitude, united with the best feelings of our nature to heighten the fury of the storm. Piety was indignant at the supposed rebellion against the sovereignty of God, and was roused to an extreme of agitation and apprehension in witnessing such a daring and fierce assault by the Devil and his adherents upon the churches and the cause of the gospel. Virtue was shocked at the tremendous guilt of those who were believed to have entered the diabolical confederacy; while public order and security stood aghast, amidst the invisible, the supernatural, the infernal, and apparently the irresistible attacks that were making upon the foundations of society. In baleful combination with principles, good in themselves, thus urging the passions into wild operation, there were all the wicked and violent affections to which humanity is liable. Theological bitterness, personal animosities, local controversies, private feuds, long-cherished grudges, and professional jealousies, rushed forward, and raised their discordant voices, to swell the horrible din; credulity rose with its monstrous and ever-expanding form, on the ruins of truth, reason, and the senses; malignity and cruelty rode triumphant through the storm, by whose fury every mild and gentle sentiment had been shipwrecked; and revenge, smiling in the midst of the tempest, welcomed its desolating wrath as it dashed the mangled objects of its hate along the shore.

The treatment of the prisoners, by the administra[ii.372]tive and subordinate officers in charge of them, there is reason to apprehend, was more than ordinarily harsh and unfeeling. The fate of Willard prevented expressions of kindness towards them. The crime of which they were accused put them outside of the pale of human charities. All who believed them guilty looked upon them, not only with horror, but hate. To have deliberately abandoned God and heaven, the salvation of Christ and the brotherhood of man, was regarded as detestable, execrable, and utterly and for ever damnable. This was the universal feeling at the time when the fanaticism was at its height; or, if there were any dissenters, they dared not show themselves. What the poor innocent sufferers experienced of cruelty, wrong, and outrage from this cause, it is impossible for words to tell. It left them in prison to neglect, ignominious ill-treatment, and abusive language from the menials having charge of them; it made their trials a brutal mockery; it made the pathway to the gallows a series of insults from an exasperated mob. If dear relatives or faithful friends kept near them, they did it at the peril of their lives, and were forbidden to utter the sentiments with which their hearts were breaking. There was no sympathy for those who died, or for those who mourned.

It may seem strange to us, at this distance of time, and with the intelligence prevalent in this age, that persons of such known, established, and eminent reputation as many of those whose cases have been par[ii.373]ticularly noticed, could possibly have been imagined guilty of the crime imputed to them. The question arises in every mind, Why did not their characters save them from conviction, and even from suspicion? The answer is to be found in the peculiar views then entertained of the power and agency of Satan. It was believed that it would be one of the signs of his coming to destroy the Church of Christ, that some of the "elect" would be seduced into his service,—that he would drag captive in his chains, and pervert into instruments to further his wicked cause, many who stood among the highest in the confidence of Christians. This belief made them more vehement in their proceedings against ministers, church-members, and persons of good repute, who were proved, by the overwhelming evidence of the "afflicted children" and the confessing witches, to have made a compact with the Devil. There is reason to fear that Mr. Burroughs, and all accused persons of the highest reputation before for piety and worth, especially all who had been professors of religion and accredited church-members, suffered more than others from the severity of the judges and executive officers of the law, and from the rage and hatred of the people. It was indeed necessary, in order to keep up the delusion and maintain the authority of the prosecutions, to break down the influence of those among the accused and the sufferers who had stood the highest, and bore themselves the best through the fiery ordeal of the examinations, trials, and executions.[ii.374]

It is indeed a very remarkable fact, which has justly been enlarged upon by several who have had their attention turned to this subject, that, of the whole number that suffered, none, in the final scene, lost their fortitude for a moment. Many were quite aged; a majority, women, of whom some, brought up in delicacy, were wholly unused to rough treatment or physical suffering. They must have undergone the most dreadful hardships, suddenly snatched from their families and homes; exposed to a torrent of false accusations imputing to them the most odious, shameful, and devilish crimes; made objects of the abhorrence of their neighbors, and, through the notoriety of the affair, of the world; carried to and fro, over rugged roads, from jail to jail, too often by unfeeling sub-officials; immured in crowded, filthy, and noisome prisons; heavily loaded with chains, in dungeons; left to endure insufficient attention to necessary personal wants, often with inadequate food and clothing; all expressions of sympathy for them withheld and forbidden,—those who ought to have been their comforters denouncing them in the most awful language, and consigning them to the doom of excommunication from the church on earth and from the hope of heaven. Surely, there have been few cases in the dark and mournful annals of human suffering and wrong, few instances of "man's inhumanity to man," to be compared with what the victims of this tragedy endured. Their bearing through the whole, from the arrest to the scaffold, reflects[ii.375] credit upon our common nature. The fact that Wardwell lost his firmness, for a time, ought not to exclude his name from the honored list. Its claim to be enrolled on it was nobly retrieved by his recantation, and his manly death.

There is one consideration that imparts a higher character to the deportment of these persons than almost any of the tests to which the firmness of the mind of man has ever been exposed. There was nothing outside of the mind to hold it up, but every thing to bear it down. All that they had in this world, all on which they could rest a hope for the next, was the consciousness of their innocence. Their fidelity to this sense of innocence—for a lie would have saved them—their unfaltering allegiance to this consciousness; the preservation of a calm, steadfast, serene mind; their faith and their prayers, rising above the maledictions of a maniac mob, in devotion to God and forgiveness to men, and, as in the case of Martha Corey and George Burroughs, in clear and collected expressions,—this was truly sublime. It was appreciated, at the time, by many a heart melted back to its humanity; and paved the way for the deliverance of the world, we trust for ever, from all such delusions, horrors, and spectacles. The sufferers in 1692 deserve to be held in grateful remembrance for having illustrated the dignity of which our nature is capable; for having shown that integrity of conscience is an armor which protects the peace of the soul against all the powers that can assail it; and for having given an[ii.376] example, that will be seen of all and in all times, of a courage, constancy, and faithfulness of which all are capable, and which can give the victory over infirmities of age, weaknesses and pains of body, and the most appalling combination of outrages to the mind and heart that can be accumulated by the violence and the wrath of man. Superstition and ignorance consigned their names to obloquy, and shrouded them in darkness. But the day has dawned; the shadows are passing away; truth has risen; the reign of superstition is over; and justice will be done to all who have been true to themselves, and stood fast to the integrity of their souls, even to the death.

The place selected for the executions is worthy of notice. It was at a considerable distance from the jail, and could be reached only by a circuitous and difficult route. It is a fatiguing enterprise to get at it now, although many passages that approach it from some directions have since been opened. But it was a point where the spectacle would be witnessed by the whole surrounding country far and near, being on the brow of the highest eminence in the vicinity of the town. As it was believed by the people generally that they were engaged in a great battle with Satan, one of whose titles was "the Prince of the Power of the Air," perhaps they chose that spot to execute his confederates, because, in going to that high point, they were flaunting him in his face, celebrating their triumph over him in his own realm. There is no contemporaneous nor immediately subsequent record, that[ii.377] the executions took place on the spot assigned by tradition; but that tradition has been uniform and continuous, and appears to be verified by a singular item of evidence that has recently come to light. A letter written by the late venerable Dr. Holyoke to a friend at a distance, dated Salem, Nov. 25, 1791, has found its way back to the possession of one of his grand-daughters, which contains the following passage: "In the last month, there died a man in this town, by the name of John Symonds, aged a hundred years lacking about six months, having been born in the famous '92. He has told me that his nurse had often told him, that, while she was attending his mother at the time she lay in with him, she saw, from the chamber windows, those unhappy people hanging on Gallows' Hill, who were executed for witches by the delusion of the times." John Symonds lived and died near the southern end of Beverly Bridge, on the south side of what is now Bridge Street. He was buried from his house, and Dr. Bentley made the funeral prayer, in which he is said to have used this language: "O God! the man who with his own hands felled the trees, and hewed the timbers, and erected the house in which we are now assembled, was the ancestor of him whose remains we are about to inter." It is inferrible from this that Symonds was born in the house from which he was buried. Gallows Hill, now "Witch Hill" is in full view from that spot, and would be from the chamber windows of a house there, at any time, even in the season when intervening trees were in their[ii.378] fullest foliage, while no other point in that direction would be discernible. From the only other locality of persons of the name of Symonds, at that time, in North Fields near the North Bridge, Witch Hill is also visible, and the only point in that direction that then would have been.

"Witch Hill" is a part of an elevated ledge of rock on the western side of the city of Salem, broken at intervals; beginning at Legg's Hill, and trending northerly. The turnpike from Boston enters Salem through one of the gaps in this ridge, which has been widened, deepened, and graded. North of the turnpike, it rises abruptly to a considerable elevation, called "Norman's Rocks." At a distance of between three and four hundred feet, it sinks again, making a wide and deep gulley; and then, about a third of a mile from the turnpike, it re-appears, in a precipitous and, at its extremity, inaccessible cliff, of the height of fifty or sixty feet. Its southern and western aspect, as seen from the rough land north of the turnpike, is given in the headpiece of the Third Part, at the beginning of this volume. Its sombre and desolate appearance admits of little variety of delineation. It is mostly a bare and naked ledge. At the top of this cliff, on the southern brow of the eminence, the executions are supposed to have taken place. The outline rises a little towards the north, but soon begins to fall off to the general level of the country. From that direction only can the spot be easily reached. It is hard to climb the western side, impossible to clamber[ii.379] up the southern face. Settlement creeps down from the north, and has partially ascended the eastern acclivity, but can never reach the brink. Scattered patches of soil are too thin to tempt cultivation, and the rock is too craggy and steep to allow occupation. An active and flourishing manufacturing industry crowds up to its base; but a considerable surface at the top will for ever remain an open space. It is, as it were, a platform raised high in air.

A magnificent panorama of ocean, island, headland, bay, river, town, field, and forest spreads out and around to view. On a clear summer day, the picture can scarcely be surpassed. Facing the sun and the sea, and the evidences of the love and bounty of Providence shining over the landscape, the last look of earth must have suggested to the sufferers a wide contrast between the mercy of the Creator and the wrath of his creatures. They beheld the face of the blessed God shining upon them in his works, and they passed with renewed and assured faith into his more immediate presence. The elevated rock, uplifted by the divine hand, will stand while the world stands, in bold relief, and can never be obscured by the encroachments of society or the structures of art,—a fitting memorial of their constancy.

When, in some coming day, a sense of justice, appreciation of moral firmness, sympathy for suffering innocence, the diffusion of refined sensibility, a discriminating discernment of what is really worthy of commemoration among men, a rectified taste, a gen[ii.380]erous public spirit, and gratitude for the light that surrounds and protects us against error, folly, and fanaticism, shall demand the rearing of a suitable monument to the memory of those who in 1692 preferred death to a falsehood, the pedestal for the lofty column will be found ready, reared by the Creator on a foundation that can never be shaken while the globe endures, or worn away by the elements, man, or time—the brow of Witch Hill. On no other spot could such a tribute be more worthily bestowed, or more conspicuously displayed.

The effects of the delusion upon the country at large were very disastrous. It cast its shadows over a broad surface, and they darkened the condition of generations. The material interests of the people long felt its blight. Breaking out at the opening of the season, it interrupted the planting and cultivating of the grounds. It struck an entire summer out of one year, and broke in upon another. The fields were neglected; fences, roads, barns, and even the meeting-house, went into disrepair. Burdens were accumulated upon the already over-taxed resources of the people. An actual scarcity of provisions, amounting almost to a famine, continued for some time to press upon families. Farms were brought under mortgage or sacrificed, and large numbers of the people were dispersed. One locality in the village, which was the scene of this wild and tragic fanaticism, bears to this day the marks of the blight then brought upon it. Although in the centre of a town exceeding almost[ii.381] all others in its agricultural development and thrift,—every acre elsewhere showing the touch of modern improvement and culture,—the "old meeting-house road," from the crossing of the Essex Railroad to the point where it meets the road leading north from Tapleyville, has to-day a singular appearance of abandonment. The Surveyor of Highways ignores it. The old, gray, moss-covered stone walls are dilapidated, and thrown out of line. Not a house is on either of its borders, and no gate opens or path leads to any. Neglect and desertion brood over the contiguous grounds. Indeed, there is but one house standing directly on the roadside until you reach the vicinity of the site of the old meeting-house; and that is owned and occupied by a family that bear the name and are the direct descendants of Rebecca Nurse. On both sides there are the remains of cellars, which declare that once it was lined by a considerable population. Along this road crowds thronged in 1692, for weeks and months, to witness the examinations.

The ruinous results were not confined to the village, but extended more or less over the country generally. Excitement, wrought up to consternation, spread everywhere. People left their business and families, and came from distant points, to gratify their curiosity, and enable themselves to form a judgment of the character of the phenomena here exhibited. Strangers from all parts swelled the concourse, gathered to behold the sufferings of "the afflicted" as manifested at the examinations; and flocked to the surrounding[ii.382] eminences and the grounds immediately in front of Witch Hill, to catch a view of the convicts as they approached the place selected for their execution, offered their dying prayers, and hung suspended high in air. Such scenes always draw together great multitudes. None have possessed a deeper, stronger, or stranger attraction; and never has the dread spectacle been held out to view over a wider area, or from so conspicuous a spot. The assembling of such multitudes so often, for such a length of time, and from such remote quarters, must have been accompanied and followed by wasteful, and in all respects deleterious, effects. The continuous or frequently repeated sessions of the magistrates, grand jury, and jury of trials; and the attendance of witnesses summoned from other towns, or brought from beyond the jurisdiction of the Province, and of families and parties interested specially in the proceedings,—must have occasioned an extensive and protracted interruption of the necessary industrial pursuits of society, and heavily increased the public burdens.

The destruction dealt upon particular families extended to so many as to constitute in the aggregate a vast, wide-spread calamity.[F]

[ii.383]

The facts that belong to the story of the witchcraft delusion of 1692, or that may in any way explain or illustrate it, so far as they can be gathered from the imperfect and scattered records and papers that have come down to us, have now been laid before you. But there are one or two inquiries that force themselves upon thoughtful minds, which demand consideration before we close the subject.[ii.384]

What are we to think of those persons who commenced and continued the accusations,—the "afflicted children" and their associates?

In some instances and to some extent, the steps they took and the testimony they bore may be explained by referring to the mysterious energies of the imagination, the power of enthusiasm, the influence of sympathy, and the general prevalence of credulity,[ii.385] ignorance, superstition, and fanaticism at the time; and it is not probable, that, when they began, they had any idea of the tremendous length to which they were finally led on.

It was perhaps their original design to gratify a love of notoriety or of mischief by creating a sensation and excitement in their neighborhood, or, at the worst, to wreak their vengeance upon one or two individuals who had offended them. They soon, however, became intoxicated by the terrible success of their imposture, and were swept along by the frenzy they had occasioned. It would be much more congenial with our feelings to believe, that these misguided and wretched young persons early in the proceedings became themselves victims of the delusion into which they plunged every one else. But we are forbidden to form this charitable judgment by the manifestations of art and contrivance, of deliberate cunning and cool malice, they exhibited to the end. Once or twice they were caught in their own snare; and nothing but the blindness of the bewildered community saved them from disgraceful exposure and well-deserved punishment. They appeared as the prosecutors of every poor creature that was tried, and seemed ready to bear testimony against any one upon whom suspicion might happen to fall. It is dreadful to reflect upon the enormity of their wickedness, if they were conscious of imposture throughout. It seems to transcend the capabilities of human crime. There is, perhaps, a slumbering element in the heart of man,[ii.386] that sleeps for ever in the bosom of the innocent and good, and requires the perpetration of a great sin to wake it into action, but which, when once aroused, impels the transgressor onward with increasing momentum, as the descending ball is accelerated in its course. It may be that crime begets an appetite for crime, which, like all other appetites, is not quieted but inflamed by gratification.

Their precise moral condition, the degree of guilt to be ascribed, and the sentence to be passed upon them, can only be determined by a considerate review of all the circumstances and influences around them.

For a period embracing about two months, they had been in the habit of meeting together, and spending the long winter evenings, at Mr. Parris's house, practising the arts of fortune-telling, jugglery, and magic. What they had heard in the traditions and fables of a credulous and superstitious age,—stories handed down in the interior settlements, circulated in companies gathered around the hearths of farmhouses, indulging the excitements of terrified imaginations; filling each other's minds with wondrous tales of second-sight, ghosts and spirits from the unseen world, together with what the West-Indian or South-American slaves could add,—was for a long time the food of their fancies. They experimented continually upon what was the spiritualism of their day, and grew familiar with the imagery and the exhibitions of the marvellous. The prevalent notions concerning witch[ii.387]craft operations and spectral manifestations came into full effect among them. Living in the constant contemplation of such things, their minds became inflamed and bewildered; and, at the same time, they grew expert in practising and exhibiting the forms of pretended supernaturalism, the conditions of diabolical distraction, and the terrors of demonology. Apparitions rose before them, revealing the secrets of the past and of the future. They beheld the present spectres of persons then bodily far distant. They declared in language, fits, dreams, or trance, the immediate operations upon themselves of the Devil, by the agency of his confederates. Their sufferings, while thus under "an evil hand," were dreadful to behold, and soon drew wondering and horror-struck crowds around them.

At this point, if Mr. Parris, the ministers, and magistrates had done their duty, the mischief might have been stopped. The girls ought to have been rebuked for their dangerous and forbidden sorceries and divinations, their meetings broken up, and all such tamperings with alleged supernaturalism and spiritualism frowned down. Instead of this, the neighboring ministers were summoned to meet at Mr. Parris's house to witness the extraordinary doings of the girls, and all they did was to indorse, and pray over, them. Countenance was thus given to their pretensions, and the public confidence in the reality of their statements established. Magistrates from the town, church-members, leading people, and people of all sorts, flocked to witness the awful power of Satan, as displayed in[ii.388] the tortures and contortions of the "afflicted children;" who became objects of wonder, so far as their feats were regarded, and of pity in view of their agonies and convulsions.

The aspect of the evidence rather favors the supposition, that the girls originally had no design of accusing, or bringing injury upon, any one. But the ministers at Parris's house, physicians and others, began the work of destruction by pronouncing the opinion that they were bewitched. This carried with it, according to the received doctrine, a conviction that there were witches about; for the Devil could not act except through the instrumentality of beings in confederacy with him. Immediately, the girls were beset by everybody to say who it was that bewitched them. Yielding to this pressure, they first cried out upon such persons as might have been most naturally suggested to them,—Sarah Good, apparently without a regular home, and wandering with her children from house to house for shelter and relief; Sarah Osburn, a melancholy, broken-minded, bed-ridden person; and Tituba, a slave, probably of mixed African and Indian blood. At the examination of these persons, the girls were first brought before the public, and the awful power in their hands revealed to them. The success with which they acted their parts; the novelty of the scene; the ceremonials of the occasion, the magistrates in their imposing dignity and authority, the trappings of the marshal and his officers, the forms of proceeding,—all which they had never seen[ii.389] before; the notice taken of them; the importance attached to them; invested the affair with a strange fascination in their eyes, and awakened a new class of sentiments and ideas in their minds. A love of distinction and notoriety, and the several passions that are gratified by the expression by others of sympathy, wonder, and admiration, were brought into play. The fact that all eyes were upon them, with the special notice of the magistrates, and the entire confidence with which their statements were received, flattered and beguiled them. A fearful responsibility had been assumed, and they were irretrievably committed to their position. While they adhered to that position, their power was irresistible, and they were sure of the public sympathy and of being cherished by the public favor. If they faltered, they would be the objects of universal execration and of the severest penalties of law for the wrongs already done and the falsehoods already sworn to. There was no retracing their steps; and their only safety was in continuing the excitement they had raised. New victims were constantly required to prolong the delusion, fresh fuel to keep up the conflagration; and they went on to cry out upon others. With the exception of two of their number, who appear to have indulged spite against the families in which they were servants, there is no evidence that they were actuated by private grievances or by animosities personal to themselves. They were ready and sure to wreak vengeance upon any who expressed doubts about the truth of their[ii.390] testimony, or the propriety of the proceedings; but, beyond this, they were very indifferent as to whom they should accuse. They were willing, as to that matter, to follow the suggestions of others, and availed themselves of all the gossip and slander and unfriendly talk in their families that reached their ears. It was found, that a hint, with a little information as to persons, places, and circumstances, conveyed to them by those who had resentments and grudges to gratify, would be sufficient for the purpose. There is reason to fear, that there were some behind them, giving direction to the accusations, and managing the frightful machinery, all the way through. The persons who were apprehended had, to a considerable extent, been obnoxious, and subject to prejudice, in connection with quarrels and controversies related in Part I., vol. i. They were "Topsfield men," or the opponents of Bayley or of Parris, or more or less connected with some other feuds. As further proof that the girls were under the guidance of older heads, it is obvious, that there was, in the order of the proceedings, a skilful arrangement of times, sequences, and concurrents, that cannot be ascribed to them. No novelist or dramatist ever laid his plot deeper, distributed his characters more artistically, or conducted more methodically the progress of his story.

In the mean while, they were becoming every day more perfect in the performance of their parts; and their imaginative powers, nervous excitability, and flexibility and rapidity of muscular action, were kept[ii.391] under constant stimulus, and attaining a higher development. The effect of these things, so long continued in connection with the perpetual pretence, becoming more or less imbued with the character of belief, of their alliance and communion with spiritual beings and manifestations, may have unsettled, to some extent, their minds. Added to this, a sense of the horrid consequences of their actions, accumulating with every pang they inflicted, the innocent blood they were shedding, and the depths of ruin into which they were sinking themselves and others, not only demoralized, but to some extent, perhaps, crazed them. It is truly a marvel that their physical constitutions did not break down under the exhausting excitements, the contortions of frame, the force to which the bodily functions were subjected in trances and fits, and the strain upon all the vital energies, protracted through many months. The wonder, however, would have been greater, if the mental and moral balance had not thereby been disturbed.

Perpetual conversance with ideas of supernaturalism; daily and nightly communications, whether in the form of conscious imposture or honest delusion, with the spiritual world, continued through a great length of time,—as much at least as the exclusive contemplation of any one idea or class of ideas,—must be allowed to be unsalutary. Whatever keeps the thoughts wholly apart from the objects of real and natural life, and absorbs them in abstractions, cannot be favorable to the soundness of the faculties or the tone of the[ii.392] mind. This must especially be the effect, if the subjects thus monopolizing the attention partake of the marvellous and mysterious. When these things are considered, and the external circumstances of the occasion, the wild social excitement, the consternation, confusion, and horror, that were all crowded and heaped up and kept pressing upon the soul without intermission for months, the wonder is, indeed, that not only the accusers, prosecutors, and sufferers, but the whole people, did not lose their senses. Never was the great boon of life, a sound mind in a sound body, more liable to be snatched away from all parties. The depositions of Ann Putnam, Sr., have a tinge of sadness;—a melancholy, sickly mania running through them. Something of the kind is, perhaps, more or less discernible in the depositions of others.

Let us, then, relieve our common nature from the load of the imputation, that, in its normal state, it is capable of such inconceivable wickedness, by giving to these wretched persons the benefit of the supposition that they were more or less deranged. This view renders the lesson they present more impressive and alarming. Sin in all cases, when considered by a mind that surveys the whole field, is itself insanity. In the case of these accusers, it was so great as to prove, by its very monstrousness, that it had actually subverted their nature and overthrown their reason. They followed their victims to the gallows, and jeered, scoffed, insulted them in their dying hours. Sarah Churchill, according to the testimony of Sarah Inger[ii.393]soll, on one occasion came to herself, and manifested the symptoms of a restored moral consciousness: but it was a temporary gleam, a lucid interval; and she passed back into darkness, continuing, as before, to revel in falsehood, and scatter destruction around her. With this single exception, there is not the slightest appearance of compunction or reflection among them. On the contrary, they seem to have been in a frivolous, sportive, gay frame of thought and spirits. There is, perhaps, in this view of their conduct and demeanor, something to justify the belief that they were really demented. The fact that a large amount of skilful art and adroit cunning was displayed by them is not inconsistent with the supposition that they had become partially insane; for such cunning and art are often associated with insanity.

The quick wit and ready expedients of the "afflicted children" are very remarkable. They were prompt with answers, if any attempted to cross-examine them, extricated themselves most ingeniously if ever brought into embarrassment, and eluded all efforts to entrap or expose them. Among the papers is a deposition, the use of which at the trials is not apparent. It does not purport to bear upon any particular case. Joseph Hutchinson was a firm-minded man, of strong common sense. He could not easily be deceived; and, although he took part in the proceedings at the beginning, soon became opposed to them. It looks as if, by close questions put to the child, Abigail Williams, on some occasion of his casually meeting her, he had tried[ii.394] to expose the falseness of her accusations, and that he was made to put the conversation into the shape of a deposition. It is as follows:—

"The Deposition of Joseph Hutchinson, aged fifty-nine years, do testify as followeth: "Abigail Williams, I have heard you speak often of a book that has been offered to you. She said that there were two books: one was a short, thick book; and the other was a long book. I asked her what color the book was of. She said the books were as red as blood. I asked her if she had seen the books opened. She said she had seen it many times. I asked her if she did see any writing in the book. She said there were many lines written; and, at the end of every line, there was a seal. I asked her, who brought the book to her. She told me that it was the black man. I asked her who the black man was. She told me it was the Devil. I asked her if she was not afraid to see the Devil. She said, at the first she was, and did go from him; but now she was not afraid, but could talk with him as well as she could with me."

There is an air of ease and confidence in the answers of Abigail, which illustrates the promptness of invention and assurance of their grounds which the girls manifested on all occasions. They were never at a loss, and challenged scrutiny. Hutchinson gained no advantage, and no one else ever did, in an encounter with them.

Whatever opinion may be formed of the moral or mental condition of the "afflicted children," as to their sanity and responsibility, there can be no doubt that they were great actors. In mere jugglery and[ii.395] sleight of hand, they bear no mean comparison with the workers of wonders, in that line, of our own day. Long practice had given them complete control over their countenances, intonations of voice, and the entire muscular and nervous organization of their bodies; so that they could at will, and on the instant, go into fits and convulsions, swoon and fall to the floor, put their frames into strange contortions, bring the blood to the face, and send it back again. They could be deadly pale at one moment, at the next flushed; their hands would be clenched and held together as with a vice; their limbs stiff and rigid or wholly relaxed; their teeth would be set; they would go through the paroxysms of choking and strangulation, and gasp for breath, bringing froth and blood from the mouth; they would utter all sorts of screams in unearthly tones; their eyes remain fixed, sometimes bereft of all light and expression, cold and stony, and sometimes kindled into flames of passion; they would pass into the state of somnambulism, without aim or conscious direction in their movements, looking at some point, where was no apparent object of vision, with a wild, unmeaning glare. There are some indications that they had acquired the art of ventriloquism; or they so wrought upon the imaginations of the beholders, that the sounds of the motions and voices of invisible beings were believed to be heard. They would start, tremble, and be pallid before apparitions, seen, of course, only by themselves; but their acting was so perfect that all present thought they saw them too. They would[ii.396] address and hold colloquy with spectres and ghosts; and the responses of the unseen beings would be audible to the fancy of the bewildered crowd. They would follow with their eyes the airy visions, so that others imagined they also beheld them. This was surely a high dramatic achievement. Their representations of pain, and every form and all the signs and marks of bodily suffering,—as in the case of Ann Putnam's arm, and the indentations of teeth on the flesh in many instances,—utterly deceived everybody; and there were men present who could not easily have been imposed upon. The Attorney-general was a barrister fresh from Inns of Court in London. Deodat Lawson had seen something of the world; so had Joseph Herrick. Joseph Hutchinson was a sharp, stern, and sceptical observer. John Putnam was a man of great practical force and discrimination; so was his brother Nathaniel, and others of the village. Besides, there were many from Boston and elsewhere competent to detect a trick; but none could discover any imposture in the girls. Sarah Nurse swore that she saw Goody Bibber cheat in the matter of the pins; but Bibber did not belong to the village, and was a bungling interloper. The accusing girls showed extraordinary skill, ingenuity, and fancy in inventing the stories to which they testified, and seemed to have been familiar with the imagery which belonged to the literature of demonology. This has led some to suppose that they must have had access to books treating the subject. Our fathers abhorred, with a perfect hatred, all theatrical exhibitions. It would[ii.397] have filled them with horror to propose going to a play. But unwittingly, week after week, month in and month out, ministers, deacons, brethren, and sisters of the church rushed to Nathaniel Ingersoll's, to the village and town meeting-houses, and to Thomas Beadle's Globe Tavern, and gazed with wonder, awe, and admiration upon acting such as has seldom been surpassed on the boards of any theatre, high or low, ancient or modern.

There is another aspect that perplexes and confounds the judgments of all who read the story. It is this: As it is at present the universal opinion that the whole of this witchcraft transaction was a delusion, having no foundation whatever but in the imaginations and passions; and as it is now certain, that all the accused, both the condemned and the pardoned, were entirely innocent,—how can it be explained that so many were led to confess themselves guilty? The answer to this question is to be found in those general principles which have led the wisest legislators and jurists to the conclusion, that, although on their face and at first thought, they appear to be the very best kind of evidence, yet, maturely considered, confessions made under the hope of a benefit, and sometime even without the impulses of such a hope, are to be received with great caution and wariness. Here were fifty-five persons, who declared themselves guilty of a capital, nay, a diabolical crime, of which we know they were innocent. It is probable that the motive of self-preservation influenced most of them. An[ii.398] awful death was in immediate prospect. There was no escape from the wiles of the accusers. The delusion had obtained full possession of the people, the jury, and the Court. By acknowledging a compact with Satan, they could in a moment secure their lives and liberty. It was a position which only the firmest minds could safely occupy. The principles and the prowess of ordinary characters could not withstand the temptation and the pressure. They yielded, and were saved from an impending and terrible death.

