either lived in Topsfield or were intimately connected with the church
and people there. The accusing girls had heard them angrily spoken of
by the people around them, and availed themselves, as at all times, of
existing prejudices, to guide them in the selection of their victim.
The escape of Abbot, and the wavering, in his case and that of Easty,
indicated by the magistrates on this occasion, alarmed the prosecutors;
and they felt that something must be done to stiffen Hathorne and
Corwin to their previous rigid method of procedure. The following
letter was accordingly written to them that very day, immediately after
the close of the examinations:—
"_These to the Honored John Hathorne and Jonathan Corwin, Esqrs.,
living at Salem, present._
"Salem Village, this 21st of April, 1692.
"Much Honored,—After most humble and hearty thanks presented to Your
Honors for the great care and pains you have already taken for us,—for
which you know[ii.140] we are never able to make you recompense, and we
believe you do not expect it of us; therefore a full reward will be
given you of the Lord God of Israel, whose cause and interest you have
espoused (and we trust this shall add to your crown of glory in the day
of the Lord Jesus): and we—beholding continually the tremendous works
of Divine Providence, not only every day, but every hour—thought it our
duty to inform Your Honors of what we conceive you have not heard,
which are high and dreadful,—of a wheel within a wheel, at which our
ears do tingle. Humbly craving continually your prayers and help in
this distressed case,—so, praying Almighty God continually to prepare
you, that you may be a terror to evil-doers and a praise to them that
do well, we remain yours to serve in what we are able,
"Thomas Putnam."
What was meant by the "wheel within a wheel," the "high and dreadful"
things which were making their ears to tingle, but had not yet been
disclosed to the magistrates, we shall presently see. On the 30th of
April, Captain Jonathan Walcot and Sergeant Thomas Putnam (the writer
of the foregoing letter) got out a warrant against Philip English, of
Salem, merchant; Sarah Morrel, of Beverly; and Dorcas Hoar, of the same
place, widow. Morrel and Hoar were delivered by Marshal Herrick,
according to the tenor of the warrant, at 11, a.m., May 2, at the house
of Lieutenant Nathaniel Ingersoll, in Salem Village. The warrant has an
indorsement in these words: "Mr. Philip English not being to be found.
G.H." As the records of the examinations of Philip English[ii.141] and
his wife have not been preserved, and only a few fragments of the
testimony relating to their case are to be found, all that can be said
is that the girls and their accomplices made their usual charges
against them. There are two depositions in existence, however, which
afford some explanation of the causes that exposed Mr. English to
hostility, and indicate the kind of evidence that was brought against
him. Having many landed estates, in various places, and extensive
business transactions, he was liable to frequent questions of
litigation. He was involved, at one time, in a lawsuit about the bounds
of a piece of land in Marblehead. A person named William Beale, of that
town, had taken great interest in it adversely to the claims of
English; and some harsh words passed between them. A year or two after
the affair, Beale states, "that, as I lay in my bed, in the morning,
presently after it was fair light abroad in the room," "I saw a dark
shade," &c. To his vision it soon assumed the shape of Philip English.
On a previous occasion, when riding through Lynn to get testimony
against English in the aforesaid boundary case, he says, "My nose
gushed out bleeding in a most extraordinary manner, so that it bloodied
a handkerchief of considerable bigness, and also ran down upon my
clothes and upon my horse's mane." He charged it upon English. These
depositions were sworn to in Court, in August, 1692, and January, 1693.
How they got there does not appear, as English was never brought to
trial. All that relates to Mr.[ii.142] English and his wife may be
despatched at this point. On the 6th of May, a warrant was procured at
Boston, "To the marshal-general, or his lawful deputy," to apprehend
Philip English wherever found within the jurisdiction, and convey him
to the "custody of the marshal of Essex." Jacob Manning, a
deputy-marshal, delivered him to the marshal of Essex on the 30th of
May; and he was brought before the magistrates on the next day, and,
after examination, committed to prison. He and his wife effected their
escape from jail, and found refuge in New York until the proceedings
were terminated, when they returned to Salem, and continued to reside
here. She survived the shock given by the accusation, the danger to
which she had been exposed, and the sufferings of imprisonment, but a
short time. They occupied the highest social position. He was a
merchant, conducting an extensive business, and had a large estate;
owning fourteen buildings in the town, a wharf, and twenty-one sail of
vessels. His dwelling-house, represented in the frontispiece of this
volume, stood until a recent period, and is remembered by many of us.
