Chapter IV: Part 4

The Hon. Court then suffered some experiments to be tried on Mrs. Proctor. It was affirmed that the afflicted could not strike a witch; and Ann Putnam approached and attempted to strike Mrs. P. on the head with her fist, but as the blow descended her fist opened, and her fingers’ ends but lightly tapped the woman’s hood, and then Ann cried out with consummate art, they burn! they burn!―her fingers burned, and she fell upon the floor apparently overcome with pain. All were strongly moved by this incident, so wonderful and yet so sudden. Some fancied they saw a blue flame play around Mrs. Proctor, and others were quite sure they smelt brimstone. The Court then suddenly turned the experiments upon Proctor himself, and ordered him forthwith to repeat the Lord’s Prayer, without slip or hesitation, to show his innocence. It was a hard case in his present dismay, but he made the effort; and he did very well until he came to the petition “deliver us from all evil;” and this was adjudged to be a perversion of the Lord’s Prayer; for to be delivered from all evil was to be delivered from that under which he then suffered, and of course opposing the Divine decrees. But to be fair with him they put him upon the prayer again, but he had no better luck than at first. For when he came to “hallowed be Thy name,” he said “hollowed be Thy name.” Here they again stopped him and held that this was a depraving of the words. To make the name of the Deity hollow, said they, is to make it vain, light and void, and is blasphemy and cursing, rather than a prayer. In fine it was decided that they could not say it, and that he was a guilty man.

And thus the unfortunate Proctor, although he came before the magistrates a free and innocent citizen to console and sustain his afflicted and terrified wife, by a strange fatality was sent from their presence a prisoner charged with a capital offence, upon the exhibition of the foolery and malice I have named; and what is equally strange, his wife in the end by a mere accident was saved, but poor Proctor they hung.

On the 19th of April, only eight days after, the imposing witch inquisition before Judge Danforth and the council, Hathorn and Curwin called up for examination Giles Corey, the husband of Martha Corey, already committed. And thus the wrong done to the wife was soon visited upon the husband in wanton passion merely, and without shadow of truth or justice.

They thus began with him: Giles Corey, you are now brought before authority upon high suspicion of witchcraft, now tell us the truth of the matter. I hope, said Giles, with the blessing of God I shall, for I never had any hand in that matter in my life. Parris, who was still clerk and chief manager, now said to the afflicted girls, which of you have seen this man hurt you? I, said Abagail Williams; I, said Ann Putnam; I, I, I, said the whole band but one. Hasn’t he hurt you, too, said Parris coaxingly to Elizabeth Hubbard, but she attempting to answer seemed to be taken with a fit. Have you never seen him hurt you, said the same to Benjamin Gould. I have often seen Giles Corey and been hurt after it, but cannot say he did it. All the girls also said that he brought the devil’s book for them to subscribe. The justices then said, Corey, you hear what these testify; why do you hurt them? I never did hurt them. Then it is your spectre that hurts them, tell us what you have done? I have done nothing to them. Have you never, said Parris, entered into a compact with the devil? No, I never did. (But he had then recently joined himself to the village church under Mr. Parris.) What temptations have you had? I never had any. But what frightened you in the cow-house, Giles Corey, said the court, tell us that? Nothing, nothing. Why, here are three witnesses, who have heard you to-day say, that you was frightened in the cow-house. I do not remember it.

Note by Mr. Parris―“There was evidence by several that Corey said, he would make away with himself and charge his death upon his son!” And Goody Bibber also testified that he called her husband, a damned devilish rogue; and other vile expressions were sworn to in open court.

The residue of Giles Corey’s fate was most hideous. From the date of this fraudulent, perjured and senseless inquest, he lay helpless and almost forgotten in prison for five months. There he was found on the 9th of the following September, and with many others brought before the court of trials. But the jury seemed entirely under the court, and as, of course, returned all guilty who put themselves on trial. Corey noticed this, and when his turn came he refused to plead, saying it was useless, and that they might do as they pleased with him. But the court seemed resolved to signalize his obstinacy, in terror to all others, and gave judgment against him of pem forte et dure for standing mute, by virtue of which he was taken to prison, placed on his back, with his arms and legs extended and fastened in that position. Heavy weights were placed upon him, and to be allowed a quantity of poor bread and the nearest standing water that could be found to the prison door, and thus to remain until he died. His sufferings were horrible, and on the 17th of the month he was evidently in death’s agonies, his eyes seemed bursting and his tongue swollen greatly out of his mouth. The marshall, the agent of the people’s government, stood over him, and without compassion, thrust back the dying man’s tongue with the point of his staff! And this is the only instance of that horrible judgment, and its execution in our Massachusetts history.

In the meantime Martha Corey, the wife of Giles, lay bound in the same prison under sentence, and with eleven days only to prepare for death; this is Mr. Parris’ account of the mission.