As these confessions had a decisive effect in precipitating the public mind into the depths of its delusion, gave a fatal power to the accusers, and carried the proceedings to the horrible extremities which have concentrated upon them the attention of the world, they assume an importance in the history of the affair that demands a full and thorough exposition. At the examination of Ann Foster, at Salem Village, on the 15th of July, 1692, the following confession was, "after a while," extorted from her. It was undoubtedly the result of the overwhelming effect of the horrors of her condition upon a distressed and half-crazed mind. It shows the staple materials of which confessions were made, and the forms of absurd superstition with which the imaginations of people were then filled:—

The Devil appeared to her in the shape of a bird at several times,—such a bird as she never saw the like before; and she had had this gift (viz., of striking the afflicted down with her eye) ever since. Being asked why she thought that bird was the Devil, she answered, because he came[ii.399] white and vanished away black; and that the Devil told her she should have this gift, and that she must believe him, and told her she should have prosperity: and she said that he had appeared to her three times, and always as a bird, and the last time about half a year since, and sat upon a table,—had two legs and great eyes, and that it was the second time of his appearance that he promised her prosperity. She further stated, that it was Goody Carrier that made her a witch. She told her, that, if she would not be a witch, the Devil would tear her to pieces, and carry her away,—at which time she promised to serve the Devil; that she was at the meeting of the witches at Salem Village; that Goody Carrier came, and told her of the meeting, and would have her go: so they got upon sticks, and went said journey, and, being there, did see Mr. Burroughs, the minister, who spake to them all; that there were then twenty-five persons met together; that she tied a knot in a rag, and threw it into the fire to hurt Timothy Swan, and that she did hurt the rest that complained of her by squeezing puppets like them, and so almost choked them; that she and Martha Carrier did both ride on a stick or pole when they went to the witch-meeting at Salem Village, and that the stick broke as they were carried in the air above the tops of the trees, and they fell: but she did hang fast about the neck of Goody Carrier, and they were presently at the village; that she had heard some of the witches say that there were three hundred and five in the whole country, and that they would ruin that place, the village; that there were also present at that meeting two men besides Mr. Burroughs, the minister, and one of them had gray hair; and that the discourse among the witches at the meeting in Salem Village was, that they would afflict there to set up the Devil's kingdom.

[ii.400]

The confession of which the foregoing is the substance appears to have been drawn out at four several examinations on different days, during which she was induced by the influences around her to make her testimony more and more extravagant at each successive examination. Her daughter, Mary Lacy, called Goody Lacy, was brought up on the charge of witchcraft at the same time; and, upon finding the mother confessing, she saw that her only safety was in confessing also. When confronted, the daughter cried out to the mother, "We have forsaken Jesus Christ, and the Devil hath got hold of us. How shall we get clear of this Evil One?" She proceeded to say that she had accompanied her mother and Goody Carrier, all three riding together on the pole, to Salem Village. She then made the following statement: "About three or four years ago, she saw Mistress Bradbury, Goody Howe, and Goody Nurse baptized by the old Serpent at Newbury Falls; that he dipped their heads in the water, and then said they were his, and he had power over them; that there were six baptized at that time, who were some of the chief or higher powers, and that there might be near about a hundred in company at that time." It being asked her "after what manner she went to Newbury Falls," she answered, "the Devil carried her in his arms." She said, that, "if she did take a rag, and roll it up together, and imagine it to represent such and such a person, then that, whatsoever she did to that rag so rolled up, the person represented thereby would be[ii.401] in like manner afflicted." Her daughter, also named Mary Lacy, followed the example of her mother and grandmother, and made confession.

An examination of the confessions shows, that, when accused persons made up their minds to confess, they saw, that, to make their safety secure, it was necessary to go the whole length of the popular superstition and fanaticism. In many instances, they appear to have fabricated their stories with much ingenuity and tact, making them tally with the statements of the accusers, adding points and items that gave an air of truthfulness, and falling in with current notions and fancies. They were undoubtedly under training by the girls, and were provided with the materials of their testimony. Their depositions are valuable, inasmuch as they enable us to collect about the whole of the notions then prevalent on the subject. If, in delivering their evidences, any prompting was needed, the accusers were at their elbows, and helped them along in their stories. If, in any particular, they were in danger of contradicting themselves or others, they were checked or diverted. In one case, a confessing witch was damaging her own testimony, whereupon one of the afflicted cried out that she saw the shapes or apparitions of other witches interfering with her utterance. The witness took the hint, pretended to have lost the power of expressing herself, and was removed from the stand.

In some cases, the confessing witches showed great adroitness, and knowledge of human nature. When[ii.402] a leading minister was visiting them in the prison, one of them cried out as he passed her cell, calling him by name, "Oh! I remember a text you preached on in England, twenty years since, from these words: 'Your sin will find you out;' for I find it to be true in my own case." This skilful compliment, showing the power of his preaching making an impression which time could not efface, was no doubt flattering to the good man, and secured for her his favorable influence.

Justice requires that their own explanation of the influences which led them to confess should not be withheld.

The following declaration of six women belonging to Andover is accompanied by a paper signed by more than fifty of the most respectable inhabitants of that town, testifying to their good character, in which it is said that "by their sober, godly, and exemplary conversation, they have obtained a good report in the place, where they have been well esteemed and approved in the church of which they are members:"—

"We whose names are underwritten, inhabitants of Andover, when as that horrible and tremendous judgment, beginning at Salem Village, in the year 1692, by some called witchcraft, first breaking forth at Mr. Parris's house, several young persons, being seemingly afflicted, did accuse several persons for afflicting them; and many there believing it so to be, we being informed, that, if a person was sick, the afflicted person could tell what or who was the cause of that sickness: John Ballard of Andover, his wife being[ii.403] sick at the same time, he, either from himself, or by the advice of others, fetched two of the persons called the afflicted persons from Salem Village to Andover, which was the beginning of that dreadful calamity that befell us in Andover, believing the said accusations to be true, sent for the said persons to come together to the meeting-house in Andover, the afflicted persons being there. After Mr. Barnard had been at prayer, we were blindfolded, and our hands were laid upon the afflicted persons, they being in their fits, and falling into their fits at our coming into their presence, as they said: and some led us, and laid our hands upon them; and then they said they were well, and that we were guilty of afflicting them. Whereupon we were all seized as prisoners, by a warrant from the justice of the peace, and forthwith carried to Salem; and by reason of that sudden surprisal, we knowing ourselves altogether innocent of that crime, we were all exceedingly astonished and amazed, and consternated and affrighted, even out of our reason; and our nearest and dearest relations, seeing us in that dreadful condition, and knowing our great danger, apprehended there was no other way to save our lives, as the case was then circumstanced, but by our confessing ourselves to be such and such persons as the afflicted represented us to be, they, out of tenderness and pity, persuaded us to confess what we did confess. And, indeed, that confession that it is said we made was no other than what was suggested to us by some gentlemen, they telling us that we were witches, and they knew it, and we knew it, which made us think that it was so; and, our understandings, our reason, our faculties almost gone, we were not capable of judging of our condition; as also the hard measures they used with us rendered us incapable of making our defence, but said any thing, and[ii.404] every thing which they desired, and most of what we said was but in effect a consenting to what they said. Some time after, when we were better composed, they telling us what we had confessed, we did profess that we were innocent and ignorant of such things; and we hearing that Samuel Wardwell had renounced his confession, and was quickly after condemned and executed, some of us were told we were going after Wardwell.

"Mary Osgood.
Mary Tyler.
Deliverance Dane.
Abigail Barker.
Sarah Wilson.
Hannah Tyler."

The means employed, and the influences brought to bear upon persons accused, were, in many cases, such as wholly to overpower them, and to relieve their confessions, to a great extent, of a criminal character. They were scarcely responsible moral agents. In the month of October, Increase Mather came to Salem, to confer with the confessing witches in prison. The result of his examinations is preserved in a document of which he is supposed to have been the author. The following extracts afford some explanation of the whole subject:—

"Goodwife Tyler did say, that, when she was first apprehended, she had no fears upon her, and did think that nothing could have made her confess against herself. But since, she had found, to her great grief, that she had wronged the truth, and falsely accused herself. She said that, when she was brought to Salem, her brother Bridges rode with her; and that, all along the way from Andover to Salem,[ii.405] her brother kept telling her that she must needs be a witch, since the afflicted accused her, and at her touch were raised out of their fits, and urging her to confess herself a witch. She as constantly told him that she was no witch, that she knew nothing of witchcraft, and begged him not to urge her to confess. However, when she came to Salem, she was carried to a room, where her brother on one side, and Mr. John Emerson on the other side, did tell her that she was certainly a witch, and that she saw the Devil before her eyes at that time (and, accordingly, the said Emerson would attempt with his hand to beat him away from her eyes); and they so urged her to confess, that she wished herself in any dungeon, rather than be so treated. Mr. Emerson told her, once and again, 'Well, I see you will not confess! Well, I will now leave you; and then you are undone, body and soul, for ever.' Her brother urged her to confess, and told her that, in so doing, she could not lie: to which she answered, 'Good brother, do not say so; for I shall lie if I confess, and then who shall answer unto God for my lie?' He still asserted it, and said that God would not suffer so many good men to be in such an error about it, and that she would be hanged if she did not confess; and continued so long and so violently to urge and press her to confess, that she thought, verily, that her life would have gone from her, and became so terrified in her mind that she owned, at length, almost any thing that they propounded to her; that she had wronged her conscience in so doing; she was guilty of a great sin in belying of herself, and desired to mourn for it so long as she lived. This she said, and a great deal more of the like nature; and all with such affection, sorrow, relenting, grief, and mourning, as that it exceeds any pen to describe and express the same."[ii.406]

"Goodwife Wilson said that she was in the dark as to some things in her confession. Yet she asserted that, knowingly, she never had familiarity with the Devil; that, knowingly, she never consented to the afflicting of any person, &c. However, she said that truly she was in the dark as to the matter of her being a witch. And being asked how she was in the dark, she replied, that the afflicted persons crying out of her as afflicting them made her fearful of herself; and that was all that made her say that she was in the dark."

"Goodwife Bridges said that she had confessed against herself things which were all utterly false; and that she was brought to her confession by being told that she certainly was a witch, and so made to believe it,—though she had no other grounds so to believe."

Some explanation of the details which those, prevailed upon to confess, put into their testimony, and which seemed, at the time, to establish and demonstrate the truth of their statements, is afforded by what Mary Osgood is reported, by Increase Mather, to have said to him on this occasion:—

"Being asked why she prefixed a time, and spake of her being baptized, &c., about twelve years since, she replied and said, that, when she had owned the thing, they asked the time, to which she answered that she knew not the time. But, being told that she did know the time, and must tell the time, and the like, she considered that about twelve years before (when she had her last child) she had a fit of sickness, and was melancholy; and so thought that that time might be as proper a time to mention as any, and accordingly did prefix the said time. Being asked about[ii.407] the cat, in the shape of which she had confessed that the Devil had appeared to her, &c., she replied, that, being told that the Devil had appeared to her, and must needs appear to her, &c. (she being a witch), she at length did own that the Devil had appeared to her; and, being pressed to say in what creature's shape he appeared, she at length did say that it was in the shape of a cat. Remembering that, some time before her being apprehended, as she went out at her door, she saw a cat, &c.; not as though she any whit suspected the said cat to be the Devil, in the day of it, but because some creature she must mention, and this came into her mind at that time."

This poor woman, as well as several others, besides Goodwife Tyler, who denied and renounced their confessions, manifested, as Dr. Mather affirms, the utmost horror and anguish at the thought that they could have been so wicked as to have belied themselves, and brought injury upon others by so doing. They "bewailed and lamented their accusing of others, about whom they never knew any evil" in their lives. They proved the sincerity of their repentance by abandoning and denouncing their confessions, and thus offering their lives as a sacrifice to atone for their falsehood. They were then awaiting their trial; and there seemed no escape from the awful fate which had befallen all persons brought to trial before, and who had not confessed or had withdrawn their confession. Fortunately for them, the Court did not meet again in 1692; and they were acquitted at the regular session, in the January following.[ii.408]

In one of Calef's tracts, he sums up his views, on the subject of the confessions, as follows:—

"Besides the powerful argument of life (and freedom from hardships, not only promised, but also performed to all that owned their guilt), there are numerous instances of the tedious examinations before private persons, many hours together; they all that time urging them to confess (and taking turns to persuade them), till the accused were wearied out by being forced to stand so long, or for want of sleep, &c., and so brought to give assent to what they said; they asking them, 'Were you at such a witch meeting?' or, 'Have you signed the Devil's book?' &c. Upon their replying 'Yes,' the whole was drawn into form, as their confession."

This accounts for the similarity of construction and substance of the confessions generally.

Calef remarks:—

"But that which did mightily further such confessions was their nearest relations urging them to it. These, seeing no other way of escape for them, thought it the best advice that could be given; hence it was, that the husbands of some, by counsel, often urging, and utmost earnestness, and children upon their knees intreating, have at length prevailed with them to say they were guilty."

One of the most painful things in the whole affair was, that the absolute conviction of the guilt of the persons accused, pervading the community, took full effect upon the minds of many relatives and friends. They did not consider it as a matter of the least possible doubt. They therefore looked upon it as wicked[ii.409] obstinacy not to confess, and, in this sense, an additional and most conclusive evidence of a mind alienated from truth and wholly given over to Satan. This turned natural love and previous friendships into resentment, indignation, and abhorrence, which left the unhappy prisoners in a condition where only the most wonderful clearness of conviction and strength of character could hold them up. And, in many cases where they yielded, it was not from unworthy fear, or for self-preservation, but because their judgment was overthrown, and their minds in complete subjection and prostration.

There can, indeed, hardly be a doubt, that, in some instances, the confessing persons really believed themselves guilty. To explain this, we must look into the secret chambers of the human soul; we must read the history of the imagination, and consider its power over the understanding. We must transport ourselves to the dungeon, and think of its dark and awful walls, its dreary hours, its tedious loneliness, its heavy and benumbing fetters and chains, its scanty fare, and all its dismal and painful circumstances. We must reflect upon their influence over a terrified and agitated, an injured and broken spirit. We must think of the situation of the poor prisoner, cut off from hope; hearing from all quarters, and at all times, morning, noon, and night, that there is no doubt of his guilt; surrounded and overwhelmed by accusations and evidence, gradually but insensibly mingling and confounding the visions and vagaries of his troubled[ii.410] dreams with the reveries of his waking hours, until his reason becomes obscured, his recollections are thrown into derangement, his mind loses the power of distinguishing between what is perpetually told him by others and what belongs to the suggestions of his own memory: his imagination at last gains complete ascendency over his other faculties, and he believes and declares himself guilty of crimes of which he is as innocent as the child unborn. The history of the transaction we have been considering, affords a clear illustration of the truth and reasonableness of this explanation.

The facility with which persons can be persuaded, by perpetually assailing them with accusations of the truth of a charge, in reality not true, even when it is made against themselves, has been frequently noticed. Addison, in one of the numbers of his "Spectator," speaks of it in connection with our present subject: "When an old woman," says he, "begins to dote, and grow chargeable to a parish, she is generally turned into a witch, and fills the whole country with extravagant fancies, imaginary distempers, and terrifying dreams. In the mean time, the poor wretch that is the innocent occasion of so many evils begins to be frighted at herself, and sometimes confesses secret commerces and familiarities that her imagination forms in a delirious old age. This frequently cuts off charity from the greatest objects of compassion, and inspires people with a malevolence towards those poor, decrepit parts of our species[ii.411] in whom human nature is defaced by infirmity and dotage."

This passage is important, in addition to the bearing it has upon the point we have been considering, as describing the state of opinion and feeling in England twenty years after the folly had been exploded here. In another number of the same series of essays, he bears evidence, that the superstitions which here came to a head in 1692 had long been prevalent in the mother-country: "Our forefathers looked upon nature with more reverence and horror before the world was enlightened by learning and philosophy, and loved to astonish themselves with the apprehensions of witchcraft, prodigies, charms, and enchantments. There was not a village in England that had not a ghost in it; the churchyards were all haunted; every large common had a circle of fairies belonging to it; and there was scarce a shepherd to be met with who had not seen a spirit." These fancies still linger in the minds of some in the Old World and in the New.

After allowing for the utmost extent of prevalent superstitions, the exaggerations incident to a state of general excitement, and the fertile inventive faculties of the accusing girls, there is much in the evidence that cannot easily be accounted for. In other cases than that of Westgate, we find the symptoms of that bewildered condition of the senses and imagination not at all surprising or unusual in the experience of men staggering home in midnight hours from tavern haunts. Disturbed dreams were, it is[ii.412] not improbable, a fruitful source of delusion. A large part of the evidence is susceptible of explanation by the supposition, that the witnesses had confounded the visions of their sleeping, with the actual observations and occurrences of their waking hours. At the trial of Susanna Martin, it was in evidence, that one John Kembal had agreed to purchase a puppy from the prisoner, but had afterwards fallen back from his bargain, and procured a puppy from some other person, and that Martin was heard to say, "If I live, I will give him puppies enough." The circumstances seem to me to render it probable, that the following piece of evidence given by Kembal, and to which the Court attached great weight, was the result of a nightmare occasioned by his apprehension and dread of the fulfilment of the reported threat:—

"I, this deponent, coming from his intended house in the woods to Edmund Elliot's house where I dwelt, about the sunset or presently after; and there did arise a little black cloud in the north-west, and a few drops of rain, and the wind blew pretty hard. In going between the house of John Weed and the meeting-house, this deponent came by several stumps of trees by the wayside; and he by impulse he can give no reason of, that made him tumble over the stumps one after another, though he had his axe upon his shoulder which put him in much danger, and made him resolved to avoid the next, but could not.

"And, when he came a little below the meeting-house, there did appear a little thing like a puppy, of a darkish color. It shot between my legs forward and backward, as[ii.413] one that were dancing the hay.[G] And this deponent, being free from all fear, used all possible endeavors to cut it with his axe, but could not hurt it; and, as he was thus laboring with his axe, the puppy gave a little jump from him, and seemed to go into the ground.

"In a little further going, there did appear a black puppy, somewhat bigger than the first, but as black as a coal to his apprehension, which came against him with such violence as its quick motions did exceed his motions of his axe, do what he could. And it flew at his belly, and away, and then at his throat and over his shoulder one way, and go off, and up at it again another way; and with such quickness, speed, and violence did it assault him, as if it would tear out his throat or his belly. A good while, he was without fear; but, at last, I felt my heart to fail and sink under it, that I thought my life was going out. And I recovered myself, and gave a start up, and ran to the fence, and calling upon God and naming the name Jesus Christ, and then it invisibly away. My meaning is, it ceased at once; but this deponent made it not known to anybody, for fretting his wife."[H]

[ii.414]

We are all exposed to the danger of confounding the impressions left by the imagination, when, set free from all confinement, it runs wild in dreams, with the actual experiences of wakeful faculties in real life. It is a topic worthy the consideration of writers on evidence, and of legal tribunals. So also is the effect, upon the personal consciousness, of the continued[ii.415] repetition of the same story, or of hearing it repeated by others. Instances are given in books,—perhaps can be recalled by our own individual experience or observation,—in which what was originally a delibe[ii.416]rate fabrication of falsehood or of fancy has come, at last, to be regarded as a veritable truth and a real occurrence.

A thorough and philosophical treatise on the subject of evidence is, in view of these considerations, much needed. The liability all men are under to confound the fictions of their imaginations with the realities of actual observation is not understood with sufficient clearness by the community; and, so long as it is not understood and regarded, serious mistakes and inconveniences will be apt to occur in seasons of general excitement. We are still disposed to attribute more importance than we ought to strong convictions, without stopping to inquire whether they may not be in reality delusions of the understanding. The cause of truth demands a more thorough examination of this whole subject. The visions that appeared before the mind of the celebrated Colonel Gardiner are still regarded by the generality of pious people as evidence of miraculous interposition, while, just so far as they are evidence to that point, so far is the authority of Christianity overthrown; for it is a fact, that Lord Herbert of Cherbury believed with equal sincerity and confidence that he had been vouchsafed a similar vision sanctioning his labors, when about to publish what has been pronounced one of the most powerful attacks ever made upon our religion. It is dangerous to advance arguments in favor of any cause which may be founded upon nothing better than the reveries of an ardent imagination![ii.417]

The phenomena of dreams, of the exercises and convictions which occupy the mind, while the avenues of the senses are closed, and the soul is more or less extricated from its connection with the body, particularly in the peculiar conditions of partial slumber, are among the deep mysteries of human experience. The writers on mental philosophy have not given them the attention they deserve.

The testimony in these trials is particularly valuable as showing the power of the imagination to completely deceive and utterly falsify the senses of sober persons, when wide awake and in broad daylight. The following deposition was given in Court under oath. The parties testifying were of unquestionable respectability. The man was probably a brother of James Bayley, the first minister of the Salem Village parish.

"The Deposition of Joseph Bayley, aged forty-four years.—Testifieth and saith, that, on the twenty-fifth day of May last, myself and my wife being bound to Boston, on the road, when I came in sight of the house where John Procter did live, there was a very hard blow struck on my breast, which caused great pain in my stomach and amazement in my head, but did see no person near me, only my wife behind me on the same horse; and, when I came against said Procter's house, according to my understanding, I did see John Procter and his wife at said house. Procter himself looked out of the window, and his wife did stand just without the door. I told my wife of it; and she did look that way, and could see nothing but a little maid at[ii.418] the door. Afterwards, about half a mile from the aforesaid house, I was taken speechless for some short time. My wife did ask me several questions, and desired me, that, if I could not speak, I should hold up my hand; which I did, and immediately I could speak as well as ever. And, when we came to the way where Salem road cometh into Ipswich road, there I received another blow on my breast, which caused so much pain that I could not sit on my horse. And, when I did alight off my horse, to my understanding, I saw a woman coming towards us about sixteen or twenty pole from us, but did not know who it was: my wife could not see her. When I did get up on my horse again, to my understanding, there stood a cow where I saw the woman. After that, we went to Boston without any further molestation; but, after I came home again to Newbury, I was pinched and nipped by something invisible for some time: but now, through God's goodness to me, I am well again.—Jurat in curia by both persons."

Bayley and his wife were going to Boston on election week. It was a good two days' journey from Newbury, as the roads then were, and riding as they did. According to the custom of the times, she was mounted on a pillion behind him. They had probably passed the night at the house of Sergeant Thomas Putnam, with whom he was connected by marriage. It was at the height of the witchcraft delirium. Thomas Putnam's house was the very focus of it. There they had listened to highly wrought accounts of its wonders and terrors, had witnessed the amazing phenomena exhibited by Ann Putnam and Mercy Lewis, and their minds been filled with images of[ii.419] spectres of living witches, and ghosts of the dead. They had seen with their own eyes the tortures of the girls under cruel diabolical influence, of which they had heard so much, and realized the dread outbreak of Satan and his agents upon the lives and souls of men.

They started the next morning on their way through the gloomy woods and over the solitary road. It was known that they were to pass the house of John Procter, believed to be a chief resort of devilish spirits. Oppressed with terror and awe, Bayley was on the watch, his heart in his mouth. The moment he came in sight, his nervous agitation reached its climax; and he experienced the shock he describes. When he came opposite to the house, to his horror there was Procter looking at him from the window, and Procter's wife standing outside of the door. He knew, that, in their proper persons and natural bodies, they were, at that moment, both of them, and had been, for six weeks, in irons, in one of the cells of the jail at Boston. Bayley's wife, from her position on the pillion behind him, had her face directed to the other side of the road. He told her what he saw. She looked round to the house, and could see nothing but a little maid at the door. After one or two more fits of fright, he reached the Lynn road, had escaped from the infernal terrors of the infected region, and his senses resumed their natural functions. It was several days before his nervous agitations ceased. Altogether, this is a remarkable case of hallucination:[ii.420] showing that the wildest fancies brought before the mind in dreams may be paralleled in waking hours; and that mental excitement may, even then, close the avenues of the senses, exclude the perception of reality, and substitute unsubstantial visions in the place of actual and natural objects.

There may be an interest in some minds to know who the "little maid at the door" was. The elder children of John Procter were either married off, or lived on his farm at Ipswich, with the exception of Benjamin, his oldest son, who remained with his father on the Salem farm. Benjamin had been imprisoned two days before Bayley passed the house. Four days before, Sarah, sixteen years of age, had also been arrested, and committed to jail. This left only William, eighteen years of age, who, three days after, was himself put into prison; Samuel, seven; Abigail, between three and four years of age; and one still younger. No female of the family was then at the house older than Abigail. This poor deserted child was "the little maid." Curiosity to see the passing strangers, or possibly the hope that they might be her father and mother, or her brother and sister, brought her to the door.

In the terrible consequences that resulted from the mischievous, and perhaps at the outset merely sportive, proceedings of the children in Mr. Parris's family, we have a striking illustration of the principle, that no one can foretell, with respect either to himself or others, the extent of the suffering and injury that may[ii.421] be occasioned by the least departure from truth, or from the practice of deception. In the horrible succession of crimes through which those young persons were led to pass, in the depth of depravity to which they were thrown, we discern the fate that endangers all who enter upon a career of wickedness.

No one can have an adequate knowledge of the human mind, who has not contemplated its developments in scenes like those that have now been related. It may be said of the frame of our spiritual, even with more emphasis than of our corporeal nature, that we are fearfully and wonderfully made. In the maturity of his bodily and mental organization, health gliding through his veins, strength and symmetry clothing his form, intelligence beaming from his countenance, and immortality stamped on his brow, man is indeed the noblest work of God. In the degradation and corruption to which he can descend, he is the most odious and loathsome object in the creation. The human mind, when all its faculties are fully developed and in proper proportions, reason seated on its rightful throne and shedding abroad its light, memory embracing the past, hope smiling upon the future, faith leaning on Heaven, and the affections diffusing through all their gentle warmth, is worthy of its source, deserves its original title of "image of God," and is greater and better than the whole material universe. It is nobler than all the works of God; for it is an emanation, a part of God himself, "a ray from the fountain of light." But where, I[ii.422] ask, can you find a more deplorable and miserable object than the mind in ruins, tossed by its own rebellious principles, and distorted by the monstrously unequal development of its faculties? You will look in vain upon the earthquake, the volcano, or the hurricane, for those elements of the awful and terrible which are manifested in a community of men whose passions have trampled upon their principles, whose imaginations have overthrown the government of reason, and who are swept along by the torrent until all order and security are swallowed up and lost. Such a spectacle we have now been witnessing. We have seen the whole population of this place and vicinity yielding to the sway of their credulous fancies, allowing their passions to be worked up to a tremendous pitch of excitement, and rushing into excesses of folly and violence that have left a stain on their memory, and will awaken a sense of shame, pity, and amazement in the minds of their latest posterity.

There is nothing more mysterious than the self-deluding power of the mind, and there never were scenes in which it was more clearly displayed than the witchcraft prosecutions. Honest men testified, with perfect confidence and sincerity, to the most absurd impossibilities; while those who thought themselves victims of diabolical influence would actually exhibit, in their corporeal frames, all the appropriate symptoms of the sufferings their imaginations had brought upon them. Great ignorance prevailed in reference to the influences of the body and the mind[ii.423] upon each other. While the imagination was called into a more extensive and energetic action than at any succeeding or previous period, its properties and laws were but little understood: the extent of the connection of the will and the muscular system, the reciprocal influence of the nerves and the fancy, and the strong and universally pervading sympathy between our physical and moral constitutions, were almost wholly unknown. These important subjects, indeed, are but imperfectly understood at the present day.

It may perhaps be affirmed, that the relations of the human mind with the spiritual world will never be understood while we continue in the present stage of existence and mode of being. The error of our ancestors—and it is an error into which men have always been prone to fall, and from which our own times are by no means exempt—was in imagining that their knowledge had extended, in this direction, beyond the boundary fixed unalterably to our researches, while in this corporeal life.

It admits of much question, whether human science can ever find a solid foundation in what relates to the world of spirits. The only instrument of knowledge we can here employ is language. Careful thinkers long ago came to the conclusion, that it is impossible to frame a language precisely and exclusively adapted to convey abstract and spiritual ideas, even if it is possible, as some philosophers have denied, for the mind, in its present state, to have such ideas. All[ii.424] attempts to construct such a language, though made by the most ingenious men, have failed. Language is based upon imagery, and associations drawn from so much of the world as the senses disclose to us; that is, from material objects and their relations. We are here confined, as it were, within narrow walls. We can catch only glimpses of what is above and around us, outside of those walls. Such glimpses may be vouchsafed, from time to time, to rescue us from sinking into materialism, and to keep alive our faith in scenes of existence remaining to be revealed when the barriers of our imprisonment shall be taken down, and what we call death lift us to a clearer and broader vision of universal being.

Of the reality of the spiritual world, we are assured by consciousness and by faith; but our knowledge of that world, so far as it can go into particulars, or become the subject of definition or expression, extends no further than revelation opens the way. In all ages, men have been awakened to the "wonders of the invisible world;" but they remain "wonders" still. Nothing like a permanent, stable, or distinct science has ever been achieved in this department. Man and God are all that are placed within our ken. Metaphysics and Theology are the names given to the sciences that relate to them. The greater the number of books written by human learning and ingenuity to expound them, the more advanced the intelligence and piety of mankind, the less, it is confessed, do we know of them in detail, the more they rise above our comprehension,[ii.425] the more unfathomable become their depths. Experience, history, the progress of light, all increase our sense of the impossibility of estimating the capacities of the human soul. So also we find that the higher we rise towards the Deity, in the contemplation of his works and word, the more does he continue to transcend our power to describe or imagine his greatness and glory. The revelation which the Saviour brought to mankind is all that the heart of man need desire, or the mind of man can comprehend. We are God's children, and he is our Father. That is all; and, the wiser and better we become, the more we are convinced and satisfied that it is enough.

There are, undoubtedly, innumerable beings in the world of spirits, besides departed souls, the Redeemer, and the Father. But of such beings we have, while here, no absolute and specific knowledge. In every age, as well as in our own, there have been persons who have believed themselves to hold communication with unseen spirits. The methods of entering into such communication have been infinitely diversified, from the incantations of ancient sorcery to the mediums and rappings of the present day. In former periods, particularly where the belief of witchcraft prevailed, it was thought that such communications could be had only with evil spirits, and, mostly, with the Chief of evil spirits. They were accordingly treated as criminal, and made the subject of the severest penalties known to the law. In our day, no such penalties are attached to the practice of seeking spiritual com[ii.426]munications. Those who have a fancy for such experiments are allowed to amuse themselves in this way without reproach or molestation. It is not charged upon them that they are dealing with the Evil One or any of his subordinates. They do not imagine such a thing themselves. I have no disposition, at any time, in any given case, to dispute the reality of the wonderful stories told in reference to such matters. All that I am prompted ever to remark is, that, if spirits do come, as is believed, at the call of those who seek to put themselves into communication with them, there is no evidence, I venture to suggest, that they are good spirits. I have never heard of their doing much good, substantially, to any one. No important truth has been revealed by them, no discovery been made, no science had its field enlarged; no department of knowledge has been brought into a clearer light; no great interest has been promoted; no movement of human affairs, whether in the action of nations or the transactions of men, has been advanced or in any way facilitated; no impulse has been given to society, and no elevation to life and character. It may be that the air is full of spiritual beings, hovering about us; but all experience shows that no benefit can be derived from seeking their intervention to share with us the duties or the burdens of our present probation. The mischiefs which have flowed from the belief that they can operate upon human affairs, and from attempting to have dealings with them, have been illustrated in the course of our narrative. In this view of the sub[ii.427]ject, no law is needed to prevent real or pretended communication with invisible beings. Enlightened reflection, common sense, natural prudence, would seem to be sufficient to keep men from meddling at all with practices, or countenancing notions, from which all history proclaims that no good has ever come, but incalculable evil flowed.

