It is interesting to trace the progress of the British mind from one superstition to another, until it was fully prepared to embrace the belief that the arch-enemy of man not only could, but actually did, make his appearace in the human shape, and impart to the wretch who had entered into an agreement with him power to do many supernatural things in consideration of his soul. We find the word "witch" in the sacred writings in several places; but it is always mentioned in connection with sorcery, false- prophesying and conjuration, or used by way of substitution for one or all of those terms. The English and Scotch mind seems always to have been exposed to a belief in a great variety of spirits. It is both pleasant and instructive to see how these creations of superstitious fear and versatile imagination have gradually lost their distinct personalities, and blended with each other new shapes, like geological changes repeatedly wrought upon the same atoms of matter. If you look back to the time so delightfully delineated by Spenser in his Faerie Queen, you find merry England haunted in all her dells with Fays and Fairies, dancing on the green sward in graceful circlets, taking care of the interests of the cleanly housewife, or inflicting the most vexatious injuries upon those who were negligent; causing many a lady to pine for the love of a knight, while the same knight was threading the mazes of some interminable forest, himself almost dying of grief from having mistaken the sentiments of the lady. We have also the gnomes, a people living under ground, and the dwarfs, a pigmy people, whimsical, and more generally malicious. Then come the grim, ghostly apparitions of the dead, visiting the glimpses of the moon, making night hideous." All these creations of the imagination, becoming at length masters of the national mind, and associated with certain texts of Scripture not well understood, gave birth to that monster scourge of the nations, who, under the name of "witch or wizard," held dark and damnable communion with the powers of evil. This superstition our New England ancestors inherited. We do not intend to blame or exculpate the early settlers for doing

what we should have probably all of us approved had we been of their number, but we propose to make a brief historical recital of one of the most sudden and awful tragedies that was ever acted over in the presence of an excited multitude, who were as unfit at the time of distinguishing between the natural and the supernatural, or of weighing human testimony, as the tenants of a madhouse. Every child has heard of the Salem witchcraft, but the story has, from a variety of motives, been told so variously that many people grow up to adult years without forming any correct idea of the moral and philosophical causes that have made it part of our history.

At the close of the year 1691, Mr. Paris, pastor of the church in Salem village, discovered the most unusual symptoms of illness in his daughter, a girl of nine years old, and in his niece of eleven, who then resided at his house. Physicians were called in, but were not able, after the most careful examination of the patients, to give the disease a name, much less to stay its ravages. At last one of them, possibly from professional vanity, mistook, or affected to mistake, the disease for the work of Satan-a very commodious way, in those days, of turning one's ignorance to a good account. They were said to be under an evil hand

they were "bewitched." Mr. Paris had also in his family an Indian and his wife, who, suffering from the common alarm, had recourse to a spell, in order, as they said, to find out the witch. But this attempt did nothing more than to attract the notice of the afflicted, who, in the phrase of the time, "cried out upon them," as being murderers-the witches whom they pretended to seek. They charged the accused with making the most malicious and fiendlike attacks upon their persons; that they pinched, pricked and tormented them; and that they came and went at will, visible only to these unhappy girls, although many others were present with eye-balls dilated to behold them. The public mind was by this time in a high state of ferment; the neighbors were called in, judicious friends were consulted, and, as a final resort, the clergy of that vicinity were sent for.

Shortly after, a public meeting of examination was held in the village. Then followed days of humiliation and public prayers, both in Salem and the neighboring congregations. Following directly upon this was a general fast appointed throughout the colony, "to seek the Lord," (we quote the language of Cotton Mather,)" that he would rebuke Satan, and be a light unto his people in the day of darkness." Other children, finding how well their little playmates had succeeded, and into what a delightful notoriety they had brought themselves, now came forward to sustain the charge. They confirmed whatever had been previously alleged, and implicated several other persons in the accusation, besides making some very important amendments to the first edition of the story. At length Tituba, the Indian woman, from a credulous superstition to which the religion of her tribe had predisposed her, or more probably from a desire to free herself of the oft-repeated accusation, confessed that she was a witch; that she had aided two others in tormenting the afflicted; and that with sundry others whose names she did not know, she had held witch meetings, at which things alike unlawful and unnatural were done in the open fields, under cover of night. On this confession Tituba was, with her companions, committed to jail. While there, she not only repeated this confession, but also declared that she was herself tormented by the spectres of those whom she had involved in the crime. Marks and moles were also found upon her person, supposed to be marks where the devil had wounded her. Others, intimidated by threats, or lured by the hope of being again suffered to go at large, were thus induced to confess. These confessions amounted to fifty in number. Increase Mather was then agent for the Colony, under King William; and at his appointment a special commission was given to some of the ablest jurists of the Colony, who were thereby constituted a court, to try all persons who were or should be accused of this horrible crime. Lieut. Governor Stoughton was appointed chief justice. On the 2d of June, 1692, they met at the court-house in Salem, by special appointment, tried and executed one woman, and then adjourned. The court again convened on the 30th of the same month; and as the result of this