“We found her (Mrs. Corey) very obdurate, justifying ourselves and condemning all who had done anything to her just discovery and 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.” By which excommunication the woman was in form consigned to the devil’s use forever. How could the Rev. gentleman pray to God for a blessing on such a work in her prison; and what more secular tyranny ever invented such exquisite cruelty towards a hapless female. It first compassed her death, and then by clerical necromancy sought to destroy her soul! But her courage arose above the necromancy. She was sustained. She made no terms with her destroyers, or with falseness or meanness. Even on the gallows ladder she had strength to still proclaim her innocence in solemn prayer to God, and the gallows rope swung her into eternity as acceptable to Him, as if she had died in the bosom of her village church.

So wonderfully had witch accusations now multiplied, that Hathorn and Curwin held regular sittings; and the bewitched band of the Parris and Putnam family and others associated with them, were sure to find them subjects. For the convenience of the accusers these sessions were holden at Salem village, which had now become a point of great public observation and terror. Thus on the 22d of April, they committed for further proceedings William Hobbs and his wife, Mary Esty and Sara Wild, all of Topsfield; also, Edward Bishop and his wife, and Philip English and his wife, of Salem. And all these were taken on the complaint of Thomas Putnam, who thus hunted and secured the victims for his wife and daughter Ann with the Parris family to destroy.

We know the charges of witchcraft against these persons were fictitious and foul; and ofttimes hidden causes led to their selection from the mass of the citizens.

The first accusation of the Salem girls out of their own county was that of Mrs. Cary of Charlestown. This, no doubt, like most others, emanated from the neighborhood of the woman, the afflicted in Essex being used as mere instruments to destroy her. It was a startling movement, as the public recalled at once the fatal case of Margaret Jones and the vessel rocked by horses. The account of Mr. Cary, her husband, remains to this day, and being an eye-witness his record is very interesting. About the 20th of May, the rumor reached him that his wife had been named as a witch, at Salem village, and by the advice of his friends he resolved to go down and present her, a stranger to the afflicted, and see if they would recognize her. It was a dangerous experiment and cost him dear.

On the 14th he arrived at the inn, as Hathorn and Curwin, with a great crowd, were entering the meetinghouse for their daily work, and he and his wife took a convenient stand where they might note all that passed. A minister opened the business with prayer, and he saw that the afflicted then present were two girls of about ten or eleven years, and three others who appeared to be about eighteen. One of the younger girls could discern most spectres, and talked most (this was the shrewd Abagail Williams no doubt). When a prisoner was brought in, he or she was placed at some distance from the justices, with the eyes fixed directly on them, and the officers held each hand lest they should pinch the afflicted. The girls were placed between the prisoner and the magistrates, and if at any time the accused looked on them they were sure to be struck down in fits, or they screamed out they were hurt. Sometimes when they came out of their fits and stared round in peoples’ faces, the court would say they were struck dumb, and were then to go and touch the prisoner at the bar, to be restored to speech. This they would attempt with well dissembled hesitation, but would usually fall down in a fit. They would then be taken up and carried to the prisoner, that he might lay hands on them, and when this was done the justices would say that they were well, though Cary observed, that he could see no alteration, though he plainly saw that the justices understood the matter, and the girls were well disciplined.

Whilst all this was passing, Cary and his wife stood in sight of the afflicted, unnoticed, except a person came in the crowd and asked her name, and it would seem that quite unguardly she gave it. Soon after the examination broke up and Cary and his wife began to hope that their experiment was successful. They then repaired to the tavern, where they found the Indian John. They gave him some cider and he showed them his witch scars, but to Cary they seemed to be of long standing, and were more probably the work of his former Spanish master. John was supposed to have been stolen and brought away by the bucaniers, who then infested the American coast. Shortly the bewitched girls came in and began their fits and to tumble about the floor, and the company looked on in amazement and terror, no one knowing who might be cried out upon. As soon as they spoke they cried out Cary! Cary! and almost immediately, as if prepared, a warrant of arrest came from the justices then sitting in the house ready to try her. Her accusers were two girls, of whom she declared to the court, she had not the least knowledge before that day. She, too, now had to stand with her hands outstretched, like the others in the meeting house. Her husband begged that he might hold one of her hands, but it was denied him. And so Mrs. Cary stood condemned, her husband, at her request, wiped the sweat from her face and the tears from her eyes. As the examination proceeded and the girls testified as usual, she became faint and begged that she might lean on her husband, but Hathorn replied sharply, that so long as she had strength to torment those before them, she had strength enough to stand. John now came in and fell upon the floor also, and pretended to have a dumb fit. The justices then asked the girls who afflicted him. They replied that it was she (the prisoner), and that they could see that she now lay heavily upon him, though to all other eyes she was standing up and her hands held out. Upon this Cary, in his distress, said, that God would take vengeance on them for such conduct. But this seemed to prejudice the justices, for without more words her mittimus was written. No bail could be taken, and she was sent to Boston prison, from thence she was removed to Campton prison, where they put irons upon her of about eight pounds weight. And although her distress brought a severe sickness yet the irons were not taken off.

