escape. At night he called a council of war, and declared his resolution to
attack the enemy in the morning. Schomberg[1] at first opposed his design,
but, finding the King determined, he advised that a strong detachment of
horse and foot should that night pass the Boyne at Slane bridge and take
post between the enemy and the pass at Duleck, that the action might be the
more decisive; this counsel being rejected, the King determined that early
in the morning Lieutenant-general Douglas with the right wing of the
infantry, and young Schomberg with the horse, should pass at Slane bridge,
while the main body of the foot should force their passage at Old bridge,
and the left at certain fords between the enemy's camp and Drogheda. The
Duke, perceiving that his advice was not relished by the Dutch generals,
retired to his tent, where, the order of battle being brought to him, he
received it with an air of discontent, saying it was the first that had
ever been sent to him in that manner. The proper dispositions being made,
William rode quite through the army by torchlight, and then retired to his
tent after having given orders to his soldiers to distinguish themselves
from the enemy by wearing green boughs in their hats during the action.
[Footnote 1: The Duke of Schomberg, who commanded for William, had
accompanied him to England in 1688. The Duke is further spoken of below.
"Young Schomberg" was his son.--ED.]
At six o'clock in the morning, General Douglas, with young Schomberg, the
Earl of Portland, and Auverquerque, marched to Slane bridge, and passed the
river with very little opposition. When they reached the farther bank they
perceived the enemy drawn up in two lines, to a considerable number of
horse and foot, with a morass in their front, so that Douglas was obliged
to wait for reinforcements. This being arrived, the infantry was led on to
the charge through the morass, while Count Schomberg rode round it with his
cavalry, to attack the enemy in flank. The Irish, instead of waiting the
assault, faced about, and retreated toward Duleck with some precipitation;
yet not so fast but that Schomberg fell in among their rear, and did
considerable execution. King James, however, soon reënforced his left
wing from the centre; and the Count was in his turn obliged to send for
assistance.
At this juncture King William's main body, consisting of the Dutch guards,
the French regiments,[1] and some battalions of English, passed the river,
which was waist-high, under a general discharge of artillery. King James
had imprudently removed his cannon from the other side; but he had posted a
strong body of musketeers along the bank, behind hedges, houses, and some
works raised for the occasion; these poured in a close fire on the English
troops before they reached the shore; but it produced very little effect.
Then the Irish gave way, and some battalions landed without further
opposition; yet before they could form, they were charged with great
impetuosity by a squadron of the enemy's horse, and a considerable body of
their cavalry and foot, commanded by General Hamilton, advanced from behind
some little hillocks to attack those that were landed as well as to prevent
the rest from reaching the shore; his infantry turned their backs and fled
immediately; but the horse charged with incredible fury, both on the bank
and in the river, so as to put the unformed regiments in confusion.
[Footnote 1: French Protestants or Huguenots.--ED.]
Then the Duke of Schomberg passed the river in person, put himself at the
head of the French Protestants, and pointing to the enemy, "Gentlemen,"
said he, "those are your persecutors." With these words he advanced to the
attack, where he himself sustained a violent onset from a party of the
Irish horse, which had broken through one of the regiments and were now on
their return. They were mistaken for English, and allowed to gallop up
to the Duke, who received two severe wounds in the head; but the French
troops, now sensible of their mistake, rashly threw in their fire on the
Irish while they were engaged with the Duke, and, instead of saving, shot
him dead on the spot.
The death of this general had wellnigh proved fatal to the English army,
which was immediately involved in tumult and disorder; while the infantry
of King James rallied and returned to their posts with a face of
resolution. They were just ready to fall on the centre when King William,
having passed with the left wing, composed of the Danish, Dutch, and
Inniskillen horse, advanced to attack them on the right: they were struck
with such a panic at his appearance that they made a sudden halt, and then
facing about retreated to the village of Dunmore. There they made such a
vigorous stand that the Dutch and Danish horse, though headed by the King
in person, recoiled; even the Inniskillens gave way, and the whole wing
would have been routed had not a detachment of dragoons, belonging to the
regiment of Cunningham and Levison, dismounted and lined the hedges on each
side of the ditch through which the fugitives were driven; there they did
such execution on the pursuers as soon checked their ardor. The horse,
which were broken, had now time to rally, and, returning to the charge,
drove the enemy before them in their turn.
