1
JUSTICE arrives. She will not be stayed nor thrown from her scent, although the morning wears slowly and some fear JUSTICE will be balked.
On the twenty-seventh day of December, 1672, Judge Lollimour and Judge Bride, of the Court of Assistants, Boston, entered with pomp into Salem. They were escorted by the Boston marshal, by constables, aides, etc., in full regalia. This pretty cavalcade drew rein by the horse-block of the Black Moon, where ordinarily preliminary hearings were conducted.
Judge Bride (this was the great Judge Bride) said to Judge Lollimour, his colleague, ‘Sir, what will we do with this great crowd gathered hereabout, waiting to hear the findings of Justice?’
‘Sir,’ said Judge Lollimour, ‘the tap-room of the Black Moon could not accommodate one fifth of this great multitude. Let us move on to the Meeting-House.’
After them straggled the populace of some five villages—yes, and learned men, elders, doctors, jurists, etc., out from Boston. The crowd was black with the gowns of the clergy.
Every seat in the Meeting-House was quickly taken. The aisles were filled. Body pressed close to body, rendering breathing difficult. In this way a stale heat was engendered, and a fear, and an expectation. One said to another it was a fatal day. Some would have left if it had been allowed them, but the room being filled the Judges ordered the constables to permit neither egress nor entry. They feared a milling about and a turmoil that would be a detriment to the dignity of the Court.
The magistrates were set in great chairs before the pulpit. At their feet were pallets whereon the sick children should be laid when their time came to testify. The constables pulled a table (a heavy oak table) close to the magistrates. Upon this the accused should stand in the sight of all men—yes, and in the sight of God.
Certain men cried out, ‘Make way! Make way!’ and in came Captain Buzzey and the prisoner. She looked most wild and shaggy and of a touchingly small size. Captain Buzzey lifted her to the table set for her, and then, addressing the Court, showed true warrant for her arrest and swore that as commanded he had diligently searched the house for poppets, images, etc.; having found what he found, he now produced these things in the bundle which he laid at their honours’ feet.
Judge Bride, looking about him at the many black-robed clergy, said, ‘Gentlemen of the ministry, who among you officiating in these parts is senior?’ He was told Mr. Zelley was senior in these parts, but that the famous Mr. Increase Mather was present. ‘Sir,’ said Judge Bride, ‘will you, Mr. Zelley, offer up a prayer?’ Mr. Zelley prayed, begging God to discover evil where there was evil and innocency where there was innocency. He prayed that the prisoner confess if she might be guilty, but if she were innocent, God strengthen her not to confess merely to save her life. To this prayer the magistrates gave fervent amen.
Judge Lollimour thus addressed the prisoner at the bar: ‘You understand, Doll Bilby, whereof you are now charged, that is, to be guilty of sundry acts of witchcraft, more specifically the wasting and afflicting of twin sisters, Labour and Sorrow Thumb. What say you to it?’
‘I am as innocent as the babe unborn.’
‘You are now in the hands of authority and, God helping, you shall have justice, and the afflicted shall have justice. May God help us all.’
Then Judge Lollimour called on many witnesses. He called on Mr. Kleaver the surgeon, and the older doctor from Salem whose name was Bunion. He called upon the Thumbs and upon Widow Bilby. This latter woman showed such spite and malice in her testimony that Judge Bride frowned upon her and reproved her. Thus, instead of hurting the accused, she helped her, for the Judges felt some pity for the tousled, wild child (she seemed but a child) perched upon the table in the sight of all men—yes, and in the sight of God.
Mr. Zelley was called. He was a bony man of fifty years, and his hair was white. In contrast to the big fine presence of Mr. Mather and many another clergyman then present, he seemed a poor thing; that is, uncertain, ill at ease. He spoke in a low voice, saying how good had been this young woman as a child. How in earliest womanhood she had shown a most exemplary piety. How she was often at her prayers, and came to him for religious comfort, etc. As he spoke, he twisted his hands in his sleeves as a boy might. Then he said in a defiant voice that the girl had since childhood endured the most cruel abuse from her foster mother—that is, from this same Widow Bilby, who had but lately been heard. This last statement had much weight with the Judges, who thereafter did not permit Widow Bilby to testify, or, if they did, they took her words with knowing glance. By this dismissal of Hannah they also dismissed the earlier tales of Doll’s witchcraft. Although they heard how the green fruit of Hannah’s womb was blasted, how she had suffered a wretched and unaccountable illness, it was evident they were not impressed—rather were they bored. To the death of Mr. Bilby they listened with more attention, questioning a number (especially Mr. Kleaver and Mr. Zelley) with some pains. When they heard that the dying man with his last breath denied any witchcraft, they would not permit Hannah to explain how it may be that an evil spirit enter a corpse and then cry out.
At noon, while they ate their bloaters and drank their rum punch at the Black Moon, the barmaid heard Judge Bride say to Judge Lollimour that it was easy to see through the whole miserable affair. In primo: This rustic town was so tedious they had to patch up an excitement—he would begin seeing devils himself if he lived there. Secundo: This jealous, scolding widow was at the bottom of it. Tertio: The wench indeed looked like a goblin, and, no matter how pious a life she might lead, village gossips would always speak ill of her—especially, as in her own ungodly way she was a pretty mouse. Quarto: They would both of them be back in Boston within the three-day, the case being dismissed and the local people reproved for their gullibility. Said Judge Lollimour, ‘Sir, we have not as yet seen these afflicted children.’ Judge Bride said, ‘Blah,’ draining the last of his rum punch.