When the final trials came on at Salem, Cary went down, but when he saw the children’s spectre evidence admitted together with absurd and malicious stories against peoples’ lives, he became satisfied that there was but little chance for his wife’s life, and especially as all his efforts and those of his friends could not procure her a trial in Middlesex County. There was now only one remedy, and he embraced it. With some secret assistance he rescued her from prison and fled to Rhode Island, the common refuge of those persecuted in Massachusetts. But they were pursued, and he passed on to New York. Here Gov. Fletcher received them kindly, and sheltered them until the danger was passed.

A few days after this John Alden was brought before the Salem justices, upon accusation of witchcraft. He was a man of great consideration in the colony, being employed by the government to supply the fortress on the coast with warlike stores and provisions. His own account of the transaction has been perpetuated in the form of a deposition.

He states that he was arrested in Boston and sent down to Salem village, and when all were in presence of the magistrates, the girls were asked who of all the people in the room afflicted them; and one of them pointed to another man then present by the name of Hill, but she spake nothing. This girl had a man standing behind her to hold her up when necessary; and Alden saw him stoop down and place his mouth to her ear, and she cried out Alden! Alden! that it was Alden who afflicted her. Hathorn then asked her if she had ever seen Alden, and she said no, but the man near her said it was he. All were then ordered into the street and a ring was formed, the children and the justices in the centre; his accuser then cried out, pointing to him, “there stands John Alden, a bold fellow, with his hat on before the judges; he sells powder and shot to the French Indians.”

They bid Alden to look at the bewitched, and when he did they seemed to be struck down. He then asked the court why they themselves were not struck down also by his eyes. But no reason was given.

Alden spoke of God’s providence in suffering such creatures to accuse innocent persons, but the Rev. Mr. Noyes, minister of Salem, answered him, that God’s providence governed the world in peace, and with a long discourse prevented his further difficult questions. Alden was then committed to the prison in Boston, where he lay over three months, and when the final trials came on he saw how many were executed, he also made his escape and saved his life.

Deliverance Hobbs of Hopsfield, having been cried out upon and imprisoned, seems to have framed her confession in the terms of the accusation. She said she had, indeed, signed the devil’s book after many threatenings and great torment from him and his emissaries; and that so soon as she had done it, he used her spectre to afflict persons. That whilst her spectre was so employed on a certain time, one of the bewitched maids cried out, there stands Deliverance Hobbs, strike her? Upon which the marshal, a man of courage, standng by, made a pass at the spot pointed out, with his rapier, and the girl said there! you have given her a small prick about the eye, and Deliverance showed the wound to the justices, who seemed highly gratified to have the maid’s outcry so well authenticated, and to learn that a wound given to the spectre of a witch, would reach the original, although at home and about her business.

After this, says Calef, it was quite common for the afflicted to tell of the black man, or a spectre being on the table before the magistrates; and then the by-standers would strike at the places with their sticks and swords. Justice Curwin once broke his cane at this exercise.

This penitent also confessed that she was at the great witch sacrament at Salem village. That George Burroughs was there, that he called all the witches together by the sound of a trumpet; that he preached to them and urged them to pull down Christ’s kingdom and build up that of Satan in its stead, and that Salem village should be destroyed, beginning at Mr. Parris’ house. Among her confederates, Deliverance accused old Candy, a negress, and who was thereupon brought before Justice Hathorn. Candy said, he, you are a witch? Ans. Candy witch!―no, no―Candy no witch in her country―Candy’s mother no witch; Candy no witch Barbadoes―this country―mistress Hawks give Candy witch―(indeed!) yes, this country mistress give Candy witch.

Well, Candy, said Hathorn, with unusual mildness, how do you hurt these young folks, show us the poppets you do it with, Candy. Candy was quite happy, and asked to go out of the room, and said she would show all. When she returned she held in her hand two rags, with knots tied in them. At sight of these Deliverance Hobbs, who had now joined the afflicted band, went into a strong fit; and the other girls declared they could now plainly see Goody Hawks, Candy and the devil, standing together pinching the poppets, and then they (the afflicted) were sorely pinched, though no one actually touched them, but it was done in spectre. The Court then directed Candy to untie the knots, and when she did so, Deliverance came out of her fit, and all were well. A bit of rag was then put in the fire, and the girls cried out that they burned dreadfully. To quench it they dipped it in some water, and Deliverance started like a deer for the river, but was caught by a swift youth before she plunged in.

The cunning Candy exulted in the efficacy of her charms, and all beholders thought her mistress had practised upon her ignorance, and Goody Hawks had to confess to save her life.

About this time commeced the Andover tragedy; where as Cotton Mather says, was discovered the most horrid crew of witches that ever disgraced a New England town The wife of Joseph Ballard of Andover fell sick, and the town doctor finding her disease too stubborn for his art, advised her husband that she was bewitched. This practice was too common among the early Massachusetts physicians. The hint took with Ballard; and he forthwith sent men and horses to Salem village, and to the house of Mr. Parris, and brought to Andover old Tituba’s pupils Abagail Williams and Mary Walcot. When these came into the sick woman’s room, they said they could well enough see witch spectres hovering round her bed and person, but not being acquainted with any Andover people, they could not name the originals. Describe them says the husband; and they did so in language sufficiently vague to embrace half the women in the town;―and still fancy or malignity might select at pleasure; and fancy or malignity did select at pleasure and that most fatally, as the event will show.