hanged on the 19th of July following. August 5th, the court again set, and convicted four men and one woman, who were hanged on the 19th of the same month. Five men and six women were executed on the 22d September following. Eight men were condemned who were not executed, for reasons which by and by will be explained.

There were three successive special courts, with a jurisdiction confined solely to capital cases, held at one town in the little space of two months, pouring out human blood like water, under the sanction of the English law, with the aid of a jury, with the warrant, and, let us add, conscientious approval, of their fellow citizens. And what were the proofs upon which they were thus ushered from a tribunal of fallible mortals into the presence of the Judge of all the earth? Were they legitimate proofs ? Far from it. By the laws of England applicable to other cases, every accused person may, if he can, prove that he could not possibly have committed the crime alleged against him, by proving what is called an alibi—that is, by introducing satisfactory evidence to show that he was personally absent from the place mentioned in the indictment, at the time when the crime is alleged to have been committed; and the jury, upon such facts, will find him "not guilty." But how different the rules of law applicable to the crime of witchcraft! Imagine yourself arraigned before Lieut. Governor Stoughton and his fellow justices. You are put to plead. The accusers appear. They are children scarcely old enough to know the obligations of an oath. They hold up their small right hands in presence of God and men, and swear that what they are about to say shall be nothing but the truth. They then proceed to tell the jury how you have stuck pins into their bodies, pinched their flesh until it was black and blue, and fastened a rope around their necks for the purpose of destroying them. It is in vain that you offer to prove yourself absent when the supposed injuries were done; the merciless little accusers asseverate that if not present bodily, you was there by your agent, that is, by your spectre, or imp; and as you cannot deny what others saw, you are perhaps half inclined to believe that Satan has taken your shape, and clothed it, for his own purposes, with his own attributes. But if you are like

ly to escape from this species of testimony, you are confronted by one still more appalling. There rises up to condemn you a haggard, toothless beldame, and fixes upon you the fiendish eye of malice and revenge. She is a confessor. You recognize in her a personal enemy. She accuses you of being a laborer with her, in the incantations and spells of the arch-destroyer of mankind." She describes the place where she met you on the common, at the hour of midnight. Every circumstance is minutely detailed of the entrance of each one of the ghostly company, and the conduct of this strange medley of mortals and fiends. The devil himself is present to preside over the meeting. After proper obeisance made to him, he produces his immense black book, in which are recorded the names of those who are members of his infernal church.

The blaspheming imitator of the rites of the church militant opens the book, and calls you by name to step forward and sign. You make a slight incision in your right arm with a knife, or other small instrument, and, with the life-current warm from your heart, you forswear all allegiance to the Author of your being, and for the consideration of a temporary power, seal in blood your irrevocable doom. Perhaps you are old, and burdened with the weight of fourscore winters so much the worse for you. If you lean against the bar in front of which you have pleaded, half a dozen witnesses cry out in one breath that the whole weight of your body is pressing upon their ribs. Move your foot, and suddenly they swear that they are trodden upon. Frown on them with a brow of indignant, insulted innocence, and they set up a wild scream at sight of the spectre that glares in your eye. Supplicate the mercy of the court, and in spite of the staff of the sheriff the crowd will hiss at you. Call God to witness that you are guiltless, you are rebuked on the instant as a blasphemer of His name. Turn where you will, that superstitious credulity which has made even wise men mad, has no sympathy for you. You are a victim. Perchance, by this time, you have begun to think that without your privity the devil has actually assumed your shape; and when the magistrate asks you, Is not that your master? how comes your appearance to hurt these?" you can only answer, as poor Susannah Martin did, How do I know? He that appeared

