Nothing is more essential to a well-ordered civil government, than a
well-balanced public mind; for want of this, in different ages, laws
have been framed and penalties executed in cases which go beyond the
reach of human investigation, and relate to subjects of which we can
form only faint and obscure conceptions, and consequently all the
evidence touching such cases is more or less to be distrusted.
At the period we are now contemplating, the connection between the
spiritual world and the physical being of man was supposed to be
developed in an extraordinary degree. It was believed the boundaries
between the material and invisible states were more clearly defined,
and that strange and startling intercourse was held by mysterious
agents, on these border territories. It was indeed no novelty in those
days for the civil courts to claim jurisdiction over the rambling
vagaries of the mind, and so far as any law affecting the social or
civil compact was plainly violated, it was certainly within their
office to punish the offence; but the courts travelled out of their
way, and, invading the natural rights of man, they entered a field
of inquiry, whose dim and uncertain forms could never be reduced to
facts, or supply materials of evidence, on which a sober mind could
rely. Of this nature was the court organized by Sir William Phipps, for
the trial and punishment of witches. It had no legitimate character,
and the functions it assumed were entirely beyond the rights of any
earthly tribunal. Nevertheless, its authority was acknowledged, and
its stern and dreadful mandates were obeyed as promptly as they were
issued. The influence of this court, by giving judicial sanction to the
extravagances of the times, tended very much to strengthen and prolong
the delusion, and the remarkable infatuation of the judges overcame the
plain common sense of the jury, which but for their influence would
soon have checked the mania, and restored the public mind to calmness
and reason.
We have before remarked, that Mr. Willard, the minister of the South
Church, was strongly opposed to the proceedings of the courts. This
was the more remarkable from the fact, that the chief justice and two
of the judges were members of his church. Mr. Willard admitted the
possibility of Satanic influence, but he denied that it was visible
in any such form as to warrant judicial interference. He remonstrated
with great earnestness against the general movements, and there is no
doubt he suffered so much reproach on this account, that his remarkable
talents and exemplary piety could scarcely sustain him. It is certain
also, that he was accused of practicing witchcraft, and though the
complaint was rejected by the court, there were not wanting those who
believed him confederate with Satan, and a direct agent in promoting
his designs upon the people of New England. There were some, however,
who took Mr. Willard's ground, and boldly maintained that the court was
illegal, and could not in any sense take cognizance of such matters.
We have already mentioned Thomas Brattle and John Leverett, tutors
of Harvard College; and there is good reason to believe President
Mather was of the same opinion, and attempted to restrain the popular
feeling; but no one was more bold than Robert Calef, an eminent
merchant of Boston, whose views on the subject were as sound and
discriminating as those of any man of that age. No individual did more
to dispel the delusion, and the records he has left behind have reared
an imperishable monument to his courage, fidelity, and success.
Miss Graham had accepted an invitation from her friend Miss Elliott,
to spend the last two weeks of May in Boston. An intimate and endeared
friendship now existed between these two young ladies. It was greatly
promoted by Lyford, who had carefully studied the character of his
sister's friend, and there was no one in his judgment who surpassed
Miss Elliott in moral excellence, as well as mental accomplishments.
Every attention had been bestowed upon her education; and though her
manners and appearance were more formal and stately than comported with
the simplicity of the times, yet she universally secured the respect
and good-will of all classes in society.
It was grateful to Mary's feelings to retire for a while from the
painful scenes she was every day compelled to witness at home. Her
health and spirits were sinking under the strange excitement which
pervaded the community at Salem and its neighborhood, and the change
she sought was now absolutely necessary. The two friends were entirely
agreed in matters of religious faith, and their intercourse with the
world was regulated by a scrupulous regard to Christian decorum and
example. The fashionable society of Boston was at that time professedly
religious; the outward forms of devotion were generally and greatly
respected; yet a powerful current of worldly influence was visible,
and the clergymen of those days complained that the vital power of the
Gospel was far too little manifested, in the lives and conversation of
its professors.
On Miss Graham's arrival at Boston, she was visited by all her friends;
but the usual routine of social parties was now nearly suspended. The
painful suspicions and jealousies that were abroad had interrupted
the peace of families, and extensive divisions in the churches and
in general society were disturbing the public harmony, and shaking
the foundations of social confidence in a most alarming degree.
Still the state of things was far better than in Salem; and though
the popular feeling even in Boston went along with the belief in
supernatural agencies, yet there was enough of common sense remaining
to oppose a formidable barrier to the action of courts and judges in
the business. This conservative influence prevailed most in the first
and third churches; but in the congregation of Cotton Mather, which
was very large, there was scarcely a dissenting voice from the general
belief, and the Sabbath day exercises at the North Church were almost
exclusively governed by the impressions of an invisible world; and the
church itself was regarded as the grand post of observation, from which
the march and countermarch of Satan's ranks were discerned, while he
moved at their head, enlisting recruits for his new kingdom, about to
be established.