Dudley Bradstreet, son of the old patentee, was then the acting magistrate in Andover, and he granted a warrant against a number of women on this occasion and held the examination in the meeting house. After prayers by the Rev. Mr. Barnard, minister of the town, the women were brought in, and Abagail and Mary fell down in fits at the sight, as in time past at Salem; and when the prisoners laid hands on them, they rose up and said they were well. All the old experiments were tried with the old success; and Bradstreet committed a number of his towns-women to Salem prison, to answer there, and Abagail and Mary returned home with increased credit. Yet Goody Ballard died soon after of a fever; and Dudley Bradstreet repented of the step he had taken. Some of these in their weakness were made to confess the wildest witch pranks on record, and to implicate others as associates, by which more than forty Andover women were ensnared by witch prosecutions and some lost their lives.

Here follow some of the recorded confessions of these Andover witches, long after drawn up, with death’s terrors before them. Ann Foster was one of these. She had been brought to acknowledge, in Salem prison, that she was a witch, and had attended a great witch sacrament at Salem village; that she rode thither on a pole, behind Martha Carrier, high through the air; that on their way the pole broke, and that she holding fast by Martha, came to the ground and was sorely bruised by the fall, but they mounted again and went on. Being asked what they eat, she said they carried their bread and cheese in their pockets, and ate it before the meeting began, sitting under a large tree, with the Andover company, and they drank water from a brook near by.

On the 21st of July, Hathorn, Curwin, Gidney and Higginson, assistants, sat upon her confession in public, and they began thus: Goody Foster, you know we have spoken with you before; you have committed great wickedness, but it seems that God will give you more favor than others, since you relent, but you did not tell us all; your daughter has confessed that she sat with you and Goody Carrier when you did ride upon the pole? F.―I did not know. How long has your daughter been a witch? F.―I have no knowledge of it―I cannot tell. Did you see her at the witch meeting? F.―No. But you said she was there, and that you stood off and did not partake; gve us a full account? F.―I know none who were there but Goody Carrier. Were there not two companies in the field? F.―I know no more. Here Mary Warren, one of the afflicted, interposed a new lie, and said that Carrier’s spectre told her, that Foster had made her daughter a witch! and the court then said to F., will you now confess you did so, about three years ago? F.―I know no more about my daughter being a witch, than upon what day I shall die. Are you willing that she should make a free confession? F.―Yes. Will you confess? F.―Yes; if I knew anything more I would speak. The magistrate now directed to have Goody Lacy, the daughter, called in, and as she entered she began. O, mother, how do you do? O, mother, we have left Christ and the devil hath got hold of us; O, how shall I get rid of this evil one! I pray God to break my rocky heart that I may get the victory this time. This witchcraft of the daughter was a surprise upon Goody Foster, she came to the confession prepared to accuse herself and Goody Carrier, but the danger of her child distressed and confounded her, and when urged to speak she answered incoherently. I did not see the devil, I was praying to the Lord. To what Lord, said the court. F.―To God. To what God do witches pray? F.―I cannot tell. The Lord help me! and she sat down overpowered, as the justice concluded guilty of witchcraft, but in truth with her own fictions. Lacy.―They were some of the higher powers; they were―Goody Lacy, said the court, let your daughter come in; we will examine her a little, and when Mary Lacy the younger, and granddaughter of Foster entered, she stood before the magistrates with downcast looks, an interesting girl of seventeen; yet at sight of her Mary Warren fell down in a violent fit. Whereupon Hathorn said to Mary sternly, why dare you come here, and bring the devil with you, to afflict these poor creatures; now look upon these maids in a mild and friendly way, said he, and then she turned upon the afflicted a look so kind and gentle that the bystanders smiled in sympathy, and yet the bewitched band were struck down,―pity, thought the beholders, that eyes so mild and blue should bear the devil’s spite in them.

And now said Hathorn, do you confess yourself a witch,―she hung her head―tears flowed down and she sobbed out,―ye-s, sir.

Well maiden, said the justice, you are accused of tormenting Goody Ballard, how do you do it? I don’t know. How long have you been a witch? Not above a week. Have you ever seen the devil? Yes sir. Did he bid you worship him? Yes sir. And to afflict people? Yes sir. I see, said Major Gidney, one of the magistrates, that you are in a fair way to obtain mercy. Do you desire to be saved by Christ? Yes sir, I do. Then said he, you must tell all you know.―The Lord help me so to do, said Mary. I was in bed when the devil came to me; in bed! said the Major―the devil came to your bed! how did he look? Like a great black dog. O, very well, you may go on,―what did he say? He bade me, said Mary, obey him and that I should want for nothing, and he promised he would not betray me, but he’s an old liar. How long ago was this, said Hathorn. About a year. Richard Carrier now comes often a’nights, and has me to afflict people.―He’s a rogue, cried the Major, and is making a very bad use of you! but where do you go? To Goody Ballard’s sometimes, and my mother and grandmother and Richard Carrier and his mother go there to.

