In the early part of the century, a devout family named Towne were
living at Great Yarmouth, in the English county of Norfolk. About the
time of the King's execution they emigrated to Massachusetts. William
Towne and his wife carried with them two daughters; and another daughter
and a son were born to them afterward in Salem. The three daughters were
baptized at long intervals, and the eldest, Rebecca, must have been at
least twenty years older than Sarah, and a dozen or more years older
than Mary. A sketch of the fate of these three sisters contains within
it the history of a century.
On the map which Mr. Upham presents us with, one of the most conspicuous
estates is an inclosure of 300 acres, which had a significant story of
its own--too long for us to enter upon. We need only say that there had
been many strifes about this property--fights about boundaries, and
stripping of timber, and a series of lawsuits. Yet, from 1678 onward,
the actual residents in the mansion had lived in peace, taking no notice
of wrangles which did not, under the conditions of purchase, affect
them, but only the former proprietor. The frontispiece of Mr. Upham's
book shows us what the mansion of an opulent landowner was like in the
early days of the colony. It is the portrait of the house in which the
eldest daughter of William Towne was living at the date of the Salem
Tragedy.
Rebecca, then the aged wife of Francis Nurse, was a great-grandmother,
and between seventy and eighty years of age. No old age could have had
a more lovely aspect than hers. Her husband was, as he had always been,
devoted to her, and the estate was a colony of sons and daughters, and
their wives and husbands; for 'Landlord Nurse' had divided his land
between his four sons and three sons-in-law, and had built homesteads
for them all as they married and settled. Mrs. Nurse was in full
activity of faculty, except being somewhat deaf from age; and her health
was good, except for certain infirmities of long standing, which it
required the zeal and the malice of such a divine as Mr. Parris to
convert into "devil's marks." As for her repute in the society of which
she was the honored head, we learn what it was by the testimony supplied
by forty persons--neighbors and householders--who were inquired of in
regard to their opinion of her in the day of her sore trial. Some of
them had known her above forty years; they had seen her bring up a large
family in uprightness; they had remarked the beauty of her Christian
profession and conduct; and had never heard or observed any evil of her.
This was Rebecca, the eldest.
The next, Mary, was now fifty-eight years old, the wife of "Goodman
Easty," the owner of a large farm. She had seven children, and was
living in ease and welfare of every sort when overtaken by the same
calamity as her sister Nurse. Sarah, the youngest, had married twice.
Her present husband was Peter Cloyse, whose name occurs in the parish
records, and in various depositions which show that he was a prominent
citizen. When Mr. Parris was publicly complaining of neglect in respect
of firewood for the parsonage, and of lukewarmness on the part of the
hearers of his services, "Landlord Nurse" was a member of the committee
who had to deal with him; and his relatives were probably among the
majority who were longing for Mr. Parris' apparently inevitable
departure. In these circumstances, it was not altogether surprising that
"the afflicted children" trained in the parsonage parlor, ventured,
after their first successes, to name the honored "Goody Nurse" as one
of the allies lately acquired by Satan. They saw her here, there,
everywhere, when she was sitting quietly at home; they saw her biting
the black servants, choking, pinching, pricking women and children; and
if she was examined, devil's marks would doubtless be found upon her.
She _was_ examined by a jury of her own sex. Neither the testimony of
her sisters and daughters as to her infirmities, nor the disgust of
decent neighbors, nor the commonest suggestions of reason and feeling,
availed to save her from the injury of being reported to have what the
witnesses were looking for.
We have a glimpse of her in her home when the first conception of her
impending fate opened upon her. Four esteemed persons, one of whom was
her brother-in-law, Mr. Cloyse, made the following deposition, in the
prospect of the victim being dragged before the public:
"We whose names are underwritten being desired to go to Goodman Nurse,
his house, to speak with his wife, and to tell her that several of the
afflicted persons mentioned her; and accordingly we went, and we found
her in a weak and low condition in body as she told us, and had been
sick almost a week. And we asked how it was otherwise with her; and
she said she blessed God for it, she had more of his presence in this
sickness than sometimes she have had, but not so much as she desired;
but she would, with the Apostle, press forward to the mark; and many
other places of Scripture to the like purpose. And then of her own
accord she began to speak of the affliction that was among them, and in
particular of Mr. Parris his family, and how she was grieved for them,
though she had not been to see them, by reason of fits that she formerly
used to have; for people said it was awful to behold: but she pitied
them with all her heart, and went to God for them. But she said she
heard that there was persons spoke of that were as innocent as she was,
she believed; and after much to this purpose, we told her we heard that
she was spoken of also. 'Well,' she said, 'if it be so, the will of the
Lord be done:' she sat still awhile being as it were amazed; and then
she said, 'Well, as to this thing I am as innocent as the child unborn;
but surely,' she said, 'what sin hath God found out in me unrepented
of, that he should lay such an affliction upon me in my old age?' and,
according to our best observation, we could not discern that she knew
what we came for before we told her.
ISRAEL PORTER, DANIEL ANDREW,
ELIZABETH PORTER, PETER CLOYSE."
On the 22d of March she was brought into the thronged meeting-house to
be accused before the magistrates, and to answer as she best could. We
must pass over those painful pages, where nonsense, spasms of hysteria,
new and strange to their worships, cunning, cruelty, blasphemy,
indecency, turned the house of prayer into a hell for the time. The aged
woman could explain nothing. She simply asserted her innocence, and
supposed that some evil spirit was at work. One thing more she could
do--she could endure with calmness malice and injustice which are too
much for our composure at a distance of nearly two centuries. She felt
the _animus_ of her enemies, and she pointed out how they perverted
whatever she said; but no impatient word escaped her. She was evidently
as perplexed as anybody present. When weary and disheartened, and worn
out with the noise and the numbers and the hysterics of the "afflicted,"
her head drooped on one shoulder. Immediately all the "afflicted" had
twisted necks, and rude hands seized her head to set it upright, "lest
other necks should be broken by her ill offices." Everything went
against her, and the result was what had been hoped by the agitators.
The venerable matron was carried to jail and put in irons.