Its site was on the southern side of Essex Street, near its
termination; comprising the area between English and Webb Streets. It
must have been a beautiful situation; commanding at that time a full,
unobstructed view of the Beverly and Marblehead shores, and all the
waters and points of land between them. The mansion was spacious in its
dimensions, and bore the marks of having been constructed in
the[ii.143] best style of elegance, strength, and finish. It was indeed
a curious and venerable specimen of the domestic architecture of its
day. A first-class house then; in its proportions, arrangements, and
attachments, it would compare well with first-class houses now. Mrs.
English was a lady of eminent character and culture. Traditions to this
effect have come down with singular uniformity through all the old
families of the place. She was the only child of Richard Hollingsworth,
and inherited his large property. The Rev. William Bentley, D.D., in
his "Description of Salem," and whose daily life made him conversant
with all that relates to the locality of Mrs. English's residence, says
that the officer came to apprehend her in the evening, after she had
retired to rest. He was admitted by the servants, and read his warrant
in her bedchamber. Guards were placed around the house. To be accused
by the afflicted children was then regarded as certain death. "In the
morning," says Bentley, "she attended the devotions of her family,
kissed her children with great composure, proposed her plan for their
education, took leave of them, and then told the officer she was ready
to die." Dr. Bentley suggests that unfriendly feelings may have existed
against Mr. English in consequence of some controversies he had been
engaged in with the town about the title to lands; that the superior
style in which his family lived had subjected them to vulgar prejudice;
that the existence of this feeling becoming known to the "afflicted
girls" led them[ii.144] to cry out against him and his wife. It may be
so. They availed themselves of every such advantage; and particularly
liked to strike high, so as the more to astound and overawe the public
mind.
I find no further mention of Sarah Morrel. She doubtless shared the
fate of those escaping death,—a long imprisonment. When Dorcas Hoar was
brought in, there was a general commotion among the afflicted, falling
into fits all around. After coming out of them, they vied with each
other in heaping all sorts of accusations upon the prisoner; Abigail
Williams and Ann Putnam charging her with having choked a woman in
Boston; Elizabeth Hubbard crying out that she was pinching her, "and
showing the marks to the standers by. The marshal said she pinched her
fingers at the time." The magistrate, indignantly believing the whole,
said, "Dorcas Hoar, why do you hurt these?"—"I never hurt any child in
my life." The girls then charged her with having killed her husband,
and with various other crimes. Mary Walcot, Susanna Sheldon, and
Abigail Williams said they saw a black man whispering in her ear. The
spirit of the prisoner was raised; and she said, "Oh, you are liars,
and God will stop the mouth of liars!" The anger of the magistrates was
roused by this bold outbreak. "You are not to speak after this manner
in the Court."—"I will speak the truth as long as I live," she
fearlessly replied. Parris says, at the close of his account, "The
afflicted were much distressed[ii.145] during her examination." Of
course, she was sent to prison.
Susanna Martin of Amesbury, a widow, was arrested on a warrant dated
April 30, and examined at the Village church May 2. She is described as
a short active woman, wearing a hood and scarf, plump and well
developed in her figure, of remarkable personal neatness. One of the
items of the evidence against her was, that, "in an extraordinary dirty
season, when it was not fit for any person to travel, she came on foot"
to a house at Newbury. The woman of the house, the substance of whose
testimony I am giving, having asked, "whether she came from Amesbury
afoot," expressed her surprise at her having ventured abroad in such
bad walking, and bid her children make way for her to come to the fire
to dry herself. She replied "she was as dry as I was," and turned her
coats aside; "and I could not perceive that the soles of her shoes were
wet. I was startled at it, that she should come so dry; and told her
that I should have been wet up to my knees, if I should have come so
far on foot." She replied that "she scorned to have a drabbled tail."
