The secrets of black arts!

by Anonymous

SALEM WITCHES,

MASSACHUSETTS, U. S.

We now commence some detail of the witch persecution from 1645 to the 2d charter, 1692, there stood upon the statute book the old Cottonian law of 1645, against witchcraft, a false recognition, by the highest authority of the devil’s power to appear in the colony; nay, by strange construction it was made an act of conjuration, a summons to come forth, and which he was well pleased to obey. Within one year after the statute recognition of witchcraft, in the jurisdiction, a case occurred. It was in Springfield upon the Connecticut river, and in the family of the Rev. Mr. Moxam. Two of his children betook themselves to extreme oddities in speech and behavior, and it was readily supposed they were bewitched, but there was no proof to fix the sorcery upon any one, until three or four years afterwards, when an old woman of settled witch reputation, upon close examination was said to have confessed her guilt, and here the matter rested. The case of Mrs. Margaret Jones of Charlestown was fatal. She was reputed a witch of such extraordinary malignity, that her touch would produce blindness, sickness at the stomach and violent pains, and in 1648 she was tried and executed. In disgust and distress, her husband went on board a vessel to leave the country, and then the vessel began to rock as if it would upset, and so continued for twelve hours. Upon this the enemies of Jones procured a warrant of arrest from the Governor and assistants, then sitting at Boston; and when he was imprisoned, the vessel became quiet. There were on board this vessel at the time as she lay in Charles River, eighty horses, shipped for Barbadoes, and this was the witchcraft that rocked the vessel; and as we hear no more of Jones, no doubt the assistants saw the error and released him. In 1652, the year that old Massasoit and the Rev. John Cotton died there was another case at Springfield. Hugh Parsons was indicted for witchcraft. The jury found him guilty; but the magistrates who tried the cause would not agree to it and under a law of 1651, it was carried to the general court, where the man was discharged.

The next, was the case of the widow Hibbins, whom Gov. Endicot and the assistants hung for witchcraft May 27, 1656. Her husband was a rich Boston merchant, and an assistant when the law against witchcraft was passed, and thus he qualified his enemies in the devil’s name, to put a halter about his wife’s neck. She was a haughty dame and was not, they thought, sufficiently humbled by her husband’s great loss of property in later life, and she came under church discipline and censure. But this only inflamed her hot temper, and a witch prosecution could alone reduce her to reason. At her trial it was proved, that having once seen two persons in the street talking, she said she knew it was about her, and unhappily she guessed right. This turned the case against her, and she thus lost her life. At her trial they searched her body for the devil’s mark as they did the Quaker maidens, Mary Fisher and her friends in less than two months after; but none were found. Before execution Mrs. Hibbons made her will, and therein begged her friends to respect her body, and give it a Christian burial. But the whole colony rang with her story. It was exceedingly alarming to the rulers that Satan should presume so high as an assistant’s widow, and for more than thirty years there were no witch executions here, although there were many supposed cases of the offence.

In 1662 witchcraft passed over to Connecticut. In Hartford at that time, there was imprisoned as a witch, a Mrs. Greensmith and the peculiar art that was used to entrap and convict her deserves our notice. In the same place there lived a girl whom they called Ann Cole, and much admired for her beauty and ingenuity. She understood the Dutch and French languages, rare attainments then, but which of themselves would hardly excite suspicion to her prejudice, even in the realm of blue laws. But she possessed in addition to these, the power of ventriloquism in a high degree, and all combined, came very near to her own undoing; indeed they quite undid old Mrs. Greensmith. Ann Cole at first only amused herself with the little ones of her own family, and when she practiced the deceptive art in the Dutch language, the unearthly jargon seeming to came from no visible object, it afforded her great amusement to see the terrified urchins gather round the very cause of their alarm for protection. Success tempted her on, and she began to amuse herself with her neighbors. When they came in and were seated perhaps the chair would seem to compliment them with “how do you do?” and if they started up in surprise, “pray keep your seat,” would follow in a low coaxing tone; and then the house cat seated in Ann’s lap would sing melodiously. But although the facetious maiden never suffered these pastimes to pass without explanation, yet some doubted, and eyed her with jealousy and circulated strange stories, and before she had thought of consequences, rumor had declared her a sort of Magdalene, and that her demons talked to each other, in a strange variety of languages. These reports excited the attention of two clergymen of the place and they obtained Miss Ann’s consent to approach her so near when a conference of her spirits took place, as to hear and write down the particulars; and herein commenced the only veritable witchcraft of the case; for Ann Cole’s ventriloquism or the listening ministers, feigned the supposed demons to converse with Mrs. Greensmith as one in league with them to do mischief, a foul slander in either case, and which cost the poor woman her life. The clergyman then repaired to prison, they said the accused was much agitated upon learning the discovery they had made, and by sharp interrogatories was made to confess her familiarity with the devil. She had not signed his book, or made a covenant with him, but at the then coming Christmas, she was to be ready for a high frolic and then all was to have been finished. Strange hymenials for a woman of seventy-five and the mother of ten sons and daughters and abundance of grandchildren; and it does not even appear that she was a widow. However the poor woman was hung without scruple, or space for repentance, and without apparent pity for her future state; or whether in her execution they were doing the devil a good or ill service.