In this action General Hamilton, who had been the life and soul of the
Irish during the whole engagement, was wounded and taken, an incident which
discouraged them to such a degree that they made no further efforts to
retrieve the advantage they had lost. He was immediately brought to
the King, who asked him if he thought the Irish would make any further
resistance, and he replied, "On my honor I believe they will, for they
have still a good body of horse entire." William, eying him with a look of
disdain, repeated, "Your honor, your honor!" but took no other notice of
his having acted contrary to his engagement, when he was permitted to go to
Ireland on promise of persuading Tyrconnel to submit to the new government.
The Irish now abandoned the field with precipitation; but the French and
Swiss troops, that acted as their auxiliaries under De Lauzun, retreated
in good order, after having maintained the battle for some time with
intrepidity and perseverance.
As King William did not think proper to pursue the enemy, the carnage was
not great; the Irish lost a thousand five hundred men and the English
about one-third of that number; though the victory was dearly purchased,
considering the death of the gallant Duke of Schomberg, who fell, in the
eighty-second year of his age, after having rivalled the best generals of
that time in military reputation. He was the descendant of a noble family,
in the Palatinate, and his mother was an Englishwoman, daughter of Lord
Dudley. Being obliged to leave his country on account of the troubles
by which it was agitated, he commenced a soldier of fortune, and served
successively in the armies of Holland, England, France, Portugal, and
Brandenburg; he attained to the dignity of mareschal in France, grandee in
Portugal, generalissimo in Prussia, and duke in England. He professed the
Protestant religion; was courteous and humble in his deportment; cool,
penetrating, resolute, and sagacious, nor was his probity inferior to his
courage.
This battle also proved fatal to the barve Caillemote, who had followed
the Duke's fortunes, and commanded one of the Protestant regiments. After
having received a mortal wound, he was carried back through the river by
four soldiers, and, though almost in the agonies of death, he, with a
cheerful countenance, encouraged those who were crossing to do their duty,
exclaiming, "_A la gloire, mes enfants, à la gloire!_" ("To glory, my lads,
to glory!")
The third remarkable person who lost his life on this occasion was Walker,
the clergyman, who had so valiantly defended Londonderry against the whole
army of King James; he had been very graciously received by King William,
who gratified him with a reward of five thousand pounds and a promise of
further favor; but, his military genius still predominating, he attended
his royal patron in this battle, and, being shot, died in a few minutes.
The persons of distinction who fell on the other side were the Lords Dongan
and Carlingford; Sir Neile O'Neile and the Marquis of Hocquincourt. James,
himself, stood aloof during the action on the hill of Dunmore, surrounded
with some squadrons of horse, and seeing victory declare against him
retired to Dublin without having made the least effort to reassemble his
broken forces. Had he possessed either spirit or conduct his army might
have been rallied and reënforced from his garrisons, so as to be in a
condition to keep the field and even to act on the offensive; for his loss
was inconsiderable, and the victor did not attempt to molest his troops
in their retreat, an omission which has been charged to him as a flagrant
instance of misconduct. Indeed, through the whole of this engagement
William's personal courage was much more conspicuous than his military
skill.
%SALEM WITCHCRAFT TRIALS%
A.D. 1692
RICHARD HILDRETH
Among the people of Massachusetts during the century which saw the Pilgrims
seek religious liberty there, a delusion broke out which not only spread
horror through the community and caused suffering and disgrace even in
the most respectable families, but has baffled all later attempts at
explanation. The witchcraft madness, as manifested there and elsewhere
in the world, has remained alike the puzzle of history and the riddle of
psychology.
