Jacobs; and the bitter compunction of Churchill was in consequence of
the false and malignant course she had been pursuing against her old
master. It is a relief to our feelings, so far as she is regarded, to
suppose so. Bad as her conduct was as one of the accusers, on other
occasions after I am sorry to say as well as before, it shows that she
was not entirely dead to humanity, but realized the iniquity of which
she had been guilty towards him. It is the only instance of which we
find notice of any such a remnant of conscience showing itself, at the
time, among those perverted and depraved young persons. The reason, why
it is probable that this exhibition of Churchill's penitential tears
and agonies of remorse occurred immediately after the first day of
Jacobs's examination, is this. It was one of the first, if not the
first, held at the house of Thomas Beadle. Sarah Ingersoll would not
have been likely to have fallen in[ii.171] with her elsewhere. It is
evident, from the tenor and purport of the document, that the deponent
was not entirely carried away by the prevalent delusion, and probably
did not follow up the proceedings generally. But it was quite natural
that her attention should have been called to proceedings of interest
at Beadle's house, particularly on that first occasion. She lived in
the immediate vicinity. The indorsement by Ann Andrews, the daughter of
Jacobs, increases the probability that the occurrence was at his
examination.
The representatives of the family of John Ingersoll,—a brother of
Deacon Nathaniel Ingersoll,—in 1692, occupied a series of houses on the
west side of Daniels Street, leading from Essex Street to the harbor.
The widow of John's son Nathaniel lived at the corner of Essex and
Daniels Streets; the next in order was the widow of his son John; the
next, his daughter Ruth, wife of Richard Rose; the next, the widow of
his son Richard; the last, his son Samuel, whose house lot extended to
the water. Sarah, the witness in this case, was the wife of Samuel, and
afterwards became the second wife of Philip English. One of her
children appears to have married a son of Beadle. Their immediate
proximity to the Beadle house, and consequent intimacy with his family,
led them to become conversant with what occurred there; and Sarah
Ingersoll was, in that way, likely to meet Churchill, and to have the
conversation with her to which she deposes.
This brief deposition of Sarah Ingersoll is, in many particulars, an
important and instructive paper. It[ii.172] exhibits incidentally the
means employed to keep the accusing girls and confessing witnesses from
falling back, and, by overawing them, to prevent their acknowledging
the falseness of their testimony. It shows how difficult it was to
obtain a hearing, if they were disposed to recant. It presents Mr.
Noyes—as all along there is too much evidence compelling us to
admit—acting a part as bad as that of Parris; and it discloses the
fact, that Mr. Burroughs, although not yet brought to trial, was
immured in a dungeon.
No papers are on file, or have been obtained, in reference to the
examination of Margaret Jacobs, which was at the same time and place
with that of her grandfather. We shall hear of her in subsequent stages
of the transaction.
On the same day—May 10—that George and Margaret Jacobs were apprehended
and examined, a warrant was issued against John Willard, "husbandman,"
to be brought to Thomas Beadle's house in Salem. On the 12th, John
Putnam, Jr., constable, made return that he had been to "the house of
the usual abode of John Willard, and made search for him, and in
several other houses and places, but could not find him;" and that "his
relations and friends" said, "that, to their best knowledge, he was
fled." On the 15th, a warrant was issued to the marshal of Essex, and
the constables of Salem, "or any other marshal, or marshal's constable
or constables within this their majesty's colony or territory of the
Massachusetts, in New England," requiring them to apprehend said
Willard, "if he may be found[ii.173] in your precincts, who stands
charged with sundry acts of witchcraft, by him done or committed on the
bodies of Bray Wilkins, and Samuel Wilkins, the son of Henry Wilkins,"
and others, upon complaint made "by Thomas Fuller, Jr., and Benjamin
Wilkins, Sr., yeomen; who, being found, you are to convey from town to
town, from constable to constable, ... to be prosecuted according to
the direction of Constable John Putnam, of Salem Village, who goes with
the same." On the 18th of May, Constable Putnam brought in Willard, and
delivered him to the magistrates. He was seized in Groton. There is no
record of his examination; but we gather, from the papers on file, the
following facts relating to this interesting case:—
It is said that Willard had been called upon to aid in the arrest,
custody, and bringing-in of persons accused, acting as a
deputy-constable; and, from his observation of the deportment of the
prisoners, and from all he heard and saw, his sympathies became excited
in their behalf: and he expressed, in more or less unguarded terms, his
disapprobation of the proceedings. He seems to have considered all
hands concerned in the business—accusers, accused, magistrates, and
people—as alike bewitched. One of the witnesses against him deposed,
that he said, in a "discourse" at the house of a relative, "Hang them:
they are all witches." In consequence of this kind of talk, in which he
indulged as early as April, he incurred the ill-will of the parties
engaged in the prose[ii.174]cutions; and it was whispered about that he
was himself in the diabolical confederacy. He was a grandson of Bray
Wilkins; and the mind of the old man became prejudiced against him, and
most of his family connections and neighbors partook of the feeling.