In October 1671 a demon, it was said entered into Elizabeth Knapp, an unmarried girl of Groton, and he caused her alternately to weep and laugh, and then in great agitation to call out money, money, like a modern paper banker.—On the 17th of December following, this demon began again to speak in the young woman and to utter horrid railings against the minister of the town, but without harm to his character, as the people would not believe him. He next made Elizabeth accuse the minister’s wife as the cause of all her woes; but in this also he obtained no credit; for the pious woman, after prayers with her accuser made her confess the slander; and the devil had to shift his quarters, for he can never do his business unless he can maintain some reputation. In 1679 a demon probably the same infested a house in Newbury. Sticks and stones were thrown at the family, by an invisible hand: and a staff which hung against the wall, began to swing of its own accord; and then leaped down and danced on the hearth, and when they seized it to burn, it could hardly be held on the fire.—So a dish, when the owner of the house was writing, leaped into the pail and threw water on his work. At length the terrified family cried to God for help; and then the demons were heard to say mournfully that they had no more power, and soon departed.

In 1682 one Desborough of Hartford was possessed of a chest of clothes, claimed by his neighbor, but which he would not give up. Soon after many stones, and corn cobs, were thrown at him by an invisible hand. They came in at the doors of the house, and through the windows and sometimes even down the chimney. At length fires were set on his lands which did him much damage. Whereupon he gave up the clothes and his vexations ceased.

So about the same time, a Quaker at Portsmouth, withheld from an old woman of his town, a lot of land which she claimed as her own; and stones soon began to be thrown at his house by an invisible hand. When they were picked up, it was said they were found hot, and smelt of brimstone, by which it was readily known from whence they came. Upon this the subdued and terrified Quaker settled with the woman and his troubles ceased. Both these cases are recorded as examples of witchcraft. Yet to us they seem to be those where claimants of property, seek other remedies than courts of law. But among these examples there is recorded one tale of horror. It appears that at Hartford, and about the time of Ann Cole’s case, one Mary Johnson a young girl in her minority, was indicted and tried by the supreme court for familiarity with the devil! The jury returned her guilty; and that mainly upon her alleged confessions. I will transcribe a portion of Cotton Mather’s history of this case. “The girl said that her first familiarity with the devil began in her discontent, and by her often saying the devil take this and that, and sometimes wishing the devil would do this or that for her, until at last the devil did appear and tendered her what services might best content her. Then if her master blamed her for not carrying out the ashes, the devil would come and clear the hearth for her. So when she was sent to drive the hogs out of the corn field, the devil would so chase and frighten them as to make her laugh most merrily. She further confessed that she had murdered a child and committed uncleanness with both men and devils;” and it was for an illicit intercourse with the latter, that the Connecticut govenor hung this young woman.

After her sentence the Rev. Mr. Stone of Hartford, visited her in prison and as he verily thought was successful in turning her heart towards the true God. So that when led out to execution she expressed a humble hope in the mercies of redemption; and died much to the satisfaction of those gathered round the gallows. In this black transaction who does not see the full success of some vile seducer of female virtue, in an apparent legalized destruction of his victim. Yet it is called a case of lamentable witchcraft. So it was with those who slew the innocent. In 1685 or 6 a book was published at Boston with the approbation of the ministers and magistrates. It recited the cases I have named with many others and contained various arguments to fortify their credulity. The Rev. Cotton Mather of Boston, a man of great influence in church and state was the author; though he at the time withheld his name. He was then a young minister of about five and twenty, the son of Mr. Increase Mather then president of Cambridge college,—a position then of greater civil and church power than any other in the land; he was also the grandson of the great John Cotton. Mather’s opinions and turn of thought were in harmony with those who then ruled in Massachusetts, and we thus consider him.

This book produced the notorious witch case of the Godwins, of which he also published an account commencing thus. “Haec ipse miserima vidi.” John Godwin was a Boston merchant, a character of the first respectability, and he sat under the teachings of Mather himself. A poor Irish woman called Glover, with her daughter lived near him. The young Glover often served in Godwin’s family, and on a certain time being accused by his eldest daughter of some little theft, she cast back a denial and abuse for the accusation. The mother came up also and defended her child, and her passion and wild Irish accent, so terified the little Godwin that she was thrown into hystericks, and they were kept up from day to day. Her case excited great commiseration in the neighborhood and the physicians who were called in, being puzzled, pronounced it a “preternatural visitation;” a very significant phrase, by which all understood that the little maid was bewitched. Next her little sister, and two brothers seeing what was going on, had fits also and were afflicted by the invisibles. They declared they were pinched and pricked by some one whom they knew not, and then at times they would seem deaf, dumb and blind; and sometimes their mouths would be forced wide open and then suddenly brought together with great violence, to the great hazard of their tongues.

Stoughton and Dudley, both first charter rulers, were now also supreme judges, lately commissioned by Sir Edmund; and these at the solicitation of Mather and others, ventured to arraign and to try Mistress Glover for witch practices on the Godwin family. But she was a stranger to the language and too ignorant to understand legal proceedings, and when asked to plead to her indictment, her answer was unintelligible. The court then swore an interpreter, and he soon confessed himself puzzled declaring that he believed some other witch, or the devil himself had confounded her language, lest she should tell tales. Then they searched Glover’s house and some rag babies were found stuffed with goats hair. We must know that the woman was a Catholic and sold toys.