Historically, witchcraft is classed with other occult phenomena or
practices connected with supposed supernatural influences. The famous
trials and executions for witchcraft which took place in and near Salem,
Massachusetts, toward the end of the seventeenth century, owed their
special prominence to their peculiar localization and environment.
Otherwise they might have been regarded as nothing more than incidents of a
once general course in criminal procedure. Thousands in Europe had already
suffered similar condemnation, and the last recorded execution for
witchcraft in Great Britain did not occur till 1722. Even so late as 1805 a
woman was imprisoned for this "crime" in Scotland.
Hildreth's account skilfully condenses the essential matters relating to
this strange episode in Massachusetts history.
* * * * *
The practice of magic, sorcery, and spells, in the reality of which all
ignorant communities have believed, had long been a criminal offence in
England. A statute of the thirty-third year of Henry VIII made them capital
felonies. Another statute of the first year of James I, more specific in
its terms, subjected to the same penalty all persons "invoking any evil
spirit, or consulting, covenanting with, entertaining, employing, feeding,
or rewarding any evil spirit, or taking up dead bodies from their graves to
be used in any witchcraft, sorcery, charm, or enchantment, or killing or
otherwise hurting any person by such infernal arts."
That second Solomon, before whom the illustrious Bacon bowed with so much
reverence, was himself a firm believer in witchcraft. He professed, indeed,
to be an adept in the art of detecting witches, an art which became the
subject of several learned treatises, one of them from James' own royal
pen. During the Commonwealth England had abounded with professional
witch-detectors, who travelled from county to county, and occasioned the
death of many unfortunate persons. The "Fundamentals" of Massachusetts
contained a capital law against witchcraft, fortified by that express
declaration of Scripture, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."
Yet, among other evidences of departure from ancient landmarks, and of
the propagation even to New England of a spirit of doubt, were growing
suspicions as to the reality of that everyday supernaturalism which formed
so prominent a feature of the Puritan theology. The zeal of Increase Mather
against this rising incredulity had engaged him, while the old charter was
still in existence, to publish a book of _Remarkable Providences_, in which
were enumerated, among other things, all the supposed cases of witchcraft
which had hitherto occurred in New England, with arguments to prove their
reality.
What at that time had given the matter additional interest was the case of
a bewitched or haunted house at Newbury. An intelligent neighbor, who had
suggested that a mischievous grandson of the occupant might perhaps be at
the bottom of the mystery, was himself accused of witchcraft and narrowly
escaped. A witch, however, the credulous townspeople were resolved to find,
and they presently fixed upon the wife of the occupant as the culprit.
Seventeen persons testified to mishaps experienced in the course of
their lives, which they charitably chose to ascribe to the ill-will and
diabolical practices of this unfortunate old woman. On this evidence she
was found guilty by the jury; but the magistrates, more enlightened,
declined to order her execution. The deputies thereupon raised a loud
complaint at this delay of justice. But the firmness of Governor
Bradstreet, supported as he was by the moderate party, and the abrogation
of the charter which speedily followed, saved the woman's life.
This same struggle of opinion existed also in the mother-country, where
the rising sect of "freethinkers" began to deny and deride all diabolical
agencies. Nor was this view confined to professed freethinkers. The
latitudinarian party in the Church, a rapidly growing body, leaned
perceptibly the same way. The "serious ministers," on the other hand, led
by Richard Baxter, their acknowledged head, defended with zeal the reality
of witchcraft and the personality and agency of the devil, to deny which
they denounced as little short of atheism. They supported their opinions
by the authority of Sir Matthew Hale, lord chief justice of England,
as distinguished for piety as for knowledge of the law, under whose
instructions two alleged witches, at whose trials he had presided shortly
after the Restoration, had been found guilty and executed. The accounts
of those trials, published in England on occasion of this controversy and
republished at Boston, had tended to confirm the popular belief. The doubts
by which Mather had been alarmed were yet confined to a few thinking men.
