The Salem Witchcraft: Sarah Cloyce and George Burroughs

The subject grew interesting; and, to examine Sarah Cloyce and Elizabeth Procter, the deputy governor and five other magistrates went to Salem. It was a great day; several ministers were present. Parris officiated; and, by his own record, it is plain that he himself elicited every accusation. His first witness, John, the Indian servant, husband to Tituba, was rebuked by Sarah Cloyce, as a grievous liar. Abigail Williams, the niece to Parris, was also at hand with her tales; the prisoner had been at the witches' sacrament. Struck with horror, Sarah Cloyce asked for water, and sank down "in a dying fainting fit." "Her spirit," shouted the band of the afflicted, "is gone to prison to her sister Nurse." Against Elizabeth Procter the niece of Parris told stories yet more foolish than false: the prisoner had invited her to sign the devil's book. "Dear child," exclaimed the accused in her agony, "it is not so. There is another judgment, dear child;" and her accusers, turning towards her husband, declared that he, too, was a wizard. All three were committed. Examinations and commitments multiplied. Giles Cory, a stubborn old man of more than fourscore years, could not escape the malice of his minister and his angry neighbors, with whom he had quarrelled. Edward Bishop, a farmer, cured the Indian servant of a fit by flogging him; he declared, moreover, his belief that he could, in like manner, cure the whole company of the afflicted, and, for his scepticism, found himself and his wife in prison. Mary Easty, of Topsfield, another sister to Rebecca Nurse,--a woman of singular gentleness and force of character, deeply religious, yet uninfected by superstition,--was torn from her children and sent to jail. Parris had had a rival in George Burroughs, a graduate of Harvard College, who, having formerly preached in Salem village, had had friends there desirous of his settlement. He, too, a sceptic in witchcraft, was accused and committed. Thus far, there had been no success in obtaining confessions, though earnestly solicited. It had been hinted, also, that confessing was the avenue to safety. At last, Deliverance Hobbs owned everything that was asked of her, and was left unharmed. The gallows were to be set up not for those who professed themselves witches, but for those who rebuked the delusion.

A court of magistrates, appointed under the royal charter, with Stoughton, a positive, overbearing man, for its chief judge, was now instituted for the trial of these cases. Bridget Bishop, a poor and friendless old woman, was the first to be tried. She had remarkable powers. "She gave a look towards the great and spacious meeting-house of Salem," says Cotton Mather, "and immediately a daemon, invisibly entering the house, tore down a part of it." She was a witch by all the rules and precedents, and was duly hanged. At the next session of the court five women were condemned. Rebecca Nurse was at first acquitted, then condemned, and afterwards reprieved. But the influence of Parris secured her condemnation, and she was hanged with the rest.

Confessions rose in importance. "Some, not afflicted before confession, were so presently after it." The jails were filled; for fresh accusations were needed to confirm the confessions. "Some, by these their accusations of others,"--I quote the cautious apologist Hall,--"hoped to gain time, and get favor from the rulers.".. If the confessions were contradictory, if witnesses uttered aparent falsehoods, "the devil," the judges would say, "takes away their memory, and imposes on their brain." And who would now dare to be sceptical? Who would disbelieve confessors? Besides, there were other evidences. A callous spot was the mark of the devil: did age or amazement refuse to shed tears; were threats after a quarrel followed by the death of cattle or other harm; did an error occur in repeating the Lord's prayer; were deeds of great physical strength performed,--these were all signs of witchcraft. In some instances, phenomena of somnambulism would appear to have been exhibited; and "the afflicted, out of their fits, knew nothing of what they did or said in them."

Again, on a new session, six were arraigned, and all were convicted. John Willard had, as an officer, been employed to arrest the suspected witches. Perceiving the hypocrisy, he declined the service. The afflicted immediately denounced him, and he was seized, convicted, and hanged.

At the trial of George Burroughs, the bewitched persons pretended to be dumb. "Who hinders these witnesses," said Stoughton, "from giving their testimonies?" "I suppose the devil," answered Burroughs. "How comes the devil," retorted the chief judge, "so loath to have any testimony borne against you?" and the question was effective. Besides, he had given proofs of great, if not preternatural, muscular strength. Cotton Mather calls the evidence "enough:" the jury gave a verdict of guilty.

John Procter, who foresaw his doom, and knew from whom the danger came, sent an earnest petition, not to the governor and council, but to Cotton Mather and the ministers. Among the witnesses against him were some who had made no confessions till after torture. "They have already undone us in our estates, and that will not serve their turns without our innocent blood;" and he begged for a trial in Boston, or, at least, for a change of magistrates. His entreaties were vain, as also his prayers, after condemnation, for a respite.

Among the witnesses against Martha Carrier the mother saw her own children. Her two sons refused to perjure themselves till they had been tied neck and heels so long that the blood was ready to gush from them. The confession of her daughter, a child of seven years old, is still preserved.