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in the shape of Samuel, a glorified saint, may appear in any other shape!" A single instance which I will relate, shows the full extent of this dreadful epidemic. Rebecca Nurse, an unfortunate old woman, was arraigned for this crime; but the jury did not think the evidence sufficient to commit her, and brought in a verdict of "Not Guilty." As soon as the foreman pronouuced the verdict, the malignant accusers uttered a wild outcry in open court. The people present shouted their disapprobation; and the intimidated judges yielded to the popular voice. One of them reprimanded the jury in terms of the most indecent violence. Even Chief Justice Stoughton so far stooped from the dignity of his office, as to tell them that they had left unnoticed an important part of the testimony. In the progress of the trial, Goodwife Hobbs, who had confessed that she was herself guilty, was led forward as a witness. As she came into the court room, Rebecca turned around and exclaimed with surprise, "What, do you bring her? She is one of us!" After some cominents upon this part of the evidence by the judge, the jury again retired, and in a few minutes returned a verdict of "Guilty." Soon after conviction, she sent to the judges the following epistle: "These presents do humbly show to the honored Court and Jury, that I, being informed that the jury brought me in guilty, upon my saying that Goodwife Hobbs and her daughter were of our company; but I intended no otherways than as they were prisoners with us, and therefore did then, and yet do, judge them not legal evidence against their fellow prisoners. And I, being something hard of hearing, and full of grief, none informing me how the court took up my words, and thus had no opportunity to declare what I intended, when I said they were of our company. Signed, Rebecca Nurse." But this explanation availed her nothing. She was executed shortly after her conviction. Before execution, she was excommunicated from the church. There is a provision in the English law, that where an accused refuses to plead, he shall be laid upon his back, on the floor of his cell, and sustain a heavy weight upon his chest, until he will consent to plead. This harsh torture is applied to his body, if he remains obstinate, until the victim dies. Giles Cory, then eighty years of age, an exemplary Christian, was in obedience to this rule pressed to death. The trial of Mrs. Mary

Easty is a painfully interesting example of the madness of superstition, when once it has pervaded the masses. She was of a good family, and possessed of a gentle, amiable spirit, united to a firmness that would allow her to sacrifice anything sooner than integrity of conscience. She was comparatively young, and of a pleasant personal appearnce. She also had a husband and children, who seem to have entertained for her every sentiment of domestic and filial affection. After her conviction, she wrote a letter to the judges, of which the following are brief extracts: I question not, but your Honors do to the utmost of your powers, in the discovery and detecting of witchcraft, and would not be guilty of innocent blood for the world. But by mine own innocency I know you are in the wrong way." Again she says, "I petition to your Honors, not for mine own sake, for I know I must die, for my appointed time is set; but the Lord he knows, I do it that if it be possible, no more innocent blood be shed, which undoubtedly cannot be avoided in the way and course you go in."

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What a beautiful example of the great law of Christian forgiveness, yet what an awful, unanswerable rebuke! What a calm, intellectual atmosphere she breathes, as free from the violence of passion as it is remote from the sullenness of despair. While inured to the common belief in witches and witchcraft, yet strong in the consciousness of a guiltless heart, she turns her eye upwards, to forget, in the contemplation of higher attributes, the bewildering cry of her accusers. Then comes the parting scene between the matron and her husband, and her children. The same dignity pervades her conduct at the scaffold. She dies, as if she were a lovely embodiment of the charities of the New Testament.

When the delusion raged at its intensest heat, every rule of law applicable to the admission of evidence was dashed aside by the triers, as in contempt. Even Justice, who is supposed to preside over the deliberations of courts, seemed suddenly to be hurled from her seat, by an unseen, malignant hand. Sometimes little children, not more than five years old, were arrested and imprisoned, until they confessed themselves guilty, and charged their fathers and mothers of participating in the crime. These confessions, thus extorted, were used on the trials as good legal evidence upon which to convict and hang the parents. Thus the little

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unfortunates were not only deprived of their natural guardians, but were forced to become parricides. There is more than one instance of this sort on record. We have seen that the accusations were at first directed to people in very humble life, more geneally of infirm health and declining years. A miserable old woman, too poor to have the common comforts of life at her command, fretful perhaps, and turbu lent, on account of the squalid desolation of her house, negligent in attire, with tangled uncombed hair, attenuated almost to a skeleton, hooted at by boys in the street, driven away from the door of com, petence with untender words, perhaps with menacing gestures, becomes at last, as is most natural, a railer against the very form of human nature, and thus suffers herself to live a common enemy of mankind. As good occasion offers, she whispers in the ear of a confidant (for even want and sorrow have a confidant) her belief that certain neighbors of hers will one day be humbled—that they may even have to make companionship with herself. This confidant proves a betrayer. The indignation of several of the most influential men and women in the parish is thus called down upon her head. At last the horrid issue is joined she curses them, and they stamp on her wrinkled forehead the brand of "witch." She is tried and hung. This emboldens the accuseis, while it strikes terror into the heart of the multitude. Then the fires of persecution are kindled. Now, perhaps, in the neighborhood there is to be found some unhappy victim of insanity. Her heart, once alive to every generous, humane feeling, has fallen a prey to brooding melancholy, or hereditary nervous disease. The world is no longer to her what it once was, a mirror reflecting the portraits of bright thoughts, and delightful memories, but a bleak, blank wilderness of woe. Now she raves, and now again, in a moody fit of fantasy, she steals away at evening to some secluded spot. Suspicion takes the alarm. The wretched woman grows wild. The charges made against her take possession of her imagination. She covets supernatural power. The voice of madness seems the voice of Satan. She believes, she confesses; and the popular frenzy has now gained its second stage of elevation. It now assails the first ranks of society. The security of the hearth is invaded; the tenure of human life becomes solely dependent on the capricious forbearance