Read with a forward and zealous faith, these stories did not fail to make a
deep impression on the popular imagination.
While Andros was still governor, shortly after Increase Mather's departure
for England, four young children, members of a pious family in Boston, the
eldest a girl of thirteen, the youngest a boy not five, had begun to behave
in a singular manner, barking like dogs, purring like cats, seeming to
become deaf, blind, or dumb, having their limbs strangely distorted,
complaining that they were pinched, pricked, pulled, or cut--acting out, in
fact, the effects of witchcraft, according to the current notions of it
and the descriptions in the books above referred to. The terrified
father called in Dr. Oakes, a zealous leader of the ultra-theocratic
party--presently sent to England as joint agent with Mather--who gave
his opinion that the children were bewitched. The oldest girl had lately
received a bitter scolding from an old Irish indented servant, whose
daughter she had accused of theft.
This same old woman, from indications no doubt given by the children,
was soon fixed upon as being the witch. The four ministers of Boston and
another from Charlestown having kept a day of fasting and prayer at the
troubled house, the youngest child was relieved. But the others, more
persevering and more artful, continuing as before, the old woman was
presently arrested and charged with bewitching them. She had for a long
time been reputed a witch, and she even seems to have flattered herself
that she was one. Indeed, her answers were so "senseless" that the
magistrates referred it to the doctors to say if she were not "crazed in
her intellects." On their report of her sanity, the old woman was tried,
found guilty, and executed.
Though Increase Mather was absent on this interesting occasion, he had a
zealous representative in his son, Cotton Mather, by the mother's side
grandson of the "Great Cotton," a young minister of twenty-five, a prodigy
of learning, eloquence, and piety, recently settled as colleague with his
father over Boston North Church. Cotton Mather had an extraordinary memory,
stuffed with all sorts of learning. His application was equal to that of a
German professor. His lively imagination, trained in the school of Puritan
theology, and nourished on the traditionary legends of New England, of
which he was a voracious and indiscriminate collector, was still further
stimulated by fasts, vigils, prayers, and meditations almost equal to
those of any Catholic saint. Of a temperament ambitious and active, he was
inflamed with a great desire of "doing good." Fully conscious of all his
gifts, and not a little vain of them, like the Jesuit missionaries in
Canada, his contemporaries, he believed himself to be often, during his
devotional exercises, in direct and personal communication with the Deity.
In every piece of good-fortune he saw a special answer to his prayers; in
every mortification or calamity, the special personal malice of the devil
and his agents. Yet both himself and his father were occasionally troubled
with "temptations to atheism," doubts which they did not hesitate to
ascribe to diabolical influence. The secret consciousness of these doubts
of their own was perhaps one source of their great impatience at the doubts
of others.
Cotton Mather had taken a very active part in the late case of witchcraft;
and, that he might study the operations of diabolical agency at his
leisure, and thus be furnished with evidence and arguments to establish
its reality, he took the eldest of the bewitched children home to his own
house. His eagerness to believe invited imposture. His excessive vanity and
strong prejudices made him easy game. Adroit and artful beyond her years,
the girl fooled him to the top of his bent. His ready pen was soon
furnished with materials for "a story all made up of wonders," which, with
some other matters of the same sort, and a sermon preached on the occasion,
he presently published, under the title of _Memorable Providences relating
to Witchcrafts and Possessions_, with a preface in which he warned all
"Sadducees" that he should regard their doubts for the future as a personal
insult.
Cotton Mather was not the only dupe. "The old heresy of the sensual
Sadducees, denying the being of angels either good or evil," says the
recommendatory preface to this book, signed by the other four ministers of
Boston, "died not with them, nor will it, whilst men, abandoning both faith
and reason, count it their wisdom to credit nothing but what they see or
feel. How much this fond opinion hath gotten ground in this debauched age
is awfully observable; and what a dangerous stroke it gives to settle men
in atheism is not hard to discern. God is therefore pleased, besides the
witness borne to this truth in Sacred Writ, to suffer devils sometimes to
do such things in the world as shall stop the mouths of gainsayers, and
extort a confession from them."