When Willard discovered that such rumors were in circulation against
him, he went to his grandfather for counsel and the aid of his prayers.
He met with a cold reception, as appears by the deposition of the old
man as follows:—
"When John Willard was first complained of by the afflicted persons for
afflicting of them, he came to my house, greatly troubled, desiring me,
with some other neighbors, to pray for him. I told him I was then going
from home, and could not stay; but, if I could come home before night,
I should not be unwilling. But it was near night before I came home,
and so I did not answer his desire; but I heard no more of him upon
that account. Whether my not answering his desire did not offend him, I
cannot tell; but I was jealous, afterwards, that it did."
Willard soon after made an engagement to go to Boston, on
election-week, with Henry Wilkins, Jr. A son of said Henry Wilkins,
named Daniel,—a youth of seventeen years of age, who had heard the
stories against Willard, and believed them all, remonstrated with his
father against going to Boston with Willard, and seemed much distressed
at the thought, saying, among other things, "It were well if the said
Willard were hanged."
Old Bray Wilkins must go to election too; and so[ii.175] started off on
horseback,—the only mode of travel then practicable from Will's Hill to
Winnesimit Ferry,—with his wife on a pillion behind him. He was
eighty-two years of age, and she probably not much less; for she had
been the wife of his youth. The old couple undoubtedly had an active
time that week in Boston. It was a great occasion, and the whole
country flocked in to partake in the ceremonies and services of the
anniversary. On Election-day, with his wife, he rode out to Dorchester,
to dine at the house of his "brother, Lieutenant Richard Way." Deodat
Lawson and his new wife, and several more, joined them at table. Before
sitting down, Henry Wilkins and John Willard also came in. Willard,
perhaps, did not feel very agreeably towards his grandfather, at the
time, for having shown an unwillingness to pray with him. The old man
either saw, or imagined he saw, a very unpleasant expression in
Willard's countenance. "To my apprehension, he looked after such a sort
upon me as I never before discerned in any." The long and hard travel,
the fatigues and excitements of election-week, were too much for the
old man, tough and rugged as he was; and a severe attack of a
complaint, to which persons of his age are often subject, came on. He
experienced great sufferings, and, as he expressed it, "was like a man
on a rack."
"I told my wife immediately that I was afraid that Willard had done me
wrong; my pain continuing, and finding no relief, my jealousy
continued. Mr. Lawson and others there were all amazed, and knew not
what to do for me. There was[ii.176] a woman accounted skilful came
hoping to help me, and after she had used means, she asked me whether
none of those evil persons had done me damage. I said, I could not say
they had, but I was sore afraid they had. She answered, she did fear so
too.... As near as I remember. I lay in this case three or four days at
Boston, and afterward, with the jeopardy of my life (as I thought), I
came home."
