Letter to Congregation My Dear Parishioners: How

Letter to Congregation

My dear parishioners:

How can we know if the devil is amongst us? This is the sad and sorry problem the people of Salem have been wrestling with, these many months. Accusing someone of doing traffic with the devil is not like catching a thief red-handed or even accusing a murderer. The devil is insubstantial and can take many guises, and in rooting out the devil, one is liable to find him standing by one's side in the guise of a friendly person -- or even a child.

In witnessing the trials held in Salem, I have seen men and women -- although mostly women -- accused of deviltry on the scantest pretext. Only the word 'witch' needs to be breathed by the most suggestible child, and then all of the fears of the community pour forth, and are channeled upon the person of the hapless accused. Most of the first women accused were despised persons within the community: Sarah Good, a beggar; Tituba, a slave from Barbados; and Sarah Osborne, a woman largely condemned for being impious and meddlesome. However, gradually, the names of persons accused began to encompass a wider range of individuals, and accusations are rife that long-standing social tensions between various families, and opposition to Reverend Parris, have fueled the hatred. "The only thing that most of them had in common was having been 'cried out' on. Otherwise they afforded nearly as wide a variety in race, religion, and class as did Massachusetts itself" (Starkey 133).

In short, it is said that the devil has a power to assume a pleasing shape, and this manifestation of deviltry has taken the form of accusations against the innocent, or at very least against persons who have neither the inclination nor the power to afflict the young girls wielding the power of accusation. The trials were wondrous sights to behold: the possessed girls, one of them as young as eight, would writhe upon the floor and complain that the accused had pierced them with pins or that they could see a demon whispering in the ear of the accuser. The supposedly learned judge listened, rapt by the spectacles of how these charges were presented. When he questioned the defendants, he did not ask if the defendant was guilty or innocent, but presumed the accused person's guilt. The fact that the events in question could not be seen with the eyes of anyone but the young girls made the testimony more, rather than less credible in the eyes of the judge, and the more the accused protested their innocence, the more the girls shrieked and wailed.

One curious aspect of the process was that if the defendant pleaded guilty to witchcraft, repented, and then named the names of other supposed witches, he or she was released. Thus, there is tremendous incentive to point fingers at others, rather than to remain in prison or face death. Only one man I am aware of has entirely outwitted the justice system: one Giles Corey, who refused to plea either guilty or innocent and was crushed to death by impressments for his impudence.

However, I can see why some men, even learned men, might be so credulous. The devil and witchcraft is something we all fear, given that it is beyond the power of ordinary human beings to control. The girls, many of whom were the children of some of the finest and most respectable families of Salem (such as little Betty Parris), made a stark contrast to the poor and bedraggled conditions of the first persons accused. Furthermore, the young girls did seem to be suffering in a manner that no physical complaint could explain, in the way that they writhed upon the floor and tore at their hair. To some, this would seem to indicate childish pretence, given that the girls were unmarried and of an age where much schooling is needed to bring them to understand the true path to God. Yet learned churchmen such as the Reverends No/yes and Parris as well as justices hung upon their every word, given the agony exhibited by girls of such a tender age.

Bridget Bishop was the first woman to be executed -- an older women long known as rather lewd. But to the very end, she denied being a witch, and refused to plead guilty to a charge to spare her life. It was said that dolls were found upon her possession, with lace dyed to create the impression it was a kind of devilish "poppit" -- thus suggesting she had engaged in witchcraft (Starkey 104-108). But even if Bishop was not a good woman, it is difficult to draw a line between her associations with lower members of society, even a foolish attempt at folk magic, with the claims of the girls that they were being tormented by the devil himself through Bishop.

The invisible specters seen by the girls are better understood as childish fantasy, spite, or a child's natural desire for attention. One cannot take the life of another human being based upon a tantrum. Even if the girls were possessed by the devil, could the devil not take the shape of members of the community, against their will, when he allegedly appeared to the tormented girls in dreams? Could not the devil be the motivating force behind the accusation itself, rather than the person accused? Was not Our Lord unjustly accused on slander?