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.