On his return, he found his grandson, the same Daniel who had warned
Henry Wilkins against going to Boston with John Willard, on his
death-bed, in great suffering. Another attack of his own malady came
on. There was great consternation in the neighborhood, and throughout
the village. The Devil and his confederates, it was thought, were
making an awful onslaught upon the people at Will's Hill. Parris and
others rushed to the scene. Mercy Lewis and Mary Walcot were carried up
to tell who it was that was bewitching old Bray, and young Daniel, and
others of the Wilkinses who had caught the contagion, and were
experiencing or imagining all sorts of bodily ails. They were taken to
the room where Daniel was approaching his death-agonies; and they both
affirmed, that they saw the spectres of old Mrs. Buckley and John
Willard "upon his throat and upon his breast, and pressed him and
choked him;" and the cruel operation, they insisted upon it, continued
until the boy died. The girls were carried to the bedroom of the old
man, who was in great suffering; and, when they entered, the question
was put by the anxious and excited friends in the chamber to Mercy
Lewis, whether[ii.177] she saw any thing. She said, "Yes: they are
looking for John Willard." Presently she pretended to have caught sight
of his apparition, and exclaimed, "There he is upon his grandfather's
belly." This was thought wonderful indeed; for, as the old man says in
a deposition he drew up afterwards, "At that time I was in grievous
pain in the small of my belly."
Mrs. Ann Putnam had her story to tell about John Willard. Its substance
is seen in a deposition drawn up about the time, and is in the same
vein as her testimony in other cases; presenting a problem to be solved
by those who can draw the line between semi-insane hallucination and
downright fabrication. Her deposition is as follows:—
"That the shape of Samuel Fuller and Lydia Wilkins this day told me at
my own house by the bedside, who appeared in winding-sheets, that, if I
did not go and tell Mr. Hathorne that John Willard had murdered them,
they would tear me to pieces. I knew them when they were living, and it
was exactly their resemblance and shape. And, at the same time, the
apparition of John Willard told me that he had killed Samuel Fuller,
Lydia Wilkins, Goody Shaw, and Fuller's second wife, and Aaron Way's
child, and Ben Fuller's child; and this deponent's child Sarah, six
weeks old; and Philip Knight's child, with the help of William Hobbs;
and Jonathan Knight's child and two of Ezekiel Cheever's children with
the help of William Hobbs; Anne Eliot and Isaac Nichols with the help
of William Hobbs; and that if Mr. Hathorne would not believe them,—that
is, Samuel Fuller and Lydia Wilkins,—perhaps they would appear
to[ii.178] the magistrates. Joseph Fuller's apparition the same day
also came to me, and told me that Goody Corey had killed him. The
spectre aforesaid told me, that vengeance, vengeance, was cried by said
Fuller. This relation is true.
"Ann Putnam."
It appears by such papers as are to be found relating to Willard's
case, that a coroner's jury was held over the body of Daniel Wilkins,
of which Nathaniel Putnam was foreman. It is much to be regretted that
the finding of that jury is lost. It would be a real curiosity. That it
was very decisive to the point, affirmed by Mercy Lewis and Mary
Walcot, that Daniel was choked and strangled by the spectres of John
Willard and Goody Buckley, is apparent from the manner in which Bray
Wilkins speaks of it. In an argument between him and some persons who
were expressing their confidence that John Willard was an innocent man,
he sought to relieve himself from responsibility for Willard's
conviction by saying, "It was not I, nor my son Benjamin Wilkins, but
the testimony of the afflicted persons, and the jury concerning the
murder of my grandson, Daniel Wilkins, that would take away his life,
if any thing did." Mr. Parris, of course, was in the midst of these
proceedings at Will's Hill; attended the visits of the afflicted girls
when they went to ascertain who were the witches murdering young Daniel
and torturing the old man; was present, no doubt, at the solemn
examinations and investigations of the sages who sat as a jury of
inquest[ii.179] over the former, and, in all likelihood, made, as
usual, a written report of the same. As soon as he got back to his
house, he discharged his mind, and indorsed the verdict of the
coroner's jury by this characteristic insertion in his church-records:
"Dan: Wilkins. Bewitched to death." The very next entry relates to a
case of which this obituary line, in Mr. Parris's church-book, is the
only intimation that has come down to us, "Daughter to Ann Douglas. By
witchcraft, I doubt not." Willard's examination was at Beadle's, on the
18th. With this deluge of accusations and tempest of indignation
beating upon him, he had but little chance, and was committed.
