The people called Quakers had lately made their appearance in the north of England. [1648.] They soon found their way to America, where they were received with bitter hostility from the commencement. [1656.] The dangerous enthusiasts who first went forth to preach the doctrines of this strange sect were very different men from those who now command the respect and good will of all classes by their industry, benevolence, and love of order. The original propagandists believed that the divine government was still administered on earth by direct and special communication, as in the times chronicled by Holy Writ: they therefore despised and disregarded all human authorities. To actual force, indeed, they only opposed a passive resistance; and their patience and obstinacy in carrying out this principle must excite astonishment, if not admiration. But their language was most violent and abusive against all priests and ministers, governors and magistrates.[340] The women of this novel persuasion were even more fanatic than the men. Several leaving their husbands and children in England, crossed the seas to bear witness to their inspiration at Boston. They were, however, rudely received, their books burned, and themselves either imprisoned or scourged and banished. Nowise intimidated by these severities, several other women brought upon themselves the vengeance of the law by frantic and almost incredible demonstrations; and a man named Faubord endeavored to sacrifice his first-born son under a supposed command from Heaven.
The ministers and magistrates came to the conclusion that the colony could never enjoy peace while the Quakers continued among them. These sectarians were altogether unmanageable by the means of ordinary power or reason; they would neither pay fines nor work in prison, nor, when liberated, promise to amend their conduct. The government now enacted still more violent laws against them, one, among others, rendering them liable to have their ears cut off for obstinacy; and yet this strange fanaticism increased from day to day. At length the Quakers were banished from the colony, under the threat of death in case of return. They were, however, scarcely beyond the borders when a supposed inspiration prompted them to retrace their steps to Boston: scarcely had their absence been observed, when their solemn voices were again heard denouncing the city of their persecutors.
The horrible law decreeing the punishment of death against the Quakers had only been carried by a majority of thirteen to twelve in the Colonial Court of Deputies, and after a strong opposition; but, to the eternal disgrace of the local government, its atrocious provisions were carried into effect, and four of the unhappy fanatics were judicially murdered. The tidings of these executions filled England with horror. Even Charles II. was moved to interpose the royal power for the protection of at least the lives of the obnoxious sectarians. He issued a warrant on the 9th of September, 1661, absolutely prohibiting the punishment of death against Quakers, and directing that they should be sent to England for trial. In consequence of this interference, no more executions took place, but other penalties were continued with unabated severity.
While the persecution of the Quakers and Anabaptists raged in New England, an important addition to the numbers of the colonists was gained, a large body of Nonconformists having fled across the Atlantic from a fresh assault commenced against their liberties by Charles II. This Puritan emigration was regarded with great displeasure by the king. He speedily took an opportunity of arbitrarily depriving the colony of its charter, and sent out Sir Edmund Andros to administrate as absolute governor. The country soon felt painfully the despotic tyranny of their new ruler; and the establishment of an English Church, with the usual ritual, spread general consternation. When James ascended the throne, a proclamation of tolerance somewhat allayed the fears of the settlers; but the administration of temporal affairs became ruinously oppressive. On the pretense that the titles of all land obtained under the old charter had become void by its abrogation, new and exorbitant fees were exacted, heavy and injudicious taxes arbitrarily imposed, and all right of representation denied to the colonists. At length, in the year 1689, a man, named Winslow, brought from Virginia the joyful news of the Prince of Orange's proclamation; he was immediately arrested for treason; but the people rose tumultuously, imprisoned the governor, and re-established the authority of their old magistrates. On the 26th of May, a vessel arrived with the intelligence that William and Mary had been proclaimed in England. Although the new monarch declared himself favorably disposed toward the colonists, he did not restore their beloved charter. He, however, granted them a Constitution nearly similar to that of the mother country, which rendered the people of New England tolerably contented.
The colony was now fated to suffer from a delusion more frantic and insane than any it had hitherto admitted, and which compromised its very existence. The New Englanders had brought with them the belief in witchcraft prevalent among the early reformers, and the wild and savage wilderness where their lot was now cast tended to deepen the impressions of superstition upon their minds. Two young girls, of the family of Mr. Paris, minister of Salem, were suddenly afflicted with a singular complaint, probably of an hysterical character, which baffled the united skill of the neighboring physicians; till one, more decided than the rest, declared that the sufferers were bewitched. From this time prayers and fasting were the remedies adopted, and the whole town of Salem at length joined in a day of humiliation. The patients, however, did not improve, till an Indian servingwoman denounced another, named Tituba, as the author of the evil. Mr. Paris assailed the accused, and tortured her in the view of extracting a confession of guilt, which she at length made, with many absurd particulars, hoping to appease her persecutor. From this time the mischievous folly spread wider; a respectable clergyman, Mr. Burroughs, was tried for witchcraft on the evidence of five women, and condemned to death, his only defense being that he was accused of that which had no existence, and was impossible. New charges multiplied daily; the jails of Salem were full of the accused, and prisoners were transferred to other towns, where the silly infection spread, and filled the whole colony with alarm.
