Mary Black, the negro woman, belonged to Nathaniel Putnam, but lived in the family of his son Benjamin. Her examination shows that she was an ignorant but an innocent person. She knew nothing about the matter, and had no idea what it all meant. To the questions with which the magistrate pressed her, her answers were, "I do not know," "I cannot tell." The only fact brought out against her besides the actings of the girls was this: "Her master saith a man sat down upon the form with her about a twelvemonth ago." Parris, in his minutes, gives this piece of evidence, but does not enlighten us as to its import. The magistrate asked her, "What did the man say to you?" Her answer was: "He said nothing." This is all they got out of her; and it is all the light we have on the mysterious fact, that a man was once seated, at some time within twelve months, on the same form or bench with poor Mary Black. The magistrate asked the girls, "Doth this negro hurt you?" They said "Yes."—"Why do you hurt them?"—"I did not hurt them." This question was put to her, "Do you prick sticks?" perhaps the meaning was, Do you prick the afflicted children with sticks? The simple creature evidently did not know what they were driving at, and answered, "No: I pin my neckcloth." The examiner asked her, "Will you take out the pin, and pin it again?" She did so, and several of the afflicted cried out that they were pricked. Mary Walcot was pricked in the arm till the blood came, Abigail Williams was pricked in the stomach, and Mercy Lewis was pricked in the foot. It is probable, that, in this case, the girls, as they often appear to have done, provided themselves by concert beforehand with pins ready to be stuck into the assigned parts of their bodies, and managed to get the queer and unusual question put. The whole thing has the appearance of being pre-arranged; and it answered the purpose, filling the crowd with amazement, and excluding all possible doubt from the minds of the magistrates. Mary was committed to prison, where she remained until discharged, in May, 1693, by proclamation from the governor.
Mary Easty, wife of Isaac Easty, and sister of Rebecca Nurse and Sarah Cloyse, was about fifty-eight years of age, and the mother of seven children. Her husband owned and lived upon a large and valuable farm, which not many years since was the property and country residence of the late Hon. B.W. Crowninshield, and is now in the possession of Thomas Pierce, Esq. Her examination was accompanied by the usual circumstances. The girls had fits, and were speechless at times: the magistrate expostulated with her for not confessing her guilt, which he regarded as demonstrated, beyond a question, by the sufferings of the afflicted. "Would you have me accuse myself?"—"How far," he continued, "have you complied with Satan?"—"Sir, I never complied, but prayed against him all my days. What would you have me do?"—"Confess, if you be guilty."—"I will say it, if it was my last time, I am clear of this sin." The magistrate, apparently affected by her manner and bearing, inquired of the girls, "Are you certain this is the woman?" They all went into fits; and presently Ann Putnam, coming to herself, said "that was the woman, it was like her, and she told me her name." The accused clasped her hands together, and Mercy Lewis's hands were clenched; she separated her hands, and Mercy's were released; she inclined her head, and the girls screamed out, "Put up her head; for, while her head is bowed, the necks of these are broken." The magistrate again asked, "Is this the woman?" They made signs that they could not speak; but afterwards Ann Putnam and others cried out: "O Goody Easty, Goody Easty, you are the woman, you are the woman!"—"What do you say to this?"—"Why, God will know."—"Nay, God knows now."—"I know he does."—"What did you think of the actions of others before your sisters came out? did you think it was witchcraft?"—"I cannot tell."—"Why do you not think it is witchcraft?"—"It is an evil spirit; but whether it be witchcraft I do not know." She was committed to prison.
It will be noticed that seven out of the nine examined at this time either lived in Topsfield or were intimately connected with the church and people there. The accusing girls had heard them angrily spoken of by the people around them, and availed themselves, as at all times, of existing prejudices, to guide them in the selection of their victim.
The escape of Abbot, and the wavering, in his case and that of Easty, indicated by the magistrates on this occasion, alarmed the prosecutors; and they felt that something must be done to stiffen Hathorne and Corwin to their previous rigid method of procedure. The following letter was accordingly written to them that very day, immediately after the close of the examinations:—
"These to the Honored John Hathorne and Jonathan Corwin, Esqrs., living at Salem, present.
"Salem Village, this 21st of April, 1692.
"Much Honored,—After most humble and hearty thanks presented to Your Honors for the great care and pains you have already taken for us,—for which you know we are never able to make you recompense, and we believe you do not expect it of us; therefore a full reward will be given you of the Lord God of Israel, whose cause and interest you have espoused (and we trust this shall add to your crown of glory in the day of the Lord Jesus): and we—beholding continually the tremendous works of Divine Providence, not only every day, but every hour—thought it our duty to inform Your Honors of what we conceive you have not heard, which are high and dreadful,—of a wheel within a wheel, at which our ears do tingle. Humbly craving continually your prayers and help in this distressed case,—so, praying Almighty God continually to prepare you, that you may be a terror to evil-doers and a praise to them that do well, we remain yours to serve in what we are able,
"Thomas Putnam."
