In the interval between the execution of Mrs. Hibbins and the outbreak
at Salem an occasional breeze arose against some unpopular member of
society. If a man's ox was ill, if the beer ran out of the cask, if the
butter would not come in the churn, if a horse shied or was restless
when this or that man or woman was in sight; and if a woman knew when
her neighbors were talking about her (which was Mrs. Hibbins' most
indisputable proof of connection with the devil), rumors got about of
Satanic intercourse; men and women made deposition that six or seven
years before, they had seen the suspected person yawn in church, and
had observed a "devil's teat" distinctly visible under his tongue; and
children told of bears coming to them in the night, and of a buzzing
devil in the humble-bee, and of a cat on the bed thrice as big as an
ordinary cat. But the authorities, on occasion, exercised some caution.
They fined one accused person for telling a lie, instead of treating his
bragging as inspiration of the devil. They induced timely confession, or
discovered flaws in the evidence, as often as they could; so that there
was less disturbance in the immediate neighborhood than in some other
parts of the province. Where the Rev. Mr. Parris went, however, there
was no more peace and quiet, no more privacy in the home, no more
harmony in the church, no more goodwill or good manners in society.
As soon as he was ordained he put perplexing questions about baptism
before the farmers, who rather looked to him for guidance in such
matters than expected to be exercised in theological mysteries which
they had never studied. He exposed to the congregation the spiritual
conflicts of individual members who were too humble for their own
comfort. He preached and prayed incessantly about his own wrongs and the
slights he suffered, in regard to his salary and supplies; and entered
satirical notes in the margin of the church records; so that he was as
abundantly discussed from house to house, and from end to end of his
parish, as he himself could have desired. In the very crisis of
the discontent, and when his little world was expecting to see him
dismissed, he saved himself, as we ourselves have of late seen other
persons relieve themselves under stress of mind and circumstances, by a
rush into the world of spirits.
Four years previously, a poor immigrant, a Catholic Irishwoman, had
been hanged in Boston for bewitching four children, named Goodwin--one
of whom, a girl of thirteen, had sorely tried a reverend man, less
irascible than Mr. Parris, but nearly as excitable. The tricks that the
little girl played the Reverend Cotton Mather, when he endeavored to
exorcise the evil spirits, are precisely such as are familiar to us, in
cases which are common in the practice of every physician. If we can
not pretend to explain them--in the true sense of explaining--that is,
referring them to an ascertained law of nature, we know what to look for
under certain conditions, and are aware that it is the brain and nervous
system that is implicated in these phenomena, and not the Prince
of Darkness and his train. Cotton Mather had no alternative at his
disposal. Satan or nothing was his only choice. He published the story,
with all its absurd details; and it was read in almost every house in
the Province. At Salem it wrought with fatal effect, because there was a
pastor close by well qualified to make the utmost mischief out of it.
[In cases of _hysteria_, the phenomena are sometimes so remarkable, that
one is disposed to attribute their cause to influences beyond nature.]