GOODY GLOVER, AN IRISH VICTIM OF THE WITCH CRAZE, BOSTON, MASS., 1688.
BY HAROLD DIJON.[[3]]
Leonard Scot, in his Discoverie of Witchcraft, gives this definition of a witch: “The sort of such as are said to be witches are women which be commonly old, lame, bleare-eied, pale, fowle, and full of wrinkles; poore, sullen, superstitious, and Papists; or such as know no religion.” Ralph Hoven, an Anglican divine, concedes: “All Papists be not witches, but commonly all witches be the spawn of the Pope.”
The Rev. Josiah Templie, in a sermon preached at Rye in 1619, says: “Because of witchcraft we have divers mischiefs and disorders; and witches they be so long as there be Papists, drabs of the strumpet Pope,” and so on. Oates, in The Witchcrafts of the Roman Jezebel—a folio that brought him a considerable fortune,—repeats the foregoing statements in language not printable.
John Cunliffe of Preston complained in 1596 that witchcraft was made a plea for “burning those of the Old Religion; in moste parte they who be in great povertie.” How many of those burned for witchcraft in England were Catholics, it is not impossible to ascertain. Much material appertaining to the subject waits to be investigated.
The opinion fostered in England that a witch, a devil, and a Catholic were different terms for the same thing, was as sedulously cared for in New England; and we find Cotton Mather, in his Magnalia, and in a sermon preached in Old North Church, Boston, using virtually Scot’s definition of a witch to describe the subject of this sketch.
“Glover,” he says, “was a scandalous old Irishwoman, very poor, a Roman Catholic and obstinate in idolatry.”
A Boston merchant, one Robert Calef, who knew Mrs. Glover, writes of her in More Wonders of the Invisible World, printed in London in 1700. The sympathy he expresses for her was bold for the time, prevented the publication of the work in Boston, brought on him the vituperations of Cotton Mather, and caused the book to be burned in Harvard College yard, by order of Harvard’s president, Dr. Increase Mather.
Calef says: “Goody Glover was a despised, crazy, poor old woman, an Irish Catholic, who was tried for afflicting the Goodwin children. Her behavior at her trial was like that of one distracted. They did her cruel. The proof against her was wholly deficient. The jury brought her guilty. She was hung. She died a Catholic.”
Drake, in his Annals of Witchcraft in New England, makes the following comment on this passage: “Glover was not a crazy person, as we now understand the word; it was not meant that she was insane, but simply that she was weak and infirm.” We have not lost the old meaning of the word; and such expressions as “a crazy table,” “a crazy structure,” are quite common.[[4]]
Ann Glover [commonly called Goody Glover] and her daughter had been living in Boston for some years prior to her execution in 1688. It is not known what part of Ireland she came from. She herself has stated that she and her husband were sold to the Barbadoes in the time of Cromwell. She also related that, shortly after the birth of her daughter, her husband was “scored to death and did not give up his religion, which same I will hold to.”
How Mrs. Glover came to be in Boston can only be conjectured. It is possible she came in that train of servants and Indian slaves brought to the Puritan Colony from the Barbadoes, some of whom fell to the Rev. Mr. Parris, of Salem fame. Little is known of her life in Boston before 1682, beyond the fact that the presence of a Catholic in a community that looked upon itself as “the only Christian people” gave great umbrage.
In 1682 a woman who had labored in vain to convince Mrs. Glover of her “Papistical errors,” accused her of witchcraft; and, dying shortly after, prophesied that “Goody Glover would be hung.” The prophecy was not forgotten.
The mother and daughter were wretchedly poor, and barely able to make a scant living by washing the clothes of such as could be induced to employ a “Papist.” Among those who employed them was the family of John Goodwin. John Goodwin had come to Boston from Charlestown, and was the father of four children—Nathaniel, Martha, John and Mercy,—all of whom were to be in the plot which did to death two harmless women, and which “sadly perplexed and befooled Cotton Mather.”
Cotton Mather, who was charged in 1693 with being “the chief cause, promoter and agent, and favourer of the prosecutions for witchcraft”! Cotton Mather, who “countenanced the executioners by his presence, and in various ways urged the terrible work of blood in Salem”! Cotton Mather, who, from being extolled for sanctity and learning, has come to be scoffed at as an “ignoramus, vain and mendacious”! Such was the pastor of Old North Church, of which the Goodwins were “pillars.”
In 1687 Martha Goodwin, who was then a child of twelve years, charged Mrs. Glover’s daughter with having purloined some clothes. The charge was indignantly repelled, and accusation was made that Martha wished to get Mrs. Glover into trouble. And then the daughter cried out: “You may have us whipped, but to the sermons we will not go.” Hereupon, Martha fell into a fit, which the “learned physicians of Boston declared to be diabolical.”