Did you attend the great meeting at Salem village? Yes. Who went with you? My mother, and grandmother and Goody Carrier rode upon a long pole through the air; and I rode behind Richard Carrier upon another pole! Did you see any men at the meeting? None but the devil. How did he appear?―Like a black man with a high crowned hat on.―But did you see no other man? Your mother and grandmother say they saw a minister there. I believe I did see a minister. Was not Mr. Burroughs there? Yes he was. Thus was she made, by leading questions to accuse an absent and innocent minister of the gospel. These confessions in the end produced a sentence of death against Goody Foster and the elder Mary Lacy; but they were reprieved by Sir William Phipps and finally pardoned.

Mary Osgood, was one of the Andover witches accused by Abigail Williams of afflicting Goody Ballard, and after long imprisonment she was induced to give her confession in the form of a deposition; and she stated ‘that about eleven years before as she one day walked in an orchard near her house in great distress of mind, she attempted to pray; at this moment what seemed a cat crossed her path, and by its strange movements so fixed her attention that she ceased to pray. Soon a strange influence came over her and she prayed again and as she presumed to the devil for presently a black man appeared, and offered her a large book to sign; she wrote her name in it and where her finger touched the paper, it left a red spot. The apparrition told her that she was his, and that he was her God, and that she must worship him! and she believed she consented so to do.

Nine years after, the same personage appeared and carried her with others, upon a pole through the air to Five-mile-pond, and there making her renounce her former baptism, baptized her, amen, since which she afflicted people, and frolicked with the devil upon Sabbath days, and other holy festivals.

Hathorn, before whom this was also taken, always ready to hunt witches, no sooner heard that Mrs. Osgood and the devil had company upon the pole; than he asked her who they were. She replied they were Goody Tyler, Mistress Baker, and Dea, Fry’s wife. These were then arrested, and constrained to make further witch fictions to save their lives. And thus was the business driven on. There were sceptics even at this season of the delusion, who denied the validity of spectral evidence. It appears, said they, that the devil can use the spectre of one person to afflict another; why may he not take the spectre of an innocent person in that business, and then as things now are, every man’s life is at the mercy of the devil; for between him and the afflicted he is sure to suffer. Hathorn on this occasion asked Mrs. Osgood whether the devil, or his witches could use the shape of an innocent person to afflict people.―She replied that it could not be; for said she, last Monday night we witches had a meeting to afflict people, and Goody Dean and myself tried to carry the shape of the Rev. Mr. Dean of Andover between us to make it believed that he afflicted persons; but we could not. And why could you not do it, said the justice. Because, said Mrs. O., the Lord would not suffer so good a man, to be so used! This answer saved the worthy minister, who had often been hinted at by the bewitched. He was not a sound convert to witchcraft.

But on the 14th of May 1692, Sir William Phipps arrived with the Provincial Charter, and immediately took upon himself the government.

On the second day of June five magistrates sat, and selected for trial Bridget Bishop, the wife of Edward Bishop of Salem. This poor woman had for many years been reputed a witch; and this by the accusations of one Samuel Gray, and although on his death-bed he confessed his sorrow for the wrong he had done her, yet the imputation still rested upon her, and now enabled the afflicted, with their managers, to destroy her. And above all, as an excrescence supposed to be a witch teat was found on her body. To give currency and popularity to her execution a story was fabricated, and most industriously circulated by the witchcraft party, that as Bishop was led out to execution under a strong guard, she gave a look at the then newly erected meeting house in Salem, so blasting and spiteful, that an invisible demon forthwith entered in and tore down a portion of the holy edifice. And this is from Cotton Mather’s account of the Salem witch trials, drawn up for inspection, and by the request of Sir William, himself. The commissioners then adjourned to the 30th of June following.

Aside from the manifest fallacy of her supposed crime, and the illegality of Sir William’s commission to try witches, the woman had violated no existing law, statute or common. On the eighth of June, and two or three days after her trial and condemnation, the general court of the province was convened, and their only act was to revive the whole colonial code laws including the old Cottonian laws against witchcraft; and this upon the ground that the authority of these laws, ceased with the first charter. The law then upon which Mrs. Bishop was tried was a dead letter; it was revived, and in two days after she was hung. A strange and startling mistake by men who had charge of the lives and fortunes of the people. So difficult is the art of just government.

