men, if not of the highest rank, were full of
courtesy and kindliness and were well-educated and well-bred. None the
less, they were accused, Goodwife Corey by little Ann Putnam,--at whose
instigation it seems unnecessary to suggest,--Goodwife Nurse, whose
husband was one of the most honored persons in the village, while she
herself was regarded as a model of virtue and piety, by more than one of
"The Afflicted Children," as the girls were now called; but the bearing
of Mistress Putnam at the examination was sufficient to show where stood
the chief accuser. The girls went into their regular fits at each answer
to the questions, unshamed by the sight of the venerable lady standing
there in her dainty dress and with her fragile figure and pure face; and
Mrs. Putnam broke in on the magistrate's questions with "Did you not
bring the black man with you? Did you not bid me tempt God and die? How
oft have you eaten and drunk your own damnation?" It is no wonder that
the accused, at such a horrible outburst of vindictive hate,--as she
must have known it to be,--raised her hands to heaven with the cry, "O
Lord, help me!" But at that the "Afflicted Children" went into the most
extraordinary convulsions; and the foolish magistrate, Hathorne by name,
who had until then been favorably inclined toward the prisoner,
connected the spasms of the girls with the uplifted hands of the old
lady, and this turned the tide against her. She was remanded for trial.
The mischief was now fairly afoot. Personal malice began to work; some
of the girls were servants and accused their masters and mistresses, as
in the cases of John Proctor and George Jacobs. On the other hand, now
that superstition was thoroughly awakened, it ran its usual course of
madness, and the most absurd pretexts for accusations were eagerly
fastened upon. Susannah Martin, for instance, was accused, and executed,
upon the ground that she had walked on a country road without getting
her skirts or stockings muddy, and must be a witch to be able to perform
such a feat! Even such a man as the Rev. George Burroughs, who had been
pastor of the church at Salem for about three years, but had long left
there, and in 1692 was living in Maine, was arrested on a charge of
witchcraft and taken to Salem to be tried, on the plea that he was,
though of small stature, strong enough to lift a barrel of cider or hold
a heavy musket out at arm's length. He was named by the "Afflicted
Children"; bu
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