When one of these images or puppets was brought into court, the witch swiftly and oddly started up and seized it, and immediately one of the children had a sad fit before the court and assembly. The judges noted the fact, and repeated the experiment and with the same result, as it was said, the children saw not when Glover laid her hand on the baby images. In the end the court was satisfied that she used these dolls mysteriously in her work of torment. She owned also that there was one who was her prince, but did not say whether he were the pope or the devil. It was suggested that she might be crazed; but a jury of doctors returned, that she was compos mentis. She was finally sentenced to death and executed in Boston; yet the afflicted children did not recover but rather grew worse, or they improved by practice, for they would now bark at each other like dogs and then they would purr like cats. They would pretend to be in a red hot oven, and pant and sweat accordingly; and then that they were cast into cold water and appeared very chilly.

Sometimes the devil would bring Miss Godwin a horse, and then she had all the graceful motions of an equestrian. One day she rode up stairs into the minister’s study, where upon she cried out as if surprised, “they are gone. God won’t let them come here;” and she was at once cured, and sat reading the Bible and other good books for a long time. But when she left the study the demons returned, with her horse, and she frolicked as before.—This experiment of the charmed study, was tried before many visitors and with the like success. Mather’s experiments further satisfied him that Miss Godwin’s demons understood Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, but none of the Indian languages.

This tragedy also began in a minister’s family. The Rev. Samuel Parris, was educated at Cambridge. He first engaged in trade, but being unsuccessful he turned to the ministry and was settled at Salem village. At the time now in view, his parish was in a high quarrel of which his arts to obtain the fee instead of the improvement for life only of the parsonage farm, was the cause. And whilst thus warm with mutual malevolence, pastor and flock, the current notions of witchcraft suddenly placed in their power the means of mutual revenge; and they were at once fully delivered over to the effects of their own excited wrath. A very mutual but terrible punishment. It was a horrid policy in the charter government to ever use the devil to overawe the people. A boundless power of evil, which a child, as well as a minister, or a charter ruler, could set in motion; and then whoever could might lay him. In the latter part of February, 1692, two children in the Parris family, both about ten years old, Elizabeth his daughter, and Abagail Williams his niece, began to behave in a strange manner; they would creep under chairs, sit in uncommon attitudes and utter language which none could understand; and as they were pitied and indulged; their freaks increased until it was thought they were very like the Godwins, and must be bewitched; and the physicians when called in confirmed the opinion. Mr. Parris only increased their malady by holding a day of solemn prayer at his house with the neighboring ministers.

But he had in his family two slaves, John and Tituba his wife. The squaw was from New Spain, and once a subject of the old Montezumian empire, and probably was imbued with some of its gloomy and unfathomable superstitions. Her thoughts too seemed as busy as her master’s, and she told him that although no witch herself, she once served a mistress who was, and who taught her how to find them out; and she would try upon the children without hurting them. Parris greedily took with her scheme, and he saw her while she took rye meal and kneaded a cake, which she salted in a peculiar manner, and which she said, when baked in green cabbage leaves in the embers and eaten by the two girls, would make them see their tormentors; and she continued the experiment. But although both she and her master affected to act and talk myteriously, yet the children as they crept about shrewdly under the chairs, eyed the cookery with a very jealous interest, and when they became conscious that the unsavory morsel was for their mouths they grew restive; for no necromancy could satisfy them that Tituba’s briny bread was like gingerbread, or anything good, and they began to show a rational opposition. But Tituba said they must eat, and Mr. Parris began to use authority. “I’ll smell on’t,” said little Elizabeth, “now won’t that do? say yes, say yes, good Titty.” But she shook her head. Bless me, said the father, how natural they seem; and about the same time the slave pulled the rank cake from the embers, and as the hot scent filled the room, Abagail cried out, there! there! I see them, I see them as plain as day, and so do I, said little Elizabeth. O how many! and there’s old Titt, too, she torments us, old Titt torments us, said they both.

It was now all over with the Mexican. In vain she frowned and coaxed by turns; or denied that the girls could see witch spectres by the smell of her cake only. She discredited her own magic, and which they would sustain for self-defense, and the more she labored thus, the more they professed to be tormented, until Parris himself took their part and threatened Tituba with punishment unless she confessed and disclosed her confederate witches. And John, too, her husband, when he saw her in distress meanly deserted her. He told master Parris that the girls no doubt spoke the truth; that she had for a long time tormented him, and was an old hand at it. But discouraged and deserted as she was, her master’s whip alone, as she afterwards affirmed, brought her to lie, and to confess that the devil engaged her to sign his book, and to afflict the children. And thus was acquired the spectral vision by the afflicted so much used and so fatally for the peace of the country, as we shall hereafter see. Tituba was imprisoned and so continued, until sold to pay her prison fees! And Mr. Parris fasted and prayed at his house a whole day. His family now excited a general sympathy and consideration, which others were willing to share. Their persecutions, Satan being the author, were somewhat honorable, and Ann Putnam, an older girl of the neighborhood, instigated by her mother no doubt, pretended to be afflicted also. Thus fortified, they now complained of Sarah Good and a Mrs. Osborn. It was supposed that the equivocal character of these caused the accusation; and it was the more readily credited. They were committed by two Salem magistrates the first week in March. Of Osborn we hear no more; but Mrs. Good was finally executed.

It is almost incredible, and yet it is sober history, that a little daughter of Sarah Good, five years old only, was accused by the afflicted of tormenting them; and they showed what they pretended were the prints of the child’s little teeth on their arms! The Salem magistrates committed this mere infant for witchcraft, but as we hear no more of her, she was probably liberated without further harm.