On the last week in May, a day of fasting and prayer had been solemnly
observed in reference to the prevailing calamities. The point of
Satan's visible agency was now scarcely disputed, and those who doubted
or disbelieved were in too much personal danger to make any public
protest against the prevalent doctrines; yet it was scarcely possible
for one who entertained such views as Walter to avoid an occasional
sarcasm; and Miss Graham herself was disposed to treat the subject with
lightness, in the hope that its folly might in this way be more readily
seen. The high standing they occupied was to some extent security
from danger. But, on the other hand, there was a feeling of envy and
jealousy towards the unsuspecting maiden, which soon involved her in
suspicions; and Miss Hallam, who regarded Walter's attachment to Mary
with extreme displeasure, availed herself of the general distrust to
produce unfavorable impressions wherever her influence extended.
In this state of things the last Sabbath in May arrived. The religious
exercises of the week had prepared the people to expect that their
ministers would follow up the subject, and give such views of the
whole case as comported with their own convictions, and the teachings
of Scripture. The day was singularly beautiful; the freshness of its
early dawning, and the summer breezes, that were diffusing life and
joyousness around, were expressive of a mild and beneficent Providence;
but Nature in her calm and delightful aspect, was all unconscious
of the dark figures and mysterious demons, that were thronging the
imaginations of men; her morning hymn was ascending in grateful chorus
from forest, valley, and stream; but she was no longer the handmaid
of devotion, for man refused to mingle in her silent or audible
aspirations, or in any sense, to bend the knee at her shrine.
At ten o'clock, the bells rang for public worship, and the streets,
which till then had been silent as the desert, were now thronged
with multitudes on their way to the house of God. Sadness and sorrow
were visible in every countenance. The early flowers of spring, the
narcissus, the violet, and the snow-drop, which were wont to adorn the
dresses, or fringe the hair of the young and beautiful, were utterly
neglected, and the silent processions moved along the streets to their
respective places of worship, as if they were following the dead to
their burial. Even the church bells, which sent their cheerful melodies
among the valleys and rocks, now seemed to toll upon the ear, the
funeral dirge of all that was bright and happy in the land; the merry
laugh of childhood, the clear sunshine of the brow of youth, and the
serene tranquillity of maturer years, were suppressed and clouded by
an unseen yet terrible influence, before whose mysteries Reason was
overthrown, and Religion herself was staggered.
Miss Elliott and Mary, accompanied by their brothers and Strale, left
home at the usual time for public worship. As they passed along on
their way to the South Church, they were deeply impressed with the
state of feeling so obvious around them; to see their fellow beings
enslaved by a superstition so unnatural and absurd; to be unable to
break the fatal spell which had fallen upon nearly all, and to mark
in the dim future those undefined yet assuredly fatal consequences,
of whose nature and extent the worst apprehensions might be indulged,
filled their minds with anxiety and sorrow. But they endeavored to turn
from these sad meditations to the hopes and consolations of the Gospel
they loved, and which they firmly believed would deliver the mind from
its debasing thraldom, and give to its emancipated powers 'the glorious
liberty of the sons of God.'
The South Church occupied the ground on which the present edifice
stands, and its site was then called 'the Green.' It was constructed of
cedar, and for those times it was an imposing and beautiful edifice;
its tall spire, rising from the midst of a grove of buttonwood trees,
and far above all surrounding objects, was gazed at with an interest
and reverence which in these days is not often bestowed on those
significant emblems which point upward to a 'house not made with hands,
eternal in the heavens.'
The pulpit was located, as now, in the northeast side of the building,
and directly in front was a row of seats designed for and occupied
by the elders. A small enclosure, still further in front, and facing
the congregation, was occupied by the deacons, and before them was a
platform, on which the leader of the music stood and conducted the
psalmody, in which all who were able to sing, and some who were not,
were in the habit of uniting.
On the present occasion, the service was commenced as usual by a
prayer occupying about ten minutes, and followed by a psalm from
the New-England version then in use, which was first read by Mr.
Willard, and then given out by the ruling elder, line by line, to
the congregation. The selection for the morning was the fifty-first
psalm, and its penitential character was strikingly adapted to the time
and circumstances of their worship. Many a charming voice united in
the simple melody, and many a contrite heart mingled its confessions
and prayers, in the true spirit of devotion, with those of the pious
psalmist.
As we wish to bring into view the principal features of Sabbath-day
worship in those times, we give the following version of the psalm, in
the words in which it was sung:
'Have mercy upon me, oh God!