For the conduct of life, while here in these bodies, we must confine our curiosity to fields of knowledge open to our natural and ordinary faculties, and embraced within the limits of the established condition of things. Our fathers filled their fancies with the visionary images of ghosts, demons, apparitions, and all other supposed forms and shadows of the invisible world; lent their ears to marvellous stories of communications with spirits; gave to supernatural tales of witchcraft and demonology a wondering credence, and allowed them to occupy their conversation, speculations, and reveries. They carried a belief of such things, and a proneness to indulge it, into their daily life, their literature, and the proceedings of tribunals, ecclesiastical and civil. The fearful results shrouded their annals in darkness and shame. Let those results for ever stand conspicuous, beacon-monuments warning us, and coming generations, against superstition in every form, and all credulous and vain attempts to penetrate beyond the legitimate boundaries of human knowledge.

The phenomena of the real world, so far as science discloses them to our contemplation; the records of[ii.428] actual history; the lessons of our own experience; the utterances of the voice within, audible only to ourselves; and the teachings of the Divine Word,—are sufficient for the exercise of our faculties and the education of our souls during this brief period of our being, while in these bodies. In God's appointed time, we shall be transferred to a higher level of vision. Then, but not before, we may hope for re-union with disembodied spirits, for intercourse with angels, and for a nearer and more open communion with all divine beings.

The principal difference in the methods by which communications were believed to be made between mortals and spiritual beings, at the time of the witchcraft delusion and now, is this. Then it was chiefly by the medium of the eye, but at present by the ear. The "afflicted children" professed to have seen and conversed with the ghosts of George Burroughs's former wives and of others. They also professed to have seen the shapes or appearances of living persons in a disembodied form, or in the likeness of some animal or creature. Now it is affirmed by those calling themselves Spiritualists, that, by certain rappings or other incantations, they can summon into immediate but invisible presence the spirits of the departed, hold conferences with them, and draw from them information not derivable from any sources of human knowledge. There is no essential distinction between the old and the new belief and practice. The consequences that resulted from the former would be[ii.429] likely to result from the latter, if it should obtain universal or general credence, be allowed to mix with judicial proceedings, or to any extent affect the rights of person, property, or character.

The "afflicted children" at Salem Village had, by long practice, become wonderful adepts in the art of jugglery, and probably of ventriloquism. They did many extraordinary things, and were believed to have constant communications with ghosts and spectres; but they did not attain to spiritual rapping. If they had possessed that power, the credulity of judges, ministers, magistrates, and people, would have been utterly overwhelmed, and no limit could have been put to the destruction they might have wrought.

If there was any thing supernatural in the witchcraft of 1692, if any other than human spirits were concerned at all, one thing is beyond a doubt: they were shockingly wicked spirits, and led those who dealt with them to the utmost delusion, crime, and perdition; and this example teaches all who seek to consult with spirits, through a medium or in any other way, to be very strict to require beforehand the most satisfactory and conclusive evidence of good character before they put themselves into communication with them. Spirits who are said to converse with people, in these modern ages, cannot be considered as having much claim to a good repute. No valuable discovery of truth, no important guidance in human conduct, no useful instruction, has ever been conveyed to mankind through them; and much[ii.430] mischief perhaps may have resulted from confiding in them. It is not wise to place our minds under the influence of any of our fellow-creatures, in the ordinary guise of humanity, unless we know something about them entitling them to our acquaintance; much less so, to take them into our intimacy or confidence. Spirits cannot be put under oath, or their credibility be subjected to tests. Whether they are spirits of truth or falsehood cannot be known; and common caution would seem to dictate an avoidance of their company. The fields of knowledge opened to us in the works of mortal men; the stores of human learning and science; the pages of history, sacred or profane; the records of revelation; and the instructions and conversation of the wise and good of our fellow-creatures, while in the body,—are wide enough for our exploration, and may well occupy the longest lifetime.

In its general outlines and minuter details, Salem Witchcraft is an illustration of the fatal effects of allowing the imagination inflamed by passion to take the place of common sense, and of pushing the curiosity and credence of the human mind, in this stage of our being, while in these corporeal embodiments, beyond the boundaries that ought to limit their exercise. If we disregard those boundaries, and try to overleap them, we shall be liable to the same results. The lesson needs to be impressed equally upon all generations and ages of the world's future history. Essays have been written and books published to prove that the sense of the miraculous is destined[ii.431] to decline as mankind becomes more enlightened, and ascribing a greater or less tendency to the indulgence of this sense to particular periods of the church, or systems of belief, or schools of what is called philosophy. It is maintained that it was more prevalent in the mediæval ages than in modern times. Some assert that it has had a greater development in Catholic than Protestant countries; and some, perhaps, insist upon the reverse. Some attempt to show that it has manifested itself more remarkably among Puritans than in other classes of Protestant Christians. The last and most pretentious form of this dogma is, that the sense of the miraculous fades away in the progress of what arrogates to itself the name of Rationalism. This is one of the delusive results of introducing generalization into historical disquisitions. History deals with man. Man is always the same. The race consists, not of an aggregation, but of individuals, in all ages, never moulded or melted into classes. Each individual has ever retained his distinctness from every other. There has been the same infinite variety in every period, in every race, in every nation. Society, philosophy, custom, can no more obliterate these varieties than they can bring the countenances and features of men into uniformity. Diversity everywhere alike prevails. The particular forms and shapes in which the sense of the miraculous may express itself have passed and will pass away in the progress of civilization. But the sense itself remains; just as particular costumes and fashions of garment pass away, while the[ii.432] human form, its front erect and its vision towards the heavens, remains. The sense of the miraculous remains with Protestants as much as with Catholics, with Churchmen as much as with Puritans, with those who reject all creeds, equally with those whose creeds are the longest and the oldest. In our day, it must have been generally noticed, that the wonders of what imagines itself to be Spiritualism are rather more accredited by persons who aspire to the character of rationalists than by those who hold on tenaciously to the old landmarks of Orthodoxy.

The truth is, that the sense of the miraculous has not declined, and never can. It will grow deeper and stronger with the progress of true intelligence. As long as man thinks, he will feel that he is himself a perpetual miracle. The more he thinks, the more will he feel it. The mind which can wander into the deepest depths of the starry heavens, and feel itself to be there; which, pondering over the printed page, lives in the most distant past, communes with sages of hoar antiquity, with prophets and apostles, joins the disciples as they walk with the risen Lord to Emmaus, or mingles in the throng that listen to Paul at Mars' Hill,—knows itself to be beyond the power of space or time, and greater than material things. It knows not what it shall be; but it feels that it is something above the present and visible. It realizes the spiritual world, and will do so more and more, the higher its culture, the greater its freedom, and the wider its view of the material nature[ii.433] by which it is environed, while in this transitory stage of its history.

The lesson of our story will be found not to discard spiritual things, but to teach us, while in the flesh, not to attempt to break through present limitations, not to seek to know more than has been made known of the unseen and invisible, but to keep the inquiries of our minds and the action of society within the bounds of knowledge now attainable, and extend our curious researches and speculations only as far as we can here have solid ground to stand upon.

To explain the superstitious opinions that took effect in the witchcraft delusion, it is necessary to consider the state of biblical criticism at that period. That department of theological learning was then in a very immature condition.

The authority of Scripture, as it appeared on the face of the standard version, seemed to require them to pursue the course they adopted; and those enlarged and just principles of interpretation which we are taught by the learned of all denominations at the present day to apply to the Sacred Writings had not then been brought to the view of the people or received by the clergy.

It was gravely argued, for instance, that there was nothing improbable in the idea that witches had the power, in virtue of their compact with the Devil, of riding aloft through the air, because it is recorded, in the history of our Lord's temptation, that Satan transported him in a similar manner to the pinnacle of the[ii.434] temple, and to the summit of an exceedingly high mountain. And Cotton Mather declares, that, to his apprehension, the disclosures of the wonderful operations of the Devil, upon and through his subjects, that were made in the course of the witchcraft prosecutions, had shed a marvellous light upon the Scriptures! What a perversion of the Sacred Writings to employ them for the purpose of sanctioning the extravagant and delirious reveries of the human imagination! What a miserable delusion, to suppose that the Word of God could receive illumination from the most absurd and horrible superstition that ever brooded in darkness over the mind of man!

One of the sources of the delusion of 1692 was ignorance of many natural laws that have been revealed by modern science. A vast amount of knowledge on these subjects has been attained since that time. In our halls of education, in associations for the diffusion of knowledge, and in a diversified and all-pervading popular literature, what was dark and impenetrable mystery then has been explained, accounted for, and brought within the grasp of all minds. The contemplation of the evils brought upon our predecessors by their ignorance of the laws of nature cannot but lead us to appreciate more highly our opportunities to get knowledge in this department. As we advance into the interior of the physical system to which we belong; are led in succession from one revelation of beauty and grandeur to another, and the field of light and truth displaces that of darkness and[ii.435] mystery; while the fearful images that disturbed the faith and bewildered the thoughts of our fathers are dissolving and vanishing, the whole host of spirits, ghosts, and demons disappearing, and the presence and providence of God alone found to fill all scenes and cause all effects,—our hearts ought to rise to him in loftier adoration and holier devotion. If, while we enjoy a fuller revelation of his infinite and all-glorious operations and designs than our fathers did, the sentiment of piety which glowed in their hearts like a coal from the altar of God has been permitted to grow dim in ours, no reproach their errors and faults can possibly authorize will equal that which will justly fall upon us.

Another cause of their delusion was too great a dependence upon the imagination. We shall find no lesson more clearly taught by history, by experience, or by observation, than this, that man is never safe while either his fancy or his feeling is the guiding principle of his nature. There is a strong and constant attraction between his imagination and his passions; and, if either is permitted to exercise unlimited sway, the other will most certainly be drawn into co-operation with it, and, when they are allowed to act without restraint upon each other and with each other, they lead to the derangement and convulsion of his whole system. They constitute the combustible elements of our being: one serves as the spark to explode the other. Reason, enlightened by revelation and guided by conscience, is the great conservative prin[ii.436]ciple: while that exercises the sovereign power over the fancy and the passions, we are safe; if it is dethroned, no limit can be assigned to the ruin that may follow. In the scenes we have now been called to witness, we have perceived to what lengths of folly, cruelty, and crime even good men have been carried, who relinquished the aid, rejected the counsels, and abandoned the guidance of their reason.

Another influence that operated to produce the catastrophe in 1692 was the power of contagious sympathy. Every wise man and good citizen ought to be aware of the existence and operation of this power. There seems indeed to be a constitutional, original, sympathy in our nature. When men act in a crowd, their heartstrings are prone to vibrate in unison. Whatever chord of passion is struck in one breast, the same will ring forth its wild note through the whole mass. This principle shows itself particularly in seasons of excitement, and its power rises in proportion to the ardor and zeal of those upon whom it acts. It is for every one who desires to be preserved from the excesses of popular feeling, and to prevent the community to which he belongs from plunging into riotous and blind commotions, to keep his own judgment and emotions as free as possible from a power that seizes all it can reach, draws them into its current, and sweeps them round and round like the Maelstrom, until they are overwhelmed and buried in its devouring vortex. When others are heated, the only wisdom is to determine to keep cool; whenever a people or an individual[ii.437] is rushing headlong, it is the duty of patriotism and of friendship to check the motion.

In this connection it may be remarked—and I should be sorry to bring the subject to a close without urging the thought upon your attention—that the mere power of sympathy, the momentum with which men act in a crowd, is itself capable of convulsing society and overthrowing all its safeguards, without the aid or supposed agency of supernatural beings. The early history of the colony of New York presents a case in point.

In 1741, just half a century after the witchcraft prosecutions in Massachusetts, the city of New York, then containing about nine thousand inhabitants, witnessed a scene quite rivalling, in horror and folly, that presented here. Some one started the idea, that a conspiracy was on foot, among the colored portion of the inhabitants, to murder the whites. The story was passed from one to another. Although subsequently ascertained to have been utterly without foundation, no one stopped to inquire into its truth, or had the wisdom or courage to discountenance its circulation. Soon a universal panic, like a conflagration, spread through the whole community; and the results were most frightful. More than one hundred persons were cast into prison. Four white persons and eighteen negroes were hanged. Eleven negroes were burned at the stake, and fifty were transported into slavery. As in the witchcraft prosecutions, a clergyman was among the victims, and perished on the gallows.[ii.438]

The "New-York Negro Plot," as it was called, was indeed marked by all the features of absurdity in the delusion, ferocity in the popular excitement, and destruction along the path of its progress, which belonged to the witchcraft proceedings here, and shows that any people, given over to the power of contagious passion, may be swept by desolation, and plunged into ruin.

One of the practical lessons inculcated by the history that has now been related is, that no duty is more certain, none more important, than a free and fearless expression of opinion, by all persons, on all occasions. No wise or philosophic person would think of complaining of the diversities of sentiment it is likely to develop. Such diversities are the vital principle of free communities, and the only elements of popular intelligence. If the right to utter them is asserted by all and for all, tolerance is secured, and no inconvenience results. It is probable that there were many persons here in 1692 who doubted the propriety of the proceedings at their commencement, but who were afterwards prevailed upon to fall into the current and swell the tide. If they had all discharged their duty to their country and their consciences by freely and boldly uttering their disapprobation and declaring their dissent, who can tell but that the whole tragedy might have been prevented? and, if it might, the blood of the innocent may be said, in one sense, to be upon their heads.

The leading features and most striking aspects of[ii.439] the witchcraft delusion have been repeated in places where witches and the interference of supernatural beings are never thought of: whenever a community gives way to its passions, and spurns the admonitions and casts off the restraints of reason, there is a delusion that can hardly be described in any other phrase. We cannot glance our eye over the face of our country without beholding such scenes: and, so long as they are exhibited; so long as we permit ourselves to invest objects of little or no real importance with such an inordinate imaginary interest that we are ready to go to every extremity rather than relinquish them; so long as we yield to the impulse of passion, and plunge into excitement, and take counsel of our feelings rather than our judgment,—we are following in the footsteps of our fanatical ancestors. It would be wiser to direct our ridicule and reproaches to the delusions of our own times than to those of a previous age; and it becomes us to treat with charity and mercy the failings of our predecessors, at least until we have ceased to imitate and repeat them.

It has been my object to collect and arrange all the materials within reach necessary to give a correct and adequate view of the passage of history related and discussed in this work, and to suggest the considerations and conclusions required by truth and justice. It is worthy of the most thoughtful contemplation. The moralist, metaphysician, and political philosopher will find few chapters of human experience more fraught with instruction, and may well ponder upon[ii.440] the lessons it teaches, scrutinize thoroughly all its periods, phases, and branches, analyze its causes, eliminate its elements, and mark its developments. The laws, energies, capabilities, and liabilities of our nature, as exhibited in the character of individuals and in the action of society, are remarkably illustrated. The essential facts belonging to the transaction, gathered from authentic records and reliable testimonies and traditions, have been faithfully presented. The Witchcraft Delusion of 1692, so far as I have been able to recover it from misunderstanding and oblivion, has been brought to view; and I indulge the belief, that the subject will commend itself to, and reward, the study of every meditative mind.

I know not in what better terms the discussion of this subject can be brought to a termination, than in those which express the conclusions to which one of our own most distinguished citizens was brought, after having examined the whole transaction with the eye of a lawyer and the spirit of a judge. The following is from the Centennial Discourse pronounced in Salem on the 18th of September, 1828, by the late Hon. Joseph Story, of the Supreme Court of the United States:—

"We may lament, then," says he, "the errors of the times, which led to these prosecutions. But surely our ancestors had no special reasons for shame in a belief which had the universal sanction of their own and all former ages; which counted in its train philosophers, as well as enthusiasts; which was graced[ii.441] by the learning of prelates, as well as by the countenance of kings; which the law supported by its mandates, and the purest judges felt no compunctions in enforcing. Let Witch Hill remain for ever memorable by this sad catastrophe, not to perpetuate our dishonor, but as an affecting, enduring proof of human infirmity; a proof that perfect justice belongs to one judgment-seat only,—that which is linked to the throne of God."

In the work which has now reached its close, many strange phases of humanity have been exposed. We have beheld, with astonishment and horror, the extent to which it is liable to be the agent and victim of delusion and ruin. Folly that cannot be exceeded; wrong, outrage, and woe, melting the heart that contemplates them; and crime, not within our power or province to measure,—have passed before us. But not the dark side only of our nature has been displayed. Manifestations of innocence, heroism, invincible devotion to truth, integrity of soul triumphing over all the terrors and horrors that can be accumulated in life and in death, Christian piety in its most heavenly radiance, have mingled in the drama, whose curtain is now to fall. Noble specimens of virtue in man and woman, old and young, have shed a light, as from above, upon its dark and melancholy scenes. Not only the sufferers, but some of those who shared the dread responsibility of the crisis, demand our commiseration, and did what they could to atone for their error.

The conduct of Judge Sewall claims our particu[ii.442]lar admiration. He observed annually in private a day of humiliation and prayer, during the remainder of his life, to keep fresh in his mind a sense of repentance and sorrow for the part he bore in the trials. On the day of the general fast, he rose in the place where he was accustomed to worship, the Old South, in Boston, and, in the presence of the great assembly, handed up to the pulpit a written confession, acknowledging the error into which he had been led, praying for the forgiveness of God and his people, and concluding with a request to all the congregation to unite with him in devout supplication, that it might not bring down the displeasure of the Most High upon his country, his family, or himself. He remained standing during the public reading of the paper. This was an act of true manliness and dignity of soul.

The following passage is found in his diary, under the date of April 23, 1720, nearly thirty years afterwards. It was suggested by the perusal of Neal's "History of New England:"—

"In Dr. Neal's 'History of New England,' its nakedness is laid open in the businesses of the Quakers, Anabaptists, witchcraft. The judges' names are mentioned p. 502; my confession, p. 536, vol. ii. The good and gracious God be pleased to save New England and me, and my family!"

There never was a more striking and complete fulfilment of the apostolic assurance, that the prayer of a righteous man availeth much, than in this instance. God has been pleased, in a remarkable manner, to[ii.443] save and bless New England. The favor of Heaven was bestowed upon Judge Sewall during the remainder of his life. He presided for many years on the bench where he committed the error so sincerely deplored by him, and was regarded by all as a benefactor, an ornament, and a blessing to the community: while his family have enjoyed to a high degree the protection of Providence from that day to this; have adorned every profession, and every department of society; have filled with honor the most elevated stations; have graced, in successive generations, the same lofty seat their ancestor occupied; and been the objects of the confidence, respect, and love of their fellow-citizens.

Your thoughts have been led through scenes of the most distressing and revolting character. I leave before your imaginations one bright with all the beauty of Christian virtue,—that which exhibits Judge Sewall standing forth in the house of his God and in the presence of his fellow-worshippers, making a public declaration of his sorrow and regret for the mistaken judgment he had co-operated with others in pronouncing. Here you have a representation of a truly great and magnanimous spirit; a spirit to which the divine influence of our religion had given an expansion and a lustre that Roman or Grecian virtue never knew; a spirit that had achieved a greater victory than warrior ever won,—a victory over itself; a spirit so noble and so pure, that it felt no shame in acknowledging an error, and publicly imploring,[ii.444] for a great wrong done to his fellow-creatures, the forgiveness of God and man.

Our Essex poet, whose beautiful genius has made classical the banks of his own Merrimac, shed a romantic light over the early homes and characters of New England, and brought back to life the spirit, forms, scenes, and men of the past, has not failed to immortalize, in his verse, the profound penitence of the misguided but upright judge:—

"Touching and sad, a tale is told,
Like a penitent hymn of the Psalmist old,
Of the fast which the good man life-long kept
With a haunting sorrow that never slept,
As the circling year brought round the time
Of an error that left the sting of crime,
When he sat on the bench of the witchcraft courts,
With the laws of Moses and 'Hale's Reports,'
And spake, in the name of both, the word
That gave the witch's neck to the cord,
And piled the oaken planks that pressed
The feeble life from the warlock's breast!
All the day long, from dawn to dawn,
His door was bolted, his curtain drawn;
No foot on his silent threshold trod,
No eye looked on him save that of God,
As he baffled the ghosts of the dead with charms
Of penitent tears, and prayers, and psalms,
And, with precious proofs from the sacred Word
Of the boundless pity and love of the Lord,
His faith confirmed and his trust renewed,
That the sin of his ignorance, sorely rued,
Might be washed away in the mingled flood
Of his human sorrow and Christ's dear blood!"

[ii.445]

SUPPLEMENT.

decoration

[ii.447]

SUPPLEMENT.

[The subject of Salem Witchcraft has been traced to its conclusion, and discussed within its proper limits, in the foregoing work. But whoever is interested in it as a chapter of history or an exhibition of humanity may feel a curiosity, on some points, that reasonably demands gratification. The questions will naturally arise, Who were the earliest to extricate themselves and the public from the delusion? what is known, beyond the facts mentioned in the progress of the foregoing discussion, of the later fortunes of its prominent actors? what the view taken in the retrospect by individuals and public bodies implicated in the transaction? and what opinions on the general subject have subsequently prevailed? To answer these questions is the design of this Supplement.]

IT can hardly be said that there was any open and avowed opposition in the community to the proceedings during their early progress. There is some uncertainty and obscurity to what extent there was an unexpressed dissent in the minds of particular private persons. On the general subject of the existence and power of the Devil and his agency, more or less, in influencing human and earthly affairs, it would be difficult to prove that there was any considerable difference of opinion.

The first undisguised and unequivocal opposition to the proceedings was a remarkable document that has recently come to light. Among some papers which have found their way to the custody of the Essex Institute, is a letter, dated "Salisbury, Aug. 9, 1692," addressed "To the worshipful Jonathan Corwin, Esq., these present at his house in Salem." It is indorsed, "A letter[ii.448] to my grandfather, on account of the condemnation of the witches." Its date shows that it was written while the public infatuation and fury were at their height, and the Court was sentencing to death and sending to the gallows its successive cartloads. There is no injunction of secresy, and no shrinking from responsibility. Although the name of the writer is not given in full, he was evidently well known to Corwin, and had written to him before on the subject. The messenger, in accordance with the superscription, undoubtedly delivered it into the hands of the judge at his residence on the corner of Essex and North Streets. The fact that Jonathan Corwin preserved this document, and placed it in the permanent files of his family papers, is pretty good proof that he appreciated the weight of its arguments. It is not improbable that he expressed himself to that effect to his brethren on the bench, and perhaps to others. What he said, and the fact that he was holding such a correspondence, may have reached the ears of the accusers, and led them to commence a movement against him by crying out upon his mother-in-law.

The letter is a most able argument against the manner in which the trials were conducted, and, by conclusive logic, overthrows the whole fabric of the evidence on the strength of which the Court was convicting and taking the lives of innocent persons. No such piece of reasoning has come to us from that age. Its author must be acknowledged to have been an expert in dialectic subtleties, and a pure reasoner of unsurpassed acumen and force. It requires, but it will reward, the closest attention and concentration of thought in following the threads of the argument. It reaches its conclusions on a most difficult subject with clearness and certainty. It achieves and realizes, in mere mental processes, quantities, and forces, on the points at which it aims, what is called demonstration in mathematics and geometry.

The writer does not discredit, but seems to have received, the then prevalent doctrines relating to the personality, power, and attributes of the Devil; and, from that standpoint, controverts and demolishes the principles on which the Court was proceeding, in reference to the "spectral evidence" and the credibility of the "afflicted children" generally. The letter, and the formal argument appended to it, arrest notice in one or two general aspects. There is an appearance of their having proceeded from an elderly[ii.449] person, not at all from any marks of infirmity of intellect, but rather from an air of wisdom and a tone of authority which can only result from long experience and observation. The circumstance that an amanuensis was employed, and the author writes the initials of his signature only, strengthens this impression. At the same time, there are indications of a free and progressive spirit, more likely to have had force at an earlier period of life. In some aspects, the document indicates a theological education, and familiarity with matters that belong to the studies of a minister; in others, it manifests habits of mind and modes of expression and reasoning more natural to one accustomed to close legal statements and deductions. If the production of a trained professional man of either class, it would justly be regarded as remarkable. If its author belonged to neither class, but was merely a local magistrate, farmer, and militia officer, it becomes more than remarkable. There must have been a high development among the founders of our villages, when the laity could present examples of such a capacity to grasp the most difficult subjects, and conduct such acute and abstruse disquisitions. [See Appendix.]

The question as to the authorship of this paper may well excite interest, involving, as it does, minute critical speculations. The elements that enter into its solution illustrate the difficulties and perplexities encompassing the study of local antiquities, and attempts to determine the origin and bearings of old documents or to settle minute points of history. The weight of evidence seems to indicate that the document is attributable to Major Robert Pike, of Salisbury. Whoever was its author did his duty nobly, and stands alone, above all the scholars and educated men of the time, in bearing testimony openly, bravely, in the very ears of the Court, against the disgraceful and shocking course they were pursuing.[I]

[ii.450]

William Brattle, an eminent citizen and opulent merchant of Boston, and a gentleman of education and uncommon abilities, wrote a letter to an unknown correspondent of the clerical profes[ii.451]sion, in October, 1692. It is an able criticism upon the methods of procedure at the trials, condemning them in the strongest language; but it was a confidential communication, and not published[ii.452] until many years afterwards. He says that "the witches' meetings, the Devil's baptisms and mock sacraments, which the accusing and confessing witches oft speak of, are nothing else but the effect of their fancy, depraved and deluded by the Devil, and not a reality to be regarded or minded by any wise man." He charges the judges with having taken testimony from the Devil himself, through witnesses who swore to what they said the Devil communicated to them, thus indirectly introducing the Devil as a witness; and he clinches the accusation by quoting the judges themselves, who, when the accusing and confessing witnesses contradicted each other, got over the difficulty by saying that the Devil, in such instances, took away the memory of some of them, for the moment, obscuring their brains, and misleading them. He sums up this part of his reasoning in these words: "If it be thus granted that the Devil is able to represent false ideas to the imaginations of the confessors, what man of sense will regard the confessions, or any of the words of these confessors?" He says that he knows several persons "about the Bay,"—men, for understanding, judgment, and piety, inferior to few, if any, in New England,—that do utterly condemn the said proceedings. He repudiates the idea that Salem was, in any sense, exclusively responsible for the transaction; and affirms that "other justices in the country, besides the Salem jus[ii.453]tices, have issued out their warrants;" and states, that, of the eight "judges, commissioned for this Court at Salem, five do belong to Suffolk County, four of which five do belong to Boston, and therefore I see no reason why Boston should talk of Salem as though their own judges had had no hand in these proceedings in Salem."

There is one view of the subject, upon which Brattle presses with much force and severity. There is ground to suspect, that the proceedings were suffered to go on, after some of those appearing to countenance them had ceased to have faith in the accusations. He charges, directly, complicity in the escape of Mrs. Carey, Mrs. English, Captain Alden, Hezekiah Usher, and others, upon the high officials; and says that while the evidence, upon which so many had been imprisoned, sentenced, and executed, bore against Mrs. Thacher, of Boston, she was never proceeded against. "She was much complained of by the afflicted persons, and yet the justices would not issue out their warrants to apprehend" her and certain others; while at the very same time they were issuing, upon no better or other grounds, warrants against so many others. He charges the judges with this most criminal favoritism. The facts hardly justify such an imputation upon the judges. They did not, after the trials had begun, it is probable, ever issue warrants: that was the function of magistrates. With the exception, perhaps, of Corwin, I think there is no evidence of there having been any doubts or misgivings on the bench. It is altogether too heavy a charge to bring, without the strongest evidence, upon any one. To intimate that officials, or any persons, who did not believe in the accusations, connived at the escape of their friends and relatives, and at the same time countenanced, pretended to believe, and gave deadly effect to them when directed against others, is supposing a criminality and baseness too great to be readily admitted. In that wild reign of the worst of passions, this would have transcended them all in its iniquity. The only excusable people at that time were those who honestly, and without a doubt, believed in the guilt of the convicted. Those who had doubts, and did not frankly and fearlessly express them, were the guilty ones. On their hands is the stain of the innocent blood that was shed. It is not probable, and is scarcely possible, that any considerable number could be at once doubters and prosecutors. On this[ii.454] point, Brattle must be understood to mean, not that judges, or others actively engaged in the prosecutions, warded off proceedings against particular friends or relatives from a principle of deliberate favoritism, but that third parties, actuated by a sycophantic spirit, endeavored to hush up or intercept complaints, when directed too near to the high officials, or thought to gain their favor by aiding the escape of persons in whom they were interested.

Brattle uses the same weapon which afterwards the opponents of Mr. Parris, in his church at Salem Village, wielded with such decisive effect against him and all who abetted him. It is much to be lamented, that, instead of hiding it under a confidential letter, he did not at the time openly bring it to bear in the most public and defiant manner. One brave, strong voice, uttered in the face of the court and in the congregations of the people, echoed from the corners of the streets, and reaching the ears of the governor and magistrates, denouncing the entire proceedings as the damnable crime of familiarity with evil spirits, and sorcery of the blackest dye, might perhaps have recalled the judges, the people, and the rulers to their senses. If the spirit of the ancient prophets of God, of the Quakers of the preceding age, or of true reformers of any age, had existed in any breast, the experiment would have been tried. Brattle says,—

"I cannot but admire that any should go with their distempered friends and relations to the afflicted children, to know what their distempered friends ail, whether they are not bewitched, who it is that afflicts them, and the like. It is true, I know no reason why these afflicted may not be consulted as well as any other, if so be that it was only their natural and ordinary knowledge that was had recourse to: but it is not on this notion that these afflicted children are sought unto, but as they have a supernatural knowledge; a knowledge which they obtain by their holding correspondence with spectres or evil spirits, as they themselves grant. This consulting of these afflicted children, as abovesaid, seems to me to be a very gross evil, a real abomination, not fit to be known in New England; and yet is a thing practised, not only by Tom and John,—I mean the rude and more ignorant sort,—but by many who profess high, and pass among us for some of the better sort. This is that which aggravates the evil, and makes it heinous and tremendous; and yet this is not the worst of it,—for, as[ii.455] sure as I now write to you, even some of our civil leaders and spiritual teachers, who, I think, should punish and preach down such sorcery and wickedness, do yet allow of, encourage, yea, and practise, this very abomination. I know there are several worthy gentlemen in Salem who account this practice as an abomination, have trembled to see the methods of this nature which others have used, and have declared themselves to think the practice to be very evil and corrupt. But all avails little with the abettors of the said practice."

If Mr. Brattle and the "several worthy gentlemen" to whom he alludes, instead of sitting in "trembling" silence, or whispering in private their disapprobation, or writing letters under the injunction of secrecy, had come boldly out, and denounced the whole thing, in a spirit of true courage, meeting and defying the risk, and carrying the war home, and promptly, upon the ministers, magistrates, and judges, they might have succeeded, and exploded the delusion before it had reached its fatal results.