About this time there was a great fast at Salem, and another proclaimed by the government throughout the colony, “that the Lord would effectually rebuke Satan and save his people.” And the afflicted accusers multiplied daily, and there was added to the number Ann Putnam’s mother, goodwives, Pope, Bibber and Goodall, maidens, Mary Walcott and Mary Lewis; also, Tituba’s husband John; he turning accuser to save himself from being accused. About the same time a society was formed in Salem for the detection of witches, and these procured the accusation and commitment of many. This formidable band of accusers now cried out against two aged females who were church members, by the names of Corey and Nurse. Mrs. Nurse belonged to the church in Salem under the Rev. Mr. Noyes, and Mrs. Corey was of Mr. Parris’ flock. This was a dark business. It was supposed Parris instigated the accusation. For when made he gave it publicity and strength; and on the following Lord’s day he preached in his pulpit from this text: “Have I not chosen twelve, and one of you is a devil.”

A Mrs. Cloyes, sister to Nurse, was at the meeting, and during the furious and uncharitable sermon which followed her distress for her sister’s life, which it much endangered, constrained her to leave the meeting. A high wind closed the door suddenly after her, and it was said that she showed temper; and on the following Monday an accusation for witchcraft by the Parris family, and those under its control, went after her, upon which she was carried before Hathorn and Currier for examination. This charge, we know, must have been both malicious and false, as it was sustained by perjury.

A further knowledge of the temper and insolence of those, in whose power the lives and liberties of the citizens were now placed, may be gathered from this incident. On the 9th of March a Mr. Lawson, minister of Scituate, preached for Mr. Parris, it being the Sabbath day, and the bewitched band were present. After the psalm had been sung, Abagail Williams called out to him to stand up and name his text, and when he did so, she said it was very long indeed. In the discourse, he explained some point of doctrine at considerable length, when Mrs. Pope said loudly, “now take up some other point, the people have had enough of that.” In his improvement he made reference to doctrines which he said he had established. “Pray,” said Abagail again, “what doctrines do you mean?” And then Ann Putnam suddenly cried out, there! there! I see a little yellow bird sitting on the minister’s cocked up hat; there where it hangs on the peg in the pulpit. This was spectral vision; nobody else saw it and it seemed to be considered that the devil thus scoffed and jeered the congregation through the mouths of the afflicted.

The six commitments now made of the females—Tituba, Osborn, Good, Corey, Nurse, and Sarah Good’s little daughter, were upon the assumed authority of the two Salem magistrates alone, instigated by Parris. On the 11th of April, Danforth the Deputy Governor, with the council came down from Boston and sat formally with Hathorn and Curwin in the place of power.—The Governor Bradstreet the old patentee, who hung the Quakers, was now almost ninety; and ill qualified for the new service. Many of the neighboring ministers were also present. This terrible witch inquisition gave a sanction to the delusive and malicious prosecutions, and sealed the doom of many innocent victims. The inquisitors, the accused and a cloud of spectators, met in a large meeting house, Mr. Samuel Parris being employed as clerk, and assuming also a leading part in the production and examination of witnesses. The Rev. Mr. Noyes of Salem, an enthuiast in witch hunting opened the business with prayer. After which one of the accused begged that she might go to prayer also; but Danforth told her, they had come there to examine into her witchcrafts, and not to hear her pray! and she gave it up. Mr. Parris then began business by calling up as a witness Tituba’s husband John. That cunning treacherous slave knew well how to please his master and save his own neck: and living in the Parris family he knew also the views and wishes of those who now controlled the witch accusations.

Question.—John; who hurt you? A.—Goody Proctor first, and then Goody Cloyes. Q.—What did she do to you? A.—She (who?) brought the book to me, and choked me. Q.—John, tell the truth now, who hurts you; have you been hurt? A.—The first I saw was a gentlewoman.—(This was no doubt, a dark hint at Mrs. Mary English, the wife of one of the first merchants in Salem, and who was afterwards arrested and committed.) This was the woman, who, when the constables were at the door to seize and carry her to prison, called her little ones round her, gave them her parting blessing and advice, prayed with them, and wept over them, as she supposed for the last time, and then gave herself up quietly to her fate. Q.—John, who did you see next? A.—Goody Cloyes. Q.—How often did she torment you? A.—A good many times. Q.—Do the women come to you mostly in the daytime or in the night? A.—They come most in the daytime. Q.—John, do you know Cloyes and Proctor? A.—Yes, there is Goody Cloyes. Upon this Mrs. Cloyes looked sharply at him and said;—tell me when did I ever come to, or hurt thee? John.—(a little abashed,) O, a great many times. O, said Cloyes you are a grievous liar! Upon this Parris grew warm. Now, John, said he, tell us what did this Cloyes do to you? A.—She did pinch me and bite me till the blood came. She came and hurt me yesterday at meeting.

