'It is safe enough for me, Mary, to admire the beauty of that river, provided I see its dangers and avoid them; but I am fully aware of the justice of your views, and in the present state of public feeling, such a sermon may do inexpressible harm. I cannot doubt Mr. Mather's sincerity, but he ought to know better; he has the means of knowing better and is deeply responsible for the mischievous effects of such preaching. He has a wonderful faculty of making the worse appear the better reason, and clothing his own hallucinations in the garb of truth; but he will never be a safe man, and I dread his influence in our political circles.'
'We must deal with him in all charity,' said Mary; 'he aims to do good, and I have a prevailing opinion of his piety, though I must confess, the picture is shaded by many a sombre line.'
The young friends soon reached home, and agreeably to the pious custom of those days, each one retired to his chamber for meditation and prayer. These duties were kept up till nearly sunset, when the family assembled at the tea table, where no secular conversation was permitted to intrude. The evening was usually occupied in religious conversation or sacred music. On the present occasion, some appropriate selections were made from the version of Sternhold and Hopkins, at that time used by the Church of England, and the sweet voices of the young maidens gave utterance to strains of melody which for culture and expression, were seldom heard in the primitive days of New England.
The later hours of the evening were spent in the garden. The moon was riding with her starry train, in peerless beauty above them. The fragrance of the apple blossoms filled the air, and the sweet tranquillity of a Sabbath eve came down upon this lovely circle of friends, as they contemplated that better land, whose vivid emblems were shining above and around them.
CHAPTER ELEVENTH.
The beautiful month of June was now spreading its green ornaments over the face of New England. Never did the early summer unfold a more luxuriant foliage, or cover the fields with a fresher beauty, than that which now adorned the land. The forests and gardens were vocal with the music of birds, the rose and violet came forth in unwonted fragrance, and a cloud of incense went up from every valley and hill, to the praise of their Creator and Lord. The world of nature was moving on in perfect harmony and beauty. But the world of mind was in ruins, its stately palaces had fallen, Reason was dethroned, and a dark mass of chaotic elements moved over its surface in mingled confusion and horror. Spirits of evil were riding on the blast, unnatural and distorted shapes occupied every field of thought and reflection, and Superstition held in her mighty grasp whatever element opposed her power, and scowled in triumph and scorn over a perverted understanding and a misguided conscience.
On the 10th of June, 1692, the first victim of this mournful delusion died at the scaffold and by the hands of the public executioner. Her indictment stated, that she had made a covenant with Satan, and in obedience thereto, was engaged in the practice of wicked arts, to the great annoyance of godly persons. The nature of these practices was described at length, and consisted in the infusion of wicked and devilish thoughts into minds hitherto pure and uncorrupt, in the infliction of sharp pains on the hands, the neck and the limbs of the sufferer, in various temptations to assist the devil in his nefarious designs upon the peace and order of society, and in promises of future rewards if the party would consent to become a subject and servant of Satan.
A company of nervous and agitated witnesses supported the indictment, by testifying to the power she exerted over their minds and bodies, and the wild actings of their own fanaticism, and its physical effects, were imputed by them to a mysterious energy derived by the supposed witch from the master of apostate spirits. On such evidence as this, she was condemned by the highest court in New England, and, by a sentence most unjust and cruel, was consigned to an ignominious death. As the multitude, who witnessed the execution, retired from the dreadful spectacle, it was only to tremble for themselves and for each other: even the pleadings of mercy and the voice of pity were suppressed, and those who dared to intimate a belief in opposition to the prevalent opinions, were the first to be suspected and arrested.