He mentions, in the course of his letter, among those persons known by him to disapprove of the proceedings,—

"The Hon. Simon Bradstreet, Esq. (our late governor), the Hon. Thomas Danforth, Esq. (our late deputy-governor), the Rev. Mr. Increase Mather, and the Rev. Mr. Samuel Willard. Major N. Saltonstall, Esq., who was one of the judges, has left the court, and is very much dissatisfied with the proceedings of it. Excepting Mr. Hale, Mr. Noyes, and Mr. Parris, the reverend elders, almost throughout the whole country, are very much dissatisfied. Several of the late justices—viz., Thomas Graves, Esq.; N. Byfield, Esq.; Francis Foxcroft, Esq.—are much dissatisfied; also several of the present justices, and, in particular, some of the Boston justices, were resolved rather to throw up their commissions than be active in disturbing the liberty of Their Majesties' subjects merely on the accusations of these afflicted, possessed children."

It is to be observed, that the dissatisfaction was with some of the methods adopted in the proceedings, and not with the prosecutions themselves. Increase Mather and Samuel Willard signed the paper indorsing Deodat Lawson's famous sermon, which surely drove on the prosecutions; and the former expressed, in print, his approbation of his son Cotton's "Wonders of the Invisible World," in which he labors to defend the witchcraft prosecutions, and to make it out that those who suffered were "malefactors."[ii.456] Dr. Increase Mather is understood to have countenanced the burning of Calef's book, some few years afterwards, in the square of the public grounds of Harvard College, of which institution he was then president. It cannot be doubted, however, that both the elder Mather and Mr. Willard had expressed, more or less distinctly, their disapprobation of some of the details of the proceedings. It is honorable to their memories, and shows that the former was not wholly blinded by parental weakness, but willing to express his dissent, in some particulars, from the course of his distinguished son, and that the latter had an independence of character which enabled him to criticise and censure a court in which three of his parishioners sat as judges.

Brattle relates a story which seems to indicate that Increase Mather sometimes was unguarded enough to express himself with severity against those who gave countenance to the proceedings. "A person from Boston, of no small note, carried up his child to Salem, near twenty miles, on purpose that he might consult the afflicted about his child, which accordingly he did; and the afflicted told him that his child was afflicted by Mrs. Carey and Mrs. Obinson." The "afflicted," in this and some other instances, had struck too high. The magistrates in Boston were unwilling to issue a warrant against Mrs. Obinson, and Mrs. Carey had fled. All that the man got for his pains, in carrying his child to Salem, was a hearty scolding from Increase Mather, who asked him "whether there was not a God in Boston, that he should go to the Devil, in Salem, for advice."

Bradstreet's great age prevented, it is to be supposed, his public appearance in the affair; but his course in a case which occurred twelve years before fully justifies confidence in the statement of Brattle. The tradition has always prevailed, that he looked with disapprobation upon the proceedings, from beginning to end. The course of his sons, and the action taken against them, is quite decisive to the point.

Facts have been stated, which show that Thomas Danforth, if he disapproved of the proceedings at Salem, in October, must have undergone a rapid change of sentiments. No irregularities, improprieties, extravagances, or absurdities ever occurred in the examinations or trials greater than he was fully responsible for in April. Having, in the mean while, been superseded in office, he[ii.457] had leisure, in his retirement, to think over the whole matter; and it is satisfactory to find that he saw the error of the ways in which he had gone himself, and led others.

The result of the inquiry on this point is, that, while some, outside of the village, began early to doubt the propriety of the proceedings in certain particulars, they failed, with the single exception of Robert Pike, to make manly and seasonable resistance. He remonstrated in a writing signed with his own initials, and while the executions were going on. He sent it to one of the judges, and did not shrink from having his action known. No other voice was raised, no one else breasted the storm, while it lasted. The errors which led to the delusion were not attacked from any quarter at any time during that generation, and have remained lurking in many minds, in a greater or less degree, to our day.

There were, however, three persons in Salem Village and its immediate vicinity, who deserve to be for ever remembered in this connection. They resisted the fanaticism at the beginning, and defied its wrath. Joseph Putnam was a little more than twenty-two years of age. He probably did not enter into the question of the doctrines then maintained on such subjects, but was led by his natural sagacity and independent spirit to the course he took. In opposition to both his brothers and both his uncles, and all the rest of his powerful and extensive family, he denounced the proceedings through and through. At the very moment when the excitement was at its most terrible stage, and Mr. Parris held the life of every one in his hands, Joseph Putnam expressed his disapprobation of his conduct by carrying his infant child to the church in Salem to be baptized. This was a public and most significant act. For six months, he kept some one of his horses under saddle night and day, without a moment's intermission of the precaution; and he and his family were constantly armed. It was understood, that, if any one attempted to arrest him, it would be at the peril of life. If the marshal should approach with overwhelming force, he would spring to his saddle, and bid defiance to pursuit. Such a course as this, taken by one standing alone against the whole community to which he belonged, shows a degree of courage, spirit, and resolution, which cannot but be held in honor.[ii.458]

Martha Corey was an aged Christian professor, of eminently devout habits and principles. It is, indeed, a strange fact, that, in her humble home, surrounded, as it then was, by a wilderness, this husbandman's wife should have reached a height so above and beyond her age. But it is proved conclusively by the depositions adduced against her, that her mind was wholly disenthralled from the errors of that period. She utterly repudiated the doctrines of witchcraft, and expressed herself freely and fearlessly against them. The prayer which this woman made "upon the ladder," and which produced such an impression on those who heard it, was undoubtedly expressive of enlightened piety, worthy of being characterized as "eminent" in its sentiments, and in its demonstration of an innocent heart and life.

The following paper, in the handwriting of Mr. Parris, is among the court-files. It has not the ordinary form of a deposition, but somehow was sworn to in Court:—

"The morning after the examination of Goody Nurse, Sam. Sibley met John Procter about Mr. Phillips's, who called to said Sibley as he was going to said Phillips's, and asked how the folks did at the village. He answered, he heard they were very bad last night, but he had heard nothing this morning. Procter replied, he was going to fetch home his jade; he left her there last night, and had rather given forty shillings than let her come up. Said Sibley asked why he talked so. Procter replied, if they were let alone so, we should all be devils and witches quickly; they should rather be had to the whipping-post; but he would fetch his jade home, and thrash the Devil out of her,—and more to the like purpose, crying, 'Hang them! hang them!'"

In another document, it is stated that Nathaniel Ingersoll and others heard John Procter tell Joseph Pope, "that, if he had John Indian in his custody, he would soon beat the Devil out of him."

The declarations thus ascribed to John Procter show that his views of the subject were about right; and it will probably be generally conceded, that the treatment he proposed for Mary Warren and "John Indian," if dealt out to the "afflicted children" generally at the outset, would have prevented all the mischief. A sound thrashing all round, seasonably administered, would have reached the root of the matter; and the story which has now been concluded of Salem witchcraft would never have been told.

When the witchcraft tornado burst upon Andover, it prostrated[ii.459] every thing before it. Accusers and accused were counted by scores, and under the panic of the hour the accused generally confessed. But Andover was the first to recover its senses. On the 12th of October, 1692, seven of its citizens addressed a memorial to the General Court in behalf of their wives and children, praying that they might be released on bond, "to remain as prisoners in their own houses, where they may be more tenderly cared for." They speak of their "distressed condition in prison,—a company of poor distressed creatures as full of inward grief and trouble as they are able to bear up in life withal." They refer to the want of "food convenient" for them, and to "the coldness of the winter season that is coming which may despatch such out of the way that have not been used to such hardships," and represent the ruinous effects of their absence from their families, who were at the same time required to maintain them in jail. On the 18th of October, the two ministers of Andover, Francis Dane and Thomas Barnard, with twenty-four other citizens of Andover, addressed a similar memorial to the Governor and General Court, in which we find the first public expression of condemnation of the proceedings. They call the accusers "distempered persons." They express the opinion that their friends and neighbors have been misrepresented. They bear the strongest testimony in favor of the persons accused, that several of them are members of the church in full communion, of blameless conversation, and "walking as becometh women professing godliness." They relate the methods by which they had been deluded and terrified into confession, and show the worthlessness of those confessions as evidences against them. They use this bold and significant language: "Our troubles we foresee are likely to continue and increase, if other methods be not taken than as yet have been; and we know not who can think himself safe, if the accusations of children and others who are under a diabolical influence shall be received against persons of good fame." On the 2d of January, 1693, the Rev. Francis Dane addressed a letter to a brother clergyman, which is among the files, and was probably designed to reach the eyes of the Court, in which he vindicates Andover against the scandalous reports got up by the accusers, and says that a residence there of forty-four years, and intimacy with the people, enable him to declare that they are not justly chargeable with any[ii.460] such things as witchcraft, charms, or sorceries of any kind. He expresses himself in strong language: "Had charity been put on, the Devil would not have had such an advantage against us, and I believe many innocent persons have been accused and imprisoned." He denounces "the conceit of spectre evidence," and warns against continuing in a course of proceeding that will procure "the divine displeasure." A paper signed by Dudley Bradstreet, Francis Dane, Thomas Barnard, and thirty-eight other men and twelve women of Andover, was presented to the Court at Salem to the same effect.

None of the persons named by Brattle can present so strong a claim to the credit of having opposed the witchcraft fanaticism before the close of the year 1692, as Francis Dane, his colleague Barnard, and the citizens of Andover, who signed memorials to the Legislature on the 18th of October, and to the Court of Trials about the same time. There is, indeed, one conclusive proof that the venerable senior pastor of the Andover Church made his disapprobation of the witchcraft proceedings known at an earlier period, at least in his immediate neighborhood. The wrath of the accusers was concentrated upon him to an unparalleled extent from their entrance into Andover. They did not venture to attack him directly. His venerable age and commanding position made it inexpedient; but they struck as near him, and at as many points, as they dared. They accused, imprisoned, and caused to be convicted and sentenced to death, one of his daughters, Abigail Faulkner. They accused, imprisoned, and brought to trial another, Elizabeth Johnson. They imprisoned, and brought to the sentence of death, his grand-daughter, Elizabeth Johnson, Jr. They cried out against, and caused to be imprisoned, several others of his grandchildren. They accused and imprisoned Deliverance the wife, and also the "man-servant," of his son Nathaniel. There is reason for supposing, as has been stated, that Elizabeth How was the wife of his nephew. Surely, no one was more signalized by their malice and resentment than Francis Dane; and he deserves to be recognized as standing pre-eminent, and, for a time, almost alone, in bold denunciation and courageous resistance of the execrable proceedings of that dark day.

Francis Dane made the following statement, also designed to reach the authorities, which cannot be read by any person of sen[ii.461]sibility without feeling its force, although it made no impression upon the Court at the time:—

"Concerning my daughter Elizabeth Johnson, I never had ground to suspect her, neither have I heard any other to accuse her, till by spectre evidence she was brought forth; but this I must say, she was weak, and incapacious, fearful, and in that respect I fear she hath falsely accused herself and others. Not long before she was sent for, she spake as to her own particular, that she was sure she was no witch. And for her daughter Elizabeth, she is but simplish at the best; and I fear the common speech, that was frequently spread among us, of their liberty if they would confess, and the like expression used by some, have brought many into a snare. The Lord direct and guide those that are in place, and give us all submissive wills; and let the Lord do with me and mine what seems good in his own eyes!"

There is nothing in the proceedings of the Special Court of Oyer and Terminer more disgraceful than the fact, that the regular Court of Superior Judicature, the next year, after the public mind had been rescued from the delusion, and the spectral evidence repudiated, proceeded to try these and other persons, and, in the face of such statements as the foregoing, actually condemned to death Elizabeth Johnson, Jr.

It is remarkable that Brattle does not mention Calef. The understanding has been that they acted in concert, and that Brattle had a hand in getting up some of Calef's arguments. The silence of Brattle is not, upon the whole, at all inconsistent with their mutual action and alliance. As Calef was more perfectly unembarrassed, without personal relations to the clergy and others in high station, and not afraid to stand in the gap, it was thought best to let him take the fire of Cotton Mather. His name had not been connected with the matter in the public apprehension. He was a merchant of Boston, and a son of Robert Calef of Roxbury. His attention was called to the proceedings which originated in Salem Village; and his strong faculties and moral courage enabled him to become the most efficient opponent, in his day, of the system of false reasoning upon which the prosecutions rested. He prepared several able papers in different forms, in which he discussed the subject with great ability, and treated Cotton Mather and all others whom he regarded as instrumental in precipitating the community into the fatal tragedy,[ii.462] with the greatest severity of language and force of logic, holding up the whole procedure to merited condemnation. They were first printed, at London, in 1700, in a small quarto volume, under the title of "More Wonders of the Invisible World." This publication burst like a bomb-shell upon all who had been concerned in promoting the witchcraft prosecutions. Cotton Mather was exasperated to the highest pitch. He says in his diary: "He sent this vile volume to London to be published, and the book is printed; and the impression is, this day week, arrived here. The books that I have sent over into England, with a design to glorify the Lord Jesus Christ, are not published, but strangely delayed; and the books that are sent over to vilify me, and render me incapable to glorify the Lord Jesus Christ,—these are published." Calef's writings gave a shock to Mather's influence, from which it never recovered.

Great difficulty has been experienced in drawing the story out in its true chronological sequence. The effect produced upon the public mind, when it became convinced that the proceedings had been wrong, and innocent blood shed, was a universal disposition to bury the recollection of the whole transaction in silence, and, if possible, oblivion. This led to a suppression and destruction of the ordinary materials of history. Papers were abstracted from the files, documents in private hands were committed to the flames, and a chasm left in the records of churches and public bodies. The journal of the Special Court of Oyer and Terminer is nowhere to be found. Hutchinson appears to have had access to it. It cannot well be supposed to have been lost by fire or other accident, because the records of the regular Court, up to the very time when the Special Court came into operation, and from the time when it expired, are preserved in order. A portion of the papers connected with the trials have come down in a miscellaneous, scattered, and dilapidated state, in the offices of the Clerk of the Courts in the County of Essex, and of the Secretary of the Commonwealth. By far the larger part have been abstracted, of which a few have been deposited, by parties into whose hands they had happened to come, with the Massachusetts Historical Society in Boston and the Essex Institute at Salem. The records of the parish of Salem Village, although exceedingly well kept before and after 1692 by Thomas Putnam, are in another hand for that[ii.463] year, very brief, and make no reference whatever to the witchcraft transactions. This general desire to obliterate the memory of the calamity has nearly extinguished tradition. It is more scanty and less reliable than on any other event at an equal distance in the past. A subject on which men avoided to speak soon died out of knowledge. The localities of many very interesting incidents cannot be identified. This is very observable, and peculiarly remarkable as to places in the now City of Salem. The reminiscences floating about are vague, contradictory, and few in number. In a community of uncommon intelligence, composed, to a greater degree perhaps than almost any other, of families that have been here from the first, very inquisitive for knowledge, and always imbued with the historical spirit, it is truly surprising how little has been borne down, by speech and memory, in the form of anecdote, personal traits, or local incidents, of this most extraordinary and wonderful occurrence of such world-wide celebrity. Almost all that we know is gleaned from the offices of the Registry of Deeds and Wills.[J]

[ii.464]

It is remarkable, that the marshal and sheriff, both quite young men, so soon followed their victims to the other world. Jonathan Walcot, the father of Mary, and next neighbor to Parris, removed from the village, and died at Salem in 1699. Thomas Putnam and Ann his wife, the parents of the "afflicted child," who acted so extraordinary a part in the proceedings and of whom further mention will be made, died in 1699,—the former on the 24th of May, the latter on the 8th of June,—at the respective ages of forty-seven and thirty-eight.[K] There are indications that they saw the errors into which they had been led. If their eyes were at all opened to this view, how terrible must have been the thought of the cruel wrongs and wide-spread ruin of which they had been the cause! Of the circumstances of their deaths, or their last words and sentiments, we have no knowledge. It is not strange, that, in addition to all her woes, the death of her husband was more than Mrs. Ann Putnam could bear, and that[ii.465] she followed him so soon to the grave. Of the other accusers, we have but little information. Elizabeth Booth was married to Israel Shaw about the year 1700. Mary Walcot was married, somewhere between 1692 and 1697, to a person belonging to Woburn, whose name is torn or worn off from Mr. Parris's records. Of the other "afflicted children" nothing is known, beyond the fact, that the Act of the Legislature of the Province, reversing the judgments, and taking off the attainder from those who were sentenced to death in 1692, has this paragraph: "Some of the principal accusers and witnesses in those dark and severe prosecutions have since discovered themselves to be persons of profligate and vicious conversation;" and Calef speaks of them as "vile varlets," and asserts that their reputations were not without spot before, and that subsequently they became abandoned to open and shameless vice.

A very considerable number of the people left the place. John Shepard and Samuel Sibley sold their lands, and went elsewhere; as did Peter Cloyse, who never brought his family to the village after his wife's release from prison. Edward and Sarah Bishop sold their estates, and took up their abode at Rehoboth. Some of the Raymond family removed to Middleborough. The Haynes family emigrated to New Jersey. No mention is afterwards found of other families in the record-books. The descendants of Thomas and Edward Putnam, in the next generation, were mostly dis[ii.466]persed to other places; but those of Joseph remained on his lands, and have occupied his homestead to this day. It is a singular circumstance, that some of the spots where, particularly, the great mischief was brewed, are, and long have been, deserted. Where the parsonage stood, with its barn and garden and well and pathways, is now a bare and rugged field, without a vestige of its former occupancy, except a few broken bricks that mark the site of the house. The same is the case of the homestead of Jonathan Walcot. It was in these two families that the affair began and was matured. The spots where several others, who figured in the proceedings, lived, have ceased to be occupied; and the only signs of former habitation are hollows in the ground, fragments of pottery, and heaps of stones denoting the location of cellars and walls. Here and there, where houses and other structures once stood, the blight still rests.

Some circumstances relating to the personal history of those who experienced the greatest misery during the prevalence of the dreadful fanaticism, and were left to mourn over its victims, have happened to be preserved in records and documents on file. On the 30th of November, 1699, Margaret Jacobs was married to John Foster. She belonged to Mr. Noyes's parish; but the recollection of his agency in pushing on proceedings which carried in their train the execution of her aged grandfather, the exile of her father, the long imprisonment of her mother and herself, with the prospect of a violent and shameful death hanging over them every hour, and, above all, her own wretched abandonment of truth and conscience for a while, probably under his persuasion, made it impossible for her to think of being married by him. Mr. Greene was known to sympathize with those who had suffered, and the couple went to the village to be united. Some years afterwards, when the church of the Middle Precinct, now South Danvers, was organized, John and Margaret Foster, among the first, took their children there for baptism; and their descendants are numerous, in this neighborhood and elsewhere. Margaret, the widow of John Willard, married William Towne. Elizabeth, the widow of John Procter, married, subsequently to 1696, a person named Richards. Edward Bishop, the husband of Bridget, a few years afterwards was appointed guardian of Susannah Mason, the only child of Christian, who was the only child of Bridget by her[ii.467] former husband Thomas Oliver. Bishop seems to have invested the money of his ward in the lot at the extreme end of Forrester Street, where it connects with Essex Street, bounded by Forrester Street on the north and east, and Essex Street on the south. This was the property of Susannah when she married John Becket, Jr. Bishop appears to have continued his business of a sawyer to a very advanced age, and died in Salem, in 1705.

Sarah Nurse, about two years after her mother's death, married Michael Bowden, of Marblehead; and they occupied her father's house, in the town of Salem, of which he had retained the possession. His family having thus all been married off, Francis Nurse gave up his homestead to his son Samuel, and divided his remaining property among his four sons and four daughters. He made no formal deed or will, but drew up a paper, dated Dec. 4, 1694, describing the distribution of the estate, and what he expected of his children. He gave them immediate occupancy and possession of their respective portions. The provision made by the old man for his comfort, and the conditions required of his children, are curious. They give an interesting insight of the life of a rural patriarch. He reserved his "great chair and cushion;" a great chest; his bed and bedding; wardrobe, linen and woollen; a pewter pot; one mare, bridle, saddle, and sufficient fodder; the whole of the crop of corn, both Indian and English, he had made that year. The children were to discharge all the debts of his estate, pay him fourteen pounds a year, and contribute equally, as much more as might be necessary for his comfortable maintenance, and also to his "decent burial." The labors of his life had closed. He had borne the heaviest burden that can be laid on the heart of a good man. He found rest, and sought solace and support, in the society and love of his children and their families, as he rode from house to house on the road he had opened, by which they all communicated with each other. The parish records show that he continued his interest in its affairs. He lived just long enough to behold sure evidence that justice would be done to the memory of those who suffered, and the authors of the mischief be consigned to the condemnation of mankind. The tide, upon which Mr. Parris had ridden to the destruction of so many, had turned; and it was becoming apparent to all, that[ii.468] he would soon be compelled to disappear from his ministry in the village, before the awakening resentment of the people and the ministers. Francis Nurse died on the 22d of November, 1695, seventy-seven years of age. His sons with their wives, and his daughters with their husbands, went into the Probate Court with the paper before described, and unanimously requested the judge to have the estate divided according to its terms. This is conclusive proof that the father had been just and wise in his arrangements, and that true fraternal love and harmony pervaded the whole family. The descendants, under the names of Bowden, Tarbell, and Russell, are dispersed in various parts of the country: those under the name of Preston, while some have gone elsewhere, have been ever since, and still are, among the most respectable and honored citizens of the village. Some of the name of Nurse have also remained, and worthily represent and perpetuate it.

I have spoken of the tide's beginning to turn in 1695. Sure indications to that effect were then quite visible. It had begun far down in the public mind before the prosecutions ceased; but it was long before the change became apparent on the surface. It was long before men found utterance for their feelings.

Persons living at a distance have been accustomed, and are to this day, to treat the Salem-witchcraft transaction in the spirit of lightsome ridicule, and to make it the subject of jeers and jokes. Not so those who have lived on, or near, the fatal scene. They have ever regarded it with solemn awe and profound sorrow, and shunned the mention, and even the remembrance, of its details. This prevented an immediate expression of feeling, and delayed movements in the way of attempting a reparation of the wrongs that had been committed. The heart sickened, the lips were dumb, at the very thought of those wrongs. Reparation was impossible. The dead were beyond its reach. The sorrows and anguish of survivors were also beyond its reach. The voice of sympathy was felt to be unworthy to obtrude upon sensibilities that had been so outraged. The only refuge left for the individuals who had been bereaved, and for the body of the people who realized that innocent blood was on all their hands, was in humble and soul-subdued silence, and in prayers for forgiveness from God and from each other.[ii.469]

It was long before the public mind recovered from its paralysis. No one knew what ought to be said or done, the tragedy had been so awful. The parties who had acted in it were so numerous, and of such standing, including almost all the most eminent and honored leaders of the community from the bench, the bar, the magistracy, the pulpit, the medical faculty, and in fact all classes and descriptions of persons; the mysteries connected with the accusers and confessors; the universal prevalence of the legal, theological, and philosophical theories that had led to the proceedings; the utter impossibility of realizing or measuring the extent of the calamity; and the general shame and horror associated with the subject in all minds; prevented any open movement. Then there was the dread of rekindling animosities which time was silently subduing, and nothing but time could fully extinguish. Slowly, however, the remembrance of wrongs was becoming obscured. Neighborhood and business relations were gradually reconciling the estranged. Offices of civility, courtesy, and good-will were reviving; social and family intimacies and connections were taking effect and restoring the community to a natural and satisfactory condition. Every day, the sentiment was sinking deeper in the public mind, that something was required to be done to avert the displeasure of Heaven from a guilty land. But while some were ready to forgive, and some had the grace to ask to be forgiven, any general movement in this direction was obstructed by difficulties hard to be surmounted.

The wrongs committed were so remediless, the outrages upon right, character, and life, had been so shocking, that it was expecting too much from the ordinary standard of humanity to demand a general oblivion. On the other hand, so many had been responsible for them, and their promoters embraced such a great majority of all the leading classes of society, that it was impossible to call them to account. Dr. Bentley describes the condition of the community, in some brief and pregnant sentences, characteristic of his peculiar style: "As soon as the judges ceased to condemn, the people ceased to accuse.... Terror at the violence and guilt of the proceedings succeeded instantly to the conviction of blind zeal; and what every man had encouraged all professed to abhor. Few dared to blame other men, because[ii.470] few were innocent. The guilt and the shame became the portion of the country, while Salem had the infamy of being the place of the transactions.... After the public mind became quiet, few things were done to disturb it. But a diminished population, the injury done to religion, and the distress of the aggrieved, were seen and felt with the greatest sorrow.... Every place was the subject of some direful tale. Fear haunted every street. Melancholy dwelt in silence in every place, after the sun retired. Business could not, for some time, recover its former channels; and the innocent suffered with the guilty."

While the subject was felt to be too dark and awful to be spoken of, and most men desired to bury it in silence, occasionally the slumbering fires would rekindle, and the flames of animosity burst forth. The recollection of the part he had acted, and the feelings of many towards him in consequence, rendered the situation of the sheriff often quite unpleasant; and the resentment of some broke out in a shameful demonstration at his death, which occurred early in 1697. Mr. English, representing that class who had suffered under his official hands in 1692, having a business demand upon him, in the shape of a suit for debt, stood ready to seize his body after it was prepared for interment, and prevented the funeral at the time. The body was temporarily deposited on the sheriff's own premises. There were, it is probable, from time to time, other less noticeable occurrences manifesting the long continued existence of the unhappy state of feeling engendered in 1692. There were really two parties in the community, generally both quiescent, but sometimes coming into open collision; the one exasperated by the wrongs they and their friends had suffered, the other determined not to allow those who had acted in conducting the prosecutions to be called to account for what they had done. After the lapse of thirty years, and long subsequent to the death of Mr. Noyes, Mr. English was prosecuted for having said that Mr. Noyes had murdered Rebecca Nurse and John Procter.

It has been suggested, that the bearing of the executive officers of the law towards the prisoners was often quite harsh. This resulted from the general feeling, in which these officials would have been likely to sympathize, of the peculiarly execrable nature of the crime charged upon the accused, and from the danger that[ii.471] might attend the manifestation of any appearance of kindly regard for them. So far as the seizure of goods is considered, or the exaction of fees, the conduct of the officials was in conformity with usage and instructions. The system of the administration of the law, compared with our times, was stern, severe, and barbarous. The whole tone of society was more unfeeling. Philanthropy had not then extended its operations, or directed its notice, to the prison. Sheriff Corwin was quite a young man, being but twenty-six years of age at the time of his appointment. He probably acted under the advice of his relatives and connections on the bench. I think there is no evidence of any particular cruelty evinced by him. The arrests, examinations, and imprisonments had taken place under his predecessor, Marshal Herrick, who continued in the service as his deputy.

That individual, indeed, had justly incurred the resentment of the sufferers and their friends, by eager zeal in urging on the prosecutions, perpetual officiousness, and unwarrantable interference against the prisoners at the preliminary examinations. The odium originally attached to the marshal seems to have been transferred to his successor, and the whole was laid at the door of the sheriff. Marshal Herrick does not appear to have been connected with Joseph Herrick, who lived on what is now called Cherry Hill, but was a man of an entirely different stamp. He was thirty-four years of age, and had not been very long in the country. John Dunton speaks of meeting him in Salem, in 1686, and describes him as a "very tall, handsome man, very regular and devout in his attendance at church, religious without bigotry, and having every man's good word." His impatient activity against the victims of the witchcraft delusion wrought a great change in the condition of this popular and "handsome" man, as is seen in a petition presented by him, Dec. 8, 1692; to "His Excellency Sir William Phips, Knight, Captain-general and Governor of Their Majesties' Territories and Dominions of Massachusetts Bay in New England; and to the Honorable William Stoughton, Esq., Deputy-Governor; and to the rest of the Honored Council." It begins thus: "The petition of your poor servant, George Herrick, most humbly showeth." After recounting his great and various services "for the term of nine months," as marshal or deputy-sheriff in apprehending many prisoners, and conveying[ii.472] them "unto prison and from prison to prison," he complains that his whole time had been taken up so that he was incapable of getting any thing for the maintenance of his "poor family:" he further states that he had become so impoverished that necessity had forced him to lay down his place; and that he must certainly come to want, if not in some measure supplied. "Therefore I humbly beseech Your Honors to take my case and condition so far into consideration, that I may have some supply this hard winter, that I and my poor children may not be destitute of sustenance, and so inevitably perish; for I have been bred a gentleman, and not much used to work, and am become despicable in these hard times." He concludes by declaring, that he is not "weary of serving his king and country," nor very scrupulous as to the kind of service; for he promises that "if his habitation" could thereby be "graced with plenty in the room of penury, there shall be no services too dangerous and difficult, but your poor petitioner will gladly accept, and to the best of my power accomplish. I shall wholly lay myself at Your Honorable feet for relief." Marshal Herrick died in 1695.

But, while this feeling was spreading among the people, the government were doing their best to check it. There was great apprehension, that, if allowed to gather force, it would burst over all barriers, that no limit would be put to its demands for the restoration of property seized by the officers of the law, and that it would wreak vengeance upon all who had been engaged in the prosecutions. Under the influence of this fear, the following attempt was made to shield the sheriff of the county from prosecutions for damages by those whose relatives had suffered:—

"At a Superior Court of Judicature, Court of Assize, and General Jail Delivery, held at Ipswich, the fifteenth day of May, anno Domini 1694.—Present, William Stoughton, Esq., Chief-justice; Thomas Danforth, Esq.; Samuel Sewall, Esq.

"This Court, having adjusted the accounts of George Corwin, Esq., high-sheriff for the county of Essex, do allow the same to be just and true; and that there remains a balance due to him, the said Corwin, of £67. 6s. 4d., which is also allowed unto him; and, pursuant to law, this Court doth fully, clearly, and absolutely acquit and discharge him,[ii.473] the said George Corwin, his heirs, executors, and administrators, lands and tenements, goods and chattels, of and from all manner of sum or sums of money, goods or chattels levied, received, or seized, and of all debts, duties, and demands which are or may be charged in his, the said Corwin's, accounts, or which may be imposed by reason of the sheriff's office, or any thing by him done by virtue thereof, or in the execution of the same, from the time he entered into the said office, to this Court."

This extraordinary attempt of the Court to close the doors of justice beforehand against suits for damages did not seem to have any effect; for Mr. English compelled the executors of the sheriff to pay over to him £60. 3s.