While the marshals and constables were in pursuit of Willard, the time
was well improved by the prosecutors. On the 12th of May, warrants were
issued to apprehend, and bring "forthwith" before the magistrates
sitting at Beadle's, "Alice Parker, the wife of John Parker of Salem;
and Ann Pudeator of Salem, widow." Alice, commonly called Elsie, Parker
was the wife of a mariner. We know but little of her. We have a
deposition of one woman, Martha Dutch, as follows:—
"This deponent testified and saith, that, about two years last past,
John Jarman, of Salem, coming in from sea, I (this deponent and Alice
Parker, of Salem, both of us standing together) said unto her, 'What a
great mercy it was, for to see them come home well; and through mercy,'
I said, 'my husband had gone, and come home well, many times.' And I,
this deponent, did say unto the said Parker, that 'I[ii.180] did hope
he would come home this voyage well also.' And the said Parker made
answer unto me, and said, 'No: never more in this world.' The which
came to pass as she then told me; for he died abroad, as I certainly
hear."
Perhaps Parker had information which had not reached the ears of Dutch,
or she may have been prone to take melancholy views of the dangers to
which seafaring people are exposed. It was a strange kind of evidence
to be admitted against a person in a trial for witchcraft.
Samuel Shattuck, who has been mentioned (vol. i. p. 193) in connection
with Bridget Bishop, had a long story to tell about Alice Parker. He
seems to have been very active in getting up charges of witchcraft
against persons in his neighborhood, and on the most absurd and
frivolous grounds. Parker had made a friendly call upon his wife; and,
not long after, one of his children fell sick, and he undertook to
suspect that it was "under an evil hand." In similar circumstances, he
took the same grudge against Bridget Bishop. Alice Parker, hearing that
he had been circulating suspicions to that effect against her, went to
his house to remonstrate; an angry altercation took place between them;
and he gave his version of the affair in evidence. There was no one to
present the other side. But the whole thing has, not only a one-sided,
but an irrelevant character, in no wise bearing upon the point of
witchcraft. All the gossip, scandal, and tittle-tattle of the
neighborhood for twenty years back, in this case as in others,
was[ii.181] raked up, and allowed to be adduced, however utterly remote
from the questions belonging to the trial.
The following singular piece of testimony against Alice Parker may be
mentioned. John Westgate was at Samuel Beadle's tavern one night with
boon companions; among them John Parker, the husband of Alice. She
disapproved of her husband's spending his evenings in such company, and
in a bar-room; and felt it necessary to put a stop to it, if she could.
Westgate says that she "came into the company, and scolded at and
called her husband all to nought; whereupon I, the said deponent, took
her husband's part, telling her it was an unbeseeming thing for her to
come after him to the tavern, and rail after that rate. With that she
came up to me, and called me rogue, and bid me mind my own business,
and told me I had better have said nothing." He goes on to state, that,
returning home one night some time afterwards, he experienced an awful
fright. "Going from the house of Mr. Daniel King, when I came over
against John Robinson's house, I heard a great noise; ... and there
appeared a black hog running towards me with open mouth, as though he
would have devoured me at that instant time." In the extremity of his
terror, he tried to run away from the awful monster; but, as might have
been expected under the circumstances, he tumbled to the ground. "I
fell down upon my hip, and my knife run into my hip up to the haft.
When I came home, my knife was in my sheath. When I drew it out of the
sheath, then immediately the sheath fell all[ii.182] to pieces." And
further this deponent testifieth, that, after he got up from his fall,
his stocking and shoe was full of blood, and that he was forced to
crawl along by the fence all the way home; and the hog followed him,
and never left him till he came home. He further stated that he was
accompanied all the way by his "stout dog," which ordinarily was much
inclined to attack and "worry hogs," but, on this occasion, "ran away
from him, leaping over the fence and crying much." In view of all these
things, Westgate concludes his testimony thus: "Which hog I then
apprehended was either the Devil or some evil thing, not a real hog;
and did then really judge, or determine in my mind, that it was either
Goody Parker or by her means and procuring, fearing that she is a
witch." The facts were probably these: The sheath was broken by his
fall, his skin bruised, and some blood got into his stocking and shoe.