The good woman who treated Susanna Martin on this occasion with such
hospitable kindness received the impression, as appears by the import
of her deposition, that, because Martin came into the house so
wonderfully dry, she was therefore a witch. The only inference we are
likely to draw is, that she was a particularly neat person; careful to
pick her[ii.146] way; and did not wear skirts of the dimensions of our
times.
The language reported by this witness to have been used by Susanna
Martin created in her, at the time, visible mortification, as well as
resentment. A writer at the period, not by any means inclined to give a
representation favorable to the prisoners, reports her expression thus:
"She scorned to be drabbled." She was undoubtedly a woman who spoke her
mind freely, and with strength of expression, as the magistrates found.
From this cause, perhaps, she had shocked the prejudices and violated
the conventional scrupulosities then prevalent, to such a degree as to
incur much comment, if not scandal. There had been a good deal of
gossip about her; and, some time before, she had been proceeded against
as a witch. But there was no ground for any serious charges against her
character. Like Mrs. Ann Hibbens, perhaps the head and front of her
offending was that she had more wit than her neighbors. She certainly
was a strong-minded woman, as her examination shows. Two reports of it,
each in the handwriting of Parris, have come down to us. They are
almost identical, and in substance as follows:—
On the appearance of the accused, many of the witnesses against her
instantly fell into fits. The magistrate inquired of them,—
"Hath this woman hurt you?"
"(Abigail Williams declared that she had hurt her[ii.147] often. 'Ann
Putnam threw her glove at her in a fit,' and the rest were struck dumb
at her presence.)
"What! do you laugh at it? said the magistrate.—Well I may at such
folly.
"Is this folly to see these so hurt?—I never hurt man, woman, or child.
"(Mercy Lewis cried out, 'She hath hurt me a great many times, and
plucks me down.' Then Martin laughed again. Several others cried out
upon her, and the magistrate again addressed her.)
"What do you say to this?—I have no hand in witchcraft.
"What did you do? did you consent these should be hurt?—No, never in my
life.
"What ails these people?—I do not know.
"But what do you think ails them?—I do not desire to spend my judgment
upon it.
"Do you think they are bewitched?—No: I do not think they are.
"Well, tell us your thoughts about them.—My thoughts are mine own when
they are in; but, when they are out, they are another's.
"Who do you think is their master?—If they be dealing in the black art,
you may know as well as I.
"What have you done towards the hurt of these?—I have done nothing.
"Why, it is you, or your appearance.—I cannot help it.
"How comes your appearance just now to hurt these?—How do I know?
"Are you not willing to tell the truth?—I cannot tell. He that appeared
in Samuel's shape can appear in any one's shape.[ii.148]
"Do you believe these afflicted persons do not say true?—They may lie,
for aught I know.
"May not you lie?—I dare not tell a lie, if it would save my life."
At this point, the marshal declared that "she pinched her hands, and
Elizabeth Hubbard was immediately afflicted. Several of the afflicted
cried out that they saw her upon the beam" of the meeting-house over
their heads; and there was, no doubt, a scene of frightful excitement.
The magistrate, in the depth of his awe and distress, earnestly
appealed to the accused, "Pray God discover you, if you be guilty."
Nothing daunted, she replied, "Amen, amen. A false tongue will never
make a guilty person." A great uproar then arose. The accusers fell
into dreadful convulsions, among the rest John Indian, who cried out,
"She bites, she bites!" The magistrate, overcome by the sight of these
sufferings, again appealed to her, "Have not you compassion for these
afflicted?" She calmly and firmly answered, "No: I have none." The
uproar rose higher. The accusers all declared that they saw the "black
man," Satan himself, standing by her side. They pretended to try to
approach her, but were suddenly deprived of the power of locomotion.