No wonder then that Sir William, five days after this witch execution, asked council of the leading ministers of the colony in form. And the response drawn up by Cotton Mather is as follows: “The afflicted state of our poor neighbors, now suffering by molestations from the invisible world, we apprehend, is so deplorable that we think their condition calls for the utmost help of all persons in their several capacities. Yet we acknowledge with thankfulness the success, which the merciful God has given to the sedulous endeavors of our honorable rulers, to defeat the abominable witchcrafts which have been committed in the country. We judge that in the prosecution of these, and all such witchcrafts, there is need of exquisite caution, lest too much credulity for things, resting only on the devil’s authority, should enable him to get an advantage over us; for we should not be ignorant of his devices. All things should be managed with exceeding tenderness towards those complained of, especially if they be persons heretofore of unblemished reputation. Nor is the circumstance of the accused being represented by spectre to the afflicted a sufficient ground for conviction; for it is an undoubted thing, that a demon may, by God’s permission, appear for ill purposes in the shape of an innocent, yea and a virtuous man.”

“We know not, however, but some remarkable affronts given to devils, by our disbelieving their testimonies, may not put a period to the progress of the dreadful calamity now among us in the accusation of so many persons for witchcraft.”

But lastly say the ministers to Sir William: “We cannot but humbly recommend unto the government the speedy and vigorous prosecutions of such as have rendered themselves obnoxious to the laws of God and the wholesome statutes of the English nation in the detection of witchcraft.” This document was dated Boston, June 16th, 1692, and signed by the principal ministers of the province, and unfortunately for the country the government seemed to heed only the last clause of the device, as will be seen hereafter.

A quorum of Sir William’s commissioners again sat at Salem on the 30th of June, for the trial of witches; Lieut. Gov. Stoughton, and Messrs. Winthrop, Sewall, and Gidney being present, and on that day they commenced the trial of Susanna Martin of Amesbury.

She was a woman of uncommon ingenuity and enterprise; and was now a widow, with the care of a considerable estate, and a large family thrown upon her. She, like Bishop, had long been reputed a witch, and an unsuccessful attempt had once been made to convict her. Mather in his account of her case, drawn up by order of the government, declares, “that she was one of the most impudent, scurrilous, wicked creatures in the world,” and the court treated her with great severity. But she repelled all false charges with invincible spirit; as will be seen by the following dialogue which took place at her primary examination, and which was now detailed in evidence against her.

Justice.―Pray Goody Martin, what ails these young people? Martin.―I don’t know. J.―But what do you think ails them? M.―I do not desire to think upon the subject. J.―Do you not think they are bewitched? M.―No, I do not think they are. J.―Tell us your thoughts about them then. M.―My thoughts are my own when they are in; but when they are out they are another’s―their master! J.―Their master! Who do you think is their master? M.―If they be dealing in witchcraft, Sir, you may know as well as I. J.―Well, mistress Martin, what have you done towards these girls? M.―I have done nothing at all. J.―Why it is either you or your spectre. M.―I cannot help what my spectre does. J.―It is either you or your master. How comes it that your spectre should hurt these people? M.―How do I know how it comes? Samuel was a glorified saint; but he that appeared to Saul, in Samuel’s shape may now appear in any one’s shape. A very pertinent reply and puzzled the justice. Martin was indicted for witchcraft and sorceries upon the body of Mary Walcott on the second day of May, 1692, and also for divers other acts of witchcraft before and after that time, without specification of time or place. John Allen testified, that the widow Martin once requested him to cart some staves for her, but he refused because his cattle were weak and poor; at which she was displeased and said he would be sorry for it; and before he could reach home his oxen tired and fell down. This was supposed to be by witchcraft, though Allen said the oxen were too weak to draw staves. After this he turned them upon Salisbury beach to fatten, but they became so wild that no one could approach them, and when it was attempted to drive them home they ran furiously into the sea and were drowned. Another witness purchased a cow of Martin’s son; she opposed the bargain, and soon the animal became furious and unmanageable. And these were considered cases of witchcraft.

Bernard Peach testified, that once being in bed on a Sabbath night, the widow Martin came into his room through the window, and seizing him, drew up his body into a heap and she then lay upon him about two hours, but at last after a severe struggle he got two of her fingers between his teeth and bit them until she cried out with the pain and vanished. At another time when she was after him he struck her or her spectre with his quarter-staff and it was reported that she was wounded on the head. So it was sworn that she once travelled from Amesbury to Newbury on a rainy day without wetting even the soles of her feet, and boasted that she scorned to be drabbed. It was concluded in court that the devil helped her on.