This was the woman whose only crime was leaving Mr. P.’s sermon. The malice of the master, the perjury of the slave, and the despotism of Danforth and his assistants were too hard for her. John, too, seems to have had the spectral vision in a high degree, though he never even smelt of his wife’s cake. He learnt it, no doubt, of the little girls her pupils, as did Ann Putnam and others. Parris then called Mary Walcot, and asked who hurt her. A.—Goody Cloyes. Q.—What did she do? A.—She hurt me. Q.—Did she bring the book? A.—Yes. Q.—What were you to do with it? A.—Sign it, and be well. Then she fell into a fit, in affected horror at the devil’s book. Abagail Williams, who so successfully outwitted Tituba in the matter of the salted cake, was next called by her uncle Parris. Abagail, said he, did you, by your spectral vision, once see a company near this meeting house eat and drink? A.—Yes sir;—it was their witch sacrament. It was on the day of the great fast. They had bread like raw flesh; and they had red drink, which they said was our blood; and they had it twice that day. Q.—How many were there? A.—About forty; they came together by the sound of a trumpet. They had a minister who preached, and Goody Cloyes and Goody Good were their deacons.

Mrs. Cloyes was of rather delicate health, and when she heard this strange tissue of falsehood, so great was her surprise and terror, that she sickened and asked for water, but as no one would assist her, she fainted and fell upon the floor. Upon which Abagail cried out, there, there, I see her spirit fly to her sister Nurse in prison for council; and she was believed; and as soon as the woman revived, she was forthwith imprisoned.

Parris then asked Mary Walcot if she had ever seen a white man. And she answered yes; often. Q.—What sort of man is he? A.—A fine, grave man, and when he comes he makes all the witches tremble, and he tells us when our fits will come on and when they will go off. This was supposed to be Jesus Christ come down to pity and to talk with bewitched children and save the charter churches. A horrid blasphemous fiction, but yet credited by the government of the colony before whom it was uttered. The justices then proceeded and said, Elizabeth Proctor, you understand, that you are here charged with sundry acts of witchcraft, what say you to it? I take God in heaven to be my witness, that I know no more of witchcraft than a child unborn. This woman was of excellent character, the mother of a fine family of children, all then dependent on her for nurture and protection. It is very difficult to account for her selection and accusation as a witch. Some accident, or that she was obnoxious to the Parris or Putnam family, who fabricated all the early accusations, must have been the cause. But when her unhappy husband saw his wife rudely seized like a felon in her once peaceful home, he resolved to accompany her to the examination; and his conjugal fidelity cost him his life.

Her examination began thus: Question.—Mary Walcot doth this woman hurt you?—Answer.—I never saw her to be hurt by her. Q.—Mary Lewis, does she hurt you? No answer. Q.—Ann Putnam, does she hurt you? She could not speak; and Abagail Williams thrust her hand into her own mouth lest she should speak. A pause, and almost a failure. John, said Mr. Parris, who hurts you? This is the woman, said the Indian, who came in her shift to me and choked me. And now the girls were ready to say she hurt them, and brought the devil’s book for them to sign, and the crafty Abagail, with affected simplicity and sincerity, said to Mrs. Proctor, did not you tell me that your maid had signed? Dear child, said Mrs. Proctor, it is not so; remember, dear child, that there is another judgment. Then Abagail and Ann seemed to have fits; by and by they cried out, look you, there is Proctor on the beam; and her husband, too; Proctor is a wizard! Proctor is a wizard! The man was confounded. There, said Ann, Proctor is going to take up Mrs. Pope’s feet; and her feet flew up; and now, said Abagail, he is going to Goody Bibber; and Bibber fell into a fit! The Deputy Governor and Council seemed surprised, and said to Proctor, you see the devil will deceive you, the poor children could see what you were about before the women were hurt. “Repent, for the devil is bringing you out.”

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.

At the same time, and to assist Mather, a story was circulated in the assembly that the bewitched girls could plainly see the black man standing near Burroughs, and assisting him in this his last effort. After this the executions went on in peace. At this session also was tried and condemned old Martha Carrier. She was regarded as one of the most decided and active witches in the country. This was the woman, of whom it was repeatedly testified, that the devil had promised her that she should be Queen of Hell; an elevation to which her enemies readily awarded her a title. Her true character was untiring industry, ceaseless vigilance and extraordinary exactitude in the discharge of all duties, and so she never sought excuses for remissness or neglect she would grant none to others, and as a majority of the world are ever on the other side, she first became the terror and then the hatred of her delinquent neighbors. In spite to her family, it was said that she ruled her husband, and that Goodman Carrier would never stick to any bargain of goods or chattels, lands or tenement, unsanctioned by her. Her children too she kept in strange obedience to her will; but her’s was a well-ordered and a thrifty household. Yet they called her a witch until the foul stain became deep and fixed.

Mather declares that when the poor tortured witnesses were brought forward against her in court every one expected their death on the very spot. Her malignant look would strike them down, and then her touch, her eyes being averted, would raise them up; and when they could speak, and testified that her shape had twisted their necks almost round; she said that they were miserable wretches and no matter if their necks had been quite twisted off.

She was indicted for afflicting Mary Walcott and Elizabeth Hubbard; and to make sure of her they terrified and tortured two of her own sons into confession, by tying them neck and heels together, until they said she was a witch, and had also given them over to the devil, and they particularized the time and place.

So old Goody Foster, and her daughter and granddaughter, the two Lacys, were brought up again to renew the old story of the witch sacrament, and riding on a pole; a recital of which wonderful adventure deeply interested Stoughton and his associates. Even in open court during the trial Susanna Shelden’s hands were tied so inexplicably with a wheel band, which they were obliged to cut, like the Gordian knot.