The knife was never out of the sheath until he drew it; there was no
mystery or witchcraft in it. Nothing was ever more natural than the
conduct of the dog. When he saw Westgate frightened out of his wits at
nothing, trying to run as for dear life when there was no pursuer,
staggering and pitching along in a zigzag direction with very eccentric
motions, falling heels over head, and then crawling along, holding
himself up by the fence, and all the time looking back with terror, and
perhaps attempting to express his consternation, the dog could not tell
what to make of it; and ran off, as a dog would be likely to have done,
jumping over the fences, barking,[ii.183] and uttering the usual canine
ejaculations. Dogs sympathize with their masters, and, if there is a
frolic or other acting going on, are fond of joining in it. The whole
thing was in consequence of Westgate's not having profited by Alice
Parker's rebuke, and discontinued his visits by night to Beadle's
bar-room. The only reason why he saw the "black hog with the open
mouth," and the dog did not see it, and therefore failed to come to his
protection, was because he had been drinking and the dog had not.
We find among the papers relating to these transactions many other
instances of this kind of testimony; sounds heard and sights seen by
persons going home at night through woods, after having spent the
evening under the bewildering influences of talk about witches, Satan,
ghosts, and spectres; sometimes, as in this case, stimulated by other
causes of excitement.
Perhaps some persons may be curious to know the route by which Westgate
made out to reach his home, while pursued by the horrors of that
midnight experience. He seems to have frequented Samuel Beadle's
bar-room. That old Narragansett soldier owned a lot on the west side of
St. Peter's Street, occupying the southern corner of what is now Church
Street, which was opened ten years afterwards, that is, in 1702, by the
name of Epps's Lane. On that lot his tavern stood. He also owned
one-third of an acre at the present corner of Brown and St. Peter's
Streets, on which he had a stable and barn; so that his grounds were on
both sides of St. Peter's Street,—one parcel on the west,[ii.184]
nearly opposite the present front of the church; the other on the east
side of St. Peter's Street, opposite the south side of the church. From
this locality Westgate started. He probably did not go down Brown
Street, for that was then a dark, unfrequented lane, but thought it
safest to get into Essex Street. He made his way along that street,
passing the Common, the southern side of which, at that time, with the
exception of some house-lots on and contiguous to the site of the
Franklin Building, bordered on Essex Street. The casualty of his fall;
the catastrophe to his hip, stocking, and shoe; and the witchery
practised upon his knife and its sheath,—occurred "over against John
Robinson's house," which was on the eastern corner of Pleasant and
Essex Streets. Christopher Babbage's house, from which he thought the
"great noise" came, was next beyond Robinson's. He crawled along the
fences and the sides of the houses until he reached the passage-way on
the western side of Thomas Beadle's house, and through that managed to
get to his own house, which was directly south of said Beadle's lot,
between it and the harbor.
There is one item in reference to Alice Parker, which indicates that
the zeal of the prosecutors in her case, as in that of Mr. Burroughs,
and perhaps others, was aggravated by a suspicion that she was
heretical on some points of the prevalent creed of the day. Parris says
that "Mr. Noyes, at the time of her examination, affirmed to her face,
that, he being with her at a time of sickness, discoursing with her
about[ii.185] witchcraft, whether she were not guilty, she answered,
'if she was as free from other sins as from witchcraft, she would not
ask of the Lord mercy.'" The manner of expression in this passage shows
that it was thought that there was something very shocking in her
answer. Mr. Noyes "affirmed to her face." No doubt it was thought that
she denied the doctrine of original and transmitted, or imputed sin.
Ann Pudeator (pronounced Pud-e-tor) was the widow of Jacob Pudeator,
and probably about seventy years of age. The name is spelt variously,
and was originally, as it is sometimes found, Poindexter. She was a
woman of property, owning two estates on the north line of the Common;
that on which she lived comprised what is between Oliver and Winter
Streets. She was arrested and brought to examination on the 12th of
May. There is ground to conclude, from the tenor of the documents, that
she was then discharged. Some people in the town were determined to
gratify their spleen against her, and procured her re-arrest. The
examination took place on the 2d of July, and she was then committed.
The evidence was, if possible, more frivolous and absurd than in other
cases. The girls acted their usual parts, giving, on this occasion, a
particularly striking exhibition of the transmission of the diabolical
virus out of themselves back into the witch by a touch of her body.
"Ann Putnam fell into a fit, and said Pudeator was commanded to take
her by the wrist, and did; and said Putnam was well presently. Mary
Warren fell into two fits quickly, after[ii.186] one another; and both
times was helped by said Pudeator's taking her by the wrist."