of a mob; the whole framework of human government begins to totter to its fall. Then comes the revulsion. The instinct of self-preservation comes to the rescue, and the hand of the destroyer ceases from its work. Such was the case in the present instance. Mrs. Hall, wife of the minister of the first church in Beverly, was at length "cried out upon." She was a lady of high mental cultivation, and had won so spotless a reputation for the practice of every Christian virtue as to be inaccessible to attack. The public were satisfied that her accusers had perjured themselves; and, as if by the snapping of a wand, the desolating spell was broken. Walking spectres, imps in the shape of cats, spiders and crows, the fascinating charm of the evil eye, the sound of flitting wings by the bedside, the shapes that darkened the mazes of the diabolical dance at night on the public common, fled from the affrighted imagination of the people, in a moment;

"And clouds and envious darkness hide
Those forms not doubtfully descried,
Their transient mission o'er.
Oh, say, to what blind regions flee
Those shapes of awful fantasy-

To what untrodden shore ?"

Let us now inquire, who were the agents in the work? We have already said that the first intimation of it came from a physician. It has further appeared in this brief sketch, that the civil authority helped to hurry forward the excitement by departing from the allotted forms of trial, in a manner highly indecorous; by severe cross-examinations; by imposing upon the credulity of the jury; by doing violence to the simplest rules of evidence. William III. was then the reigning monarch, and Somers was at the head of affairs. Perhaps we need not say that the disposition of William towards the colony of Massachusetts was far from favorable. He took away the old charter, under which the governor was appointed annually, and had been only one among many magistrates, and substituted a charter by the provisions of which that officer held his term during the King's pleasure, and could adjourn, or even dissolve, the legislature at his will. The new charter went into effect in the year 1691. Increase Mather was selected to make the first nominations, and he nominated Sir William Phipps. Perhaps Cotton Mather, the son of the agent, procured the appointment of Wm. Stoughton to the

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place of Deputy Governor. Mr. Bancroft, who is more ready to cry priestcraft" than he is solicitous to find out the facts as they actually existed, thinks he has found the darkest meaning in a certain passage of Cotton Mather, that seems to common observation to be perfectly harmless. The passage is this: "The time for favor is come, yea, the set time is come! Instead of being made a sacrifice to wicked rulers, my father-inlaw, with several related to me, eral brethren of my own church, are among the council. The governor of the province is not my enemy, but one whom

and sev

baptized, one of my own flock, and one of my dearest friends." By way of comment on these words of Mather, Bancroft says, "And uttering a midnight cry, he wrestled with God to awaken the churches to some remarkable things." Language of this indecent, not to say blasphemous sort, is not only beneath the dignity of a historian, but it is below the breeding of a gentleman. The writer would have us infer, from what he says, that Mather was instrumental in these nominations for the sole purpose of instigating the government to the prosecution of witches; but he speaks withont authority, as he speaks without reason. In mercy's name, is not the truth bad enough, without steeping it in prejudice, and coloring it with imagination? From what can be known of the character of Cotton Mather from his writings, Mr. Bancroft either does not understand, or does not see fit to delineate it, as he best might. Cotton Mather, with many eccentricities, was truly a man of high intellectual endowments. It is not extravagant to say, that he was essentially a man of genius. He had been carefully educated, and had inherited from his father some of the strongest and most pointed traits of the New England character. He was, according to the institutions of the colony, a clergyman. had strong local attachments, strong feelings, strong prejudices. You might call him an opinionated man, and perhaps he was a good deal inclined to be dogmatical. It is fair also to say, that he was a vain man. Possibly, if we follow Isaac Taylor's definition of the word, he might have been a fanatic. He loved with a jealous zeal the church of which, at that time, he was the champion. But the leading characteristic of his mind, was an overpowering, enthusiastic imagination. Through this sometimes misty medium

He