I think you will agree with me, when Martha’s pranks are further displayed, that the little girl had an attack of nerves and temper. What between tirades against witches, Catholics, Baptists and Quakers, and long sermons and long faces, the whole community was in a highly nervous state. Cheerfulness was sinfulness. Read of that monstrous Pharisee of five years old lauded in the Magnalia. She never laughed; she prayed her mother might be one of the elect, even as she was.
Mrs. Glover and her daughter were now in sorer straits than ever. No one would employ them, and had it not been for some secret aid they received from the Calefs, who were not bereft of reason and humanity, they must have starved. Even as it was, the treatment the daughter received—“stonings and revilings”—turned her brain, and she died a lunatic, frightened to death.
In the meanwhile, the lost clothes were found, by a woman employed in the Goodwin household, “stuck under a wardrobe.” This discovery led to no good results for Mrs. Glover, for now Mercy and the two Goodwin boys had fits “like unto those of the maid Martha”; and then Martha took it into her head to be again “afflicted.” The children asserted that the spirit of Goody Glover struck them with blows, cut them with knives, strangled them and sat on their chests. At devotions they pretended they could hear nothing of what was said. “Goody Glover stopped their ears! Goody Glover would have them worship her idols!” was their cry.
All this was so much gospel to a people saturated with prejudice; and the Boston and Charlestown ministers held a fast at Mr. Goodwin’s house. “The fast did greatly relieve the children.” Which goes to prove that if Mr. Goodwin had “whipped them all soundly and sent them to bed,” they would have been permanently cured.
But now “the magistrates, long annoyed by the presence of an obstinate Papist in Boston, ordered Goody Glover to be taken into custody.” A search was made of her house, “and certain images were found in secret.” It is not difficult to conjecture what they were. Beads or medals, maybe; certainly a cross or crucifix was one of them.
She was “loaded with chains” and placed in a prison. As no provision was made to feed prisoners in Massachusetts at that time, her condition must have been one of great distress. It is said that the Calefs continued to succor her, and there is a statement that a Dame Nourse of Salem, visiting Boston, gave her some aid. Can this be the explanation of Mather’s inexorable pursuit of Rebecca Nourse?
To relieve the tedium of an existence deprived of innocent amusements, the Goodwin children renewed their deceptions, and Cotton Mather, “to relieve the distress of the afflicted John Goodwin, took Martha to his house to live.” Now it was that the cunning mischief-maker befooled Cotton Mather to the top of his bent. Page after page of the ponderous Magnalia is occupied with a grave recital of the pranks played by this child in the minister’s house. “She screamed with pain, and cried that Glover’s chains were about her leg.... To prevent the escape of the prisoner’s spirit, to afflict the child, they put other chains on Glover.... They chained the Papist till she could not move and she did spew blood.”
Martha would not allow the spirit to be confined. She said Goody Glover brought her a horse to ride, and her pastor tells us “she would make all the motions of a person who rides, about the room and up the stairs, like one astraddle of a horse.”
Imagine the impish glee of the child at seeing the most important person in the Colony following her about in her horseplay, with looks of awe! Her terrible precocity taught her to play on his hatred of Mrs. Glover’s creed. “While possessed of the devil and Mrs. Glover,” he says, “she could read Popish books, but not books against Popery.” In the pastor’s study “she would become calm, and no longer afflicted. This was witnessed by divers persons, and many times.” When asked why she was not afflicted in the pastor’s study, the child replied, with a thorough reading of Mather’s greatest weakness—his vanity, “Your study is too holy a place for the devil or Glover to enter.”
The trial of Mrs. Glover was a farce. Pounded with questions on all sides, the poor woman was only able to answer her tormentors in Irish. “This she was instigated to do by the devil,” says Cotton Mather. There be no doubt that, owing to her great age, her sufferings in prison, the confusion of the court, which was added to by the screams of pretended pain from the Goodwin children, Mrs. Glover was temporarily deprived of English, “for which she never had a great facility.” One question, however, she did give answer to in English. They asked her if it was true that she was a Papist, “and showed to her an idol which was secret in her house. She snatched at it with a joy that was diabolical, and said: ‘I die a Catholic!’” Considering the material of which it was composed, it is no wonder that the jury, after this declaration of Faith, found her guilty.