Nothing could afford stronger proof of the hold which this sad delusion had taken of the popular mind than the readiness so constantly displayed by the accused to confess the monstrous imputation, whose punishment was infamy and death. Many detailed long consultations held with Satan for the purpose of overthrowing the kingdom of heaven. In some cases these confessions were the result of distempered understandings; but, generally, they may be attributed to the hope of respite and ultimate reprieve, as none but the supposed impenitent sorcerers were executed. Thus only the truthful and conscientious suffered from the effects of this odious insanity. Some among the wretched people who had confessed witchcraft showed a subsequent disposition to retract. A man named Samuel Wardmell, having solemnly recanted his former statement, was tried, condemned, and executed. Despite this terrible warning, a few others followed the conscientious but fatal example. Every one of the sufferers during this dreadful period protested their innocence to the last. It seems difficult to discover any adequate motives for these atrocious and constant accusations. There is too much reason to believe that the confiscation of the condemned persons' property, malice against the accused, a desire to excite the public mind, and gain the notice and favor of those in power, were generally the objects of the witnesses.
The evil at length attained such a frightful magnitude that the firmest believers in witchcraft began to waver. In two months nineteen unhappy victims had been executed, eight more remained under sentence of death, 150 accused were still in prison, and there was no more room for the crowds daily brought in. No character or position was a shield against these absurd imputations; all lay at the mercy of a few mad or malignant beings. The first mitigation of the mischief was effected by the governor assembling the ministers to discuss whether what was called specter evidence should be held sufficient for the condemnation of the accused. The assembly decided against that particular sort of evidence being conclusive; but, at the same time, exhorted the governor to persevere in the vigorous prosecution of witchcraft, "according to the wholesome statutes of the English nation."[341] Public opinion, however, soon began to run strongly against those proceedings, and finally the governor took the bold step of pardoning all these under sentence for witchcraft, throwing open all the prisons, and turning a deaf ear to every accusation (January, 1693). From that time the troubles of the afflicted were heard of no more. Those who had confessed came forward to retract or disclaim their former statements, and the most active judges and persecutors publicly expressed contrition for the part they had taken in the fatal and almost incredible insanity. In the reaction that ensued, many urged strict inquiry into the fearful prejudices that had sacrificed innocent lives; but so general had been the crime, that it was deemed wisest to throw a vail of oblivion over the whole dreadful scene.[342]
While the settlers of New England were distracted by their own madness and intolerance, they had to contend with great external difficulties from the animosity of the Indians. The native races in this part of the continent appear to have been in some respects superior to those dwelling by the shores of the St. Lawrence and the Great Lake. They acknowledged the absolute power of a sachem or king, which gave a dangerous vigor and unity to their actions. They at first received the English with hospitality and kindness, and the colonists, on their part, passed laws to protect not only the persons of the natives, but to insure them an equitable price for their lands. The narrowed limits of their hunting-grounds, however, and the rapid advance of the white men, soon began to alarm the Indians.[343] When their jealousy was thus aroused, occasions of quarrel speedily presented themselves; the baneful influence of strong liquors, largely furnished in spite of the strictest prohibitions, increased their excitement. Some Englishmen were slain; the murderers were seized, tried, and executed by the colonial government, according to British law. These proceedings kindled a deep resentment among the savages, and led to measures of retaliation at their hands.
It has been an unfortunate feature of European settlement in America, that the border population, those most in contact with the natives, have been visually men of wild and desperate character, the tainted foam of the advancing tide of civilization. Those reckless adventurers were little scrupulous in their dealings with the simple savage; they utterly disregarded those rights which his weakness could not defend, and by intolerable provocation excited him to a bloody but futile resistance. The Indians naturally confounded the whole English race with these contemptuous oppressors, and commenced a war that resulted in their own extermination. They did not face the English in the field, but hovered round the border, and, with sudden surprise, overwhelmed detached posts and settlements in a horrible destruction. The astute colonists soon adopted the policy of forming alliances, and taking advantage of ancient enmities to stir up hostilities among them. By this means they accomplished the destruction of the warlike Pequods,[344] their bitterest foes. Other enemies, however, soon came into the field, and at length, the original allies of the English, jealous of the encroaching power of the white strangers, also took arms against them. The Indian chiefs, after a time, began to adopt European tactics of war, and for many years kept the colony in alarm by their formidable attacks: they were, however, finally driven altogether from the field.
The New England settlers showed more sincerity than other adventurers in endeavoring to accomplish their principal professed object of colonization, that of teaching Christianity to the Indians.[345] They appointed zealous and pious ministers for the mission,[346] and established a seminary for the education of the natives, whence some scholars were to be selected to preach the Gospel among their savage countrymen. Great obstacles were encountered in this good work; the Indians showed a bigoted attachment to their own strange religious conceits, and their priests and conjurers used all their powerful influence against Christianity, denouncing in furious terms all who forsook their creed for the English God. Despite these difficulties, a number of savages were induced to form themselves in villages, and lead a civilized[347] and Christian life, under the guidance of ministers of their own race.[348] In a few years thirty congregations of "praying Indians,"[349] their numbers amounting to 3000, were established in Massachusetts.