If there exists in the world’s annals more distinct testimony that a particular individual was the deliberate and intentional producer of acts which generated suffering, than Tituba gave that the “thing like a man,” which came to her once “when she was about going to sleep,” once “in the lean-to chamber,” once “when she was washing the room,” and who, on Friday night, appointed a place for meeting the next Wednesday night, and, with assistants, kept his appointment, and then and there, as he had previously announced his purpose to do, severely “hurt the children”—if there ever was recorded testimony which more distinctly designated a particular being as the principal in planning and enacting any scheme than is this from Tituba, by which she designates over and over again “a tall man with white hair,” wearing “black clothes sometimes, and sometimes serge coat of other color,” as the chief executor of the strange and momentous development of illnesses in the family of Mr. Parris, I know not where that clearer testimony is recorded. He who ignored several very significant parts of what Tituba said, rejected corner-stones which are essential to the foundation of a genuinely philosophical disclosure of the source and consequent nature of the mysteries he attempted to explain. Tituba has been described by Upham as “indicating, in most respects, a mind at the lowest level of general intelligence,” so that any one must be more rash than prudent who will impute to her ability to fabricate a series of facts, all of which seem to be natural and probable in the province of psychology.
Mr. Parris informs us that the strange sicknesses existed in his family during several weeks before he or others had any suspicion that they might be of diabolical origin. Tituba dates their commencement on the evening of January 20, just six weeks before her examination. Therefore Mr. Parris’s “several weeks” may have been five at least, during which he and his wife and their physician and friends probably studied symptoms, administered and watched the action of medicines, and cared for the children in every way, with as much freedom from delusion or bewildering excitement, as they could have done in any other equal portion of their lives. Such medical skill as then existed there, obviously had and used a very considerable period of time, not less than four or five weeks, in which to do its best, and yet was baffled. Its best was unavailing. We to-day perceive sufficient cause of its failure. It was contending against a special spirit infliction, the authors of which could either counteract, intensify, or nullify at their pleasure, the normal action of any common medicines or nursings. Parents, physician, and nurses no doubt witnessed from day to day such anomalous and changeful manifestations, sequent upon the administration of “physic,” as confounded their judgments, and made them at last suspect “an evil hand.” Tituba knew the cause of the illnesses, but probably lacked power to see and appreciate the continuous connection of that cause with the long series of its effects. Had she divulged her knowledge, what heed would have been given to the word of the ignorant slave? What beatings might she not well fear if she confessed to any dealings with invisible beings? No wonder that she kept her knowledge to herself, till fear of her master’s cane influenced her to disclose the facts to the magistrates.
Small as Tituba’s mental capacities were, she had some unusual susceptibilities, which permitted, or rather obliged, her to possess more knowledge of the origin and progress, and also of the nature and of the active producer, of the distressing ailments and “amazing feats” in her master’s family, than did master, mistress, physician, and magistrates combined. They saw—if it can be said that they saw at all—they saw only through thick, coarse, and blurred glasses, very dimly; while she, at times, clearly saw living actors face to face. From her we get the testimony of a witness who learned directly through her own senses what she stated; her testimony gives forth the ring of unflawed truth, and lifts a vail off from long-hidden mysteries.
Hutchinson, Upham, and Drake each sought to make it apparent that mundane roguishness, trickery, and malice, operating amid public credulity and infatuation, prompted and enabled frail girls and women to produce the “amazing feats,” marvelous convulsions, and all the many other woeful outworkings of witchcraft. Having been either unobservant of, or having ignored, the plain historic fact seen over and over again in Tituba’s testimony, that certain other intelligences than girls, that minds which were freed more or less fully and permanently from the hamperings of flesh, actually started the first display of witchcraft pinchings, fits, and convulsions at Salem Village, those historians wrongfully charged girls and women, whose bodies were then the subjects and tools of other intelligences, with being the feigners of maladies and the producers of acts which an eye-witness and reluctant participator distinctly declares were manifested in obedience to a will or wills not their own. Such oversight, or such discarding of facts, whichever it may have been, caused those writers to so restrict their stores of intelligent agents having more or less access to and power over man, as to put outside of their own reach and vision the actual producers of witchcraft phenomena. This self-imposed or self-retained restriction forced upon them necessity for efforts to show that mere children possessed gigantic physical and mental powers and brains which concocted and executed schemes that shook to their very foundations the strong fabrics of church and state—yes, forced them to ascribe mighty public agitations to insignificant operators.
