The fear of witches, like the fear of the plague in the Middle Ages,
spread over Massachusetts with amazing rapidity in that winter and
spring of 1692, and found one of its chief centers at Salem. Men and
women of standing and education were arrested, as well as those who had
few friends and little learning, and the wildest and most improbable
stories about their actions were told and were believed. As day followed
day the three "afflicted children," John Rowley, Susan Parsons, and
Mercy Booth, told more and more fantastic tales about Mistress Swan and
Master Appleton, and Jonathan Leek spread these stories so thoroughly
that soon there was not a man, woman, or child in Salem, or in the
neighboring country, who had not heard how the accused schoolmaster and
Ann Swan had bewitched the three. To hear a story about witchcraft at
that time was usually to believe it, and many people had condemned the
man and woman in their own minds long before the court took up the case
against them.
Mat's family, and Joe's family, however, started out with the
determination to save Mistress Swan and Thomas Appleton if it could be
done. Then these two boys urged their schoolmates, none of whom could
believe that the teacher they were so fond of was a witch, to ask their
parents to speak kindly of the two accused persons, and so there was
soon quite a little party in Salem who protested that the two were
innocent. Of course there were many, largely of the more ignorant class,
like Jacob Titus, the blacksmith, and people who had listened to
Jonathan Leek and fallen under his influence, who felt certain that the
schoolmaster and Ann Swan were able to ride about on broomsticks when
they had a mind to. Strange to say, some of the ministers of Salem took
this view too.
Mr. Hamlin went to the jail and talked with both the prisoners, he
visited the houses of the three "afflicted children" and watched their
strange performances, and he sought out Jonathan Leek, who had suddenly
become a very prominent person, and listened to his oily and mysterious
speeches. Then he wrote letters to friends in Boston, and after a while
he began to find out facts that were scarcely creditable to Mr. Leek's
reputation. He had been driven out of Boston because of the falsehoods
he had uttered about people there; he was described as a cheat, a
swindler, and a man who tried to get money from men and women by
threatening to accuse them of various crimes. Mr. Glover helped in this
work, and so did the two boys, and in addition the boys looked after the
dogs in the schoolmaster's little hospital and reported to Master
Appleton how his charges were getting on.
People were being condemned and hung as witches in Salem Village and
other places, and things did not look too cheerful for Mat's two
friends. Yet they were both full of patience and courage, and when
people came to them and tempted them to admit that they had ill-treated
the children, had used magic on them, or worked some spell over them,
they always indignantly denied the charges and said such stories were
utterly absurd. "I never raised a finger against a child in my life,"
said Mistress Swan at one such time, "and I never will, no matter what
those three may say about me, or what you may do to me." And Master
Appleton would say, "Yes, it is true I have cured a number of dogs, but
not by sending their ills into these children. Surely you must know that
I care as much for children as for animals! Otherwise you'd make me no
better than an ogre."
"He is an ogre!" cried Jonathan Leek, when he heard what Master Appleton
said. He pointed his lean hand at the crowd who had gathered around him.
"Many a schoolmaster is an ogre in disguise, and chooses that work so
that he may prey on children! I know; I have seen such men before." And
his manner was so impressive as he said this that many people nodded
their heads and murmured to each other that doubtless he was right.
So matters stood when the two prisoners, whose cases were so much alike
that they were to be considered together, were put on trial in Salem.
Mr. Hamlin and Mr. Glover were there, and their sons, and a lawyer they
had engaged to represent them. The court room was full to overflowing,
and very warm, for it was midsummer.
"How could any one believe those two guilty of such evil deeds?" said
Mr. Hamlin to his friends, as he looked at the kind and gentle Mistress
Swan and the frank-faced Thomas Appleton.
"People have believed such charges of men and women who look full as
innocent," answered Mr. Glover.
Many there in the court room believed that these two were witches as
they listened to the stories the three "afflicted children" told, and
heard Jonathan Leek and other grown men and women testify as to strange
doings they had witnessed. Through all this the two prisoners simply
looked at their fellow-townsfolk, as if wondering that such stories
could be told of them, and when they were asked by the judges if they
had done any of these things, each simply denied all knowledge of such
events.
Then Mr. Hamlin's lawyer rose, and he had neighbors of Mistress Swan
tell how they had always respected her and how highly they thought of
her, and how kind she had always been to their children. After that Mr.
Hamlin told what he had discovered about the man Jonathan Leek, how Leek
had demanded money from Mistress Swan, and how she had refused to give
him any money, saying that her husband had never owed Leek anything as a
result of their business dealings. Here the lawyer presented an
account-book that showed that, as an actual fact, Jonathan Leek had owed
Richard Swan money, instead of the account standing the other way about.
Leek looked very angry and indignant as Mr. Hamlin and the lawyer
related all these affairs to the court, and when the account-book was
shown he jumped up, protesting loudly, saying, "Figures have nothing to
do with the fact of this woman's being a witch!" But the lawyer retorted
very quickly, "These figures have much to do with the reason why you
charged this woman with witchcraft!"
When Mr. Hamlin told what he had learned of Jonathan Leek's leaving
Boston the man in black squirmed in his seat, and grew so yellow of face
that Mat whispered to Joe, "He looks like a witch himself now, doesn't
he?" There wasn't much left of the stranger's character when Mr. Hamlin
had finished with him, and even those people who had believed most
implicitly in him began to murmur their doubts to each other.