John Indian attempted to rush upon her, but fell sprawling upon the
floor. The magistrate again appealed to her: "What is the reason these
cannot come near you?"—"I cannot tell. It may be the Devil bears me
more malice than another."—"Do[ii.149] you not see God evidently
discovering you?"—"No, not a bit for that."—"All the congregation
besides think so."—"Let them think what they will."—"What is the reason
these cannot come to you?"—"I do not know but they can, if they will;
or else, if you please, I will come to them."—"What was that the black
man whispered to you?"—"There was none whispered to me." She was
committed to prison.
In the mean while, preparations had been going on to bring upon the
stage a more striking character, and give to the excited public mind a
greater shock than had yet been experienced. Intimations had been
thrown out that higher culprits than had been so far brought to light
were in reserve, and would, in due time, be unmasked. It was hinted
that a minister had joined the standard of the Arch-enemy, and was
leading the devilish confederacy. In the accounts given of the
diabolical sacraments, a man in black had been described, but no name
yet given. As Charles the Second, while they were hanging the
regicides, at the Restoration, was looking about for a preacher to
hang, and used Hugh Peters for the occasion; so the "afflicted
children," or those acting behind them, wanted a minister to complete
the _dramatis personæ_ of their tragedy. His connection with the
society and its controversies, and the animosities which had thus
become attached to him, naturally suggested Mr. Burroughs. He was then
pursuing, as usual, a laborious, humble, self-sacrificing ministry, in
the midst of perils and privations, away[ii.150] down in the frontier
settlements on the coast of Maine, and little dreamed of what was
brewing, for his ruin and destruction, in his former parish at the
village. This is what Thomas Putnam had in his mind when he spoke of a
"wheel within a wheel," and "the high and dreadful" things not then
disclosed that were to make "ears tingle."
It was necessary to be at once cautious and rapid in their movements,
to prevent the public from getting information which, by reaching the
ears of Burroughs, might put him on his guard. It was no easy thing to
secure him at the great distance of his place of residence. If he
should become apprised of what was going on, his escape into remoter
and inaccessible settlements would have baffled the whole scheme.
Nothing therefore was done at the village, but the steps to arrest him
originated at Boston. Elisha Hutchinson, a magistrate there, issued the
proper order, addressed to John Partridge of Portsmouth, Field-marshal
of the provinces of New Hampshire and Maine, dated April 30, 1692, to
arrest George Burroughs, "preacher at Wells;" he being "suspected of a
confederacy with the Devil." Partridge was directed to deliver him to
the custody of the marshal of Essex, or, not meeting him, was requested
to bring him to Salem, and hand him over to the magistrates there. The
"afflicted children" had begun, shortly before, to use his name.
Abigail Hobbs had resided some years before at Casco; and from her they
obtained all the scandal she had heard there, or chose to fabricate to
suit the[ii.151] purpose of the prosecutors. The way in which the minds
of the deluded people were worked up against Mr. Burroughs is
illustrated in a deposition subsequently made to this effect:—
Benjamin Hutchinson testified, that, on the 21st of April, 1692, about
eleven o'clock in the forenoon, Abigail Williams told him that she saw
a person whom she described as Mr. George Burroughs, "a little black
minister that lived at Casco Bay." Mr. Burroughs was of small stature
and dark complexion. She gave an account of his wonderful feats of
strength, said that he was a wizard; and that he "had killed three
wives, two for himself and one for Mr. Lawson." She affirmed that she
saw him then. Mr. Burroughs, it will be borne in mind, was at this time
a hundred miles away, at his home in Maine. Hutchinson asked her where
she saw him. She said "There," pointing to a rut in the road made by a
cart-wheel. He had an iron fork in his hand, and threw it where she
said Burroughs was standing. Instantly she fell into a fit; and, when
she came out of it, said, "'You have torn his coat, for I heard it
tear.'—'Whereabouts?' said I. 'On one side,' said she. Then we came
into the house of Lieutenant Ingersoll; and I went into the great room,
and Abigail came in and said, 'There he stands.' I said, 'Where?
where?' and presently drew my rapier." Then Abigail said, he has gone,
but "'there is a gray cat.' Then I said, 'Whereabouts?' 'There!' said
she, 'there!' Then I struck with my rapier, and she fell into a fit;
and, when it[ii.152] was over, she said, 'You killed her.'" Poor
Hutchinson could not see the cat he had killed any more than
Burroughs's coat he had torn. Abigail explained the mystery to his
satisfaction, by saying that the spectre of Sarah Good had come in at
the moment, and carried away the dead cat. This was all in broad
daylight; it being, as Hutchinson testified, "about twelve o'clock."