What was meant by the "wheel within a wheel," the "high and dreadful" things which were making their ears to tingle, but had not yet been disclosed to the magistrates, we shall presently see. On the 30th of April, Captain Jonathan Walcot and Sergeant Thomas Putnam (the writer of the foregoing letter) got out a warrant against Philip English, of Salem, merchant; Sarah Morrel, of Beverly; and Dorcas Hoar, of the same place, widow. Morrel and Hoar were delivered by Marshal Herrick, according to the tenor of the warrant, at 11, a.m., May 2, at the house of Lieutenant Nathaniel Ingersoll, in Salem Village. The warrant has an indorsement in these words: "Mr. Philip English not being to be found. G.H." As the records of the examinations of Philip English and his wife have not been preserved, and only a few fragments of the testimony relating to their case are to be found, all that can be said is that the girls and their accomplices made their usual charges against them. There are two depositions in existence, however, which afford some explanation of the causes that exposed Mr. English to hostility, and indicate the kind of evidence that was brought against him. Having many landed estates, in various places, and extensive business transactions, he was liable to frequent questions of litigation. He was involved, at one time, in a lawsuit about the bounds of a piece of land in Marblehead. A person named William Beale, of that town, had taken great interest in it adversely to the claims of English; and some harsh words passed between them. A year or two after the affair, Beale states, "that, as I lay in my bed, in the morning, presently after it was fair light abroad in the room," "I saw a dark shade," &c. To his vision it soon assumed the shape of Philip English. On a previous occasion, when riding through Lynn to get testimony against English in the aforesaid boundary case, he says, "My nose gushed out bleeding in a most extraordinary manner, so that it bloodied a handkerchief of considerable bigness, and also ran down upon my clothes and upon my horse's mane." He charged it upon English. These depositions were sworn to in Court, in August, 1692, and January, 1693. How they got there does not appear, as English was never brought to trial. All that relates to Mr. English and his wife may be despatched at this point. On the 6th of May, a warrant was procured at Boston, "To the marshal-general, or his lawful deputy," to apprehend Philip English wherever found within the jurisdiction, and convey him to the "custody of the marshal of Essex." Jacob Manning, a deputy-marshal, delivered him to the marshal of Essex on the 30th of May; and he was brought before the magistrates on the next day, and, after examination, committed to prison. He and his wife effected their escape from jail, and found refuge in New York until the proceedings were terminated, when they returned to Salem, and continued to reside here. She survived the shock given by the accusation, the danger to which she had been exposed, and the sufferings of imprisonment, but a short time. They occupied the highest social position. He was a merchant, conducting an extensive business, and had a large estate; owning fourteen buildings in the town, a wharf, and twenty-one sail of vessels. His dwelling-house, represented in the [frontispiece] of this volume, stood until a recent period, and is remembered by many of us. Its site was on the southern side of Essex Street, near its termination; comprising the area between English and Webb Streets. It must have been a beautiful situation; commanding at that time a full, unobstructed view of the Beverly and Marblehead shores, and all the waters and points of land between them. The mansion was spacious in its dimensions, and bore the marks of having been constructed in the best style of elegance, strength, and finish. It was indeed a curious and venerable specimen of the domestic architecture of its day. A first-class house then; in its proportions, arrangements, and attachments, it would compare well with first-class houses now. Mrs. English was a lady of eminent character and culture. Traditions to this effect have come down with singular uniformity through all the old families of the place. She was the only child of Richard Hollingsworth, and inherited his large property. The Rev. William Bentley, D.D., in his "Description of Salem," and whose daily life made him conversant with all that relates to the locality of Mrs. English's residence, says that the officer came to apprehend her in the evening, after she had retired to rest. He was admitted by the servants, and read his warrant in her bedchamber. Guards were placed around the house. To be accused by the afflicted children was then regarded as certain death. "In the morning," says Bentley, "she attended the devotions of her family, kissed her children with great composure, proposed her plan for their education, took leave of them, and then told the officer she was ready to die." Dr. Bentley suggests that unfriendly feelings may have existed against Mr. English in consequence of some controversies he had been engaged in with the town about the title to lands; that the superior style in which his family lived had subjected them to vulgar prejudice; that the existence of this feeling becoming known to the "afflicted girls" led them to cry out against him and his wife. It may be so. They availed themselves of every such advantage; and particularly liked to strike high, so as the more to astound and overawe the public mind.
I find no further mention of Sarah Morrel. She doubtless shared the fate of those escaping death,—a long imprisonment. When Dorcas Hoar was brought in, there was a general commotion among the afflicted, falling into fits all around. After coming out of them, they vied with each other in heaping all sorts of accusations upon the prisoner; Abigail Williams and Ann Putnam charging her with having choked a woman in Boston; Elizabeth Hubbard crying out that she was pinching her, "and showing the marks to the standers by. The marshal said she pinched her fingers at the time." The magistrate, indignantly believing the whole, said, "Dorcas Hoar, why do you hurt these?"—"I never hurt any child in my life." The girls then charged her with having killed her husband, and with various other crimes. Mary Walcot, Susanna Sheldon, and Abigail Williams said they saw a black man whispering in her ear. The spirit of the prisoner was raised; and she said, "Oh, you are liars, and God will stop the mouth of liars!" The anger of the magistrates was roused by this bold outbreak. "You are not to speak after this manner in the Court."—"I will speak the truth as long as I live," she fearlessly replied. Parris says, at the close of his account, "The afflicted were much distressed during her examination." Of course, she was sent to prison.