Tituba, on the other hand, by a simple statement of what her own interior self saw, heard, felt, and did,—by a statement of what she actually knew,—designated the genuine and the obviously competent authors of witchcraft marvels, and explained their advent rationally. She, therefore, by far—very far—outranks each and all of those historians as a competent and authoritative expounder of the authorship, origin, and nature of Salem Witchcraft. Her “something like a man”—her tall white-haired man in serge coat—was its author. That man was a spirit, and his works were Spiritualism of some quality. Opposition revealed his possession of mighty force. And, whatever his motive, the result of his scheme was the death of witchcraft throughout Christendom, and consequent wide emancipation from mental slavery.
Some statements made and published by Robert Calef not long subsequent to 1692, wear on their surface the semblance of impeachments, or at least of questionings of the value of Tituba’s testimony. He says, “The first complained of was the said Indian woman named Tituba; she confessed the devil urged her to sign a book, which he presented to her, and also to work mischief to the children,” &c. We fail to find in Corwin’s report anything like a confession of any such things; she there states distinctly that The Devil tells her nothing, and also that the book was offered to her, and that the urgings to hurt the children were made to her by “something like a man”—by “the man.” She had no idea that the devil was her visitant, and never confessed that he tempted her.
Calef goes on and says, “She was afterward committed to prison, and lay there till sold for her fees. The account she since gives of it is, that her master did beat her and otherwise abuse her to make her confess and accuse (such as he called) her sister witches; and that whatsoever she said by way of confessing, or accusing others, was the effect of such usage.” This is credible, and is probably true. Such proceedings on the part of Mr. Parris are not inconsistent with the character which he bears. Tituba’s other master, the white-haired man, had charged her “to say nothing;” she perhaps, therefore, was in fact induced to utter “whatsoever she said by way of confessing or accusing others,” by beatings she received from her visible master. But what did she say by way of confessing or accusing? Nothing, really. She merely stated facts known to her; and such statement should not be misnamed either confession or accusation.
Corwin’s record of that slave’s testimony excites an apprehension—yes, generates belief—that Calef unconsciously made misleading statement when he wrote that “she confessed the devil urged her to sign a book.” We have met with no indication that she ever made what should be called confession. We repeat, that she quite fully narrated that she had seen, held conversation with, and been forced to obey, a white-haired man, and also that the women Good and Osburn were at times her companion operators when the Man was present. That frank statement of facts constituted her only confession, so far as we perceive. Had this been made by an intelligent witness who comprehended how the public mind would interpret it, there might be plausible reason for saying that she or he “confessed.” But with Tituba it was a simple statement of the truth.
We suspect that Calef, under the prevalent habit of his day, unwittingly wrote devil where Tituba, according to Corwin, said “the man.” If he followed Cheever’s report of the trial, he seemed to have authority for doing so. That Tituba regarded the devil and “the tall man” as two distinct individuals is very obvious. When questioned, she admitted that the devil might hurt the children for aught she knew, but she had never seen him, nor had he ever told her anything. She had no acquaintance with that personage. While the questions related to his doings she could give no information; but as soon as opportunity was given her to introduce her “tall man” she was ready to speak of him freely and instructively. The people around her, not interiorly illumined, applied the name devil to any disembodied intelligence that acted upon, or whose power became manifest to, their external senses; not so did either Tituba or any of her clairvoyant sister sufferers or sister accusers either. Throughout the whole of her two days’ rigid examination she persistently called her strange visitant “the man.” And it is a significant fact that all the mediumistic ones then, both accusers and accused, escaped ever falling into the prevalent habit of accusing The Devil. Other agents met their vision.
Fear of Mr. Parris may have forced Tituba to tell her true tale, which but for him she might have withheld. But is there probability either that he dictated any part of her testimony, or that she fabricated anything? We see none. The fair and just presumption is, that though forced to speak, she simply described what she had seen, and narrated what she had experienced. The apparent promptness, directness, and general consistency of her answers, strongly favor that presumption. In her judgment, as in ours, what she said was no confession of familiarity with the devil, for she disclaimed any knowledge of him; and therefore she made no confession of witchcraft as then defined, and no accusation of it against the other women.