At length, the government had to meet the public feeling. A proclamation was issued, "By the Honorable the Lieutenant-Governor, Council, and Assembly of His Majesty's province of the Massachusetts Bay, in General Court assembled." It begins thus: "Whereas the anger of God is not yet turned away, but his hand is still stretched out against his people in manifold judgments;" and, after several specifications of the calamities under which they were suffering, and referring to the "many days of public and solemn" addresses made to God, it proceeds: "Yet we cannot but also fear that there is something still wanting to accompany our supplications; and doubtless there are some particular sins which God is angry with our Israel for, that have not been duly seen and resented by us, about which God expects to be sought, if ever he again turn our captivity." Thursday, the fourteenth of the next January, was accordingly appointed to be observed as a day of prayer and fasting,—

"That so all God's people may offer up fervent supplications unto him, that all iniquity may be put away, which hath stirred God's holy jealousy against this land; that he would show us what we know not, and help us, wherein we have done amiss, to do so no more; and especially, that, whatever mistakes on either hand have been fallen into, either by the body of this people or any orders of men, referring to the late tragedy, raised among us by Satan and his instruments, through the awful judgment of God, he would humble us therefor, and pardon all the errors of his servants and people that desire to love his name; that he would remove the rod of the wicked from off the lot of the[ii.474] righteous; that he would bring in the American heathen, and cause them to hear and obey his voice.

"Given at Boston, Dec. 17, 1696, in the eighth year of His Majesty's reign.

Isaac Addington, Secretary."

The jury had acted in conformity with their obligations and honest convictions of duty in bringing in their verdicts. They had sworn to decide according to the law and the evidence. The law under which they were required to act was laid down with absolute positiveness by the Court. They were bound to receive it, and to take and weigh the evidence that was admitted; and to their minds it was clear, decisive, and overwhelming, offered by persons of good character, and confirmed by a great number of confessions. If it had been within their province, as it always is declared not to be, to discuss the general principles, and sit in judgment on the particular penalties of law, it would not have altered the case; for, at that time, not only the common people, but the wisest philosophers, supported the interpretation of the law that acknowledged the existence of witchcraft, and its sanction that visited it with death.

Notwithstanding all this, however, so tender and sensitive were the consciences of the jurors, that they signed and circulated the following humble and solemn declaration of regret for the part they had borne in the trials. As the publication of this paper was highly honorable to those who signed it, and cannot but be contemplated with satisfaction by all their descendants, I will repeat their names:—

"We whose names are underwritten, being in the year 1692 called to serve as jurors in court at Salem, on trial of many who were by some suspected guilty of doing acts of witchcraft upon the bodies of sundry persons,—we confess that we ourselves were not capable to understand, nor able to withstand, the mysterious delusions of the powers of darkness and Prince of the air, but were, for want of knowledge in ourselves and better information from others, prevailed with to take up with such evidence against the accused as, on further consideration and better information, we justly fear was insufficient for the touching the lives of any (Deut. xvii. 6), whereby we fear we have been instrumental, with others, though ignorantly and unwittingly, to bring upon ourselves and this people of the Lord the guilt of innocent blood; which sin the Lord saith in Scripture he would not pardon[ii.475] (2 Kings xxiv. 4),—that is, we suppose, in regard of his temporal judgments. We do therefore hereby signify to all in general, and to the surviving sufferers in special, our deep sense of, and sorrow for, our errors in acting on such evidence to the condemning of any person; and do hereby declare, that we justly fear that we were sadly deluded and mistaken,—for which we are much disquieted and distressed in our minds, and do therefore humbly beg forgiveness, first, of God, for Christ's sake, for this our error, and pray that God would not impute the guilt of it to ourselves nor others: and we also pray that we may be considered candidly and aright by the living sufferers, as being then under the power of a strong and general delusion, utterly unacquainted with, and not experienced in, matters of that nature.

"We do heartily ask forgiveness of you all, whom we have justly offended; and do declare, according to our present minds, we would none of us do such things again, on such grounds, for the whole world,—praying you to accept of this in way of satisfaction for our offence, and that you would bless the inheritance of the Lord, that he may be entreated for the land.

"Thomas Fisk, Foreman.	Thomas Pearly, Sr.
William Fisk.	John Peabody.
John Bacheler.	Thomas Perkins.
Thomas Fisk, Jr.	Samuel Sayer.
John Dane.	Andrew Eliot.
Joseph Evelith.	Henry Herrick, Sr."

In 1697, Rev. John Hale, of Beverly, published a work on the subject of the witchcraft persecutions, in which he gives the reasons which led him to the conclusion that there was error at the foundation of the proceedings. The following extract shows that he took a rational view of the subject:—

"It may be queried then, How doth it appear that there was a going too far in this affair?

"Answer I.—By the number of persons accused. It cannot be imagined, that, in a place of so much knowledge, so many, in so small a compass of land, should so abominably leap into the Devil's lap,—at once.

"Ans. II.—The quality of several of the accused was such as did bespeak better things, and things that accompany salvation. Persons whose blameless and holy lives before did testify for them; persons that had taken great pains to bring up their children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, such as we had charity for as for our[ii.476] own souls,—and charity is a Christian duty, commended to us in 1 Cor. xiii., Col. iii. 14, and many other places.

"Ans. III.—The number of the afflicted by Satan daily increased, till about fifty persons were thus vexed by the Devil. This gave just ground to suspect some mistake.

"Ans. IV.—It was considerable, that nineteen were executed, and all denied the crime to the death; and some of them were knowing persons, and had before this been accounted blameless livers. And it is not to be imagined but that, if all had been guilty, some would have had so much tenderness as to seek mercy for their souls in the way of confession, and sorrow for such a sin.

"Ans. V.—When this prosecution ceased, the Lord so chained up Satan, that the afflicted grew presently well: the accused are generally quiet, and for five years since we have no such molestation by them."

Such reasonings as these found their way into the minds of the whole community; and it became the melancholy conviction of all candid and considerate persons that innocent blood had been shed. Standing where we do, with the lights that surround us, we look back upon the whole scene as an awful perversion of justice, reason, and truth.

On the 13th of June, 1700, Abigail Faulkner presented a well-expressed memorial to the General Court, in which she says that her pardon "so far had its effect, as that I am yet suffered to live, but this only as a malefactor convict upon record of the most heinous crimes that mankind can be supposed to be guilty of;" and prays for "the defacing of the record" against her. She claims it as no more than a simple act of justice; stating that the evidence against her was wholly confined to the "afflicted, who pretended to see me by their spectral sight, and not with their bodily eyes." That "the jury (upon only their testimony) brought me in 'Guilty,' and the sentence of death was passed upon me;" and that it had been decided that such testimony was of no value. The House of Representatives felt the force of her appeal, and voted that "the prayer of the petitioner be granted." The council declined to concur, but addressed "His Excellency to grant the petitioner His Majesty's gracious pardon; and His Excellency expressed His readiness to grant the same." Some adverse influence, it seemed, prevailed to prevent it.

On the 18th of March, 1702, another petition was presented to[ii.477] the General Court, by persons of Andover, Salem Village, and Topsfield, who had suffered imprisonment and condemnation, and by the relations of others who had been condemned and executed on the testimony, as they say, of "possessed persons," to this effect:—

"Your petitioners being dissatisfied and grieved that (besides what the condemned persons have suffered in their persons and estates) their names are exposed to infamy and reproach, while their trial and condemnation stands upon public record, we therefore humbly pray this honored Court that something may be publicly done to take off infamy from the names and memory of those who have suffered as aforesaid, that none of their surviving relations nor their posterity may suffer reproach on that account."

[Signed by Francis Faulkner, Isaac Easty, Thorndike Procter, and eighteen others.]

On the 20th of July, in answer to the foregoing petitions, a bill was ordered by the House of Representatives to be drawn up, forbidding in future such procedures, as in the witchcraft trials of 1692; declaring that "no spectre evidence may hereafter be accounted valid or sufficient to take away the life or good name of any person or persons within this province, and that the infamy and reproach cast on the names and posterity of said accused and condemned persons may in some measure be rolled away." The council concurred with an additional clause, to acquit all condemned persons "of the penalties to which they are liable upon the convictions and judgments in the courts, and estate them in their just credit and reputation, as if no such judgment had been had."

This petition was re-enforced by an "address" to the General Court, dated July 8, 1703, by several ministers of the county of Essex. They speak of the accusers in the witchcraft trials as "young persons under diabolical molestations," and express this sentiment: "There is great reason to fear that innocent persons then suffered, and that God may have a controversy with the land upon that account." They earnestly beg that the prayer of the petitioners, lately presented, may be granted. This petition was signed by Thomas Barnard, of Andover; Joseph Green, of Salem Village; William Hubbard, John Wise, John Rogers, and Jabez[ii.478] Fitch, of Ipswich; Benjamin Rolfe, of Haverhill; Samuel Cheever, of Marblehead; Joseph Gerrish, of Wenham; Joseph Capen, of Topsfield; Zechariah Symmes, of Bradford; and Thomas Symmes, of Boxford. Francis Dane, of Andover, had died six years before. John Hale, of Beverly, had died three years before. The great age of John Higginson, of Salem,—eighty-seven years,—probably prevented the papers being handed to him. It is observable, that Nicholas Noyes, his colleague, is not among the signers.

What prevented action, we do not know; but nothing was done. Six years afterwards, on the 25th of May, 1709, an "humble address" was presented to the General Court by certain inhabitants of the province, some of whom "had their near relations, either parents or others, who suffered death in the dark and doleful times that passed over this province in 1692;" and others "who themselves, or some of their relations, were imprisoned, impaired and blasted in their reputations and estates by reason of the same." They pray for the passage of a "suitable act" to restore the reputations of the sufferers, and to make some remuneration "as to what they have been damnified in their estates thereby." This paper was signed by Philip English and twenty-one others. Philip English gave in an account in detail of what articles were seized and carried away, at the time of his arrest, from four of his warehouses, his wharf, and shop-house, besides the expenses incurred in prison, and in escaping from it. It appears by this statement, that he and his wife were nine weeks in jail at Salem and Boston. Nothing was done at this session. The next year, Sept. 12, 1710, Isaac Easty presented a strong memorial to the General Court in reference to his case. He calls for some remuneration. In speaking of the arrest and execution of his "beloved wife," he says "my sorrow and trouble of heart in being deprived of her in such a manner, which this world can never make me any compensation for." At the same time, the daughters of Elizabeth How, the son of Sarah Wildes, the heirs of Mary Bradbury, Edward Bishop and his wife Sarah, sent in severally similar petitions,—all in earnest and forcible language. Charles, one of the sons of George Burroughs, presented the case of his "dear and honored father;" declaring that his innocence of the crime of which he was accused, and his excellence of character, were shown in "his careful catechising his children, and upholding[ii.479] religion in his family, and by his solemn and savory written instructions from prison." He describes in affecting details the condition in which his father's family of little children was left at his death. One of Mr. Burroughs's daughters, upon being required to sign a paper in reference to compensation, expresses her distress of mind in these words: "Every discourse on this melancholy subject doth but give a fresh wound to my bleeding heart. I desire to sit down in silence." John Moulton, in behalf of the family of Giles Corey, says that they "cannot sufficiently express their grief" for the death, in such a manner, of "their honored father and mother." Samuel Nurse, in behalf of his brothers and sisters, says that their "honored and dear mother had led a blameless life from her youth up.... Her name and the name of her posterity lies under reproach, the removing of which reproach is the principal thing wherein we desire restitution. And, as we know not how to express our loss of such a mother in such a way, so we know not how to compute our charge, but leave it to the judgment of others, and shall not be critical." He distinctly intimates, that they do not wish any money to be paid them, unless "the attainder is taken off." Many other petitions were presented by the families of those who suffered, all in the same spirit; and several besides the Nurses insisted mainly upon the "taking off the attainder."

The General Court, on the 17th of October, 1710, passed an act, that "the several convictions, judgments, and attainders be, and hereby are, reversed, and declared to be null and void." In simple justice, they ought to have extended the act to all who had suffered; but they confined its effect to those in reference to whom petitions had been presented. The families of some of them had disappeared, or may not have had notice of what was going on; so that the sentence which the Government acknowledged to have been unjust remains to this day unreversed against the names and memory of Bridget Bishop, Susanna Martin, Alice Parker, Ann Pudeator, Wilmot Read, and Margaret Scott. The stain on the records of the Commonwealth has never been fully effaced. What caused this dilatory and halting course on the part of the Government, and who was responsible for it, cannot be ascertained. Since the presentation of Abigail Faulkner's petition in 1700, the Legislature, in the popular branch at least, and the[ii.480] Governor, appear to have been inclined to act favorably in the premises; but some power blocked the way. There is some reason to conjecture that it was the influence of the home government. Its consent to have the prosecutions suspended, in 1692, was not very cordial, but, while it approved of "care and circumspection therein," expressed reluctance to allow any "impediment to the ordinary course of justice."

On the 17th of December, 1711, Governor Dudley issued his warrant for the purpose of carrying out a vote of the "General Assembly," "by and with the advice and consent of Her Majesty's Council," to pay "the sum of £578. 12s." to "such persons as are living, and to those that legally represent them that are dead;" which sum was divided as follows:—

John Procter and wife	£	150	0	0
George Jacobs		79	0	0
George Burroughs		50	0	0
Sarah Good		30	0	0
Giles Corey and wife		21	0	0
Dorcas Hoar		21	17	0
Abigail Hobbs		10	0	0
Rebecca Eames		10	0	0
Mary Post		8	14	0
Mary Lacy		8	10	0
Ann Foster		6	10	0
Samuel Wardwell and wife		36	15	0
Rebecca Nurse		25	0	0
Mary Easty		20	0	0
Mary Bradbury		20	0	0
Abigail Faulkner		20	0	0
John Willard		20	0	0
Sarah Wildes		14	0	0
Elizabeth How		12	0	0
Mary Parker		8	0	0
Martha Carrier		7	6	0
	— £ ==	—— 578 ====	— 12 ==	— 0 ==

The distribution, as above, according to the evidence as it has come down to us, is as unjust and absurd as the smallness of the[ii.481] amount, and the long delay before it was ordered, are discreditable to the province. One of the larger sums was allowed to William Good, while he clearly deserved nothing, as he was an adverse witness in the examination of his wife, and did what he could to promote the prosecution against her. He did not, it is true, swear that he believed her to be a witch; but what he said tended to prejudice the magistrates and the public against her. Benjamin Putnam acted as his attorney, and received the money for him. Good was a retainer and dependant of that branch of the Putnam family; and its influence gave him so large a proportionate amount, and not the reason or equity of the case. More was allowed to Abigail Hobbs, a very malignant witness against the prisoners, than to the families of several who were executed. Nearly twice as much was allowed for Abigail Faulkner, who was pardoned, as for Elizabeth How, who was executed. The sums allowed in the cases of Parker, Carrier, and Foster, were shamefully small. The public mind evidently was not satisfied; and the Legislature were pressed for a half-century to make more adequate compensation, and thereby vindicate the sentiment of justice, and redeem the honor of the province.

On the 8th of December, 1738, Major Samuel Sewall, a son of the Judge, introduced an order in the House of Representatives for the appointment of a committee to get information relating to "the circumstances of the persons and families who suffered in the calamity of the times in and about the year 1692." Major Sewall entered into the matter with great zeal. The House unanimously passed the order. He was chairman of the committee; and, on the 9th of December, wrote to his cousin Mitchel Sewall in Salem, son of Stephen, earnestly requesting him and John Higginson, Esq., to aid in accomplishing the object. The following is an extract from a speech delivered by Governor Belcher to both Houses of the Legislature, Nov. 22, 1740. It is honorable to his memory.

"The Legislature have often honored themselves in a kind and generous remembrance of such families and of the posterity of such as have been sufferers, either in their persons or estates, for or by the Government, of which the public records will give you many instances. I should therefore be glad there might be a committee appointed by this Court to inquire into the sufferings of the people called Quakers, in the early days of this country, as also into the descendants of such[ii.482] families as were in a manner ruined in the mistaken management of the terrible affair called witchcraft. I really think there is something incumbent on this Government to be done for relieving the estates and reputations of the posterities of the unhappy families that so suffered; and the doing it, though so long afterwards, would doubtless be acceptable to Almighty God, and would reflect honor upon the present Legislature."

On the 31st of May, 1749, the heirs of George Burroughs addressed a petition to Governor Shirley and the General Court, setting forth "the unparalleled persecutions and sufferings" of their ancestor, and praying for "some recompense from this Court for the losses thereby sustained by his family." It was referred to a committee of both Houses. The next year, the petitioners sent a memorial to Governor Spencer Phips and the General Court, stating, that "it hath fell out, that the Hon. Mr. Danforth, chairman of the said committee, had not, as yet, called them together so much as once to act thereon, even to this day, as some of the honorable committee themselves were pleased, with real concern, to signify to your said petitioners." The House immediately passed this order: "That the committee within referred to be directed to sit forthwith, consider the petition to them committed, and report as soon as may be."

All that I have been able to find, as the result of these long-delayed and long-protracted movements, is a statement of Dr. Bentley, that the heirs of Philip English received two hundred pounds. He does not say when the act to this effect was passed. Perhaps some general measure of the kind was adopted, the record of which I have failed to meet. The engrossing interest of the then pending French war, and of the vehement dissensions that led to the Revolution, probably prevented any further attention to this subject, after the middle of the last century.

It is apparent from the foregoing statements and records, that while many individuals, the people generally, and finally Governor Belcher and the House of Representatives emphatically, did what they could, there was an influence that prevailed to prevent for a long time, if not for ever, any action of the province to satisfy the demands made by justice and the honor of the country in repairing the great wrongs committed by the legislative, executive, and judicial branches of the Government in 1692. The only bodies[ii.483] of men who fully came up to their duty on the occasion were the clergy of the county, and, as will appear, the church at Salem Village.

What was done by the First Church in Salem is shown in the following extract from its records:—

"March 2, 1712.—After the sacrament, a church-meeting was appointed to be at the teacher's house, at two of the clock in the afternoon, on the sixth of the month, being Thursday: on which day they accordingly met to consider of the several following particulars propounded to them by the teacher; viz.:—

"1. Whether the record of the excommunication of our Sister Nurse (all things considered) may not be erased and blotted out. The result of which consideration was, That whereas, on July 3d, 1692, it was proposed by the Elders, and consented to by an unanimous vote of the church, that our Sister Nurse should be excommunicated, she being convicted of witchcraft by the Court, and she was accordingly excommunicated, since which the General Court having taken off the attainder, and the testimony on which she was convicted being not now so satisfactory to ourselves and others as it was generally in that hour of darkness and temptation; and we being solicited by her son, Mr. Samuel Nurse, to erase and blot out of the church records the sentence of her excommunication,—this church, having the matter proposed to them by the teacher, and having seriously considered it, doth consent that the record of our Sister Nurse's excommunication be accordingly erased and blotted out, that it may no longer be a reproach to her memory, and an occasion of grief to her children. Humbly requesting that the merciful God would pardon whatsoever sin, error, or mistake was in the application of that censure and of that whole affair, through our merciful High-priest, who knoweth how to have compassion on the ignorant, and those that are out of the way.

"2. It was proposed whether the sentence of excommunication against our Brother Giles Corey (all things considered) may not be erased and blotted out. The result was, That whereas, on Sept. 18, 1692, it was considered by the church, that our Brother Giles Corey stood accused of and indicted for the sin of witchcraft, and that he had obstinately refused to plead, and so threw himself on certain death. It was agreed by the vote of the church, that he should be excommunicated for it; and accordingly he was excommunicated. Yet the church, having now testimony in his behalf, that, before his death, he did bitterly repent of his obstinate refusal to plead in defence[ii.484] of his life, do consent that the sentence of his excommunication be erased and blotted out."

It will be noticed that these proceedings were not had at a regular public meeting, but at a private meeting of the church, on a week-day afternoon, at the teacher's house. The motives that led to them were a disposition to comply with the act of the General Court, and the solicitations of Mr. Samuel Nurse, rather than a profound sense of wrong done to a venerable member of their own body, who had claims upon their protection as such. The language of the record does not frankly admit absolutely that there was sin, error, or mistake, but requests forgiveness for whatsoever there may have been. The character of Rebecca Nurse, and the outrageous treatment she had received from that church, in the method arranged for her excommunication, demanded something more than these hypothetical expressions, with such a preamble.

The statement made in the vote about Corey is, on its face, a misrepresentation. From the nature of the proceeding by which he was destroyed, it was in his power, at any moment, if he "repented of his obstinate refusal to plead," by saying so, to be instantly released from the pressure that was crushing him. The only design of the torture was to make him bring it to an end by "answering" guilty, or not guilty. Somebody fabricated the slander that Corey's resolution broke down under his agonies, and that he bitterly repented; and Mr. Noyes put the foolish scandal upon the records of the church.

The date of this transaction is disreputable to the people of Salem. Twenty years had been suffered to elapse, and a great outrage allowed to remain unacknowledged and unrepented. The credit of doing what was done at last probably belongs to the Rev. George Corwin. His call to the ministry, as colleague with Mr. Noyes, had just been consummated. The introduction of a new minister heralded a new policy, and the proceedings have the appearance of growing out of the kindly and auspicious feelings which generally attend and welcome such an era.

The Rev. George, son of Jonathan Corwin, was born May 21, 1683, and graduated at Harvard College in 1701. Mr. Barnard, of Marblehead, describes his character: "The spirit of[ii.485] early devotion, accompanied with a natural freedom of thought and easy elocution, a quick invention, a solid judgment, and a tenacious memory, laid the foundation of a good preacher; to which his acquired literature, his great reading, hard studies, deep meditation, and close walk with God, rendered him an able and faithful minister of the New Testament." The records of the First Church, in noticing his death, thus speak of him: "He was highly esteemed in his life, and very deservedly lamented at his death; having been very eminent for his early improvement in learning and piety, his singular abilities and great labors, his remarkable zeal and faithfulness. He was a great benefactor to our poor." Those bearing the name of Curwen among us are his descendants. He died Nov. 23, 1717.

The Rev. Nicholas Noyes died Dec. 13, 1717. He was a person of superior talents and learning. He published, with the sermon preached by Cotton Mather on the occasion, a poem on the death of his venerable colleague, Mr. Higginson, in 1708; and also a poem on the death of Rev. Joseph Green, in 1715. Although an amiable and benevolent man in other respects, it cannot be denied that he was misled by his errors and his temperament into the most violent course in the witchcraft prosecutions; and it is to be feared that his feelings were never wholly rectified in reference to that transaction.

Jonathan, the father of the Rev. George Corwin, and whose part as a magistrate and judge in the examinations and trials of 1692 has been seen, died on the 9th of July, 1718, seventy-eight years of age.

It only remains to record the course of the village church and people in reference to the events of 1692. After six persons, including Rebecca Nurse, had suffered death; and while five others, George Burroughs, John Procter, John Willard, George Jacobs, and Martha Carrier, were awaiting their execution, which was to take place on the coming Friday, Aug. 19,—the facts, related as follows by Mr. Parris in his record-book, occurred:—

"Sabbath-day, 14th August, 1692.—The church was stayed after the congregation was dismissed, and the pastor spake to the church after this manner:—

"'Brethren, you may all have taken notice, that, several sacrament days past, our brother Peter Cloyse, and Samuel Nurse and his wife,[ii.486] and John Tarbell and his wife, have absented from communion with us at the Lord's Table, yea, have very rarely, except our brother Samuel Nurse, been with us in common public worship: now, it is needful that the church send some persons to them to know the reason of their absence. Therefore, if you be so minded, express yourselves.'

"None objected. But a general or universal vote, after some discourse, passed, that Brother Nathaniel Putnam and the two deacons should join with the pastor to discourse with the said absenters about it.

"31st August.—Brother Tarbell proves sick, unmeet for discourse; Brother Cloyse hard to be found at home, being often with his wife in prison at Ipswich for witchcraft; and Brother Nurse, and sometimes his wife, attends our public meeting, and he the sacrament, 11th September, 1692: upon all which we choose to wait further."

When it is remembered that the individuals aimed at all belonged to the family of Rebecca Nurse, whose execution had taken place three weeks before under circumstances with which Mr. Parris had been so prominently and responsibly connected, this proceeding must be felt by every person of ordinary human sensibilities to have been cruel, barbarous, and unnatural. Parris made the entry in his book, as he often did, some time after the transaction, as the inserted date of Sept. 11, shows. What his object was in commencing disciplinary treatment of this distressed family is not certain. It may be that he was preparing to get up such a feeling against them as would make it safe to have the "afflicted" cry out upon some of them. Or it may be that he wished to get them out of his church, to avoid the possibility of their proceeding against him, by ecclesiastical methods, at some future day. He could not, however, bring his church to continue the process. This is the first indication that the brethren were no longer to be relied on by him to go all lengths, and that some remnants of good feeling and good sense were to be found among them.

But Mr. Parris was determined not to allow the public feeling against persons charged with witchcraft to subside, if he could help it; and he made one more effort to renew the vehemence of the prosecutions. He prepared and preached two sermons, on the 11th of September, from the text, Rev. xvii. 14: "These shall make war with the Lamb, and the Lamb shall overcome them: for he is[ii.487] Lord of lords, and King of kings; and they that are with him are called and chosen and faithful." They are entitled, "The Devil and his instruments will be warring against Christ and his followers." This note is added, "After the condemnation of six witches at a court at Salem, one of the witches, viz., Martha Corey, in full communion with our church." The following is a portion of "the improvement" in the application of these discourses:—

"It may serve to reprove such as seem to be so amazed at the war the Devil has raised amongst us by wizards and witches, against the Lamb and his followers, that they altogether deny it. If ever there were witches, men and women in covenant with the Devil, here are multitudes in New England. Nor is it so strange a thing that there should be such; no, nor that some church-members should be such. Pious Bishop Hall saith, 'The Devil's prevalency in this age is most clear in the marvellous number of witches abounding in all places. Now hundreds (says he) are discovered in one shire; and, if fame deceive us not, in a village of fourteen houses in the north are found so many of this damned brood. Heretofore, only barbarous deserts had them; but now the civilized and religious parts are frequently pestered with them. Heretofore, some silly, ignorant old woman, &c.; but now we have known those of both sexes who professed much knowledge, holiness, and devotion, drawn into this damnable practice.'"

The foregoing extract is important as showing that some persons at the village had begun to express their disbelief of the witchcraft doctrine of Mr. Parris, "altogether denying it." The title and drift of the sermons in connection with the date, and his proceedings, the month before, against Samuel Nurse, Tarbell, and Cloyse, members of his church, give color to the idea that he was designing to have them "cried out" against, and thus disposed of. It is a noticeable fact, that, about this time, Cotton Mather was also laying his plans for a renewal, or rather continuance, of witchcraft prosecutions. Nine days after these sermons were preached by Parris, Mather wrote the following letter to Stephen Sewall of Salem:—

Boston, Sept. 20, 1692.

My dear and my very obliging Stephen,—It is my hap to be continually ... with all sorts of objections, and objectors against the ... work now doing at Salem; and it is my further good hap to do some little service for God and you in my encounters.[ii.488]

But that I may be the more capable to assist in lifting up a standard against the infernal enemy, I must renew my most importunate request, that you would please quickly to perform what you kindly promised, of giving me a narrative of the evidences given in at the trials of half a dozen, or if you please a dozen, of the principal witches that have been condemned. I know 'twill cost you some time; but, when you are sensible of the benefit that will follow, I know you will not think much of that cost; and my own willingness to expose myself unto the utmost for the defence of my friends with you makes me presume to plead something of merit to be considered.

I shall be content, if you draw up the desired narrative by way of letter to me; or, at least, let it not come without a letter, wherein you shall, if you can, intimate over again what you have sometimes told me of the awe which is upon the hearts of your juries, with ... unto the validity of the spectral evidences.

Please also to ... some of your observations about the confessors and the credibility of what they assert, or about things evidently preternatural in the witchcrafts, and whatever else you may account an entertainment, for an inquisitive person, that entirely loves you and Salem. Nay, though I will never lay aside the character which I mentioned in my last words, yet I am willing, that, when you write, you should imagine me as obstinate a Sadducee and witch-advocate as any among us: address me as one that believed nothing reasonable; and when you have so knocked me down, in a spectre so unlike me, you will enable me to box it about among my neighbors, till it come—I know not where at last.

But assure yourself, as I shall not wittingly make what you write prejudicial to any worthy design which those two excellent persons, Mr. Hale and Mr. Noyse, may have in hand; so you shall find that I shall be, sir, your grateful friend,

C. Mather.

P.S.—That which very much strengthens the charms of the request which this letter makes you is, that His Excellency the Governor laid his positive commands upon me to desire this favor of you; and the truth is, there are some of his circumstances with reference to this affair, which I need not mention, that call for the expediting of your kindness,—kindness, I say, for such it will be esteemed as well by him as by your servant,

C. Mather.

In order to understand the character and aim of this letter, it will be necessary to consider its date. It was written Sept. 20, 1692. On the 19th of August, but one month before, Dr. Mather[ii.489] was acting a conspicuous part under the gallows at Witch-hill, at the execution of Mr. Burroughs and four others, increasing the power of the awful delusion, and inflaming the passions of the people. On the 9th of September, six more miserable creatures received sentence of death. On the 17th of September, nine more received sentence of death. On the 19th of September, Giles Corey was crushed to death. And, on the 22d of September, eight were executed. These were the last that suffered death. The letter, therefore, was written while the horrors of the transaction were at their height, and by a person who had himself been a witness of them, and whose "good hap" it had been to "do some little service" in promoting them. The object of the writer is declared to be, that he might be "more capable to assist in lifting up a standard against the infernal enemy." The literal meaning of this expression is, that he might be enabled to get up another witchcraft delusion under his own special management and control. Can any thing be imagined more artful and dishonest than the plan he had contrived to keep himself out of sight in all the operations necessary to accomplish his purpose? "Nay, though I will never lay aside the character which I mentioned in my last words, yet I am willing, that, when you write, you should imagine me as obstinate a Sadducee and witch-advocate as any among us: address me as one that believed nothing reasonable; and when you have so knocked me down, in a spectre so unlike me, you will enable me to box it about among my neighbors, till it come—I know not where at last."

Upon obtaining the document requisite to the fulfilment of his design, he did "box it about" so effectually among his neighbors, that he succeeded that next summer in getting up a wonderful case of witchcraft, in the person of one Margaret Rule, a member of his congregation in Boston. Dr. Mather published an account of her long-continued fastings, even unto the ninth day, and of the incredible sufferings she endured from the "infernal enemy." "She was thrown," says he, "into such exorbitant convulsions as were astonishing to the spectators in general. They that could behold the doleful condition of the poor family without sensible compassions might have entrails, indeed, but I am sure they could have no true bowels in them." So far was he successful in spreading the delusion, that he prevailed upon six men to testify[ii.490] that they had seen Margaret Rule lifted bodily from her bed, and raised by an invisible power "so as to touch the garret floor;" that she was entirely removed from the bed or any other material support; that she continued suspended for several minutes; and that a strong man, assisted by several other persons, could not effectually resist the mysterious force that lifted her up, and poised her aloft in the air! The people of Boston were saved from the horrors intended to be brought upon them by this dark and deep-laid plot, by the activity, courage, and discernment of Calef and others, who distrusted Dr. Mather, and, by watching his movements, exposed the imposture, and overthrew the whole design.