Then came the chance for Mat to tell what he knew of Mistress Swan and
Master Appleton. He told how the other children in school had never
liked the three "afflicted children." "Those three liked to hurt
animals," said he. "They stoned cats and dogs, they caught young birds,
and hurt them, and when Master Appleton told them not to be so cruel
they made faces at him and told false stories about him behind his back.
Sometimes he would rescue birds and dogs from them, and try to mend
their hurts, and he has a lot of dogs now in a shed back of Mistress
Swan's house, poor dogs that nobody else would look after, and most of
them he's cured of some hurt. None of us boys in school would believe a
word those three others would say, least of all about Master Appleton,
and we'd all expect them to say ill things about him whenever they got
the chance." Mat said more about the schoolmaster, and Joe followed him,
and then other children, and they were all so evidently sincere, and
showed such affection for the teacher that people began to look more
kindly at him, and to whisper that they'd always heard he was popular at
school. "Against the word of one boy and two girls, who had their own
reasons for disliking this master, we have the witness of these other
children, who all respect and admire him," said the lawyer. "True it is
that he has an almshouse for maimed and neglected animals in his yard,
but should that not rather speak to his credit than against his honesty?
He may know more than most of us about curing sores and broken bones;
but would you accuse a physician of dealing in witchcraft or evil arts
because he helped the suffering who came to him? If you would, then
there must be evil in all men who help their neighbors!"
Here Jacob Titus, standing in the back of the court room, murmured
behind his hand to the man next him, "I always had my doubts of those
who deal in herbs and such like. There's something magical in the best
of it. And when it's a matter of dogs, why----" he shrugged his
shoulders, meaning clearly enough that that was carrying magic pretty
far.
There were others who thought as the blacksmith did, for many, having
once got the notion that Mistress Swan and Master Appleton were witches,
couldn't find any way to get that idea out of their heads. Others were
wavering in their opinions, however, and thinking that there might
perhaps be as much truth in the words of this woman whom they had always
known and this schoolmaster of such former good repute as in the words
of three spoiled children and a man who had been driven out of Boston
for misdeeds.
"There may be witches," the lawyer said, "though it happens that I've
never met with any such myself. There are rumors of witchcraft all
through this province of Massachusetts to-day, and many stories are told
that could scarcely be understood as following the course of nature. But
if we let ourselves suspect such evil things of our neighbors so
readily, who knows when others may suspect such dealings of us as
easily? You," he said, and by chance he was looking at a stout man in
front of him, "may be accused to-morrow because your neighbor's cow
sickened on the day you helped him harvest his crops. You," he looked at
a forbidding-featured woman in a great gray bonnet, "may be called a
witch next week because your suet puddings were too rich for the stomach
of your maid. Or you," and his glance fell on a minister, who sat with a
Bible clasped in his hand, "may be charged with dealings with the Evil
One because your chimney smoked and the sparks frightened a horse upon
the road so that he ran away. This is how such easy suspicions go.
Within a month we may all be witches and warlocks, each man and woman
accusing their nearest neighbors."
A murmur of protest rose; the idea was not to be put up with; and yet
every one there knew that there was much truth in the speaker's words.
"It happens that three children and a man from Boston have hit upon
these two prisoners as their victims," went on the speaker, now looking
at the judges, "instead of aiming their shafts at you or me. Yet are
you or I any more honest than this woman who has befriended others, or
this man who teaches and cares for maimed dogs? Are we to be their
judges? Then, as we consider the charges against them, let us remember
that men might bring charges of evil against us also, and consider
whether we know ourselves to be more innocent than they. Look at
Mistress Swan! Look at Thomas Appleton! Are these two witches? Why, men
of Salem, the very children laugh at such a charge!"
The speaker sat down amid a tense silence. The judges withdrew,
considered the matter in private, and then, returning, announced that in
their opinion the charges of witchcraft against Mistress Swan and Master
Appleton had not been proved by the evidence, and that the two prisoners
might return to their homes. There was a buzz of excited talk for a few
minutes, then neighbors and friends crowded round Mistress Swan and the
schoolmaster and said they had never really believed the evil reports of
them.
So these two innocent people returned to their home, and men and women
who had been in doubt before as to whether they should believe the tales
of magic now said they had always considered the three "afflicted
children" mischievous brats and wondered that their parents hadn't
whipped them for telling such monstrous falsehoods. As for Jonathan
Leek, when he found that he had no chance to injure Mistress Swan, and
knew that people in Salem were beginning to hear the true story of his
earlier career in Boston, he departed from Salem in haste, probably to
carry his ready-made charges of witchcraft to other towns, where there
might be people against whom he cherished grudges.
Thomas Appleton returned to his school, and the children liked him
better than ever, and brought him so many lame and footsore dogs to care
for that he said he should have to take the largest building in town to
house them all. The three "afflicted children" didn't go back to school,
though no one knew whether that was because their parents thought they
wouldn't be popular there after what had happened, or because they still
considered that the schoolmaster might bewitch them.
Naturally enough it took Mistress Swan and Master Appleton some time to
forgive their townsfolk for treating them so badly. But the people did
their best to show them how sorry they felt that they had ever suspected
them of evil dealings, and in time the two returned to their old
attitude of friendliness toward all their neighbors. Neither of them was
the kind to cherish a grudge.
Other people in Massachusetts, however, who were charged with being
witches were not so fortunate as Ann Swan and Thomas Appleton. Some were
found guilty and were executed for witchcraft. Then, when this strange
and inhuman superstition had run its course, popular feeling changed
quickly. Men and women became ashamed of what they had said and done.
The fear of witches passed into history and became only a strange
delusion of the past. But it had been a very real fear in Massachusetts
in 1692.