'Accursed be the hour that gave me birth! Why was I born for this? Oh,
thou insulted, yet forbearing God! if thine avenging justice pursues
me to the lowest perdition, it will not outrun my crimes. Why did I
hunt the innocent without cause, and heap on my soul such mountains of
guilt? Oh, hide me, earth! bury me in thy deepest graves, if they will
but shelter me from a raging conscience and a frowning God! How shall I
save the innocent blood? how shall my feet, which have run so swiftly
in the way of evil, turn back into the path of peace? These hands have
built that fatal scaffold, on which innocence and virtue must perish!
Oh, might I die in her stead! Oh, that my blood might expiate my guilt!
Vain hope! the weight of mountains, the fires of the second death
can neither crush nor consume me. Mine is an undying death, mine an
unquenchable flame!'
Such were the exclamations of the wretched Trellison, as he stood on
that fatal hill with the scaffold which, the day before, had been
erected under a tree, directly in his view. He was now fully awake to
a consciousness of his crimes: he had betrayed into the hands of the
law, one of the most innocent and virtuous of her sex, and was about to
witness the awful consummation of his guilt. He had opened the door,
but it was beyond his power to shut it. If he avowed the truth, his
single testimony could not avail against the host of witnesses which
his own arts had procured, and whose evidence, if now confronted by
his, would in self-defence be combined to involve himself as well as
Miss Lyford in ruin and death. In this condition, he thought of every
possible method to avert the impending fate of Miss Lyford; but every
avenue seemed to be closed; and after wandering up and down the hill
for several hours, in the utmost horror and distraction of mind, he
finally determined to follow her to the scaffold, and there avow his
guilt, and invoke every power within his reach, to save her from the
threatened doom.
It is often a mournful duty to display the workings of an accusing
conscience. The picture may warn us to shun the incipient stages of
guilt, and turn back into the current of reason and reflection the wild
and turbulent elements of excited passion. Too often, alas! we plunge
into the very vortex of ruin, ere we are conscious that we have passed
the boundaries of virtue. Such is the influence of pride, self-love,
and self-esteem, that the first discovery of guilt and danger, often
comes too late to save us from the final plunge. This was preëminently
the case with Trellison: with hasty and violent feelings, unguarded
by reason, and driven by every wave of passion, he had mistaken his
own purposes of revenge for zeal in the cause of religion, and had
so blended his own selfish designs with an imagined regard for the
honor of his Maker, as to conceal from himself his actual guilt, until
its fatal effects stared him in the face, and revealed the depths of
iniquity in which he was ingulfed.
When the next morning dawned, crowds of people were seen gathering
round the spot, where the dreadful sacrifice which public fanaticism
demanded, was to be made. Rev. George Burroughs and three other
individuals, named Willard, Proctor, and Jacobs, together with one
female, were taken from prison and conducted by the sheriff to the
place of execution. The scene was one of appalling interest; and
as the unhappy victims passed through the streets, loud murmurs of
disapprobation were heard from many individuals, who believed they
were mainly indebted for these tragical events to Boston interference,
and who were indignant that Salem should be the chosen theatre for the
display of these bloody scenes. The venerable Higginson, with several
of his most influential parishioners, utterly refused all part in these
proceedings, while his associate in the ministry, Mr. Noyes, fully
coöperated with Parris, Mather, and Stoughton, in all the length and
breadth of this fatal delusion. When the hour of execution drew near,
the public murmur became more loud and distinct, so much so as to
excite alarm lest the purposes of justice might be frustrated. But at
this moment Cotton Mather appeared on the ground, on horseback, and by
the circulation of new proofs of Satan's promises and covenants with
these unhappy persons, effectually silenced the voice of sympathy and
the din of opposition. As the dreadful scene proceeded, Burroughs was
seen kneeling on the scaffold in prayer, in which he solemnly appealed
to his Maker for his uprightness of heart and his entire innocence
of the crime for which he was called to die. He prayed fervently
for himself and his hapless associates, thus performing in his last
hours the kind offices of his sacred profession, and administering
consolation to his fellow sufferers. Neither did he forget those bitter
enemies who had brought him to this scene of horror; but earnestly
supplicated their forgiveness from God, as he himself heartily forgave
them.
Thus perished the persecuted Burroughs and his unhappy companions. They
died as outcasts from God and man, their very names regarded with scorn
and horror, and their persons execrated as the vilest of the vile. Time
has lifted the veil; the storm of reproach has passed away; the shadows
of the invisible world, in which they were seen to move as dark and
mysterious forms enlisted in the service of Satan, and doing his will,
have given place to the sunshine of Reason and Truth. The white robes
of innocence and virtue now adorn them in the eye of every beholder,
and that foul stain stamps with its darkest hues, the memories of
Stoughton, Sewall, Gedney, and Cotton Mather.
Let it not be supposed there were no redeeming traits in the characters
of these men. It was a superstitious age, and the delusions which
were now abroad, had fastened with immense power upon the community
at large; but this, though it may be urged in mitigation of their
offences, was no valid excuse. They had unerring and sufficient maps
in the experience of the past. They had the sure word of God. They had
reason and common sense, which, impartial and unperverted, might have
shown them the madness and cruelty of their course. These guides were
consulted too late; and we have it recorded of Judge Sewall, that he
deeply repented of his agency in these painful scenes, and publicly
deplored his errors in the presence of the members of the South Church,
presenting his own example as a warning to future magistrates to
avoid that fatal rock, on which justice and mercy had alike suffered
shipwreck.