The magistrates visited her in prison that night, “and they found her agreeable to their questions.” They asked her what would become of her soul after she was hanged. The simple and much-tried woman had the humility Cotton Mather lacked. “You ask me a very solemn question, and I can not tell what to say to it. I trust in God,” she replied. Cotton Mather also visited her in prison.... He asked her to say the Lord’s Prayer; for the common belief was that this could not be done by a Catholic or a witch. “She recited the Pater Noster to me in Latin,” he says, “and in Irish, and in English, but she could not end it.” Of course she could not end it in Cotton Mather’s way.
She caused Mather to wonder that she repeated in a voice “marvellous strong” the petition, “deliver us from evil.” He considers this to be a sign that she “reproached the devil for deserting her to be hung.” Poor, befogged man, whose conceit would not permit him to see that it was he himself she petitioned to be delivered from; for he argued with her to destroy her Faith. She refused Mather’s spiritual ministrations, and he feels assured that her “Catholic spirits” will not permit her to accept them, and he predicts to her, her speedy and eternal damnation.
The proffering of these several consolations increased Mather’s habitual satisfaction with himself, and he says: “Comforted at having performed a solemn duty” [the consigning of a soul to perdition], “I returned to my house.” Arrived there, he found the “Maid Martha galloping about the room on the horse, her feet not touching the ground, which was a great wonder.”
Mrs. Glover was hanged on the following day. “There was a great concourse of people to see if the Papist would relent.... Her one cat was there, fearsome to see. They would to destroy the cat, but Mr. Calef would not [permit the cat to be killed]. Before her execution she was bold and impudent [!] making to forgive her accusers and those who put her off.... She predicted that her death would not relieve the children, saying it was not she afflicted them.” This was construed into a threat; and the children continued their sport, till, “a very strict fast being held, they were completely restored.” After recounting the details of this “joyful restoration,” Cotton Mather becomes more than usually prolix in a relation of the piety of his protegés.
It is not denied that before and after the execution of Ann Glover there was a vast number of arrests and executions of reputed witches and wizards in New England, beginning in 1647, under John Winthrop, and culminating in the Salem massacre of 1692. It is not denied that neither age, sex, nor condition was spared. Some were children—one but four years old,—others of eighty and beyond; one was a minister; many were the most reputable people in the Massachusetts Colony.
What is asserted is that Ann Glover was put to death not so much because she was reputed a witch, as for the certainty that she was a Catholic. All we know of her is in the words of her enemies and executioners, except what is found in the scant record of Robert Calef, who exposed himself to utter ruin by his defence of her. The little we know, however, confirms the truth of my assertion.
It was only when all attempts to move Mrs. Glover’s “obstinate Papacy” had failed, that she was first accused of witchcraft in 1682. That the Goodwins were in the league “to bring her out of the burning”—that is, to induce her to forswear the Faith—may be inferred with safety from what took place in 1687. When her daughter was accused of theft by Martha Goodwin, she does not say, “You may have us whipped, but we are innocent of stealing”: this she had asserted before. She cries out: “You may have us whipped, but we won’t go to the sermons.” Does not this outburst unfold a tale of antecedent persecution suffered for religion’s sake?
A fast “had greatly relieved the Goodwin children”; the tempest they had aroused was lulled, and what happened? “The magistrates, long annoyed by the presence of an obstinate Papist in Boston, ordered Goody Glover to be taken into custody,” says Drake. At her trial there was not even such evidence to prove her a witch as would satisfy the gullible magistrates. It was only when Goody Glover made the declaration that she would die a Catholic that “the jury brought her guilty.”
It went hard with the magistrates and Cotton Mather that a poor old Catholic, a “scandalous Irishwoman,” withstood the doctrine of the self-reputed “saints”; and even now Goody Glover could have saved her life had she “relented.” The magistrates went to her on her last night alive, to beat down her opposition by questions of her soul. They failed, and Cotton Mather took their place.
He was above the law in the cheerless Colony. When, in 1692, the jury brought in poor Rebecca Nourse innocent of witchcraft, he had them sent to reconsider the evidence: at his beck they found her guilty. Then the governor, Sir William Phipps, pardoned her. In defiance of the pardon, Cotton Mather had her hanged, and saw her die on Witches’ Hill at Salem; and, “sitting on his black horse, he rebuked those who did bewail her; for she was an excellent woman.”
In view of this exhibition of his arbitrary power, is it too much to say that, had Goody Glover “relented,” in his vainglory over the conquest of a broken-down old woman, Cotton Mather would have had her set free? But the old Irishwoman conquered Cotton Mather. “She died a Catholic”; and, imitating her Divine Master, she died forgiving her enemies,—all those from whom she had suffered grievous wrong.