The same day, "after lecture, in said Ingersoll's chamber," Abigail
Williams and Mary Walcot were present. They said that "Goody Hobbs, of
Topsfield, had bit Mary Walcot by the foot." Then both fell into a fit;
and on coming out, "they saw William Hobbs and his wife go both of them
along the table." Hutchinson instantly stabbed, with his rapier, "Goody
Hobbs on her side," as the two girls declared. They further said that
the room was "full of them," that is of witches, in their apparitions;
then Hutchinson and Eleazer Putnam "stabbed with their rapiers at a
venture." The girls cried out, that they "had killed a great black
woman of Stonington, and an Indian who had come with her:" the girls
said further, "The floor is all covered with blood;" and, rushing to
the window, declared that they saw a great company of witches on a
hill, and that three of them "lay dead" there,—"the black woman, the
Indian, and one more that they knew not." This was about four o'clock
in the afternoon. This evidence was given and received in court. It
shows the audacity with which the girls imposed upon the credulity of a
people wrought up by their arts to the highest pitch of in[ii.153]sane
infatuation; and illustrates a condition of things, at that time and
place, that is truly astonishing.
On the evening before Hutchinson was imposed upon, as just described,
by Abigail Williams and Mary Walcot, Ann Putnam had made most
astonishing disclosures, at her father's house, in his presence and
that of Peter Prescott, Robert Morrel, and Ezekiel Cheever. An account
of the affair was drawn up by her father, and sworn to by her, in these
words:—
"The Deposition of Ann Putnam, who testifieth and saith, on the 20th of
April, 1692, at evening, she saw the apparition of a minister, at which
she was grievously affrighted, and cried out, 'Oh, dreadful, dreadful!
here is a minister come! What! are ministers witches too? Whence came
you, and what is your name? for I will complain of you, though you be a
minister, if you be a wizard.' Immediately I was tortured by him, being
racked and almost choked by him. And he tempted me to write in his
book, which I refused with loud outcries, and said I would not write in
his book though he tore me all to pieces, but told him it was a
dreadful thing that he, which was a minister, that should teach
children to fear God, should come to persuade poor creatures to give
their souls to the Devil. 'Oh, dreadful, dreadful! Tell me your name,
that I may know who you are.' Then again he tortured me, and urged me
to write in his book, which I refused. And then, presently, he told me
that his name was George Burroughs, and that he had had three wives,
and that he had bewitched the two first of them to death; and that he
killed Mrs. Lawson, because she was so unwilling to go from the
Village, and also killed Mr. Lawson's child because he went[ii.154] to
the eastward with Sir Edmon, and preached so to the soldiers; and that
he had bewitched a great many soldiers to death at the eastward when
Sir Edmon was there; and that he had made Abigail Hobbs a witch, and
several witches more. And he has continued ever since, by times,
tempting me to write in his book, and grievously torturing me by
beating, pinching, and almost choking me several times a day. He also
told me that he was above a witch. He was a conjurer."
Her father and the other persons present made oath that they saw and
heard all this at the time; that "they beheld her tortures and
perceived her hellish temptations by her loud outcries, 'I will not, I
will not write, though you torment me all the days of my life.'" It
will be observed that this was the evening before Thomas Putnam wrote
his letter to the magistrates, preparing them for something "high and
dreadful" that was soon to be brought to light.
A similar scene took place not long afterwards, in the presence of her
father and her uncle Edward, to which they also testify. It was thus
described by her under oath:—