Mr. Parris does not appear to have produced much effect by his sermons. The people had suffered enough from the "war between the Devil and the Lamb," as he and Mather had conducted it; and it could not be renewed.

Immediately upon the termination of the witchcraft proceedings, the controversy between Mr. Parris and the congregation, or the inhabitants, as they were called, of the village, was renewed, with earnest resolution on their part to get rid of him. The parish neglected and refused to raise the means for paying his salary; and a majority of the voters, in the meetings of the "inhabitants," vigilantly resisted all attempts in his favor. The church was still completely under his influence; and, as has been stated in the First Part, he made use of that body to institute a suit against the people. The court and magistrates were wholly in his favor, and peremptorily ordered the appointment, by the people, of a new committee. The inhabitants complied with the order by the election of a new committee, but took care to have it composed exclusively of men opposed to Mr. Parris; and he found himself no better off than before. He concluded not to employ his church any longer as a principal agent in his lawsuit against the parish; but used it for another purpose.

After the explosion of the witchcraft delusion, the relations of parties became entirely changed. The prosecutors at the trials were put on the defensive, and felt themselves in peril. Parris saw his danger, and, with characteristic courage and fertility of resources, prepared to defend himself, and carry the war upon any quarter from which an attack might be apprehended. He[ii.491] continued, on his own responsibility, to prosecute, in court, his suit against the parish, and in his usual trenchant style. As the law then was, a minister, in a controversy with his parish, had a secure advantage, and absolutely commanded the situation, if his church were with him. From the time of his settlement, Parris had shaped his policy on this basis. He had sought to make his church an impregnable fortress against his opponents. But, to be impregnable, it was necessary that there should be no enemies within it. A few disaffected brethren could at any time demand, and have a claim to, a mutual council; and Mr. Parris knew, that, before the investigations of such a council, his actions in the witchcraft prosecutions could not stand. This perhaps suggested his movements, in August, 1692, against Samuel Nurse, John Tarbell, and Peter Cloyse. He did not at that time succeed in getting rid of them; and they remained in the church, and, with the exception of Cloyse, in the village. They might at any time take the steps that would lead to a mutual council; and Mr. Parris was determined, at all events, to prevent that. It was evident that the members of that family would insist upon satisfaction being given them, in and through the church, for the wrongs he had done them. Although, in the absence of Cloyse, but two in number, there was danger that sympathy for them might reach others of the brethren. Thomas Wilkins, a member in good standing, son of old Bray Wilkins, and a connection of John Willard, an intelligent and resolute man, had already joined them. Parris felt that others might follow, and that whatever could be done to counteract them must be done quickly. He accordingly initiated proceedings in his church to rid himself of them, if not by excommunication, at least by getting them under discipline, so as to prevent the possibility of their dealing with him.

This led to one of the most remarkable passages of the kind in the annals of the New-England churches. It is narrated in detail by Mr. Parris, in his church record-book. It would not be easy to find anywhere an example of greater skill, wariness, or ability in a conflict of this sort. On the one side is Mr. Parris, backed by his church and the magistrates, and aided, it is probable, by Mr. Noyes; on the other, three husbandmen. They had no known backers or advisers; and, at frequent stages of the fencing match, had to parry or strike, without time to consult any[ii.492] one. Mr. Parris was ingenious, quick, a great strategist, and not over-scrupulous as to the use of his weapons. Nurse, Tarbell, and Wilkins were cautious, cool, steady, and persistent. Of course, they were wholly inexperienced in such things, and liable to make wrong moves, or to be driven or drawn to untenable ground. But they will not be found, I think, to have taken a false step from beginning to end. Their line of action was extremely narrow. It was necessary to avoid all personalities, and every appearance of passion or excitement; to make no charge against Mr. Parris that could touch the church, as such, or reflect upon the courts, magistrates, or any others that had taken part in the prosecutions. It was necessary to avoid putting any thing into writing, with their names attached, which could in any way be tortured into a libel. Parris lets fall expressions which show that he was on the watch for something of the kind to seize upon, to transfer the movement from the church to the courts. Entirely unaccustomed to public speaking, these three farmers had to meet assemblages composed of their opponents, and much wrought up against them; to make statements, and respond to interrogatories and propositions, the full and ultimate bearing of which was not always apparent: any unguarded expression might be fatal to their cause. Their safety depended upon using the right word at the right time and in the right manner, and in withholding the statement of their grievances, in adequate force of language, until they were under the shelter of a council. If, during the long-protracted conferences and communications, they had tripped at any point, allowed a phrase or syllable to escape which might be made the ground of discipline or censure, all would be lost; for Parris could not be reached but through a council, and a council could not even be asked for except by brethren in full and clear standing. It was often attempted to ensnare them into making charges against the church; but they kept their eye on Parris, and, as they told him more than once in the presence of the whole body of the people, on him alone. Limited as the ground was on which they could stand, they held it steadfastly, and finally drove him from his stronghold.

On the first movement of Mr. Parris offensively upon them, they commenced their movement upon him. The method by which alone they could proceed, according to ecclesiastical law[ii.493] and the platform of the churches, was precisely as it was understood to be laid down in Matt. xviii. 15-17. Following these directions, Samuel Nurse first called alone upon Mr. Parris, and privately made known his grievances. Parris gave him no satisfaction. Then, after a due interval, Nurse, Tarbell, and Wilkins called upon him together. He refused to see them together, but one at a time was allowed to go up into his study. Tarbell and Nurse each spent an hour or more with him, leaving no time for Wilkins. In these interviews, he not only failed to give satisfaction, but, according to his own account, treated them in the coolest and most unfeeling manner, not allowing himself to utter a soothing word, but actually reiterating his belief of the guilt of their mother; telling them, as he says, "that he had not seen sufficient grounds to vary his opinion." Cloyse came soon after to the village, and had an interview with him for the same purpose. Parris saw them one only at a time, in order to preclude their taking the second step required by the gospel rule; that is, to have a brother of the church with them as a witness. He also took the ground that they could not be witnesses for each other, but that he should treat them all as only one person in the transaction. A sense of the injustice of his conduct, or some other consideration, led William Way, another of the brethren, to go with them as a witness. Nurse, Tarbell, Wilkins, Cloyse, and Way went to his house together. He said that the four first were but one person in the case; but admitted that Way was a distinct person, a brother of accredited standing, and a witness. He escaped, however, under the subterfuge that the gospel rule required "two or three witnesses." In this way, the matter stood for some time; Parris saying that they had not complied with the conditions in Matt. xviii., and they maintaining that they had.

The course of Parris was fast diminishing his hold upon the public confidence. It was plain that the disaffected brethren had done what they could, in an orderly way, to procure a council. At length, the leading clergymen here and in Boston, whose minds were open to reason, thought it their duty to interpose their advice. They wrote to Parris, that he and his church ought to consent to a council. They wrote a second time in stronger terms. Not daring to quarrel with so large a portion of the clergy, Parris pretended to comply with their advice, but demanded a majority of the coun[ii.494]cil to be chosen by him and his church. The disaffected brethren insisted upon a fair, mutual council; each party to have three ministers, with their delegates, in it. To this, Parris had finally to agree. The dissatisfied brethren named, as one of their three, a church at Ipswich. Parris objected to the Ipswich church. The dissenting brethren insisted that each side should be free to select its respective three churches. Parris was not willing to have Ipswich in the council. The other party insisted, and here the matter hung suspended. The truth is, that the disaffected brethren were resolved to have the Rev. John Wise in the council. They knew Cotton Mather would be there, on the side of Parris; and they knew that John Wise was the man to meet him. The public opinion settled down in favor of the dissatisfied brethren, on the ground that each party to a mutual council ought to—and, to make it really mutual, must—have free and full power to nominate the churches to be called by it. Parris, being afraid to have a mutual council, and particularly if Mr. Wise was in it, suddenly took a new position. He and his church called an ex parte council, at which the following ministers, with their delegates, were present: Samuel Checkley of the New South Church, James Allen of the First Church, Samuel Willard of the Old South, Increase and Cotton Mather of the North Church,—all of Boston; Samuel Torrey of Weymouth; Samuel Phillips of Rowley, and Edward Payson, also of Rowley. Among the delegates were many of the leading public men of the province. The result was essentially damaging to Mr. Parris. The tide was now strongly set against him. The Boston ministers advised him to withdraw from the contest. They provided a settlement for him in Connecticut, and urged him to quit the village, and go there. But he refused, and prolonged the struggle. In the course of it, papers were drawn up and signed, one by his friends, another by his opponents, together embracing nearly all the men and women of the village. Those who did not sign either paper were understood to sympathize with the disaffected brethren. Many who signed the paper favorable to him acted undoubtedly from the motive stated in the heading; viz., that the removal of Mr. Parris could do no good, "for we have had three ministers removed already, and by every removal our differences have been rather aggravated." Another removal, they thought, would utterly ruin them. They[ii.495] do not express any particular interest in Mr. Parris, but merely dread another change. They preferred to bear the ills they had, rather than fly to others that they knew not of. It is a very significant fact, that neither Mrs. Ann Putnam nor the widow Sarah Houlton signed either paper (the Sarah Houlton whose name appears was the wife of Joseph Houlton, Sr.). There is reason to believe that they regretted the part they had taken, particularly against Rebecca Nurse, and probably did not feel over favorably to the person who had led them into their dreadful responsibility.

In the mean time, the controversy continued to wax warm among the people. Mr. Parris was determined to hold his place, and, with it, the parsonage and ministry lands. The opposition was active, unappeasable, and effective. The following paper, handed about, illustrates the methods by which they assailed him:—

"As to the contest between Mr. Parris and his hearers, &c., it may be composed by a satisfactory answer to Lev. xx. 6: 'And the soul that turneth after such as have familiar spirits, and after wizards, to go a-whoring after them, I will set my face against that soul, and will cut him off from among his people.' 1 Chron. x. 13, 14: 'So Saul died for his transgression which he committed against the Lord,—even against the word of the Lord, which he kept not,—and also for asking counsel of one who had a familiar to inquire of it, and inquired not of the Lord: therefore he slew him,'" &c.

Mr. Parris mirrored, or rather daguerrotyped, his inmost thoughts upon the page of his church record-book. Whatever feeling happened to exercise his spirit, found expression there. This gives it a truly rare and singular interest. Among a variety of scraps variegating the record, and thrown in with other notices of deaths, he has the following:—

"1694, Oct. 27.—Ruth, daughter to Job Swinnerton (died), and buried the 28th instant, being the Lord's Day; and the corpse carried by the meeting-house door in time of singing before meeting afternoon, and more at the funeral than at the sermon."

This illustrates the state of things. The Swinnerton family were all along opposed to Mr. Parris, and kept remarkably clear from the witchcraft delusion. Originally, it was not customary to have prayers at funerals. At any rate, all that Mr. Parris had to do on the occasion was to witness and record the fact, which he[ii.496] indites in the pithy manner in which he often relieves his mind, that more people went to the distant burial-ground than came to hear him preach. The procession was made up of his opponents; the congregation, of his friends. At last, Captain John Putnam proposed that each party should choose an equal number from themselves to decide the controversy; and that Major Bartholomew Gedney, from the town, should be invited to act as moderator of the joint meeting. Both sides agreed, and appointed their representatives. Major Gedney consented to preside. But this movement came to nothing, probably owing to the refractoriness of Mr. Parris; for, from that moment, he had no supporters. The church ceased to act: its members were merged in the meeting of the inhabitants. There was no longer any division among them. The party that had acted as friends of Mr. Parris united thenceforward with his opponents to defend the parish in the suit he had brought against it in the courts. The controversy was quite protracted. The Court was determined to uphold him, and expressed its prejudice against the parish, sometimes with considerable severity of manner and action.[L]

[ii.497]

The parish heeded not the frowns of the Court, but persisted inexorably in its purpose to get rid of Mr. Parris. After an obstinate contest, it prevailed. In the last stage of the controversy, it appointed four men, as its agents or attorneys, whose names indicate the spirit in which it acted,—John Tarbell, Samuel Nurse, Daniel Andrew, and Joseph Putnam. His dauntless son did not follow the wolf through the deep and dark recesses of his den with a more determined resolution than that with which Joseph Putnam pursued Samuel Parris through the windings of the law, until he ferreted him out, and rid the village of him for ever.

Finally, the inferior court of Common Pleas, before which Mr. Parris had carried the case, ordered that the matters in controversy between him and the inhabitants of Salem Village should be referred to arbitrators for decision. The following statement was laid before them by the persons representing the inhabitants:—

"To the Honorable Wait Winthrop, Elisha Cook, and Samuel Sewall, Esquires, Arbitrators, indifferently chosen, between Mr. Samuel Parris and the Inhabitants of Salem Village.

"The Remonstrances of several Aggrieved Persons in the said Village, with further Reasons why they conceive they ought not to hear Mr. Parris, nor to own him as a Minister of the Gospel, nor to contribute any Support to him as such for several years past, humbly offered as fit for consideration.

"We humbly conceive that, having, in April, 1693, given our reasons why we could not join with Mr. Parris in prayer, preaching, or sacrament, if these reasons are found sufficient for our withdrawing (and we cannot yet find but they are), then we conceive ourselves virtually discharged, not only in conscience, but also in law, which re[ii.498]quires maintenance to be given to such as are orthodox and blameless; the said Mr. Parris having been teaching such dangerous errors, and preached such scandalous immoralities, as ought to discharge any (though ever so gifted otherways) from the work of the ministry, particularly in his oath against the lives of several, wherein he swears that the prisoners with their looks knock down those pretended sufferers. We humbly conceive that he that swears to more than he is certain of, is equally guilty of perjury with him that swears to what is false. And though they did fall at such a time, yet it could not be known that they did it, much less could they be certain of it; yet did swear positively against the lives of such as he could not have any knowledge but they might be innocent.

"His believing the Devil's accusations, and readily departing from all charity to persons, though of blameless and godly lives, upon such suggestions; his promoting such accusations; as also his partiality therein in stifling the accusations of some, and, at the same time, vigilantly promoting others,—as we conceive, are just causes for our refusal, &c.

"That Mr. Parris's going to Mary Walcot or Abigail Williams, and directing others to them, to know who afflicted the people in their illnesses,—we understand this to be a dealing with them that have a familiar spirit, and an implicit denying the providence of God, who alone, as we believe, can send afflictions, or cause devils to afflict any: this we also conceive sufficient to justify such refusal.

"That Mr. Parris, by these practices and principles, has been the beginner and procurer of the sorest afflictions, not to this village only, but to this whole country, that did ever befall them.

"We, the subscribers, in behalf of ourselves, and of several others of the same mind with us (touching these things), having some of us had our relations by these practices taken off by an untimely death; others have been imprisoned and suffered in our persons, reputations, and estates,—submit the whole to your honors' decision, to determine whether we are or ought to be any ways obliged to honor, respect, and support such an instrument of our miseries; praying God to guide your honors to act herein as may be for his glory, and the future settlement of our village in amity and unity.

"John Tarbell,
Samuel Nurse,
Joseph Putnam,
Daniel Andrew,

Attorneys for the people of the Village.

Boston, July 21, 1697."

[ii.499]

The arbitrators decided that the inhabitants should pay to Mr. Parris a certain amount for arrearages, and also the sum of £79. 9s. 6d. for all his right and interest in the ministry house and land, and that he be forthwith dismissed; and his ministerial relation to the church and society in Salem Village dissolved. The parish raised the money with great alacrity. Nathaniel Ingersoll, who had, as has been stated, made him a present at his settlement of a valuable piece of land adjoining the parsonage grounds, bought it back, paying him a liberal price for it, fully equal to its value; and he left the place, so far as appears, for ever.

On the 14th of July, 1696, in the midst of his controversy with his people, his wife died. She was an excellent woman; and was respected and lamented by all. He caused a stone slab to be placed at the head of her grave, with a suitable inscription, still plainly legible, concluding with four lines, to which his initials are appended, composed by him, of which this is one: "Farewell, best wife, choice mother, neighbor, friend." Her ashes rest in what is called the Wadsworth burial ground.

Mr. Parris removed to Newton, then to Concord; and in November, 1697, began to preach at Stow, on a salary of forty pounds, half in money and half in provisions, &c. A grant from the general court was relied upon from year to year to help to make up the twenty pounds to be paid in money. Afterwards he preached at Dunstable, partly supported by a grant from the general court, and finally in Sudbury, where he died, Feb. 27, 1720. His daughter Elizabeth, who belonged, it will be remembered, to the circle of "afflicted children" in 1692, then nine years of age, in 1710 married Benjamin Barnes of Concord. Two other daughters married in Sudbury. His son Noyes, who graduated at Harvard College in 1721, became deranged, and was supported by the town. His other son Samuel was long deacon of the church at Sudbury, and died Nov. 22, 1792, aged ninety-one years.

In the "Boston News Letter," No. 1433, July 15, 1731, is a notice, as follows:—

"Any person or persons who knew Mr. Samuel Parris, formerly of Barbadoes, afterwards of Boston in New England, merchant, and after that minister of Salem Village, &c., deceased to be a son of Thomas Parris of the island aforesaid, Esq. who deceased 1673, or[ii.500] sole heir by will to all his estate in said island, are desired to give or send notice thereof to the printer of this paper; and it shall be for their advantage."

Whether the identity of Mr. Parris, of Salem Village, with the son of Thomas Parris, of Barbadoes, was established, we have no information. If it was, some relief may have come to his descendants. There is every reason to believe, that, after leaving the village, he and his family suffered from extremely limited means, if not from absolute poverty. The general ill-repute brought upon him by his conduct in the witchcraft prosecutions followed him to the last. He had forfeited the sympathy of his clerical brethren by his obstinate refusal to take their advice. They earnestly, over and over again, expostulated against his prolonging the controversy with the people of Salem Village, besought him to relinquish it, and promised him, if he would, to provide an eligible settlement elsewhere. They actually did provide one. But he rejected their counsels and persuasions, in expressions of ill-concealed bitterness. So that, when he was finally driven away, they felt under no obligations to befriend him; and with his eminent abilities he eked out a precarious and inadequate maintenance for himself and family, in feeble settlements in outskirt towns, during the rest of his days.

It is difficult to describe the character of this unfortunate man. Just as is the condemnation which facts compel history to pronounce, I have a feeling of relief in the thought, that, before the tribunal to which he so long ago passed, the mercy we all shall need, which comprehends all motives and allows for all infirmities, has been extended to him, in its infinite wisdom and benignity.

He was a man of uncommon abilities, of extraordinary vivacity and activity of intellect. He does not appear to have been wilfully malevolent; although somewhat reckless in a contest, he was not deliberately untruthful; on the contrary, there is in his statements a singular ingenuousness and fairness, seldom to be found in a partisan, much more seldom in a principal. Although we get almost all we know of the examinations of accused parties in the witchcraft proceedings, and of his long contentions with his parish, from him, there is hardly any ground to regret that the parties on the other side had no friends to tell their story. A transparency[ii.501] of character, a sort of instinctive incontinency of mind, which made him let out every thing, or a sort of blindness which prevented his seeing the bearings of what was said and done, make his reports the vehicles of the materials for the defence of the very persons he was prosecuting. I know of no instance like it. His style is lucid, graphic, lively, natural to the highest degree; and whatever he describes, we see the whole, and, as it were, from all points of view. Language flowed from his pen with a facility, simplicity, expressiveness, and accuracy, not surpassed or often equalled. He wrote as men talk, using colloquial expressions without reserve, but always to the point. When we read, we hear him; abbreviating names, and clipping words, as in the most familiar and unguarded conversation. He was not hampered by fear of offending the rules which some think necessary to dignify composition. In his off-hand, free and easy, gossiping entries in the church-book, or in his carefully prepared productions, like the "Meditations for Peace," read before his church and the dissatisfied brethren, we have specimens of plain good English, in its most translucent and effective forms. Considering that his academic education was early broken off, and many intermediate years were spent in commercial pursuits, his learning and attainments are quite remarkable. The various troubles and tragic mischiefs of his life, the terrible wrongs he inflicted on others, and the retributions he brought upon himself, are traceable to two or three peculiarities in his mental and moral organization.

He had a passion for a scene, a ceremony, an excitement. He delighted in the exercise of power, and rejoiced in conflicts or commotions, from the exhilaration they occasioned, and the opportunity they gave for the gratification of the activity of his nature. He pursued the object of getting possession of the ministry house and land with such desperate pertinacity, not, I think, from avaricious motives, but for the sake of the power it would give him as a considerable landholder. His love of form and public excitement led him to operate as he did with his church. He kept it in continual action during the few years of his ministry. He had at least seventy-five special meetings of that body, without counting those which probably occurred without number, but of which there is no record, during the six months of the witchcraft period. Twice, the brethren gave out, wholly exhausted; and the powers[ii.502] of the church were, by vote, transferred to a special committee, to act in its behalf, composed of persons who had time and strength to spare. But Mr. Parris, never weary of excitement, would have been delighted to preside over church-meetings, and to be a participator in vehement proceedings, every day of his life. The more noisy and heated the contention, the more he enjoyed it. During all the transactions connected with the witchcraft prosecutions, he was everywhere present, always wide awake, full of animation, if not cheerfulness, and ready to take any part to carry them on. These propensities and dispositions were fraught with danger, and prolific of evil in his case, in consequence of what looks very much like a total want in himself of many of the natural human sensibilities, and an inability to apprehend them in others. Through all the horrors of the witchcraft prosecutions, he never evinced the slightest sensibility, and never seemed to be aware that anybody else had any. It was not absolute cruelty, but the absence of what may be regarded as a natural sense. It was not a positive wickedness, but a negative defect. He seemed to be surprised that other people had sentiments, and could not understand why Tarbell and Nurse felt so badly about the execution of their mother. He told them to their faces, without dreaming of giving them offence, that, while they thought she was innocent, and he thought she was guilty and had been justly put to death, it was a mere difference of opinion, as about an indifferent matter. In his "Meditations for Peace," presented to these dissatisfied brethren, for the purpose and with an earnest desire of appeasing them, he tells them that the indulgence of such feelings at all is a yielding to "temptation," being under "the clouds of human weakness," and "a bewraying of remaining corruption." Indeed, the theology of that day, it must be allowed, bore very hard upon even the best and most sacred affections of our nature. The council, in their Result, allude to the feelings of those whose parents, and other most loved and honored relatives and connections, had been so cruelly torn from them and put to death, as "infirmities discovered by them in such an heart-breaking day," and bespeak for their grief and lamentations a charitable construction. They ask the church, whose hands were red with the blood of their innocent and dearest friends, not to pursue them with "more critical and vigorous proceedings" in consequence of their exhibiting these[ii.503] natural sensibilities on the occasion, but "to treat them with bowels of much compassion." These views had taken full effect upon Mr. Parris, and obliterated from his breast all such "infirmities." This is the only explanation or apology that can be made for him.

Of the history of Cotton Mather, subsequently to the witchcraft prosecutions, and more or less in consequence of his agency in them, it may be said that the residue of his life was doomed to disappointment, and imbittered by reproach and defeat. The storm of fanatical delusion, which he doubted not would carry him to the heights of clerical and spiritual power, in America and everywhere, had left him a wreck. His political aspirations, always one of his strongest passions, were wholly blasted; and the great aim and crown of his ambition, the Presidency of Harvard College, once and again and for ever had eluded his grasp. I leave him to tell his story, and reveal the state of his mind and heart in his own most free and full expressions from his private diary for the year 1724.

"1. What has a gracious Lord helped me to do for the seafaring tribe, in prayers for them, in sermons to them, in books bestowed upon them, and in various projections and endeavors to render the sailors a happy generation? And yet there is not a man in the world so reviled, so slandered, so cursed among sailors.

"2. What has a gracious Lord helped me to do for the instruction and salvation and comfort of the poor negroes? And yet some, on purpose to affront me, call their negroes by the name of COTTON MATHER, that so they may, with some shadow of truth, assert crimes as committed by one of that name, which the hearers take to be Me.

"3. What has a gracious Lord given me to do for the profit and honor of the female sex, especially in publishing the virtuous and laudable characters of holy women? And yet where is the man whom the female sex have spit more of their venom at? I have cause to question whether there are twice ten in the town but what have, at some time or other, spoken basely of me.

"4. What has a gracious Lord given me to do, that I may be a blessing to my relatives? I keep a catalogue of them, and not a week passes me without some good devised for some or other of them, till I have taken all of them under my cognizance. And yet where is the man who has been so tormented with such monstrous relatives? Job said, 'I am a brother to dragons.'[ii.504]

"5. What has a gracious Lord given me to do for the vindication and reputation of the Scottish nation? And yet no Englishman has been so vilified by the tongues and pens of Scots as I have been.

"6. What has a gracious Lord given me to do for the good of the country, in applications without number for it in all its interests, besides publications of things useful to it and for it? And yet there is no man whom the country so loads with disrespect and calumnies and manifold expressions of aversion.

"7. What has a gracious Lord given me to do for the upholding of the government, and the strengthening of it, and the bespeaking of regards unto it? And yet the discountenance I have almost perpetually received from the government! Yea, the indecencies and indignities which it has multiplied upon me are such as no other man has been treated with.

"8. What has a gracious Lord given me to do, that the College may be owned for the bringing forth such as are somewhat known in the world, and have read and wrote as much as many have done in other places? And yet the College for ever puts all possible marks of disesteem upon me. If I were the greatest blockhead that ever came from it, or the greatest blemish that ever came to it, they could not easily show me more contempt than they do.

"9. What has a gracious Lord given me to do for the study of a profitable conversation? For nearly fifty years together, I have hardly ever gone into any company, or had any coming to me, without some explicit contrivance to speak something or other that they might be the wiser or the better for. And yet my company is as little sought for, and there is as little resort unto it, as any minister that I am acquainted with.

"10. What has a gracious Lord given me to do in good offices, wherever I could find opportunities for the doing of them? I for ever entertain them with alacrity. I have offered pecuniary recompenses to such as would advise me of them. And yet I see no man for whom all are so loth to do good offices. Indeed I find some cordial friends, but how few! Often have I said, What would I give if there were any one man in the world to do for me what I am willing to do for every man in the world!

"11. What has a gracious Lord given me to do in the writing of many books for the advancing of piety and the promoting of his kingdom? There are, I suppose, more than three hundred of them. And yet I have had more books written against me, more pamphlets to traduce and reproach me and belie me, than any man I know in the world.

"12. What has a gracious Lord given me to do in a variety of[ii.505] services? For many lustres of years, not a day has passed me, without some devices, even written devices, to be serviceable. And yet my sufferings! They seem to be (as in reason they should be) more than my services. Everybody points at me, and speaks of me as by far the most afflicted minister in all New England. And many look on me as the greatest sinner, because the greatest sufferer; and are pretty arbitrary in their conjectures upon my punished miscarriages."

"Diary, May 7, 1724.—The sudden death of the unhappy man who sustained the place of President in our College will open a door for my doing singular services in the best of interests. I do not know that the care of the College will now be cast upon me, though I am told that it is what is most generally wished for. If it should be, I shall be in abundance of distress about it; but, if it should not, yet I may do many things for the good of the College more quietly and more hopefully than formerly.

"June 5.—The College is in great hazard of dissipation and grievous destruction and confusion. My advice to some that have some influence on the public may be seasonable.

"July 1, 1724.—This day being our insipid, ill-contrived anniversary, which we call the Commencement, I chose to spend it at home in supplications, partly on the behalf of the College that it may not be foolishly thrown away, but that God may bestow such a President upon it as may prove a rich blessing unto it and unto all our churches."

On the 18th of November, 1724, the corporation of Harvard College elected the Rev. Benjamin Colman, pastor of the Brattle-street Church in Boston, to the vacant presidential chair. He declined the appointment. The question hung in suspense another six months. In June, 1725, the Rev. Benjamin Wadsworth, pastor of the First Church in Boston, was elected, accepted the office, and held it to his death, on the 16th of March, 1737. It may easily be imagined how keenly these repeated slights were felt by Cotton Mather. He died on the 13th of February, 1728.

From the early part of the spring of 1695, when the abortive attempt to settle the difficulty between Mr. Parris and the people of the village, by the umpirage of Major Gedney, was made, it evidently became the settled purpose of the leading men, on both sides, to restore harmony to the place. On all committees, persons who had been prominent in opposition to each other were joined together, that, thus co-operating, they might become reconciled.[ii.506] This is strikingly illustrated in the "seating of the meeting-house," as it was called. In 1699, in a seat accommodating three persons, John Putnam the son of Nathaniel, and John Tarbell, were two of the three. Another seat for three was occupied by James and John Putnam, sons of John, and by Thomas Wilkins. Thomas Putnam and Samuel Nurse were placed in the same seat; and so were the wives of Thomas Putnam and Samuel Nurse, and the widow Sarah Houlton. The widow Preston, daughter of Rebecca Nurse, was seated with the widow Walcot, mother of Mary, one of the accusing girls.

We see in this the effect of the wise and decisive course adopted by Mr. Parris's successor, the Rev. Joseph Green. Immediately upon his ordination, Nov. 10, 1698, he addressed himself in earnest to the work of reconciliation in that distracted parish. From the date of its existence, nearly thirty years before, it had been torn by constant strife. It had just passed through scenes which had brought all hearts into the most terrible alienation. A man of less faith would not have believed it possible, that the horrors and outrages of those scenes could ever be forgotten, forgiven, or atoned for, by those who had suffered or committed the wrongs. But he knew the infinite power of the divine love, which, as a minister of Christ, it was his office to inspire and diffuse. He knew that, with the blessing of God, that people, who had from the first been devouring each other, and upon whose garments the stain of the blood of brethren and sisters was fresh, might be made "kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven" them. In this heroic and Christ-like faith, he entered upon and steadfastly adhered to his divine work. He pursued it with patience, wisdom, and courageous energy. No ministry in the whole history of the New-England churches has had a more difficult task put upon it, and none has more perfectly succeeded in its labors. I shall describe the administration of this good man, as a minister of reconciliation, in his own words, transcribed from his church records:—

"Nov. 25, 1698, being spent in holy exercises (in order to our preparation for the sacrament of the Lord's Supper), at John Putnam, Jr.'s, after the exercise, I desired the church to manifest, by the usual sign, that they were so cordially satisfied with their brethren, Thomas Wilkins, John Tarbell, and Samuel Nurse, that they were heartily[ii.507] desirous that they would join with us in all ordinances, that so we might all live lovingly together. This they consented unto, and none made any objection, but voted it by lifting up their hands. And further, that whatever articles they had drawn up against these brethren formerly, they now looked upon them as nothing, but let them fall to the ground, being willing that they should be buried for ever.