They add their testimony to the truth of Mather's statements, which they
commend as furnishing "clear information" that there is "both a God and a
devil, and witchcraft." The book was presently republished in London, with
a preface by Baxter, who pronounced the girl's case so "convincing" that
"he must be a very obdurate Sadducee who would not believe it."
Mather's sermon, prefixed to this narrative, is a curious specimen of
fanatical declamation. "Witchcraft," he exclaims, "is a renouncing of God,
and the advancement of a filthy devil into the throne of the Most High.
Witchcraft is a renouncing of Christ, and preferring the communion of a
loathsome, lying devil before all the salvation of the Lord Redeemer.
Witchcraft is a siding with hell against heaven and earth, and therefore a
witch is not to be endured in either of them. 'Tis a capital crime, and is
to be prosecuted as a species of devilism that would not only deprive God
and Christ of all his honor, but also plunder man of all his comfort.
Nothing too vile can be said of, nothing too hard can be done to, such a
horrible iniquity as witchcraft is!"
Such declamations from such a source, giving voice and authority to the
popular superstition, prepared the way for the tragedy that followed.
The suggestion, however, that Cotton Mather, for purposes of his own,
deliberately got up this witchcraft delusion, and forced it upon a doubtful
and hesitating people, is utterly absurd. And so is another suggestion, a
striking exhibition of partisan extravagance, that because the case of the
four Boston children happened during the government of Andros, therefore
the responsibility of that affair rests on him, and not on the people of
Massachusetts. The Irish woman was tried under a Massachusetts law, and
convicted by a Massachusetts jury; and, had Andros interfered to save her
life, to the other charges against him would doubtless have been added that
of friendship for witches.
Cotton Mather seems to have acted, in a degree, the part of a demagogue.
Yet he is not to be classed with those tricky and dishonest men, so common
in our times, who play upon popular prejudices which they do not share, in
the expectation of being elevated to honors and office. Mather's position,
convictions, and temperament alike called him to serve on this occasion as
the organ, exponent, and stimulator of the popular faith.
The bewitched girl, as she ceased to be an object of popular attention,
seems to have returned to her former behavior. But the seed had been sown
on fruitful ground. After an interval of nearly four years, three young
girls in the family of Parris, minister of Salem village, now Danvers,
began to exhibit similar pranks. As in the Boston case, a physician
pronounced them bewitched, and Tituba, an old Indian woman, the servant of
Parris, who undertook, by some vulgar rites, to discover the witch, was
rewarded by the girls with the accusation of being herself the cause of
their sufferings. The neighboring ministers assembled at the house of
Parris for fasting and prayer. The village fasted; and presently a general
fast was ordered throughout the colony. The "bewitched children," thus
rendered objects of universal sympathy and attention, did not long want
imitators. Several other girls and two or three women of the neighborhood
began to be afflicted in the same way, as did also John, the Indian husband
of Tituba, warned, it would seem, by the fate of his wife.
Parris took a very active part in discovering the witches; so did Noyes,
minister of Salem, described as "a learned, a charitable, and a good man."
A town committee was soon formed for the detection of the witches. Two
of the magistrates, resident at Salem, entered with great zeal into
the matter. The accusations, confined at first to Tituba and two other
friendless women, one crazed, the other bedrid, presently included two
female members of Parris' church, in which, as in so many other churches,
there had been some sharp dissensions. The next Sunday after this
accusation Parris preached from the verse, "Have I not chosen you twelve,
and one is a devil?" At the announcement of this text the sister of one of
the accused women rose and left the meeting-house. She, too, was accused
immediately after, and the same fate soon overtook all who showed the least
disposition to resist the prevailing delusion.