The third of this family of dignified gentlewomen seems to have had a
keener sensibility than her sisters, or a frame less strong to endure
the shocks prepared and inflicted by the malice of the enemy. Some of
the incidents of her implication in the great calamity are almost too
moving to be dwelt on, even in a remote time and country. Mrs. Cloyse
drew ill-will upon herself at the outset by doing as her brother and
sister Nurse did. They all absented themselves from the examinations
in the church, and, when the interruptions of the services became too
flagrant, from Sabbath worship; and they said they took that course
because they disapproved of the permission given to the profanation
of the place and the service. They were communicants, and persons of
consideration, both in regard to character and position; and their quiet
disapprobation of the proceedings of the ministers and their company of
accusers subjected them to the full fury of clerical wrath and womanish
spite. When the first examination of Mrs. Nurse took place, Mrs. Cloyse
was of course overwhelmed with horror and grief. The next Sunday,
however, was Sacrament Sunday; and she and her husband considered it
their duty to attend the ordinance. The effort to Mrs. Cloyse was so
great that when Mr. Parris gave out his text, "One of you is a devil. He
spake of Judas Iscariot," etc., and when he opened his discourse with
references in his special manner to the transactions of the week, the
afflicted sister of the last victim could not endure the outrage. She
left the meeting. There was a fresh wind, and the door slammed as she
went out, fixing the attention of all present, just as Mr. Parris could
have desired. She had not to wait long for the consequences. On the 4th
of April she was apprehended with several others; and on the 11th her
examination took place, the questions being framed to suit the evidence
known to be forthcoming, and Mr. Parris being the secretary for the
occasion. The witness in one case was asked whether she saw a company
eating and drinking at Mr. Parris', and she replied, as expected, that
she did. "What were they eating and drinking?" Of course, it was the
Devil's sacrament; and Mr. Parris, by leading questions, brought out the
testimony that about forty persons partook of that hell-sacrament, Mrs.
Cloyse and Sarah Good being the two deacons! When accused of the usual
practices of cruelty to these innocent suffering children, and to the
ugly, hulking Indian slave, who pretended to show the marks of her
teeth, Mrs. Cloyse gave some vent to her feelings. "When did I hurt
thee?" "A great many times," said the Indian. "O, you are a grievous
liar!" exclaimed she. But the wrath gave way under the soul-sickness
which overcame her when charged with biting and pinching a black man,
and throttling children, and serving their blood at the blasphemous
supper. Her sisters in prison, her husband accused with her, and young
girls--mere children--now manifesting a devilish cruelty to her, who had
felt nothing but good-will to them--she could not sustain herself before
the assembly whose eyes were upon her. She sank down, calling for water.
She fainted on the floor, and some of the accusing children cried out,
"Oh! her spirit has gone to prison to her sister Nurse!" From that
examination she was herself carried to prison.
When she joined her sister Easty in the petition to the Court in the
next summer, she certainly had no idea of escaping the gallows; but it
does not appear that she was ever brought to trial. Mr. Parris certainly
never relented; for we find him from time to time torturing the feelings
of this and every other family whom he supposed to be anything but
affectionate to him. Some of the incidents would be almost incredible to
us if they were not recorded in the church and parish books in Mr.
Parris' own distinct handwriting.
On the 14th of August, when the corpse of Rebecca Nurse was lying among
the rocks on the Witches' Hill, and her two sisters were in irons in
Boston jail (for Boston had now taken the affair out of the hands of
the unaided Salem authorities), and his predecessor, Mr. Burroughs, was
awaiting his execution, Mr. Parris invited his church members to remain
after service to hear something that he had to say. He had to point out
to the vigilance of the church that Samuel Nurse, the son of Rebecca,
and his wife, and Peter Cloyse and certain others, of late had failed
to join the brethren at the Lord's table, and had, except Samuel Nurse,
rarely appeared at ordinary worship. These outraged and mourning
relatives of the accused sisters were decreed to be visited by certain
pious representatives of the church, and the reason of their absence
to be demanded. The minister, the two deacons, and a chief member were
appointed to this fearful task. The report delivered in on the 31st of
August was:
"Brother Tarbell proves sick, unmeet for discourse; Brother Cloyse hard
to be found at home, being often with his wife in the prison at Ipswich
for witchcraft; and Brother Samuel Nurse, and sometimes his wife,
attends our public meeting, and he the sacrament, 11th of September,
1692: upon all which we chose to wait further." (Vol. ii. p. 486.)
This decision to pause was noted as the first token of the decline of
the power of the ministers. Mr. Parris was sorely unwilling to yield
even this much advantage to Satan--that is, to family affection and
instinct of justice. But his position was further lowered by the
departure from the parish of some of the most eminent members of its
society. Mr. Cloyse never brought his family to the Village again,
when his wife was once out of prison; and the name disappears from the
history of Salem.