The first four ministers of the village parish were excellent penmen. Bayley's hand is more like the modern style than the rest. Burroughs's is as legible as print, uniform in its character, open and upright. The specimen among the [autographs] is from the record referred to at the top of [page 262]. As it was written at the bottom of a page in the record-book, where there was hardly sufficient room, it had to be in a slanting line. I give it just as it there appears. Parris wrote three different hands, all perfectly easy to read. The larger kind was used when signing his name to important papers, or in brief entries of record. The specimen I give is from a receipt in the parish-book, which Thomas Putnam, as clerk, made oath in court, that Parris wrote and signed in his presence. His notes of examinations of persons charged with witchcraft by the committing magistrate, many of which are preserved, are in his smallest hand, very minute, but always legible. In his church-records he uses sometimes a medium hand, and sometimes the smallest. The [autographs] of Townsend Bishop and Thomas Putnam show the handwriting that seems to have prevailed among well-educated people in England at the time of the first settlement of this country. There was often a profusion of flourishes that obscured the letters. The initial capitals were quite complicated and very curious. The signature of Thomas Putnam, Jr., exhibits his excellent handwriting.
I have adduced these facts and given these illustrations to show, that, in this branch of education,—the value and desirableness of which cannot be overrated,—it is at least an open question, whether we have much ground to boast of being in advance of the first generations of our ancestors in America. The early ministers of the Salem Village parish certainly compare, in this particular, favorably with ministers and professional men, and recording officers generally in public bodies of all kinds, in later times.
Sergeant Thomas Putnam did not act as clerk of the parish from April, 1687, to April, 1694. A few entries are made by his hand; but the record, very meagre and fragmentary, is for the most part made by others. This is much to be regretted, as the interval covers the very period of our history. His time, probably, was taken up, and his mind wholly engrossed, by an unhappy family difficulty, in which, during that period, he was involved. Thomas Putnam Sr. died, as has been stated, in 1686. It was thought, by the children of his first wife, that the influence of the second wife had been unduly exercised over him, in his last years, so as to induce him to make a will giving to her, and her only child by him, Joseph, a very unfair proportion of his estate. It was felt by them to be so unjust that they attempted to break the will. The management of the case was confided to Sergeant Thomas Putnam, as the eldest son of the family; and the affair, it may be supposed, absorbed his thoughts to such a degree as to render it necessary for him to abandon his services as clerk of the parish. The attempt to set aside the will failed. The circumstances connected with the subject disturbed very seriously—perhaps permanently—the happiness of the whole family, and may have contributed to create the morbid excitement which afterwards was so fearfully displayed by the wife of the younger Thomas.
While Mr. Lawson was at the village, he lost his wife and daughter. In 1690, he was again married, to Deborah Allen. He was settled afterwards over the Second Society in Scituate,—it is singular that our local histories do not tell us when, but that we get all we know on the point from a sentence written by the pen on a leaf of one of the two folio volumes of John Quick's "Synodicon in Gallia Reformata," in the possession of a gentleman in this country, Henry M. Dexter, who says it is evidently Quick's autograph. It is in these words: "For my reverend and dear brother, Mr. Lawson, minister of the gospel, and pastor of the church of Scituate, in the province of Massachusetts in New England; from the publisher, John Quick, honoris et amoris ergo, Aug. 6, 1693." In 1696, Mr. Lawson went over to England, merely for a short visit, as his people supposed. They heard from him no more. He never asked a dismission, or communicated with them in any way. In 1698, an ecclesiastical council declared them free to settle another minister, which they did in due time. He was, no doubt, alive and in London when, in 1704, his famous Salem Village sermon was reprinted there. But this is the last glimpse we have of him. An inscrutable mystery covers the rest of his history. His manner of leaving the Scituate parish shows him to have been an eccentric person, leaves an unfavorable impression of his character, and is as inexplicable as the only other reference to him that has thus far been found. Calamy, in his "Continuation of the Account of Ejected Ministers," published in 1727, has a notice of Thomas Lawson, whom he describes as minister of Denton in the county of Norfolk, educated at Katherine Hall in Cambridge, and afterwards chosen "to a fellowship in St. John's. He was a man of parts, but had no good utterance. He was the father of the unhappy Mr. Deodat Lawson, who came hither from New England." With all his abilities, learning, and eloquence, he disappears, after the re-publication of his Salem Village sermon in London, in the dark, impenetrable cloud of this expression, "the unhappy Mr. Deodat Lawson." Of the melancholy fate implied in the language of Calamy, I have not been able to obtain the slightest information.
The troubles that covered the whole period, since the beginning of Mr. Bayley's ministry, had led to the neglect and derangement of the entire organization of the Village, and resulted in the loss of what little opportunities for education might otherwise have been provided. So great was this evil regarded, that the old town felt it necessary to interpose; and we find it voted Jan. 24, 1682, that "Lieutenant John Putnam is desired, and is hereby empowered, to take care that the law relating to the catechising of children and youth be duly attended at the Village." He is also "desired to have a diligent care that all the families do carefully and constantly attend the due education of their children and youth according to law." We cannot but feel that the man who was ready to fight the "Topsfield men" in the woods—who, when they asked him, "What, by violence?" answered, with axe in hand, "Ay, by violence," and who figured in the manner described in the scene with Mr. Burroughs—was a singular person to intrust with the charge of "catechising the children and youth." But those were queer times, and he was a queer character. He had always been a church-member; and, to the day of his death, church and prayer meetings were more frequently held at his house than in any other. He was a rough man, but he was no hypocrite. He was in the front of every encounter; but he was tolerant, too, of difference of opinion. When, at one time, the contests of the Village were at their height, and two committees were raised representing the two conflicting parties, he was at the head of one, and his eldest son (Jonathan) of the other. Their opposition does not seem to have alienated them. While I have found it necessary to hold him up, in some of his actions, for condemnation, there were many good points about him; although he was not the sort of man that would be likely, in our times, to be selected to execute the functions of a Sunday-school teacher.
During all this period, there was a variety of minor controversies among themselves, causing greater or less disturbance. Joseph Hutchinson, who had given a site out of his homestead-grounds for the meeting-house, had no patience with their perpetual wranglings. He fenced up his lands around the meeting-house lot, leaving them an entrance on the end towards the road. They went to court about it, and he was called to account by the usual process of law. The plain, gruff old farmer, who seems all along to have been a man of strong sense and decided character, filed an answer, which is unsurpassed for bluntness of expression. It has no language of ceremony, but goes to the point at once. It has a general interest as showing, to how late a period the inhabitants of this neighborhood were exposed to Indian attacks, and what means of defence were resorted to by the Village worshippers. The document manifests the contempt in which he held the complainants, and it was all the satisfaction they got.