"Feb. 5, 1699.—This day, also our brother John Tarbell, and his wife, and Thomas Wilkins and his wife, and Samuel Nurse's wife, joined with us in the Lord's Supper; which is a matter of thankfulness, seeing they have for a long time been so offended as that they could not comfortably join with us.

"1702.—In December, the pastor spake to the church, on the sabbath, as followeth: 'Brethren, I find in your church-book a record of Martha Corey's being excommunicated for witchcraft; and, the generality of the land being sensible of the errors that prevailed in that day, some of her friends have moved me several times to propose to the church whether it be not our duty to recall that sentence, that so it may not stand against her to all generations; and I myself being a stranger to her, and being ignorant of what was alleged against her, I shall now only leave it to your consideration, and shall determine the matter by a vote the next convenient opportunity.'

"Feb. 14, 1702/3.—The major part of the brethren consented to the following: 'Whereas this church passed a vote, Sept. 11, 1692, for the excommunication of Martha Corey, and that sentence was pronounced against her Sept. 14, by Mr. Samuel Parris, formerly the pastor of this church; she being, before her excommunication, condemned, and afterwards executed, for supposed witchcraft; and there being a record of this in our church-book, page 12, we being moved hereunto, do freely consent and heartily desire that the same sentence may be revoked, and that it may stand no longer against her; for we are, through God's mercy to us, convinced that we were at that dark day under the power of those errors which then prevailed in the land; and we are sensible that we had not sufficient grounds to think her guilty of that crime for which she was condemned and executed; and that her excommunication was not according to the mind of God, and therefore we desire that this may be entered in our church-book, to take off that odium that is cast on her name, and that so God may forgive our sin, and may be atoned for the land; and we humbly pray that God will not leave us any more to such errors and sins, but will teach and enable us always to do that which is right in his sight.'

"There was a major part voted, and six or seven dissented.

"J. Gr., Pr."

[ii.508]

The First Church in Salem rescinded its votes of excommunication of Rebecca Nurse and Giles Corey, in March, 1712. The church at the village was nearly ten years before it, in this act of justice to itself and to the memory of the injured dead. Mr. Green did not wait until the public sentiment drove him to it. He regarded it as his duty to lead, and keep in front of that sentiment, in the right direction. He did not wait until everybody demanded it to be done, but instantly began to prepare his people for it. At the proper time, he gave notice that he was about to bring the question before them; and he accordingly did so. He had no idea of allowing a few narrow-minded, obstinate individuals to keep the blot any longer upon the records of his church. His conduct is honorable to his name, and to the name of the village. By wise, prudent, but persistent efforts, he gradually repaired every breach, brought his parish out from under reproach, and set them right with each other, with the obligations of justice, and with the spirit of Christianity. It is affecting to read his ejaculations of praise and gratitude to God for every symptom of the prevalence of harmony and love among the people of his charge.

The man who extinguished the fires of passion in a community that had ever before been consumed by them deserves to be held in lasting honor. The history of the witchcraft delusion in Salem Village would, indeed, be imperfectly written, if it failed to present the character of him who healed its wounds, obliterated the traces of its malign influence on the hearts and lives of those who acted, and repaired the wrongs done to the memory of those who suffered, in it. Joseph Green had a manly and amiable nature. He was a studious scholar and an able preacher. He was devoted to his ministry and faithful to its obligations. He was a leader of his people, and shared in their occupations and experiences. He was active in the ordinary employments of life and daily concerns of society. Possessed of independent property, he was frugal and simple in his habits, and liberal in the use of his means. The parsonage, while he lived in it, was the abode of hospitality, and frequented by the best society in the neighborhood. By mingled firmness and kindliness, he met and removed difficulties. He had a cheerful temperament, was not irritated by the course of events, even when of an unpleasant character. While Mr. Noyes was disturbed, even to resentment, by encroachments upon his parish,[ii.509] in the formation of new societies in the middle precinct of Salem, now South Danvers, and in the second precinct of Beverly, now Upper Beverly, Mr. Green, although they drew away from him as many as from Mr. Noyes, went to participate in the raising of their meeting-houses. Of a genial disposition, he countenanced innocent amusements. He was fond of the sports of the field. The catamount was among the trophies of his sure aim, and he came home with his huntsman's bag filled with wild pigeons. He would take his little sons before and behind him on his horse, and spend a day with them fishing and fowling on Wilkins's Pond; and, when Indians threatened the settlements, he would shoulder his musket, join the brave young men of his parish, and be the first in the encounter, and the last to relinquish the pursuit of the savage foe.

He was always, everywhere, a peacemaker; by his genial manner, and his genuine dignity and decision of character, he removed dissensions from his church and neighborhood, and secured the respect while he won the love of all. That such a person was raised up and placed where he was at that time, was truly a providence of God.

The part performed in the witchcraft tragedy by the extraordinary child of twelve years of age, Ann Putnam, has been fully set forth. As has been stated, both her parents (and no one can measure their share of responsibility, nor that of others behind them, for her conduct) died within a fortnight of each other, in 1699. She was then nineteen years of age; a large family of children, all younger than herself, was left with her in the most melancholy orphanage. How many there were, we do not exactly know: eight survived her. Although their uncles, Edward and Joseph, were near, and kind, and able to care for them, the burden thrown upon her must have been great. With the terrible remembrance of the scenes of 1692, it was greater than she could bear. Her health began to decline, and she was long an invalid. Under the tender and faithful guidance of Mr. Green, she did all that she could to seek the forgiveness of God and man. After consultations with him, in visits to his study, a confession was drawn up, which she desired publicly to make. Upon conferring with Samuel Nurse, it was found to be satisfactory to him, as the representative of those who had suffered from her testimony. It was her desire to offer this[ii.510] confession and a profession of religion at the same time. The day was fixed, and made known to the public. On the 25th of August, 1706, a great concourse assembled in the meeting-house. Large numbers came from other places, particularly from the town of Salem. The following document, having been judged sufficient and suitable, was written out in the church-book the evening before, and signed by her. It was read by the pastor before the congregation, who were seated; she standing in her place while it was read, and owning it as hers by a declaration to that effect at its close, and also acknowledging the signature.

"The Confession of Anne Putnam, when she was received to Communion, 1706.

"I desire to be humbled before God for that sad and humbling providence that befell my father's family in the year about '92; that I, then being in my childhood, should, by such a providence of God, be made an instrument for the accusing of several persons of a grievous crime, whereby their lives were taken away from them, whom now I have just grounds and good reason to believe they were innocent persons; and that it was a great delusion of Satan that deceived me in that sad time, whereby I justly fear I have been instrumental, with others, though ignorantly and unwittingly, to bring upon myself and this land the guilt of innocent blood; though what was said or done by me against any person I can truly and uprightly say, before God and man, I did it not out of any anger, malice, or ill-will to any person, for I had no such thing against one of them; but what I did was ignorantly, being deluded by Satan. And particularly, as I was a chief instrument of accusing of Goodwife Nurse and her two sisters, I desire to lie in the dust, and to be humbled for it, in that I was a cause, with others, of so sad a calamity to them and their families; for which cause I desire to lie in the dust, and earnestly beg forgiveness of God, and from all those unto whom I have given just cause of sorrow and offence, whose relations were taken away or accused.

[Signed]

"This confession was read before the congregation, together with her relation, Aug. 25, 1706; and she acknowledged it.

"J. Green, Pastor.

This paper shows the baleful influence of the doctrine of Satan[ii.511] then received. It afforded a refuge and escape from the compunctions of conscience. The load of sin was easily thrown upon the back of Satan. This young woman was undoubtedly sincere in her penitence, and was forgiven, we trust and believe; but she failed to see the depth of her iniquity, and of those who instigated and aided her, in her false accusations. The blame, and the deed, were wholly hers and theirs. Satan had no share in it. Human responsibility cannot thus be avoided.

While, in a certain sense, she imputes the blame to Satan, this declaration of Ann Putnam is conclusive evidence that she and her confederate accusers did not believe in any communications having been made to them by invisible spirits of any kind. Those persons, in our day, who imagine that they hold intercourse, by rapping or otherwise, with spiritual beings, have sometimes found arguments in favor of their belief in the phenomena of the witchcraft trials. But Ann Putnam's confession is decisive against this. If she had really received from invisible beings, subordinate spirits, or the spirits of deceased persons, the matters to which she testified, or ever believed that she had, she would have said so. On the contrary, she declares that she had no foundation whatever, from any source, for what she said, but was under the subtle and mysterious influence of the Devil himself.

She died at about the age of thirty-six years. Her will is dated May 20, 1715, and was presented in probate June 29, 1716. Its preamble is as follows:—

"In the name of God, amen. I, Anne Putnam, of the town of Salem, single woman, being oftentimes sick and weak in body, but of a disposing mind and memory, blessed be God! and calling to mind the mortality of my body, and that it is appointed for all men once to die, do make this my last will and testament. First of all, I recommend my spirit into the hands of God, through Jesus Christ my Redeemer, with whom I hope to live for ever; and, as for my body, I commit it to the earth, to be buried in a Christian and decent manner, at the discretion of my executor, hereafter named, nothing doubting but, by the mighty power of God, to receive the same again at the resurrection."

She divided her land to her four brothers, and her personal estate to her four sisters.

It seems that she was frequently the subject of sickness, and[ii.512] her bodily powers much weakened. The probability is, that the long-continued strain kept upon her muscular and nervous organization, during the witchcraft scenes, had destroyed her constitution. Such uninterrupted and vehement exercise, to their utmost tension, of the imaginative, intellectual, and physical powers, in crowded and heated rooms, before the public gaze, and under the feverish and consuming influence of bewildering and all but delirious excitement, could hardly fail to sap the foundations of health in so young a child. The tradition is, that she had a slow and fluctuating decline. The language of her will intimates, that, at intervals, there were apparent checks to her disease, and rallies of strength,—"oftentimes sick and weak in body." She inherited from her mother a sensitive and fragile constitution; but her father, although brought to the grave, probably by the terrible responsibilities and trials in which he had been involved, at a comparatively early age, belonged to a long-lived race and neighborhood. The opposite elements of her composition struggled in a protracted contest,—on the one side, a nature morbidly subject to nervous excitability sinking under the exhaustion of an overworked, overburdened, and shattered system; on the other, tenacity of life. The conflict continued with alternating success for years; but the latter gave way at last. Her story, in all its aspects, is worthy of the study of the psychologist. Her confession, profession, and death point the moral.

The Rev. Joseph Green died Nov. 26, 1715. The following tribute to his memory is inscribed on the records of the church. It is in the handwriting, and style of thought and language, of Deacon Edward Putnam.

"Then was the choicest flower and greenest olive-tree in the garden of our God here cut down in its prime and flourishing estate at the age of forty years and two days, who had been a faithful ambassador from God to us eighteen years. Then did that bright star set, and never more to appear here among us; then did our sun go down; and now what darkness is come upon us! Put away and pardon our iniquities, O Lord! which have been the cause of thy sore displeasure, and return to us again in mercy, and provide yet again for this thy flock a pastor after thy own heart, as thou hath promised to thy people in thy word; on which promise we have hope, for we are called by thy name; and, oh, leave us not!"

[ii.513]

The Rev. Peter Clark was ordained June 5, 1717. The termination of the connection between the Salem Village church and the witchcraft delusion, and all similar kinds of absurdity and wickedness, is marked by the following record, which fully and for ever redeems its character. If Samuel Parris had been as wise and brave as Peter Clark, he would, in the same decisive manner, have nipped the thing in the bud.

"Salem Village Church Records.

"Sept. 5, 1746.—At a church meeting appointed on the lecture, the day before, on the occasion of several persons in this parish being reported to have resorted to a woman of a very ill reputation, pretending to the art of divination and fortune-telling, &c., to make inquiry into that matter, and to take such resolutions as may be thought proper on the occasion, the brethren of the church then present came into the following votes; viz., That for Christians, especially church-members, to seek to and consult reputed witches or fortune-tellers, this church is clearly of opinion, and firmly believes on the testimony of the Word of God, is highly impious and scandalous, being a violation of the Christian covenant sealed in baptism, rendering the persons guilty of it subject to the just censure of the church.

"No proof appearing against any of the members of this church (some of whom had been strongly suspected of this crime), so as to convict them of their being guilty, it was further voted, That the pastor, in the name of the church, should publicly testify their disapprobation and abhorrence of this infamous and ungodly practice of consulting witches or fortune-tellers, or any that are reputed such; exhorting all under their watch, who may have been guilty of it, to an hearty repentance and returning to God, earnestly seeking forgiveness in the blood of Christ, and warning all against the like practice for the time to come.

"Sept. 7.—This testimony, exhortation, and warning, voted by the church, was publicly given by the pastor, before the dismission of the congregation."

The Salem Village Parish, when its present pastor, the Rev. Charles B. Rice, was settled, Sept. 2, 1863, had been in existence a hundred and ninety-one years. During its first twenty-five years, it had four ministers, whose aggregate period of service was eighteen years. During the succeeding hundred and sixty-six years, it had four ministers, whose aggregate period of service[ii.514] was one hundred and fifty-eight years. They had all been well educated, several were men of uncommon endowments, and without exception they possessed qualities suitable for success and usefulness in their calling.

The first period was filled with an uninterrupted series of troubles, quarrels, and animosities, culminating in the most terrific and horrible disaster that ever fell upon a people. The second period was an uninterrupted reign of peace, harmony, and unity; no religious society ever enjoying more comfort in its privileges, or exhibiting a better example of all that ought to characterize a Christian congregation.

The contrast between the lives of its ministers, in the two periods respectively, is as great as between their pastorates. The first four suffered from inadequate means of support, and, owing to the feuds in the congregation, rates not being collected, were hardly supplied with the necessaries of life. There is no symptom in the records of the second period of there having ever been any difficulty on this score. The prompt fulfilment of their contracts by the people, and the favor of Providence, placed the ministers above the reach or approach of inconvenience or annoyance from that quarter.

The history of the New-England churches presents no epoch more melancholy, distressful, and stormy than the first, and none more united, prosperous, or commendable than the second period in the annals of the Salem Village church.

The contrast between the fortunes and fates of the ministers of these two periods is worthy of being stated in detail.

James Bayley began to preach at the Village at the formation of the society, when he was quite a young man, within three years from receiving his degree at Harvard College. After about seven years, during which he buried his wife and three children, and encountered a bitter and turbulent opposition,—so far as we can see, most causeless and unreasonable,—he relinquished the ministry altogether, and spent the residue of his life in another profession elsewhere.

The ministry of George Burroughs, at the Village, lasted about two years. The violence of both parties to the controversy by which the parish had been rent was concentrated upon his innocent and unsheltered head. He was, at a public assembly of his[ii.515] people, in his own meeting-house, arrested, and taken out in the custody of the marshal of the county, a prisoner for a debt incurred to meet the expenses of his wife's recent funeral, of an amount less than the salary then due him, and which, in point of fact, he had paid at the time by an order upon the parish treasurer. From such outrageous ill-treatment, he escaped by resigning his ministry. He was followed to his retreat in a remote settlement, and while engaged there, a laborious, self-sacrificing, and devoted minister, was, by the malignity of his enemies at the Village, suddenly seized, all unconscious of having wronged a human creature, snatched from the table where he was taking his frugal meal in his humble home, torn from his helpless family, hurried up to the Village; overwhelmed in a storm of falsehood, rage, and folly; loaded with irons, immured in a dungeon, carried to the place of execution, consigned to the death of a felon; and his uncoffined remains thrown among the clefts of the rocks of Witch Hill, and left but half buried,—for a crime of which he was as innocent as the unborn child.

Deodat Lawson, a great scholar and great preacher, after a two years' trial, and having buried his wife and daughter at the Village, abandoned the attempt to quell the storm of passion there. He found another settlement on the other side of Massachusetts Bay, which he left without taking leave, and was never heard of more by his people. Eight years afterwards, he re-appeared in the reprint, at London, of his famous Salem Village sermon, and then vanished for ever from sight. A cloud of impenetrable darkness envelopes his name at that point. Of his fate nothing is known, except that it was an "unhappy" one.

Samuel Parris, after a ministry of seven years, crowded from the very beginning with contention and animosity, and closed in desolation, ruin, and woes unutterable, havoc scattered among his people and the whole country round, was driven from the parish, the blood of the innocent charged upon his head, and, for the rest of his days, consigned to obscurity and penury. The place of his abode has upon it no habitation or structure of man; and the only vestiges left of him are his records of the long quarrel with his congregation, and his inscription on the headstone, erected by him, as he left the Village for ever, over the fresh grave of his wife.[ii.516]

Surely, the annals of no church present a more dismal, shocking, or shameful history than this.

Joseph Green, on the 26th of November, 1715, terminated with his life a ministry of eighteen years, as useful, beneficent, and honorable as it had been throughout harmonious and happy. Peter Clark died in office, June 10, 1768, after a service of fifty-one years. He was recognized throughout the country as an able minister and a learned divine. Peace and prosperity reigned, without a moment's intermission, among the people of his charge. Benjamin Wadsworth, D.D., also died in office, Jan. 18, 1826, after a service of fifty-four years. Through life he was universally esteemed and loved in all the churches. Milton P. Braman, D.D., on the 1st of April, 1861, terminated by resignation a ministry of thirty-five years. He always enjoyed universal respect and affection, and the parish under his care, uninterrupted union and prosperity. He did not leave his people, but remains among them, participating in the enjoyment of their privileges, and upholding the hands of his successor. His eminent talents are occasionally exercised in neighboring pulpits, and in other services of public usefulness. He lives in honored retirement on land originally belonging to Nathaniel Putnam, distant only a few rods, a little to the north of east, from the spot owned and occupied by his first predecessor, James Bayley.

It can be said with assurance, of this epoch in the history of the Salem Village church and society, that it can hardly be paralleled in all that indicates the well-being of man or the blessings of Heaven. No such contrast, as these two periods in the annals of this parish present, can elsewhere be found.

Prosecutions for witchcraft continued in the older countries after they had been abandoned here; although it soon began to be difficult, everywhere, to procure the conviction of a person accused of witchcraft. In 1716, a Mrs. Hicks and her daughter, the latter aged nine years, were hanged in Huntingdon, in England, for witchcraft. In the year 1720, an attempt, already alluded to, was made to renew the Salem excitement in Littleton, Mass., but it failed: the people had learned wisdom at a price too dear to allow them so soon to forget it. In a letter to Cotton Mather, written Feb. 19, 1720, the excellent Dr. Watts, after having expressed his doubts respecting the sufficiency of the spec[ii.517]tral evidence for condemnation, says, in reference to the Salem witchcraft, "I am much persuaded that there was much immediate agency of the Devil in these affairs, and perhaps there were some real witches too." Not far from this time, we find what was probably the opinion of the most liberal-minded and cultivated people in England expressed in the following language of Addison: "To speak my thoughts freely, I believe, in general, that there is and has been such a thing as witchcraft, but, at the same time, can give no credit to any particular instance of it."

There was an execution for witchcraft in Scotland in 1722. As late as the middle of the last century, an annual discourse, commemorative of executions that took place in Huntingdon during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, continued to be delivered in that place. An act of a Presbyterian synod in Scotland, published in 1743, and reprinted at Glasgow in 1766, denounced as a national sin the repeal of the penal laws against witchcraft.

Blackstone, the great oracle of British law, and who flourished in the latter half of the last century, declared his belief in witchcraft in the following strong terms: "To deny the possibility, nay, the actual existence, of witchcraft and sorcery, is at once flatly to contradict the revealed Word of God, in various passages both of the Old and New Testament; and the thing itself is a truth to which every nation in the world hath in its turn borne testimony, either by examples seemingly well attested, or by prohibitory laws, which at least suppose the possibility of commerce with evil spirits."

It is related, in White's "Natural History of Selborne," that, in the year 1751, the people of Tring, a market town of Hertfordshire, and scarcely more than thirty miles from London, "seized on two superannuated wretches, crazed with age and overwhelmed with infirmities, on a suspicion of witchcraft." They were carried to the edge of a horse-pond, and there subjected to the water ordeal. The trial resulted in the acquittal of the prisoners; but they were both drowned in the process.

A systematic effort seems to have been made during the eighteenth century to strengthen and renew the power of superstition. Alarmed by the progress of infidelity, many eminent and excellent men availed themselves of the facilities which their position at the head of the prevailing literature afforded them, to push the[ii.518] faith of the people as far as possible towards the opposite extreme of credulity. It was a most unwise, and, in its effects, deplorable policy. It was a betrayal of the cause of true religion. It was an acknowledgment that it could not be vindicated before the tribunal of severe reason. Besides all the misery produced by filling the imagination with unreal objects of terror, the restoration to influence, during the last century, of the fables and delusions of an ignorant age, has done incalculable injury, by preventing the progress of Christian truth and sound philosophy; thus promoting the cause of the very infidelity it was intended to check. The idea of putting down one error by setting up another cannot have suggested itself to any mind that had ever been led to appreciate the value or the force of truth. But this was the policy of Christian writers from the time of Addison to that of Johnson. The latter expressly confesses, that it was necessary to maintain the credit of the belief of the existence and agency of ghosts, and other supernatural beings, in order to help on the argument for a future state as founded upon the Bible.

Dr. Hibbert, in his excellent book on the "Philosophy of Apparitions," illustrates some remarks similar to those just made, by the following quotation from Mr. Wesley:—

"It is true, that the English in general, and indeed most of the men in Europe, have given up all accounts of witches and apparitions as mere old wives' fables. I am sorry for it; and I willingly take this opportunity of entering my solemn protest against this violent compliment, which so many that believe the Bible pay to those who do not believe it. I owe them no such service. I take knowledge, these are at the bottom of the outcry which has been raised, and with such insolence spread throughout the nation, in direct opposition, not only to the Bible, but to the suffrage of the wisest and best men in all ages and nations. They well know (whether Christians know it or not), that the giving up witchcraft is, in effect, giving up the Bible. And they know, on the other hand, that, if but one account of the intercourse of men with separate spirits be admitted, their whole castle in the air (Deism, Atheism, Materialism) falls to the ground. I know no reason, therefore, why we should suffer even this weapon to be wrested out of our hands. Indeed, there are numerous arguments besides, which abundantly confute their vain imaginations. But we need not be hooted out of one: neither reason nor religion requires this."

[ii.519]

The belief in witchcraft continued to hold a conspicuous place among popular superstitions during the whole of the last century. Many now living can remember the time when it prevailed very generally. Each town or village had its peculiar traditionary tales, which were gravely related by the old, and deeply impressed upon the young.

The legend of the "Screeching Woman" of Marblehead is worthy of being generally known. The story runs thus: A piratical cruiser, having captured a Spanish vessel during the seventeenth century, brought her into Marblehead harbor, which was then the site of a few humble dwellings. The male inhabitants were all absent on their fishing voyages. The pirates brought their prisoners ashore, carried them at the dead of the night into a retired glen, and there murdered them. Among the captives was an English female passenger. The women who belonged to the place heard her dying outcries, as they rose through the midnight air, and reverberated far and wide along the silent shores. She was heard to exclaim, "O mercy, mercy! Lord Jesus Christ, save me! Lord Jesus Christ, save me!" Her body was buried by the pirates on the spot. The same piercing voice is believed to be heard at intervals, more or less often, almost every year, in the stillness of a calm starlight or clear moonlight night. There is something, it is said, so wild, mysterious, and evidently superhuman in the sound, as to strike a chill of dread into the hearts of all who listen to it. The writer of an article on this subject, in the "Marblehead Register" of April 3, 1830, declares, that "there are not wanting, at the present day, persons of unimpeachable veracity and known respectability, who still continue firmly to believe the tradition, and to assert that they themselves have been auditors of the sounds described, which they declare were of such an unearthly nature as to preclude the idea of imposition or deception."

When "the silver moon unclouded holds her way," or when the stars are glistening in the clear, cold sky, and the dark forms of the moored vessels are at rest upon the sleeping bosom of the harbor; when no natural sound comes forth from the animate or inanimate creation but the dull and melancholy rote of the sea along the rocky and winding coast,—how often is the watcher startled from the reveries of an excited imagination by the pite[ii.520]ous, dismal, and terrific screams of the unlaid ghost of the murdered lady!

A negro died, fifty years ago, in that part of Danvers called originally Salem Village, at a very advanced age. He was supposed to have reached his hundredth year. He never could be prevailed upon to admit that there was any delusion or mistake in the proceedings of 1692. To him, the whole affair was easy of explanation. He believed that the witchcraft was occasioned by the circumstance of the Devil's having purloined the church-book, and that it subsided so soon as the book was recovered from his grasp. Perhaps the particular hypothesis of the venerable African was peculiar to himself; but those persons must have a slight acquaintance with the history of opinions in this and every other country, who are not aware that the superstition on which it was founded has been extensively entertained by men of every color, almost, if not quite, up to the present day. If the doctrines of demonology have been completely overthrown and exterminated in our villages and cities, it is a very recent achievement; nay, I fear that in many places the auspicious event remains to take place.

In the year 1808, the inhabitants of Great Paxton, a village of Huntingdonshire, in England, within sixty miles of London, rose in a body, attacked the house of an humble, and, so far as appears, inoffensive and estimable woman, named Ann Izard, suspected of bewitching three young females,—Alice Brown, Fanny Amey, and Mary Fox,—dragged her out of her bed into the fields, pierced her arms and body with pins, and tore her flesh with their nails, until she was covered with blood. They committed the same barbarous outrage upon her again, a short time afterwards; and would have subjected her to the water ordeal, had she not found means to fly from that part of the country.

The writer of the article "Witchcraft," in Rees's "Cyclopædia," gravely maintains the doctrine of "ocular fascination."

Prosecutions for witchcraft are stated to have occurred, in the first half of the present century, in some of the interior districts of our Southern States. The civilized world is even yet full of necromancers and thaumaturgists of every kind. The science of "palmistry" is still practised by many a muttering vagrant; and perhaps some in this neighborhood remember when, in the days[ii.521] of their youthful fancy, they held out their hands, that their future fortunes might be read in the lines of their palms, and their wild and giddy curiosity and anxious affections be gratified by information respecting wedding-day or absent lover.

The most celebrated fortune-teller, perhaps, that ever lived, resided in an adjoining town. The character of "Moll Pitcher" is familiarly known in all parts of the commercial world. She died in 1813. Her place of abode was beneath the projecting and elevated summit of High Rock, in Lynn, and commanded a view of the wild and indented coast of Marblehead, of the extended and resounding beaches of Lynn and Chelsea, of Nahant Rocks, of the vessels and islands of Boston's beautiful bay, and of its remote southern shore. She derived her mysterious gifts by inheritance, her grandfather having practised them before in Marblehead. Sailors, merchants, and adventurers of every kind, visited her residence, and placed confidence in her predictions. People came from great distances to learn the fate of missing friends, or recover the possession of lost goods; while the young of both sexes, impatient of the tardy pace of time, and burning with curiosity to discern the secrets of futurity, availed themselves of every opportunity to visit her lowly dwelling, and hear from her prophetic lips the revelation of the most tender incidents and important events of their coming lives. She read the future, and traced what to mere mortal eyes were the mysteries of the present or the past, in the arrangement and aspect of the grounds or settlings of a cup of tea or coffee. Her name has everywhere become the generic title of fortune-tellers, and occupies a conspicuous place in the legends and ballads of popular superstition. Her renown has gone abroad to the farthest regions, and her memory will be perpetuated in the annals of credulity and imposture. An air of romance is breathed around the scenes where she practised her mystic art, the interest and charm of which will increase as the lapse of time removes her history back towards the dimness of the distant past.

The elements of the witchcraft delusion of 1692 are slumbering still in the bosom of society. We hear occasionally of haunted houses, cases of second-sight, and communications from the spiritual world. It always will be so. The human mind feels instinctively its connection with a higher sphere. Some will ever be[ii.522] impatient of the restraints of our present mode of being, and prone to break away from them; eager to pry into the secrets of the invisible world, willing to venture beyond the bounds of ascertainable knowledge, and, in the pursuit of truth, to aspire where the laws of evidence cannot follow them. A love of the marvellous is inherent to the sense of limitation while in these terrestrial bodies; and many will always be found not content to wait until this tabernacle is dissolved and we shall be clothed upon with a body which is from Heaven.

[ii.523]

decoration

FOOTNOTES

[A] The double negative, as often used, merely intensified the negation. See "Measure for Measure," act i. scene 1.

[B] In the innumerable depositions written by Thomas Putnam, he is not so careful to be correct, in his chirography and construction, as in his parish-records. But, if the reader is inclined to make the experiment, he will find, that, if the above document should be properly pointed and spelled, according to our fashion at the present day, it would read well, and is clearly and forcibly put together. Spelling, at that time, was phonetic, and it enables us to ascertain the then prevalent pronunciation of words. "Corsely," no doubt, shows how the word was then spoken. "Angury" was, with a large class of words now dissyllables, then a trisyllable. "Tould," "spaking," and many other words above, are spelled just as they were then pronounced. "Wicthcraft" is always, I believe, spelled this way by Thomas Putnam. He had not got rid of the old Anglo-Saxon sound of the word "witch," brought by his father from Buckinghamshire, sixty years before,—"wicca."

The condition of medical science and practice, at that period, is curiously illustrated in this paper. It is plain that the distemper of James Carr was purely in the realm of the sensibilities and fancy; and "doctor Crosbe" is not wholly to blame because his "visek" did not "work." A good smart nightmare, with a feeling that he had given a thorough basting to the spectre, in the form of a cat, of the supposed author of his woful and aggravated disappointment in love, was what he needed; and it cured him. "A posset of sack" was Falstaff's refuge, from the plight into which he had been led by "building upon a foolish woman's promise," when he emerged from the Thames and the "buck-basket." Many others, no doubt, in drowning sorrow and mortification, have found it "the sovereignest thing on earth." But, as administered by physicians of the Dr. Crosby school, with tobacco steeped in it, it must have been a "villanous compound."

[C] A few days before her trial, Rebecca Nurse was subjected to this inspection and exploration; and the jury of women found the witch-mark upon her. On the 28th of June, two days before the meeting of the Court, she addressed to that body the following communication:—

"To the Honored Court of Oyer and Terminer, now sitting in Salem, this 28th of June, Anno 1692.