Most of the testimony on her trial, was similar to that given in against Bishop, How, and Martin; being of various injuries to the cattle and health of the people of Andover. But to every accusation she opposed a decided denial; threats could not weaken her, nor promises seduce her resolution to abide by the truth. Invitations to repent, confess and be saved and which others accepted so readily, she treated with contempt; her conscience was too sensitive for such falsehood and her courage remained unshaken through all the terrors of a public prosecution, trial and execution.

And who will deny to Martha Carrier’s name a place among those of recorded martyrs for the love of truth.

The boldness and even ultraism of the Andover witcher in covenanting with the devil, and renouncing infant baptism, and receiving an adult baptism at his hands by plunging in rivers and ponds, (a hit by the standing order at the Anabaptists,) and in riding on poles with him, startled and terrified the country. Some of these practices were peculiar to that company, and brought out by spectral discoveries of Abagail Williams and other pupils of old Tituba. Under this excitement the General Court met at Boston in October, 1695, and then passed a law of death against those who should feed, consult, employ or covenant with no evil or wicked spirit.

John Proctor and his wife, with John Willard, were also tried at the August session of the commissioners.

Willard had for some time been used by the prosecutors as a witch hunter, and to bring in the victims for examination; a most odious and unpopular office. But the many cases of individual and family distress and despair, which he daily witnessed in this employment, at last so excited his compassion, that he refused to act. Immediately upon which, and to punish signally the supposed affront and rebellion, he was cried out upon as being himself in league and covenant with the devil, and well knowing his danger he at once turned and fled northwardly into the wilderness towards Canada. But swift runners were sent on foot in the same direction who soon came up with him. And it was given out by his enemies, that the bewitched girls at Salem were conscious of the exact moment of his arrest, though many miles distant; and that one of them cried out in open court, “now Willard is taken!” which proved to be correct. He was brought back, and hung in terror to all offenders against the then dominant bloody influences.

Proctor and his wife were those whose primary examination of the 11th of April has been already detailed. Some of the same magistrates who then advised their commitment, now sat on their final trial, and they found no favor. Both were returned guilty by the jury and both received sentence of death from the commissioners, and with only ten days space to prepare for eternity.

Goody Proctor turned out to be in delicate health and circumstances, and her execution was deferred until the fury of persecution was past, and she was saved.

But for Proctor himself, although he became ensnared by his conjugal fidelity, there was no commiseration or hope; and as death nearly approached, he showed more fear than any of his suffering companions. Indeed, in all these terrors it was notorious that females suffered with the most patience and fortitude.

His letter to five of the principal clergymen in and about Boston shows their supposed influence with the government, and in the witch prosecutions.

It was written in prison a little before his trial, and is addressed Messrs. Mather, Allen, Moody, Willard and Bailey.

Up to his last moments, Proctor begged hard for his life, or for only a little space to prepare, or for repentance, often saying he was not fit to die; but all to no purpose.

After he went up the ladder he begged Mr. Noyes, his own pastor, to pray with him; but he refused, because Proctor would not confess himself guilty of witchcraft, and thus give the strongest possible sanction to the bloody measures then in progress. As he was at last forcibly pushed off, begging for his life and protesting that he was an innocent man.

On the 9th and 17th of September the witch commissioners sat and sentenced to death fifteen more; and on the 22nd of the same month, eighth of these, viz.: Martha Corey already mentioned, Mary Easty, of Topfield, Alice Parker and Ann Pudater of Salem, Margaret Scott of Rawley, Mary Parker and Samuel Wardwell of Andover, and William Reed of Marblehead, were hung; and as the cart with these ascended witch hill to the place of execution, it proceeded with difficulty, and at last came to a stand; whereupon the afflicted declared that the devil himself blocked the wheels. Why should he hinder a witch execution? It was doctrine then, that at their death, he had the immediate possession of their souls.

It was on this occasion that the Rev. Mr. Noyes, turning to the eight bodies hanging on the tree, said aloud to the by-standers, “how sad it is to see those eight fire brands of hell, hanging there!”

Wardwell was one of those who had confessed himself guilty of witchcraft; but afterwards denied his confession. When he was on trial his former confession, and the spectre evidence of the afflicted, were given in against him, and this was all the evidence.

Calef says that at his execution, whilst addressing the people and protesting his innocence, the hangman smoked tobacco, and the smoke blowing in his face interrupted his discourse; but the accusers said that it was the devil who smoked him.

Here it seems according to the afflicted, the devil did not wish his man to escape; contrary to his allged conduct in the cases of Burroughs and Proctor.

Mrs. Mary Easty, hung on this occasion, was also the sister of Rebecca Nurse, and no doubt but that her connection with that ill-fated woman who was herself a victim to sisterly love, was the cause of her persecution and death. The three sisters were noted for their mutual love. Her’s was a hard case and excited great public commiseration. It was hoped that her spotless character and example would prove too strong on her trial, for the fictions and fits of the afflicted and their partizans. But they employed a jury of eight women, and a doctor to search her body for the devil’s marks, and an excresence was found which was pronounced to be a witch teat; and it turned the case against her.

Shortly before her execution, she called her husband, children and friends about her in prison, and gave them her last farewell, with such affectionate and pious exhortation, as drew tears from the eyes of all present. She also sent to the court the following petition, which presents a vivid picture of her case, and of the unhallowed times on which she had fallen.

“To the Honorable Judge and Bench, now sitting in Salem, and the Rev. Ministers; This petition humbly sheweth; That whereas your poor petitioner being condemned to die, doth humbly beg of you to take into 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 subtility and wiles of my accusers towards myself, cannot but judge charitably of others, who are going the same way to death with me, if the Lord step not mightily in.

