[1063] Bancroft, ut antea.
[1064] Hubbard, Hazard, Hutchinson, Morton, Bradford.
[1065] Hist. Coll., Col. Records, Elliot.
[1066] The half century which succeeded this act of union was singularly checkered. In this time four momentous events occurred. The first of these, in point of time, was the persecution of the Quakers. The early advocates of this sect in New England displayed little of the mild philosophy and statesmanlike benevolence of Penn and his modern disciples; and, indeed, “the first and most noisy exponents of any popular sect are apt to be men of little consideration.” To this rule the first Quakers of Massachusetts were no exception. They knew the public opinion of the province; they knew the laws which were put into the statute-book to curb heresy; yet they broke through the restraints of sentiment, and contemned the laws—not mildly, but with harsh, violent, and often indecent obstinacy. Persecution, under any circumstances, is wrong, and the theocratic principles of the Massachusetts colonists were far from being either just or necessary. Yet granting all this, and it has still been well said that, “if the essential guilt of persecution would be aggravated when aimed against the quiet, patient philanthropist of to-day, it does not follow that it would be attended with like aggravation, however wicked else, when the subject was the mischievous madman of two centuries ago, who went raving through the city reviling authority, inveighing against the law and order of the time, running naked in the streets, and rudely interrupting divine service in the churches, as many called Quakers, of both sexes, did in 1656 and onwards. The duty of toleration stops short of the permission of such indecency; nor does it suffer men, for conscience’ sake, or to gain a name like Abraham, to sacrifice their sons, as one of these Friends was proceeding to do in 1658, when the neighbors, alarmed by the boy’s cries, broke into the house in time to balk the fanatic.” Still, it must be confessed that there was a better way than the magistrates of Massachusetts took, and one more efficient in curbing this fanaticism, than the pillory, mutilation statutes, and the death penalty; and this Roger Williams proved in Rhode Island, and the younger Winthrop demonstrated in Connecticut—in both of which colonies there was freedom of religious opinion, and yet there were few Quakers.
That furious Indian war, known as “King Philip’s war,” occurred in 1675. It originated in the same deep-rooted feeling of jealousy and hatred—begotten of dispossession and imagined wrong—that caused the Pequod war. Massasoit died about 1661. He was succeeded by his son Alexander, who was, on his death, succeeded by his brother Philip, the hero of the struggle. This sagacious chieftain saw that the whites were grasping; that his corn-lands and hunting-grounds were rapidly being usurped; that rum was poisoning his warriors; and he panted for revenge. So he gave his days and nights to the organization of a conspiracy. “He spared no arts; he lived but for one purpose, and that was to unite the Indians, split into numberless clans, into one body, for the destruction of the encroaching pale-faces.” Philip was largely successful, and the ensuing conflict was bitter, doubtful, and prolonged. But eventually civilization and discipline triumphed. The great sagamore was slain, and peace once more brooded over mutilated and wailing New England—peace insured by the definitive subjection of the Indian tribes.
In 1683, James II. abrogated the Massachusetts charter; three years later, Sir Edmund Andros arrived, armed with the king’s commission to take upon himself the absolute government of New England. Andros at once commenced to play the despot. He shackled the press; he imprisoned men for their religious opinions; he endeavored to get possession of the charter of Connecticut—which, however, was hidden in the “charter-oak” at Hartford, a circumstance which has made the tree immortal; he denied the colonists the most common civil rights, and asserted the highest doctrines of arbitrary taxation. The colonies were ripe for insurrection, when, in 1688, news came of the landing and coronation of William of Orange. Instantly Andros was deposed, and flung, broken and dishonored, out of New England. In 1691, King William granted Massachusetts a new charter; but in this he reserved the right of appointing a colonial governor, allowed appeals to be made to the English courts, freed all Protestant religions, and confirmed the annexation of Plymouth to Massachusetts—an annexation which Plymouth had decreed in 1690. This charter robbed the colonists of several prerogatives which had betokened independence, and was continued in substance until the dawn of the Revolution. The same policy was pursued throughout New England.
It was in the years 1691-2 that what has been called the “Salem witchcraft epidemic” occurred. In that age the belief in witches was general and strong. In 1644, ’5, and ’6, England hanged fifteen persons accused of witchcraft in one batch at Chelmsford, sixteen at Yarmouth, and sixty in Suffolk. In Sweden, in 1670, there was a panic about witches; and in one town, Mahra, seventy persons were charged with this offence, and spite of their protestations of innocence, most of them were executed. Fifteen children were hung on their own confession; and fifty others were condemned to be whipped every Sunday for a twelvemonth. Even so late as 1697, five years after the Salem troubles, seven persons were hung in Scotland as witches, and that too upon the unsupported testimony of a single child eleven years old.
New England, then, was not alone in her belief in witches, or in her punishment of them. She merely shared the opinion of such consummate scholars and noble thinkers as Sir Thomas Browne and Sir Matthew Hale. Many things combined to increase this belief. James I. had published a book on demonology. Books containing rules for binding witches were in wide circulation. The practice and the opinion of centuries substantiated these phantoms. And the recent excitement in Sweden and England was certain to cause a ripple in America. Men’s minds were thus prepared for an epidemic. As early as the year 1688, a case of supposed witchcraft occurred in Boston. An old half-witted Irish woman was charged with having bewitched the children of John Goodwin, and she was soon hanged. The witches then quit Boston, and in 1691-2 appeared at Salem. Children began to act oddly, getting “into holes, creeping under chairs, and uttering foolish speeches”—all of which were esteemed as tokens of bewitchment. Inquiries were at once and everywhere made for witches. The children accused at random. This woman was said to be a witch, and that man. Salem was aghast. Startled women passed from house to house, repeating and enlarging every idle tale. Soon the excitement was unprecedented. Fasting and prayer failed to exorcise the “spirits.” Then the witches were imprisoned, tried, condemned, executed. A reign of terror commenced. All lived in fear; accusation was equivalent to proof; there seemed no safety. Many, spurred by fear, acknowledged themselves to be witches when accused, thinking thus to save their lives; others hastened to complain that they were bewitched; and only those who avowed themselves to belong to one of these two classes could be sure of life. Still the panic spread. Andover was infected. New England at large began to shudder. The executioner was busy. And it was not until January, 1692, that the panic began to abate. Nineteen persons had been hung; one had been pressed to death; many had been condemned; hundreds had been imprisoned. So remorseless, so cruel is panic. But the excess cured itself; the reaction was great; men began to lament the part they had played; and some made open confession in church of their grievous fault and weakness. The infatuation grew perhaps from the tricks or the craziness of the “bewitched” children; perhaps from the folly or the superstition of their parents. Whatever its cause, its effects were sad, and they are pregnant with warning.
It is sometimes said that these doings sprang naturally from the theology and temper of New England. Rather, they were directly counter to both. They were a weak and foolish importation from Europe; and they prevailed in New England only for a short season. Soon her sons outgrew such folly; and nowhere in Christendom was the popular revolution against witchcraft so speedy and complete as in the Puritan colonies.