"The humble petition of Rebecca Nurse, of Salem Village, humbly showeth: That whereas some women did search your petitioner at Salem, as I did then conceive for some supernatural mark; and then one of the said women, which is known to be the most ancient, skilful, prudent person of them all as to any such concern, did express herself to be of a contrary opinion from the rest, and did then declare that she saw nothing in or about Your Honor's poor petitioner but what might arise from a natural cause,—I there rendered the said persons a sufficient known reason as to myself of the moving cause thereof, which was by exceeding weaknesses, descending partly from an overture of nature, and difficult exigencies that hath befallen me in the times of my travails. And therefore your petitioner humbly prays that Your Honors would be pleased to admit of some other women to inquire into this great concern, those that are most grave, wise, and skilful; namely, Mrs. Higginson, Sr., Mrs. Buxton, Mrs. Woodbury,—two of them being midwives, Mrs. Porter, together with such others as may be chosen on that account, before I am brought to my trial. All which I hope your honors will take into your prudent consideration, and find it requisite so to do; for my life lies now in your hands, under God. And, being conscious of my own innocency, I humbly beg that I may have liberty to manifest it to the world partly by the means abovesaid.

"And your poor petitioner shall evermore pray, as in duty bound, &c."

Her daughters—Rebecca, wife of Thomas Preston; and Mary, wife of John Tarbell—presented the following statement:—

"We whose names are underwritten—can testify, if called to it, that Goody Nurse hath been troubled with an infirmity of body for many years, which the jury of women seem to be afraid it should be something else."

There is no intimation, in any of the papers, that the petition of the mother or the deposition of her daughters received the least attention from the Court.

[D] On the 19th of October, 1692, Thomas Hart, of Lynn, presented a memorial to the General Court, stating that his mother, Elizabeth Hart, had then been in Boston jail for nearly six months: "Though, in all this time, nothing has appeared against her whereby to render her deserving of imprisonment or death, ... being ancient, and not able to undergo the hardship that is inflicted from lying in misery, and death rather to be chosen than a life in her circumstances." He says, that his father is "ancient and decrepit, and wholly unable" to take any steps in her behalf; that he feels "obliged by all Christian duty, as becomes a child to parents," to lay her case before the General Court. "The petitioner having lived from his childhood under the same roof with his mother, he dare presume to affirm that he never saw nor knew any evil or sinful practice wherein there was any show of impiety nor witchcraft by her; and, were it otherwise, he would not, for the world and all the enjoyments thereof, nourish or support any creature that he knew engaged in the drudgery of Satan. It is well known to all the neighborhood, that the petitioner's mother has lived a sober and godly life, always ready to discharge the part of a good Christian, and never deserving of afflictions from the hands of men for any thing of this nature." He humbly prays "for the speedy enlargement of this person so much abused." I present two more petitions. They help to fill up the picture of the sufferings and hardships borne by individuals and families.

"To the Honored General Court now sitting in Boston, the Humble Petition of Nicholas Rist, of Reading, showeth, that whereas Sara Rist, wife of the petitioner, was taken into custody the first day of June last, and, ever since lain in Boston jail for witchcraft; though, in all this time, nothing has been made appear for which she deserved imprisonment or death: the petitioner has been a husband to the said woman above twenty years, in all which time he never had reason to accuse her for any impiety or witchcraft, but the contrary. She lived with him as a good, faithful, dutiful wife, and always had respect to the ordinances of God while her strength remained; and the petitioner, on that consideration, is obliged in conscience and justice to use all lawful means for the support and preservation of her life; and it is deplorable, that, in old age, the poor decrepit woman should lie under confinement so long in a stinking jail, when her circumstances rather require a nurse to attend her.

"May it, therefore, please Your Honors to take this matter into your prudent consideration, and direct some speedy methods whereby this ancient decrepit person may not for ever lie in such misery, wherein her life is made more afflictive to her than death."

"The Humble Petition of Thomas Barrett, of Chelmsford, in New England, in behalf of his daughter Martha Sparkes, wife of Henry Sparkes, who is now a soldier in Their Majesties' Service at the Eastern Parts, and so hath been for a considerable time, humbly showeth, That your petitioner's daughter hath lain in prison in Boston for the space of twelve months and five days, being committed by Thomas Danforth, Esq., the late deputy-governor, upon suspicion of witchcraft; since which no evidence hath appeared against her in any such matter, neither hath any given bond to prosecute her, nor doth any one at this day accuse her of any such thing, as your petitioner knows of. That your petitioner hath ever since kept two of her children; the one of five years, the other of two years old, which hath been a considerable trouble and charge to him in his poor and mean condition: besides, your petitioner hath a lame, ancient, and sick wife, who, for these five years and upwards past, hath been so afflicted as that she is altogether rendered uncapable of affording herself any help, which much augments his trouble. Your poor petitioner earnestly and humbly entreats Your Excellency and Honors to take his distressed condition into your consideration; and that you will please to order the releasement of his daughter from her confinement, whereby she may return home to her poor children to look after them, having nothing to pay the charge of her confinement.

"And your petitioner, as in duty bound, shall ever pray.

"Nov. 1, 1692."

[E] I know nothing more artful and jesuitical than his attempts to avoid the reproach of having been active in carrying on the delusion in Salem and elsewhere, and, at the same time, to keep up such a degree of credulity and superstition in the minds of the people as to render it easy to plunge them into it again at the first favorable moment. In the following passages, he endeavors to escape the odium that had been connected with the prosecutions:—

"The world knows how many pages I have composed and published, and particular gentlemen in the government know how many letters I have written, to prevent the excessive credit of spectral accusations.

"In short, I do humbly but freely affirm it, that there is not a man living in this world, who has been more desirous than the poor man I to shelter my neighbors from the inconveniences of spectral outcries: yea, I am very jealous I have done so much that way as to sin in what I have done; such have been the cowardice and fearfulness whereunto my regard unto the dissatisfaction of other people has precipitated me. I know a man in the world, who has thought he has been able to convict some such witches as ought to die; but his respect unto the public peace has caused him rather to try whether he could not renew them by repentance."

In his Life of Sir William Phips, he endeavors to take the credit to himself of having doubted the propriety of the proceedings while they were in progress. This work was published without his name, in order that he might commend himself with more freedom. The advice given by the ministers of Boston and the vicinity to the government has been spoken of. Cotton Mather frequently took occasion to applaud and magnify the merit of this production. In one of his writings, he speaks of "the gracious words" it contained. In his Life of Phips, he thus modestly takes the credit of its authorship to himself: it was "drawn up, at their (the ministers') desire, by Mr. Mather the younger, as I have been informed." And, in order the more effectually to give the impression that he was rather opposed to the proceedings, he quotes those portions of the paper which recommended caution and circumspection, leaving out those other passages in which it was vehemently urged to carry the proceedings on "speedily and vigorously."

This single circumstance is decisive of the disingenuity of Dr. Mather. As it was the purpose of the government, in requesting the advice of the ministers, to ascertain their opinion of the expediency of continuing the prosecutions, it was a complete and deliberate perversion and falsification of their answer to omit the passages which encouraged the proceedings, and to record those only which recommended caution and circumspection. The object of Mather in suppressing the important parts of the document has, however, in some measure been answered. As the "Magnalia," within which his Life of Phips is embraced, is the usual and popular source of information and reference respecting the topics of which it treats, the opinion has prevailed, that the Boston ministers, especially "Mr. Mather the younger," endeavored to prevent the transactions connected with the trial and execution of the supposed witches. Unfortunately, however, for the reputation of Cotton Mather, Hutchinson has preserved the address of the ministers entire: and it appears that they approved, applauded, and stimulated the prosecutions; and that the people of Salem and the surrounding country were the victims of a delusion, the principal promoters of which have, to a great degree, been sheltered from reproach by the dishonest artifice, which has now been exposed.

But, like other ambitious and grasping politicians, he was anxious to have the support of all parties at the same time. After making court to those who were dissatisfied with the prosecutions, he thus commends himself to all who approved of them:—

"And why, after all my unwearied cares and pains to rescue the miserable from the lions and bears of hell which had seized them, and after all my studies to disappoint the devils in their designs to confound my neighborhood, must I be driven to the necessity of an apology? Truly, the hard representations wherewith some ill men have reviled my conduct, and the countenance which other men have given to these representations, oblige me to give mankind some account of my behavior. No Christian can (I say none but evil-workers can) criminate my visiting such of my poor flock as have at any time fallen under the terrible and sensible molestations of evil angels. Let their afflictions have been what they will, I could not have answered it unto my glorious Lord, if I had withheld my just comforts and counsels from them; and, if I have also, with some exactness, observed the methods of the invisible world, when they have thus become observable, I have been but a servant of mankind in doing so: yea, no less a person than the venerable Baxter has more than once or twice, in the most public manner, invited mankind to thank me for that service."

In other passages, he thus continues to stimulate and encourage the advocates of the prosecutions:—

"Wherefore, instead of all apish shouts and jeers at histories which have such undoubted confirmation as that no man that has breeding enough to regard the common laws of human society will offer to doubt of them, it becomes us rather to adore the goodness of God, who does not permit such things every day to befall us all, as he sometimes did permit to befall some few of our miserable neighbors.

"And it is a very glorious thing that I have now to mention: The devils have, with most horrid operations, broke in upon our neighborhood; and God has at such a rate overruled all the fury and malice of those devils, that all the afflicted have not only been delivered, but, I hope, also savingly brought home unto God; and the reputation of no one good person in the world has been damaged, but, instead thereof, the souls of many, especially of the rising generation, have been thereby awakened unto some acquaintance with religion. Our young people, who belonged unto the praying-meetings, of both sexes, apart, would ordinarily spend whole nights, by whole weeks together, in prayers and psalms upon these occasions, in which devotions the devils could get nothing but, like fools, a scourge for their own backs: and some scores of other young people, who were strangers to real piety, were now struck with the lively demonstrations of hell evidently set forth before their eyes, when they saw persons cruelly frighted, wounded and starved by devils, and scalded with burning brimstone, and yet so preserved in this tortured state, as that, at the end of one month's wretchedness, they were as able still to undergo another; so that, of these also, it might now be said, 'Behold, they pray.' In the whole, the Devil got just nothing, but God got praises, Christ got subjects, the Holy Spirit got temples, the church got additions, and the souls of men got everlasting benefits. I am not so vain as to say that any wisdom or virtue of mine did contribute unto this good order of things; but I am so just as to say, I did not hinder this good."

I cannot, indeed, resist the conviction, that, notwithstanding all his attempts to appear dissatisfied, after they had become unpopular, with the occurrences in the Salem trials, he looked upon them with secret pleasure, and would have been glad to have had them repeated in Boston.

[F] The following is a statement of the loss inflicted upon the estate of George Jacobs, Sr. The property of the son was utterly destroyed.

"An Account of what was seized and taken away from my Father's Estate, George Jacobs, Sr., late of Salem, deceased, by Sheriff Corwin and his Assistants in the year 1692.

"When my said father was executed, and I was forced to fly out of the country, to my great damage and distress of my family, my wife and daughter imprisoned,—viz., my wife eleven months, and my daughter seven months in prison,—it cost them twelve pounds money to the officers, besides other charges.

Five cows, fair large cattle, £3 per cow	£	15	00	0
Eight loads of English hay taken out of the barn, 35s. per load		14	00	0
A parcel of apples that made 24 barrels cider to halves; viz., 12 barrels cider, 8s. per barrel		4	16	0
Sixty bushels of Indian corn, 2s. 6d. per bushel		7	10	0
A mare		2	0	0
Two good feather beds, and furniture, rugs, blankets, sheets, bolsters and pillows		10	0	0
Two brass kettles, cost		6	0	0
Money, 12s.; a large gold thumb ring, 20s.		1	12	0
Five swine		3	15	0
A quantity of pewter which I cannot exactly know the worth, perhaps		3	0	0
		— 67	— 13	— 0
Besides abundance of small things, meat in the house, fowls, chairs, and other things took clear away	above	12	0	0
		— 79 ==	— 13 ==	— 0 ==

"George Jacobs."

When Edward Bishop and his wife Sarah were arrested, household goods which were valued by the sheriff himself at ten pounds,—he refusing that sum for their restitution,—six cows, twenty-four swine, forty-six sheep, were taken from his farm. The imprisonment of himself and wife (prior to their escape) aggregated thirty-seven weeks. Ten shillings a week for board, and other charges and prison fees amounting to five pounds, were assessed upon his estate, and taken by distraint. A family of twelve children was left without any to direct or care for them, and the product of the farm for that year wholly cut off.

There were taken from the estate of Samuel Wardwell, who was executed, five cows, a heifer and yearling, a horse, nine hogs, eight loads of hay, six acres of standing corn, and a set of carpenters' tools. From the estate of Dorcas Hoar, a widow, there were taken two cows, an ox and mare, four pigs, bed, bed-curtains and bedding, and other household stuff.

Persons apprehended were made to pay all charges of every kind for their maintenance, fuel, clothes, expenses of transportation from jail to jail, and inexorable court and prison fees. The usual fee to the clerk of the courts was £1. 17s. 5d., sometimes more; sometimes, although very rarely, a little less. He must have received a large amount of money in the aggregate that year. The prisoners were charged for every paper that was drawn up. If a reprieve was obtained, there was a fee. When discharged, there was a fee. The expenses of the executions, even hangmen's fees, were levied on the families of the sufferers. Abraham Foster, whose mother died in prison, to get her body for burial, had to pay £2. 10s.

When the value of money at that time is considered, and we bear in mind that most of the persons apprehended were farmers, who have but little cash on hand, and that these charges were levied on their stock, crops, and furniture in their absence, and in the unrestrained exercise of arbitrary will, by the sheriff or constables, we can judge how utterly ruinous the operation must have been.

[G] Love's Labour's Lost, act v., sc. 1.

[H] There are several other depositions in these cases, that may perhaps be explained under the head of nightmare. The following are specimens; that, for instance, of Robert Downer, of Salisbury, who testifies and says,—

"That, several years ago, Susanna Martin, the then wife of George Martin, being brought to court for a witch, the said Downer, having some words with her, this deponent, among other things, told her he believed that she was a witch, by what was said or witnessed against her; at which she, seeming not well affected, said that a, or some, she-devil would fetch him away shortly, at which this deponent was not much moved; but at night, as he lay in his bed in his own house, alone, there came at his window the likeness of a cat, and by and by came up to his bed, took fast hold of his throat, and lay hard upon him a considerable while, and was like to throttle him. At length, he minded what Susanna Martin threatened him with the day before. He strove what he could, and said, 'Avoid, thou she-devil, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost!' and then it let him go, and jumped down upon the floor, and went out at the window again."

Susanna Martin, by the boldness and severity of her language, in defending herself against the charge of witchcraft, had evidently, for a long time, rendered herself an object of dread, and seems to have disturbed the dreams of the superstitious throughout the neighborhood. For instance, Jarvis Ring, of Salisbury, made oath as follows:—

"That, about seven or eight years ago, he had been several times afflicted, in the night-time, by some body or some thing coming up upon him when he was in bed, and did sorely afflict him by lying upon him; and he could neither move nor speak while it was upon him, but sometimes made a kind of noise that folks did hear him and come up to him; and, as soon as anybody came, it would be gone. This it did for a long time, both then and since, but he did never see anybody clearly; but one time, in the night, it came upon me as at other times, and I did then see the person of Susanna Martin, of Amesbury. I, this deponent, did perfectly see her; and she came to this deponent, and took him by the hand, and bit him by the finger by force, and then came and lay upon him awhile, as formerly, and after a while went away. The print of the bite is yet to be seen on the little finger of his right hand; for it was hard to heal. He further saith, that several times he was asleep when it came; but, at that time, he was as fairly awaked as ever he was, and plainly saw her shape, and felt her teeth, as aforesaid."

Barnard Peach made oath substantially as follows:—

"That about six or seven years past, being in bed on a Lord's-day night, he heard a scrambling at the window, and saw Susanna Martin come in at the window, and jump down upon the floor. She was in her hood and scarf, and the same dress that she was in before, at meeting the same day. Being come in, she was coming up towards this deponent's face, but turned back to his feet, and took hold of them, and drew up his body into a heap, and lay upon him about an hour and a half or two hours, in all which time this deponent could not stir nor speak; but, feeling himself beginning to be loosened or lightened, and he beginning to strive, he put out his hand among the clothes, and took hold of her hand, and brought it up to his mouth, and bit three of the fingers (as he judges) to the breaking of the bones; which done, the said Martin went out of the chamber, down the stairs, and out of the door. The deponent further declared, that, on another Lord's-day night, while sleeping on the hay in a barn, about midnight the said Susanna Martin and another came out of the shop into the barn, and one of them said, 'Here he is,' and then came towards this deponent. He, having a quarter-staff, made a blow at them; but the roof of the barn prevented it, and they went away: but this deponent followed them, and, as they were going towards the window, made another blow at them, and struck them both down; but away they went out at the shop-window, and this deponent saw no more of them. And the rumor went, that the said Martin had a broken head at that time; but the deponent cannot speak to that upon his own knowledge."

Any one who has had the misfortune to be subject to nightmare will find the elements of his own experience very much resembling the descriptions given by Kembal, Downer, Ring, and Peach. The terrors to which superstition, credulity, and ignorance subjected their minds; the frightful tales of witchcraft and apparitions to which they were accustomed to listen; and the contagious fears of the neighborhood in reference to Susanna Martin, taken in connection with a disordered digestion, an overloaded stomach, and a hard bed, or a strange lodging-place,—are wholly sufficient to account for all the phenomena to which they testified.

[I] The facts and considerations in reference to the authorship of the letter to Jonathan Corwin may be summarily stated as follows:—

The letter is signed "R.P." Under these initials is written, "Robert Pain," in a different hand, and, as the ink as well as the chirography shows, at a somewhat later date. R.P. are blotted over, but with ink of such lighter hue that the original letters are clearly discernible under it. A Robert Paine graduated at Harvard College, in 1656. But he was probably the foreman of the grand jury that brought in all the indictments in the witchcraft trials; and therefore could not, from the declarations in the letter itself, have been its author. The only other person of that name at the time, of whom we have knowledge, was his father, who seems, by the evidence we have, to have died in 1693. (That date is given in the Harvard Triennial for the death of Robert Paine, the graduate; but erroneously, I think, as signatures to documents, and conveyances of property subsequently, can hardly be ascribed to any other person.) Robert Paine, the father, from the earliest settlement of Ipswich, had been one of the leading men of the town, apparently of larger property than any other, often its deputy in the General Court, and, for a great length of time, ruling elder of the church. "Elder Pain," or Penn, as the name was often spelled, enjoyed the friendship of John Norton, and all the ministers far and near; and religious meetings were often held at his house. We know nothing to justify us in saying that he could not have been the author of this paper; but we also know nothing, except the appearance of his name upon it, to impute it to him.

The document is dated from "Salisbury." So far as we know, Elder Paine always lived in Ipswich; although, having property in the upper county, he may have often been, and possibly in his last years resided, there. It is, it is true, a strong circumstance, that his name is written, although by a late hand, under the initials. It shows that the person who wrote it thought that "R.P." meant Robert Paine; but any one conversant especially with the antiquities of Ipswich, or this part of the county, might naturally fall into such a mistake. The authorship of documents was often erroneously ascribed. The words "Robert Pain" were, probably, not on the paper when the indorsement was made, "A letter to my grandfather," &c. Elder Robert Paine, if living in 1692, was ninety-one years of age. The document under consideration, if composed by him, is truly a marvellous production,—an intellectual phenomenon not easily to be paralleled.

The facts in reference to Robert Pike, of Salisbury, as they bear upon the question of the authorship of the document, are these: He was seventy-six years of age in 1692, and had always resided in "Salisbury." The letter and argument are both in the handwriting of Captain Thomas Bradbury, Recorder of old Norfolk County. On this point, there can be no question. Bradbury and Pike had been fellow-townsmen for more than half a century, connected by all the ties of neighborhood and family intermarriage, and jointly or alternately had borne all the civic and military honors the people could bestow. The document was prepared and delivered to the judge while Mrs. Bradbury was in prison, and just one month before her trial. Pike, as has been shown (p. 226), was deeply interested in her behalf. The original signature ("R.P.") has the marked characteristics of the same initial letters as found in innumerable autographs of his, on file or record. There are interlineations, beyond question in Pike's handwriting. These facts demonstrate that both Pike and Bradbury were concerned in producing the document.

The history of Robert Pike proves that he was a man of great ability, had a turn of mind towards logical exercises, and was, from early life, conversant with disputations. Nearly fifty years before, he argued in town-meeting against the propriety, in view of civil and ecclesiastical law, of certain acts of the General Court. They arraigned, disfranchised, and otherwise punished him for his "litigiousness:" but the weight of his character soon compelled them to restore his political rights; and the people of Salisbury, the very next year, sent him among them as their deputy, and continued him from time to time in that capacity. At a subsequent period, he was the leader and spokesman of a party in a controversy about some ecclesiastical affairs, involving apparently certain nice questions of theology, which created a great stir through the country. The contest reached so high a point, that the church at Salisbury excommunicated him; but the public voice demanded a council of churches, which assembled in September, 1676, and re-instated Major Pike condemning his excommunication, "finding it not justifiable upon divers grounds." On this occasion, as before, the General Court frowned upon and denounced him; but the people came again to his rescue, sending him at the next election into the House of Deputies, and kept him there until raised to the Upper House as an Assistant. He was in the practice of conducting causes in the courts, and was long a local magistrate and one of the county judges.

He does not appear to have been present at any of the trials or examinations of 1692; but his official position as Assistant caused many depositions taken in his neighborhood to be acknowledged and sworn before him. While entertaining the prevalent views about diabolical agency, he always disapproved of the proceedings of the Court in the particulars to which the arguments of the communication to Jonathan Corwin apply,—the "spectre evidence,"—and the statements and actings of "the afflicted children." There are indications that sometimes he saw through the folly of the stories told by persons whose depositions he was called to attest. One John Pressy was circulating a wonderful tale about an encounter he had with the spectre of Susanna Martin. Pike sent for him, and took his deposition. Pressy averred, that, one evening, coming from Amesbury Ferry, he fell in with the shape of Martin in the form of a body of light, which "seemed to be about the bigness of a half-bushel." After much dodging and manœuvring, and being lost and bewildered, wandering to and fro, tumbling into holes,—where, as the deposition states, no "such pitts" were known to exist,—and other misadventures, he came to blows with the light, and had several brushes with it, striking it with his stick. At one time, "he thinks he gave her at least forty blows." He finally succeeded in finding "his own house: but, being then seized with fear, could not speak till his wife spoke to him at the door, and was in such a condition that the family was afraid of him; which story being carried to the town the next day, it was, upon inquiry, understood, that said Goodwife Martin was in such a miserable case and in such pain that they swabbed her body, as was reported." He concludes his deposition by saying, that Major Pike "seemed to be troubled that this deponent had not told him of it in season that she might have been viewed to have seen what her ail was." The affair had happened "about twenty-four years ago." Probably neither Pressy nor the Court appreciated the keenness of the major's expression of regret. It broke the bubble of the deposition. The whole story was the product of a benighted imagination, disordered by fear, filled with inebriate vagaries, exaggerated in nightmare, and resting upon wild and empty rumors. Robert Pike's course, in the case of Mrs. Bradbury, harmonizes with the supposition that he was Corwin's correspondent.

Materials may be brought to light that will change the evidence on the point. It may be found that Elder Paine died before 1692: that would dispose of the question. It may appear that he was living in Salisbury at the time, and acted with Pike and Bradbury, they giving to the paper the authority of his venerable name and years. But all that is now known, constrains me to the conclusion stated in the text.

[J] As an illustration of the oblivion that had settled over the details of the transactions and characters connected with the witchcraft prosecutions, it may be mentioned, that when, thirty-five years ago, I prepared the work entitled 'Lectures on Witchcraft; comprising a History of the Delusion in 1692,' although professional engagements prevented my making the elaborate exploration that has now been given to the subject, I extended the investigation over the ordinary fields of research, and took particular pains to obtain information brought down by tradition, gleaned all that could be gathered from the memories of old persons then living of what they had heard from their predecessors, and sought for every thing that local antiquaries and genealogists could contribute. I find, by the methods of inquiry adopted in the preparation of the present work, how inadequate and meagre was the knowledge then possessed. Most of the persons accused and executed, like Giles Corey, his wife Martha, and Bridget Bishop, were supposed to have been of humble, if not mean condition, of vagrant habits, and more or less despicable repute. By following the threads placed in my hands, in the files of the county-offices of Registry of Deeds and Wills, and documents connected with trials at law, and by a collation of conveyances and the administration of estates, I find that Corey, however eccentric or open to criticism in some features of character and passages of his life, was a large landholder, and a man of singular force and acuteness of intellect; while his wife had an intelligence in advance of her times, and was a woman of eminent piety. The same is found to have been the case with most of those who suffered.

The reader may judge of my surprise in now discovering, that, while writing the "Lectures on Witchcraft," I was owning and occupying a part of the estate of Bridget Bishop, if not actually living in her house. The hard, impenetrable, all but petrified oak frame seems to argue that it dates back as far as when she rebuilt and renewed the original structure. Little, however, did I suspect, while delivering those lectures in the Lyceum Hall, that we were assembled on the site of her orchard, the scene of the preternatural and diabolical feats charged upon her by the testimony of Louder and others. Her estate was one of the most eligible and valuable in the old town, with a front, as has been mentioned, of a hundred feet on Washington Street, and extending along Church Street more than half the distance to St. Peter's Street. At the same time, her husband seems to have had a house in the village, near the head of Bass River. It is truly remarkable, that the locality of the property and residence of a person of her position, and who led the way among the victims of such an awful tragedy, should have become wholly obliterated from memory and tradition, in a community of such intelligence, consisting, in so large a degree, of old families, tracing themselves back to the earliest generations, and among whom the innumerable descendants of her seven great-grandchildren have continued to this day. It can only be accounted for by the considerations mentioned in the text. Tradition was stifled by horror and shame. What all desired to forget was forgotten. The only recourse was in oblivion; and all, sufferers and actors alike, found shelter under it.

[K] The looseness and inaccuracy of persons in reference to their own ages, in early times, is quite observable. In depositions, they speak of themselves as "about" so many years, or as of so many years "or thereabouts." A variance on this point is often found in the statements of the same person at different times. Neither are records always to be relied upon as to precision. In the record-book of the village church, Mr. Parris enters the age of Mrs. Ann Putnam, at the date of her admission, June 4, 1691, as "Ann: ætat: 27." But an "Account of the Early Settlers of Salisbury," in the "New-England Historical and Genealogical Register," vol. vii. p. 314, gives the date of her birth "15, 4, 1661." Her age is stated above according to this last authority; and, if correct, she was not so young, at the time of her marriage, as intimated (vol. i. p. 253), but seventeen years five months and ten days. It is difficult, however, to conceive how Parris, who was careful about such matters, and undoubtedly had his information from her own lips, could have been so far out of the way. Her brother, William Carr, in 1692, deposed that he was then forty-one years of age or thereabouts; whereas, the "Account of the Early Settlers of Salisbury," just referred to, gives the date of his birth "15, 1, 1648." It is indeed singular, that two members of a family of their standing should have been under an error as to their own age; one to an extent of almost, the other of some months more than, three years.

[L] The following passage is from the parish records:—

"On the 3d of February, 1693, a warrant was issued for a meeting of the inhabitants of the village, signed by Thomas Preston, Joseph Pope, Joseph Houlton, and John Tarbell, of the standing annual committee, to be held Feb. 14, 'to consider and agree and determine who are capable of voting in our public transactions, by the power given us by the General-court order at our first settlement; and to consider of and make void a vote in our book of records, on the 18th of June, 1689, where there is a salary of sixty-six pounds stated to Mr. Parris, he not complying with it; also to consider of and make void several votes in the book of records on the 10th of October, 1692, where our ministry house and barn and two acres of land seem to be conveyed from us after a fraudulent manner.'"

At this meeting, it was voted, that "all men that are ratable, or hereafter shall be living within that tract of land mentioned in our General-court order, shall have liberty in nominating and appointing a committee, and voting in any of our public concerns."

By referring to the account, in the First Part, of the controversy between the inhabitants of the village and Mr. Bayley, "the power" above alluded to, "given us by the General Court," will be seen fully described. In its earnestness to fasten Mr. Bayley upon "the inhabitants," the Court elaborately ordained the system by which they should be constrained to provide for him, and compelled to raise the means of paying his salary. As no church had then been organized, the General Court fastened the duty upon "householders." The fact had not been forgotten, and the above vote showed that the parish intended to hold on to the power then given them. This highly incensed the Court of Sessions. It ordered the parish book of records to be produced before it, and caused a condemnation of such a claim of right to be written out, in open Court, on the face of the record, where it is now to be seen. It is as follows:—

"At the General Sessions of the Peace holden at Ipswich, March the 28th, 1693. This Court having viewed and considered the above agreement or vote contained in the last five lines, finding the same to be repugnant to the laws of this province, do declare the same to be null and void, and that this order be recorded with the records of this Court.

"Attest, Stephen Sewall, Clerk."

	Page
Preface	vii to xiv
Map and Illustrations	xv to xvii
Index to the Map	xix to xxvii
General Index	xxix to xl
Introduction	1 to 12
Part First.—Salem Village	13 to 322
Part Second.—Witchcraft	325 to 469

Part Third.—Witchcraft at Salem Village	1 to 444
Supplement	447 to 522
Appendix	525 to 553

*Joseph Bridgham.	*Ephraim Hunt.
*Samuel Checkley.	*Nathll. Williams.
*William Torrey.	Samuel Phillips.
*Joseph Boynton.	James Allen.
*Richard Middlecot.	Samuel Torrey.
*John Walley.	Samuel Willard.
*Jer: Dummer.	Edward Payson.
*Nehemiah Jewet.	Cotton Mather.

AMERICAN CLASSICS

SALEM WITCHCRAFT

With an Account of Salem Village and A History of Opinions on Witchcraft and Kindred Subjects

CHARLES W. UPHAM

Volumes I and II

CONTENTS.

DEDICATED

TO

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES,

PROFESSOR OF ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY IN

HARVARD UNIVERSITY.

VOLUME I.

PREFACE.

MAP AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

INDEX TO THE MAP.

DWELLINGS IN 1692.

ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THIS LIST.

TOWN OF SALEM.

GRANTS.

FARMS.

GENERAL INDEX.

INTRODUCTION.

PART FIRST.

SALEM VILLAGE.

PART FIRST.

SALEM VILLAGE.

PART SECOND.

PART SECOND.

WITCHCRAFT.

END OF VOL. I.

FOOTNOTES

VOLUME II.

PART THIRD.

WITCHCRAFT AT SALEM VILLAGE.

SUPPLEMENT.

SUPPLEMENT.

APPENDIX.

APPENDIX.

I.

PREFATORY ADDRESS.

II.

DEODAT LAWSON'S NARRATIVE.

III.

LETTER FROM R.P. TO JONATHAN CORWIN.

IV.

EXTRACTS FROM MR. PARRIS'S CHURCH RECORDS.

THE END.

FOOTNOTES

With an Account of Salem Village
and
A History of Opinions on
Witchcraft and Kindred Subjects