But the most wonderful story told on this occasion was that of Joseph Ring; the man seems to have been a good fiddler, whom the old charter witches and demons selected for their peculiar use and amusement. He testified that for two years past he had been strangely carried about through the air to witch revels and dances; that for a long time they had kept him dumb, but since they began to be prosecuted he had in a measure recovered his speech. His knowledge of them and their power over him, began thus:

As he sat in his house one day, a stranger of suspicious mien applied to him to give music to a company of dancers on a certain evening; and whilst the timid and distrustful fiddler hesitated, the proffer of a large sum of money by the stranger, and which he too readily accepted, induced him to make the desired promise and immediately the man vanished so suddenly that Ring was exceedingly startled and repented of what he had done; but it was too late. At the appointed hour he found a horse, well caparisoned, standing at his door; he took the hint, but no sooner had he mounted into the saddle, than the animal leaped into the air and pushed forward with a velocity which deprived him of all consciousness of time or distance and almost of existence itself. He next found himself in front of a splendid building, with lights from every part streaming out upon night’s darkness, but from whence issued no sound of mirth or festivity. Presently Goodman Ring was introduced into a spacious hall, he screwed up his fiddle, began to play, and then the dancing began in good earnest. At once a preternatural influence came over him, and he was amazed at the power of his own instrument, which seemed to fill that ample hall to its very roof, and to inspire dancing which he now plainly saw was superhuman. It was here that he saw the widow Martin, the prisoner at the bar, swinging and dancing among the revellers, like a nimble maiden of eighteen; and he was willing to swear to her identity.

When the dancing ceased, the personage who first engaged him came with a book for him to sign, and an ink horn containing something like blood. But the fiddler refused his name, and casting his eyes downward he saw that cloven foot which had been the terror of all New England for half a century, and in his distress he called upon God for help. At once a horrid hysteric laugh burst upon his ears, and then suddenly all was darkness, and he found himself in the crotch of a great pine tree, cold and comfortless, in a lonely plain, and the stars of midnight winking down upon him. He descended as well as he could, wandered about in the woods until morning light, and then found his way home; but he could never again find that pine tree that made the witch palace.

From that time forth the witches and demons had power over him and used him as they pleased. And Mather says “that whenever he was brought unto their hellish meetings, and showed any disobedience one of the first thing they did unto him was, to give him a knock on the back, whereupon he was ever as if bound with chains, incapable of stirring out of the place till they should release him.”

After this strange testimony was in, the court asked Martin what she had to say for herself. She replied that she had always led a virtuous and holy life, that she knew nothing of the crime whereof she was accused, and she protested against the proceedings and the evidence against her. Yet the jury soon returned a verdict of guilty, and the court pronounced sentence of death. On the following day Elizabeth Howe was tried. The evidence against her was very similar to that against Martin. She was of Ipswich, and first became noted as a witch by an abortive attempt to join the church in that place, which led to an investigation of her character, and brought out her witchcrafts. This woman it was thought had a burning witch bridle, which tortured any horse that wore it to efforts beyond its strength; it would also turn to a horse any man or beast on whom it was placed. Isaac Cammins swore that he had a very spirited mare, which he believed Howe used freely in her witch frolics. The mare grew sick and weak without apparent cause, and upon examination she seemed bruised and lamed as if rapidly ridden over rocks and rough places, and the marks of the burning witch bridle were visible upon her; nay, she was found so sulphurious that, the owner passing near her one night in the stable with his lantern, she took fire, and emitted a blue brimstone blaze, fine as a knitting needle, and which singed her own hair and endangered the barn. The beast died soon after in strange spasms. It further appeared by the confessing witches that Goody Howe was one of those who had been baptized by the devil at Newbury Falls, and before which baptism he made them all kneel down by the river’s brink and worship him.

Elizabeth Howe was indicted for witchcraft upon Mary Walcott and Mary Lewis; the jury returned her guilty and the court sentenced her to death.

At this same session were also tried Sarah Good, Rebecca Nurse and Sarah Wilde, and found guilty.

On the 19th of July these five were executed. At the gallows Noyes urged Sarah Good to confess, and told her she was a witch and she knew it; to which she replied: “Sir, you are a liar; I am no more a witch than you are a wizard, and if you take my life God will give you blood to drink.”

Stoughton and his associates were now the terror and scourge of the country. On the fifth of August they sat at Salem. Six unresisting and helpless females they had already hung without law or crime; and whose terror-stricken kindred dare not raise even a murmur of discontent. Indeed so subdued appeared the public mind, that they now adventured upon the trial of the Rev. George Burroughs, the only gospel teacher ever hung for witchcraft in this or any other Christian country. He had formerly been the settled minister of Salem village, and now an avowed infidel in the current notions of witchcraft. The Rev. Mr. Lawson, also once a teacher in the same place, was more pliant, and wrote a book flattering to the afflicted and their managers; had Burrows followed his example he might have escaped hanging.

Warily indeed did the prosecutors cast their entanglements about this devoted man. We first see a fictitious witch sacrament, with appropriate deacons;―next a clergyman, black-haired, short and thick set, with the devil to administer. All knew that this aimed at Burroughs. Then eight confessing witches affirmed that so great was his fidelity and zeal, that he was to be a king in Satan’s kingdom about to be established in Massachusetts. They multiplied his indictments to four; for afflicting those four bloody impostors, Mary Walcott, Elizabeth Hobart, Mary Lewis and Ann Putnam. And he stood before a prejudiced court and jury without hope of justice, or even of compassion.