“I was confined a whole month, on accusation of witchcraft, and then cleared by the afflicted persons, as some of your Honors know, and in two days time I was cried out upon by them again, and have been since confined, and now am condemned to die. The Lord above knows my innocence, and it will be known at the great day by 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. I question not but your Honors do to the utmost of your powers in the discovery and detecting of witches, and would not for the world be guilty of innocent blood; but by my own innocency I know you are in the wrong way. May the Lord in mercy, direct you in this great work.

“I would humbly beg that your Honors would be pleased to examine some of those confessing witches; I being confident that there are some of them who have belied themselves and others, as will appear, if not in this world, I am sure it will in the world to come, whither I am going.

“They say that myself and others have made a league with the devil; we cannot confess. The Lord knows they belie me, as I question not they do others; the Lord alone who is the searcher of all hearts knows, as I shall answer at his judgment seat, that I know not the least thing of witchcraft, therefore I cannot, I durst 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.

“Mary Easty.”

This touching and modest declaration Mary Easty sealed with her blood. Her husband, Captain Isaac Easty, was a soldier, and then stood in arms against the French and Indians, and to defend the country and the same power which forced away his wife from her once happy home and family, and without regard to her known piety and virtue, carted her up Witch Hill and hung her on the limb of a tree.

Of the other persons hung on the 22d of September 1692, few particulars have come down to us, either in history or by tradition. It was the last execution and its atrocity manifestly weakened the authority of Phipps’ bloody witch court, and the credit of the Parris afflicted band. It swelled the number of victims to twenty, nineteen of whom had now been hung on that fatal gallows-tree, in after ages an object of peculiar superstitious dread; and their bodies, unhonored even by funeral decencies, though not unwept by private affection, were cast with public ignominy into untimely graves about its roots. But the tree withered, as was supposed, thunder-smitten, and stood for years with leafless, outstretched branches and shattered trunk, until burned to the ground by the descendants in the third and fourth generation of those who suffered on it. In superstitious minds tempests and torrents could not wash away the blood from the unhallowed hill whereon it grew, and the soil was cursed and barren of all wholesome vegetation.

But all were not executed who were tried and sentenced. Besides Elizabeth Proctor, Abigail Falkner of Andover was saved by her delicate family condition. At her trial the court took the confession of her little daughter, ten years old, against her. But Dorcas Hoar of Beverly, Rebecca Eams of Boxford, Abigail Hobbs of Topsfield, Mary Bradbury of Salisbury, and Ann Foster and Mary Lacy of Andover, all flattered their persecutors by a confession of the charges against them, and thus escaped death.

This whole slaughter of the innocent under the similitude of legal forms, was the work of little more than three short months. A sudden bereavement, indeed, of near and loved friends. When, however, a lawful court was established, this sham tribunal, happily for the country, came to an end. And it is some consolation to know that it was entirely discontinued with the regular jurisprudence of the country.

The last witch trials ever holden in Massachusetts were those five at Ipswich about the middle of May, 1693, and to which I have already referred.

By this time the spectre evidence, or the devil’s testimony through the mouths of the afflicted, had become so unpopular that none of the judges dared to sustain it, and the juries also disregarded it; and from this time forth it was manifest that there could be no more convictions for alleged witchcrafts.

And thus public opinion, operating through the jury and the only part of the government at that time through which it could operate, in effect annulled the bloody witch law, passed by false agents of the people, against common justice and in favor of the then ruling political interests and influences; or the old charter church and state aristocracy. And history rarely reveals to us a more bloody despotism. And shall it not stand forever as a warning against any interference by a people’s self-government with the religion or business of the community?

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Early in the year of 1727 the last witch-fire was kindled with which the air of bonnie Scotland was polluted. Two poor Highland women, a mother and daughter, were brought before Captain David Ross of Littledean, deputy-sheriff of Sutherland, charged with witchcraft and consorting with the devil. The mother was accused of having used her daughter as her “horse and hattock,” causing her to be shod by the devil, so that she was ever after lame in both hands and feet. The fact being satisfactorily proved, and Captain David Ross being well assured of the same, the poor old woman was put into a tar-barrel and burned at Dornoch in the bright month of June. “And it is said that after being brought out to execution, the weather proving very severe, she sat composedly warming herself by the fire prepared to consume her, while the other instruments of death were getting ready.” The daughter escaped. Afterward she married and had a son who was as lame as herself, and in the same manner; though it does not appear that he was ever shod by the devil and witch-ridden. “And this son,” says Sir Walter Scott, in 1830 “was living so lately as to receive the charity of the present Marchioness of Stafford, Countess of Sutherland in her own right.”

This then, is the last execution for witchcraft in Scotland; and in June, 1736, the Acts Anents Witchcraft were formerly repealed. Henceforth to the dread of the timid, and the anger of the pious, the English Parliament distinctly opposed the express Law of God: “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live;” and declared the text upon which so much critical absurdity had been talked, and in support of which so much innocent blood had been shed, vain, superstitious, impossible and contrary to that human reason which is the highest Law of God hitherto revealed unto men. But if Parliament could stay executions it could not remove beliefs nor give rationality in place of folly.

Not more than sixty years ago an old woman named Elizabeth M’Whirter was “scratched” by one Eaglesham in the parish of Colmonel, Ayrshire, because his son had fallen sick, and the neighbors said he was bewitched. Poor old Bessie M’Whirter was forced over the hills to the young man’s house, a distance of three miles, and there made to kneel by his bedside and repeat the Lord’s Prayer.