According to thy grace;
According to thy mercies great,
My trespasses deface.
'Oh! wash me throughly from my guilt,
And from my sin, me clear;
For I my trespass know, my sins
Before thee still appear.
'Of joy and gladness, make thou me
To hear again the voice;
That so the bones, which thou hast broke,
May cheerfully rejoice.
'From the beholding of my sin
Hide thou away thy face;
Likewise, all mine iniquities,
Oh! do thou clean deface.'
The musical critic may sneer at the peculiar metre and simple
versification, but it is probable the true design of sacred music was
far more readily attained in those days and in this homely garb, than
it can be by the high pretensions and meretricious ornaments of its
modern masters.
The position of Mr. Willard was one of painful embarrassment. He had
publicly declared his dissent from the prevalent opinions, and in this
advanced stage of the popular delusion, when its early opposers were
every day falling into the ranks of its believers, it required no
small share of moral courage to maintain his ground. It was expected
he would now make known his opinions without reserve, and that these
opinions would appear greatly modified, if not totally changed. In this
expectation, the church was thronged by multitudes who were anxious to
quote his name and authority in support of the wild theories, which
were now so generally adopted and believed.
The prayer which followed the music was distinguished for its
fervency and pathos, and as the pastor carried up the desires of the
congregation in his own affecting and impressive language, the fixed
and solemn attention of the audience, indicated that it was no formal
service, but one in which all the powers of the soul were deeply
absorbed. At the close of the prayer, another psalm was sung, in the
following words:
'Thou hid'st in wrath and us pursuest,
Thou slay'st and dost not rue;
Thou so with clouds dost hide thyself,
Our prayer cannot pass through.
'Fear and a snare is come on us,
Waste and destruction;
For my folks' daughters, now mine eyes
Run water rivers down.
'Come thou into thy chambers, shut
Thy doors about thee fast;
Hide thou awhile, my people,
Awhile, till wrath be past.
'Lo! from his place God comes again
The world for sin to smite;
Earth will her blood reveal--her slain--
Earth will bring all to light.'
The text was then announced, and was at once indicative of the
sentiments and designs of the preacher. It was the first verse of the
fourth chapter of John's Epistle: 'Beloved, believe not every spirit,
but try the spirits whether they be of God.'
The preacher assumed as an undoubted fact, fully warranted by the
Scriptures, that spiritual agencies for good and ill were constantly at
work among men, but it was so difficult to define their nature, their
peculiar offices, and the extent of their power, that it was our wisdom
to avoid all speculation, except so far as was necessary to guard
against practical error.
It was now a popular theory, that evil spirits assumed visible forms,
and were permitted to make compacts or treaties with such as were
pleased with their terms and conditions. This doctrine he denounced as
in the highest degree absurd and dangerous, declaring it was a delusion
fraught with the worst consequences, that the kind of evidence by which
this theory was supported was totally unwarranted, and could not for a
moment be trusted by a sound and discriminating mind.
He then proceeded to analyze the mind, its nature, its liability to
mistake, its unsuspected deceits, its love of fable and delight in the
marvellous and supernatural. He pointed out the frequent errors of
the imagination; that it changes material substances, and creates in
air, on earth, and in the ocean, innumerable shapes, which it clothes
in beauty or gloom, according to the light in which these objects are
contemplated. He then described its effects on the physical system,
producing nervous agitation, fancied maladies, and strange distortions
of the countenance, which it falsely attributes to unnatural and unreal
causes.
Such being the character of the mind, it was impossible in the nature
of the case to discriminate so accurately between its own actings and
those of spiritual agents, as to measure the criminality of persons
charged with the practice of witchcraft, or warrant the interference of
the civil law. It often happens that a state of mind, supposed to be
in the highest degree criminal, is the result of insanity and disease,
and calls for sympathy and relief, instead of reproach and punishment;
and in conclusion he declared his full conviction, that a lying spirit,
like that of the prophets of Ahab, was now abroad in the land, and in
the fulness of his grief over the public calamities, he entreated and
charged his people to try the spirits, to criticise severely every
ground of accusation; for among the devices of Satan, none were more
common than deception and fraud, and it was not impossible for him to
persuade even the pious to believe a lie, for he was a liar from the
beginning, and himself the father of lies.
Such a sermon and at such a time, could not fail to produce a strong
excitement. As the congregation retired from the house, signs of
displeasure were manifest on every side. The high reverence in which
the character of Mr. Willard had been held, could scarcely restrain the
general feeling of anger; but there were some who deeply sympathized
with their minister, and felt that this noble testimony against the
prevailing delusion, was as imperiously demanded, as it was faithfully
and fearlessly given.