The afflicted began their evidence with fits and outcries. They said Burroughs bit them, and showed what they alleged were the prints of his teeth on their flesh; and Ann Putnam said that even now his spectre presented her the devil’s book, boasting that he was above the ordinary rank of witches. Again they were cast into convulsions and could not proceed. Stoughton asked Burroughs, who he thought hindered those witnesses from testifying. He replied, perhaps it was the devil. “How comes the devil,” said his Honor, “so loth to have any testimony borne against you?” A foul response, but in keeping with his general conduct.

One of the afflicted declared that she was once in a trance, and that Burroughs carried her into a very high mountain and showed her all the kingdoms of the earth, and said that he would give her all these, if she would write her name in his book. She did not bid him get behind her, but told him that the kingdoms were not his to give, and refused to sign. This was a girl of eleven years, how could she distinguish between a trance and a dream? Yet her story went as evidence into the case.

Burrougs had been twice married, and it was reported that he had ill-treated his wives. But he asked the court very pertinently how this could go to sustain an indictment for afflicting Mary Walcott and for which he was then on trial. But the witnesses were not checked, and they testified that they had seen the apparition of two women, who said they were Burrough’s wives; and that he had caused their deaths; and that the Judges must be told of it; and that they did not know (strange language for ghosts) but they should appear in court at the trial. Presently Abagail Williams cried out in great apparent horror that the ghosts of those two wives had just now come in and were standing before Burrougs and crying for vengeance upon him. Yet Burroughs declared he saw them not, nor were the sound of their voices heard by the court or jury. At this the prisoner was said to be much appalled. No doubt he was so, at the depravity of the witnesses and their evidence.

But the girls went yet further, and affirmed that the spectre of Burroughs had often threatened to kill them, as he had many others who refused to obey him; and he named among his murdered victims Mrs. Lawson and her daughter Ann. The story was credited, as they presumed he might well entertain hatred towards the virtuous wife and daughter of a man like Deodat Lawson, his predecessor at Salem village. And it was now called to mind, says Mather, that the peculiar circumstances of their deaths, excited suspicion of witchcraft; yet no one then suspected from whence it came.

It was further testified that Burroughs, notwithstanding his holy orders, hated prayer and the ordinances of religion. His zeal only burned in the devil’s cause. The confessing witches also attributed their seduction to his wiles; he led them on to witch meetings, or to sorceries, by the promise of fine clothes and other unhallowed pleasures; he brought the poppets, or rag babies to them for afflicting people, and taught them where to stick the pins the most effectually; he even exhorted them to bewitch all Salem village, but with caution to prevent discovery; and now, they affirmed, for their penitence and confessions, Burroughs and the devils tortured them continually.

After Burroughs was hung, these confessors recanted, and confessed again the utter falsehood of all they had said respecting him. But they could not quicken the dead, or heal the wounds of bereaved friends, nor soften the hearts of such men as Stoughton, Mather, Parris, and the like.

The evidence was then turned to show that Burroughs was endowed with preternatural strength. He had been known to hold out in one hand, by the breech, a gun of seven feet barrel as if it had been a pocket pistol, and then to reverse it, and sticking his forefinger in the muzzle, to hold it out at arm’s length that way. So he would carry a full barrel of cider or molasses without staggering. But he offered to show that whatever he did in this way was to try his strength with an Indian who did the like, and even more than he could. But they who gave the testimony, says Mather, saw no Indian and it was at once concluded it must have been the devil, as Ann Putnam said he often appeared like an Indian! How did this testimony refute Burroughs? Did the witnesses see the devil in the shape of an Indian at the time? One Ruck, a brother-in-law to Burroughs testified to his preternatural walking. On a certain occasion a party in his company went to a distant field to gather strawberries. When they returned, a thunder shower was advancing, and all but the prisoner rode upon horses and at a quick pace; yet he suddenly slipped out of sight, and to their astonishment was at the house, with his basket of strawberries, before them. But he offered to show that another man was with him and walked as fast as he did, but Stoughton and his associates concluded that this pretended companion must have been the devil also and would not hear the evidence.

After this manner was the unfortunate man overwhelmed with false and absurd testimony, and the prejudice of those who held his life at will; and it was sneeringly said that he used many twistings and evasions to get off, but without effect; for the jury without hesitation returned a verdict of guilty, and the court pronounced his death sentence.

At his execution Mather and other ministers took care to be present. Burroughs, with the rest, was carted through the streets of Salem on his way to the gallows. Being on the ladder and the rope about his neck, in solemn and decided tones he proclaimed his innocence before the multitude. He then made his dying prayer with a deliberation and fervency that won the admiration of all present, and drew tears from many eyes. In conclusion he pronounced the Lord’s prayer without hesitancy, and the “amen” served the hangman for his death signal, and he was swung off. After it was over a strong murmur of discontent ran through the crowd, a popular uproar was feared, and a rescue of the other prisoners; but Mather, as he sat on his horse in the midst, addressed the people to dissuade them from violence. Burroughs, he said, should not be regarded as a minister after his league with the devil; and both his prayers and address, however earnest, were still deceptive, for the devil himself, he continued, when he will, can assume the guise of an angel of light.