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In offering this collection of witch stories to the public, I do not profess to have exhausted the subject, or to have made so complete a summary as I might have done, had I the space, but I do not think that I have left much untold.

Neither have I attempted to enter into the philosophy of the subject. It is far too wide and deep to be discussed in a few hasty words; and to sift such evidence as is left us—to determine what was fraud, what self-deception, what disease and what the exaggeration of the narrator—would have swelled my book into a more important and bulky work than I intended or wished. As a general rule, I think we may apply all four conditions to every case reported; in what proportion, each reader must judge for himself. Those who believe in direct and personal intercourse between the spirit-world and man will probably accept every account with the unquestioning belief of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries; those who have faith in the uniform operations of nature, will hold chiefly to the doctrine of fraud; those who have seen much of disease and that strange condition called “mesmerism,” or “sensitiveness,” will detect the presence of nervous derangement, mixed up with a vast amount of conscious deception, which the credulity and ignorance of the time rendered easy to practice; and those who have been accustomed to sift evidence and examine witnesses will be dissatisfied with the loose statements and wild distortion of every instance on record.

The whole world was overrun with witches. From every town came crowds of those lost and damned souls; from every hovel peered out the cursing witch, or cried aloud for help the stricken victim. These poor and old and wretched beings, on whose heads lighted the wrath of a world, and against whom every idle lad or moping maid had a stone to fling at will, were held capable of all but omnipotence. They could destroy the babe in the womb and make the “mother of many children childless among women;” they could kill with a look and disable with a curse; bring storms or sunshine as they listed; by their “witch-ropes,” artfully woven, draw to themselves all the profit of their neighbor’s barns and breweries; yet ever remain poor and miserable, glad to beg a mouthful of meat or a can of sour milk from the hands of those whom they could ruin by half a dozen muttered words. They could take on themselves what shapes they would, and transport themselves whither they would. No bolt nor bar could keep them out; no distance by land or sea was too great for them to accomplish; a straw—a broomstick—the serviceable imp ever at hand—was enough for them; and with a pot of magic ointment, and a charm of spoken gibberish, they might visit the king on his throne or the lady in her bower, to do what ill was in their hearts against them or to gather to themselves what gain and store they would. Yet with all this power the superstitious world saw nothing doubtful or illogical in the fact of their own exceeding poverty, and never stayed to think that if witches and wizards could transport themselves through the air to any distance they chose, they would be but slippery holding in prison, and not very likely to remain there for the pleasure of being tortured and burned at the end. But neither reason nor logic had anything to do with the matter. The whole thing rested on fear, and that practical atheism of fear, which denies the power of God and the wholesome beauty of Nature, to exalt in their stead the supremacy of the devil.

This belief in the devil’s material presence and power over men was the dark chain that bound them all. Even the boldest opponent of the Witchcraft Delusion dared not fling it off. The bravest man, the freest thinker, could not clear his mind of this terrible bugbear, this phantasm of human fear and ignorance, this ghastly lie and morbid delusion, or abandon the slavish belief in Satan for the glad freedom of God and Nature.

Superstition dies hard; or rather, so far as we have yet gone, it does not die at all, but only changes its form and removes its locality. If educated people do not now believe in witches and Satanic compacts, as in the ignorant old times of which these stories treat, they do still believe in other things which are as much against reason and as incapable of proof. And perhaps it may give some cause to think that assertion does not necessarily include truth, and that skepticism may be at times a wiser attitude of mind than credulity, when they remember that the best brains in the world were once firmly convinced of the truth of Possession and the diabolical art of witchcraft, and realize how many innocent men and women were murdered on the strength of these beliefs and to vindicate the honor and glory of God. So long as one shred of superstition remains in the world, by which human charity is sacrificed to an unprovable faith, so long will it be necessary to insist on the dead errors of the past as a gauge for the living follies of the present.

But the snake is scotched, not killed. So far are we in advance of the men of the ruder past, inasmuch as our superstitions, though quite as silly, are less cruel than theirs, and hurt no one but ourselves. Yet still we have our wizards and witches lurking round area gates and prowling through the lanes and yards of the remoter country districts; still we have our mediums, who call up the dead from their graves to talk to us more trivial nonsense than ever they talked while living, and who reconcile us with humanity by showing us how infinitely inferior is spirituality; still we have the unknown mapped out in clear lines sharp and firm; and still the impossible is asserted as existing, and men are ready to give their lives in attestation of what contravenes every law of reason and of nature; still we are not content to watch and wait and collect and fathom before deciding, but for every new group of facts or appearances must at once draw up a code of laws and reasons, and prove, to a mathematical certainty, the properties of a chimera, and the divine life and beauty of a lie. Even the mere vulgar belief in witchcraft remains among the lower classes. And indeed so long as conviction without examination, and belief without proof, pass as the righteous operations of faith, so long will superstition and credulity reign supreme over the mind, and the functions of critical reason be abandoned and foresworn. And as it seems to me that credulity is a less desirable frame of mind than skepticism, I have set forth this collection of witch stories as landmarks of the excesses to which a blind belief may hurry and impel humanity, and perhaps as some slight aids to that much misused common sense which the holders of impossible theories generally consider it well to tread under foot, and loftily ignore.