I heard the clatter of horse’s feet on hard ground. Going to the window, a sky swollen with clouds met my eyes, unusual at this time of the year. I ushered in Dr Griggs to the parlour where I left him to get the lemonade. We sat there looking desperately at the fireplace where a fire was lit no longer.
‘Pastor George Burroughs. Who would think that the sheriff in Maine would be contacted so as to arrest a minister of God and bring him all the way down to Salem? ‘Dr Griggs appeared in grief.
‘Ann accused him of murdering his first two wives. Then Abigail added her voice to denounce him. But it was Ann who made the most lurid account,’ I said.
‘She claimed that soldiers who had been killed during the “Indian troubles” had, in fact, been killed by George Burroughs, not the Indians,’ Dr Griggs said.
‘Dr Griggs, your words will remain in this house; the walls will not speak. Evil begets evil. Do you know what happened to his children?’
Dr Griggs cocked his ear.
‘His wife sold the house and took away all their worldly wealth before the sheriff could take it all.’
‘That was wise of her.’
‘But listen more. She then took her own daughter and escaped leaving all of Burroughs’ five children destitute; the youngest was four years old. They were homeless after the sale, hungry with no one to care for them. They slept outdoors.’
Dr Griggs opened his mouth in amazement.
‘Finally they resorted to begging and some kind families took in the children.’
‘Good God. What evil stalks the land?’ His mouth gave that twitch again. It was beginning to annoy me.
‘Indeed.’ I nodded. We looked at each other in despair.
‘Pastor, I must get you out of this parsonage. Please be my guest next time we meet, probably in early June. I’ll have my maid make up a meal for us. You can come at noon or shortly after.’
‘You are so kind. Dr Griggs.’
I felt for Dr Griggs. I understood how useless he felt, as I did myself. His medical knowledge failed him; he could not explain present physical behaviour and conditions. My theological knowledge failed me. We were both useless I patted him on the shoulder.
Dr Griggs started again. ‘I fear that there will be more deaths, which saddens me when my job is to save lives. I feel so ineffectual.’ That twitch showed again.
‘Dr Griggs, I know that feeling so well.’ I patted his shoulder again.
‘Do you think I do not blame myself? God has forsaken me. I have called fasts, prayers and invited other ministers to this village, and for what good? I just plod from one day to the next.’
When Dr Griggs left, I went to my study, so small, it forced me to think. What was happening when the learned were useless and mere girls, who had not seen life, were now looked to for guidance? Was it a lesson in humility? I had to do something but I didn’t know what. I had done everything a pastor could do. Was it for me to condemn the girls and defy the magistrates? I think not. I would end up imprisoned and then what would happen to my dear Betty and Abigail? Could I contact my theological superiors? A letter would not be amiss. The girls made accusations. In the presence of the accused, the girls shouted and screamed as if they were in agony. If Dr Griggs couldn’t stop the girls’ ailments, how could I?
Bitterness crept over me like spiders. I had failed in Barbados because of a hurricane. I had failed in business at Boston because news of my failure in Barbados leached to Boston. Now I was failing as a pastor and could no longer control my flock. God, have You completely forsaken me? Is there not a path open to me?
Chewing my nails, I wondered what I was going to put in my sermon for Sunday. I was going through Reverend Cotton Mather’s Memorable Providences Relating to Witchcraft and Possession. It wasn’t easy to read and I was ploughing through it when I heard knocking on the front door. I stopped, hearing Abigail’s firm steps going to the door. I heard her welcoming in Captain Walcott. One minute later she stood beside me telling me what I already knew. Watching her blushing face, I told her to show the captain to the parlour where I would join him.
I usually welcomed his visits when we spoke of political affairs, Indian raids and important people. He was well versed in matters of the world. But I really didn’t want to see him now. He was disturbing me. I felt some umbrage he had not told me that his niece had savagely accused Mary Easty. Yet, when I went into the parlour and saw him, straight and true, my ire vanished and I extended my hand out to him.
‘Captain, please be seated. How good it is seeing you.’ And it was. ‘Betty, please bring some drink and scones for the captain and me.’
‘Pastor, I have a great deal to tell or rather to discuss with you, as you mostly likely know the news. Those two giants of men, Reverend Increase Mather and Sir William Phips are coming home.’
‘Yes, Captain, I was just reading Reverend Increase Mather’s father’s book on witchcraft. So the ambassador to England is returning with a new charter, I believe.’
‘Yes, Pastor, all propertied men of any Christian religion now have the vote.’
I blew out my breath. ‘That means I have less power as being part of the brethren is no longer exclusive. All men can vote now. Further, Sir William Phips will not help us with the witchcraft problem. His concern is the subjugation of Canada fighting the French and the Indians.’
Betty came in with a tray. We both took sips and collected our thoughts.
‘Captain, if you would forgive me for the impertinence of asking something personal, may I ask you if you think you will take a wife in the near future?’
The captain looked to the floor, then eyed me and said, ‘Pastor, the truth is I have not met a woman who really takes my fancy as yet. Also, I am still a young man.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘you are indeed. I think, however, that it is much lonelier to have had a wife and lost her than not to have wed at all.’
The captain perused my face. ‘Yes, I suppose it is by far. I understand.’
I bet he didn’t.
His hazel eyes flashed in ire as he began to speak. ‘Pastor, if I may change the subject, I have every respect for Sir William Phips. He is a man of our people, one of us, born a New Englander, which he will ne’er forget. We don’t want another English ratbag, like Andros, who robbed us of all our liberties.’10
I chuckled softly to myself at his forthright candour. I smiled at him lest he take offence.
‘Captain, I also hold high regard for Sir William. I admire him for reaching such a post of power when he came from a humble beginning. But he does have a salty tongue. I only hope you are correct in thinking he will help us in our dire need of fighting the Devil.’ Yes I admired Phips. He was three years my junior and yet he had crawled up to power. He was knighted and had become the most important man in the colony. Where was I? I was stuck in this insidious village, trying to rid it of devils.
‘Thank you for the refreshments, Pastor,’ Captain Walcott said with a guarded smile.
Footnote
10 Sir Edmond Andros was held in disdain and seen as representing England’s interest and not that of the colonies. Their liberal charter was lost in the reign of Catholic James 11; the Massachusetts Charter was terminated. Their General Court was dissolved and the Navigation Acts, which made Boston’s growing trade useful to England, enforced. In December, 1686 sir Edmond Andros arrived in Boston as President of the Territory and Dominion of New England. He refused to recognise old land titles and enacted tax levies and administrative changes without the consent of elected representatives.
Two years later, 1688, England welcomed William of Orange and chased James 11 out. Prior to this, Boston inhabitants had imprisoned the governor while Reverend Increase Mather went to England to plead the case for New England. The new King, William, replied that he could not restore the original charter till he had made a thorough examination of the issues. A war with France prevented that. The old governor was returned. Meanwhile colonial merchants ignored the Navigation acts and pirates brazenly plundered the harbours. Return