It is probable Stoughton and Mather carried this delusion in part
to their graves; and it is scarcely possible to contemplate these
characters with complacency. There is no monument along the track
of succeeding years, which redeems their memory from its deserved
reproach. Mather was learned and industrious beyond any man of that age
in New England; but he was credulous to the last degree; of a bold and
fiery temper, deeply tinctured with fanaticism, rash in his judgment,
severe in his rebukes, and overbearing in his conduct. A cloud rests
upon his memory, through which Charity herself can scarcely discern
the faint rays of real piety, which, notwithstanding all his errors,
probably existed in his heart. Stoughton was, if possible, still more
deeply implicated in these cruel proceedings, and the remark of an
eminent historian of Harvard College is undoubtedly just, that 'upon
no individual did the responsibility of the sad consummation of that
excitement rest more heavily, than upon William Stoughton.'
The next day was to be signalized by the death of Miss Lyford. The
public feeling was now so far subdued, that there was little danger to
be apprehended from the populace. If the death of Burroughs had excited
so little commotion, it was concluded there would be no interruption
to any future proceedings of the like character. Moreover, there was
a general belief that few cases of witchcraft had been more clearly
defined, and the singular language which had been addressed to her from
the woods, and was heard by others, was considered entirely conclusive
in her case. There had been no attempt to trace the cause of this
strange proceeding, but it was at once attributed to mysterious and
spiritual agents; yet Lyford suspected what afterwards proved true,
that a female from Hadley, who knew his sister's history and was in
the confidence of her grandfather, had been employed by Trellison in
this work of deception; but he had no means of proving such a plot, and
any attempt to implicate Trellison, who was now in high favor with the
ruling powers, would probably recoil on himself, and lessen the chances
of his sister's escape.
No access to Miss Lyford had been for some time permitted, except to
her brother, and even this indulgence was now prohibited. Trellison
found means, however, to convey to her a full confession of his guilt,
his determination to avow it publicly, and if possible to stay the
proceedings. He earnestly begged her forgiveness, and assured her
that he wished to live no longer than to make a public vindication
of her character, and save her if possible from her impending doom.
This communication was not received till late in the evening, and it
being impossible to obtain the favor of a light, or to procure the
least office of kindness from her keepers, Mary was, of course, wholly
ignorant of its contents. Her mind, also, was so fully occupied with
the plans now in progress for her deliverance, that she was the less
anxious to know its purport, and placing the paper in her bosom, the
incident was nearly forgotten.
Trellison was involved in difficulties which so distracted his mind,
that he was unable to devise any probable means, by which Miss Lyford's
fate could be averted. His confessions and retractions, if made, he
knew would only be regarded as new proof of her Satanic arts, and he
now thought it safer to make his appeal to the populace and enlist
their sympathies, than to attempt to stay a warrant which had been
already issued, and could only be revoked by the Governor. Still he
was unsettled in his plans, except that in the failure of all other
means, he resolved to vindicate her at the scaffold, though it might
cost him his life. The truth was, his convictions and remorse had
arrived too late; and in the existing state of public feeling there
was no proper light, in which evidence could be fairly seen; or if
seen, its legitimate power could not at that time be felt. Strange as
it may seem, the reports circulated by Cotton Mather on the preceding
day had maddened the populace, and made them insatiate of blood. It
was now believed that the death of Miss Lyford was essential to the
public peace, and there was probably no moment in the progress of this
delusion, when it ran higher, or was more terrible in its control over
every generous feeling, than at this period.
Meanwhile, it was on the extravagance of this delusion that Miss
Lyford's friends relied for her deliverance. The very feeling which
Trellison feared would render his confessions unavailing, they were
willing to provoke as the best means of her salvation. Mr. and Mrs.
Ellerson no longer made any appeal in her behalf. Strale was in Boston,
apparently unconcerned and unaffected, while Lyford alone kept his post
near his sister, the only visible friend, from whom she could expect
countenance or support.
There is that in human calamity, which, unsoothed by the voice of
sympathy, and unrelieved by the kind offices of friendship, falls with
a withering and consuming power on the heart. When such calamity is
frequent and long continued, even the ties of kindred and affection
are often sundered, and the unhappy sufferer, though conscious of
rectitude, finds himself sinking in despondency, solitary and desolate,
and his only support is drawn from the hope of a better world. Such
emphatically was the condition of those who were proscribed for their
supposed sorceries. Cut off from the sympathies of their fellow men,
exposed to insult, violence, and death, and at last consigned to the
scaffold, they were spectacles of unrelieved sorrow and wretchedness,
of which the world can furnish few examples. But these unhappy victims
did not forget their obligations to their fellow men and to God.
They almost uniformly died in the spirit of forgiveness; and if, as
the scoffer and the infidel allege, there be no hereafter, no review
of character and responsibility, no discrimination between good and
bad beyond this fleeting world, no probationary life here, and no
retributory condition hereafter, then indeed is our faith vain, our
works of love and charity are vain, and an unbroken gloom rests on the
territories of the grave!
But the infidel forgets that the same chance which placed him in this
world may not yet have exhausted its power. If it can move the world
in its orbit, regulate the seasons, and govern, by irrepealable law,
the motions of unnumbered suns and worlds, it may, for aught he can
tell, act upon his future being; it may redeem the vital principle from
the ashes of the tomb, and cast it among some new elements of life,
which may be perfectly adapted to the work of retribution. Let him then
beware of a theory which provides no security for his future happiness,
while it reserves the right to perpetuate his being for ever; let
him turn his eye to that even balance, in which his actions will be
weighed, and bring home to his heart the consolations which nothing but
the gospel, approved, accepted, and trusted, can supply.