Escaping Salem: The Other Witch Hunt of 1692 (13 page)

The suspicious marks that women had found on Goody Disborough’s body were much more promising as a sign of the Devil’s involvement. Successive examinations had resulted in broadly consistent findings: the markings were “not common in other women” and looked like witch teats; the examiners could find no natural explanation for their presence on her body. The law defined a witch as having a familiar spirit and the deputy-governor’s memorandum advised that an accused witch could be convicted if she had “entertained a familiar spirit in any form (mouse, cat, or other invisible creature).” Admittedly, no one had actually seen Mercy Disborough giving suck to an animal familiar. Yet the existence of the witch’s teat did suggest that she could and did feed familiar spirits in the same way as Goody Miller, the witch suspect who had fled to New York.

There was one other category of evidence approved as grounds for conviction; namely, “known practices of witchcraft.” William Jones’s notes defined these as “any action or work which enforce the compact with the Devil, such as to show the face of a man in a glass, enchantments,” or “divining of things to come, raising tempests, or causing the form of a dead man to appear.” In times of trouble, New Englanders often turned for help to neighbors whom they believed to have occult powers. These men and women were generally valued as “cunning folk” who could tell fortunes, use spells to heal the sick, and defend against occult attack. Many New Englanders saw nothing wrong with the use of such powers for benign ends. But clergymen disagreed. Cunning folk might claim that their powers were harmless and their neighbors might see such skills as a local asset, just so long as they were used to help and not to harm. But in reality, ministers insisted, those powers came from the Devil.

Cunning folk and their occult skills gave rise to much tension between pastors and their flocks. Yet evidence of such activities could prove invaluable to magistrates in a trial for witchcraft. When townsfolk became convinced that one of their neighbors was using “cunning” to harm them and so brought charges of witchcraft against them, they often mentioned in their depositions that the accused had a history of using occult means to tell fortunes or heal the sick—not because they considered these activities objectionable but because they showed that the defendant did indeed have occult powers that were also being used for malicious ends. The legal guidelines on which magistrates such as Mister Jones relied specified that such practices could not work without the Devil’s involvement, even if those concerned did not realize it.

Such testimony could be used as grounds for conviction and so was much more helpful to magistrates than a mountain of testimony about misfortunes following quarrels or curses, even though it was the latter that townsfolk routinely produced. When Goodwife Harrison of Wethersfield, Connecticut, was tried for witchcraft in the late 1660s, several witnesses noted that she told fortunes. Local ministers consulted in that case confirmed that “foretelling some future event or revealing of a secret” that could not be “known by human skill” did indicate familiarity with the Devil, insomuch as it communicated knowledge that could only come from Satan. The jury found Goodwife Harrison guilty, but luckily for her the magistrates’ insistence on having two witnesses for each incriminating incident led them to overturn the verdict.

Nothing in the depositions that William Jones had before him suggested that either Elizabeth Clawson or Mercy Disborough had a reputation as a cunning woman. Given the absence of testimony that either had carried out “known practices of witchcraft” (other than circumstantial evidence about misfortunes following quarrels with the accused) and given a lack of reliable testimony to show the Devil’s involvement, it was difficult to see how the court could justify conviction. Mercy Disborough’s bodily markings might possibly count as “sufficient proof,” but disagreement about their nature would most likely protect her from conviction on that basis.

At the end of his memorandum, the deputy-governor had written that the servants of Satan were often exposed through “the just judgment of God” and because the Devil’s “malice toward all men” drove him to confound even his own disciples. If defendants were convicted of “that horrid crime,” they should “be put to death” since “God hath said, ‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.’ ” Yet the authors William Jones had read warned “jurors, etc., not to condemn suspected persons on bare presumptions without good and sufficient proofs.” As he considered the evidence presented against Elizabeth Clawson and Mercy Disborough, the problems that lay ahead must have become only too clear. As matters stood, the court was unlikely to find “good and sufficient proofs.” What would the accusers in Stamford and Compo have to say about that?

On the morning of Thursday, 14 September 1692, William Jones joined the other magistrates appointed to the special court at the meetinghouse in Fairfield to begin the long-awaited trial of Elizabeth Clawson and Mercy Disborough. Witnesses against the accused had traveled from Stamford and Compo to appear before the court—at stake was the well-being, perhaps even survival, of those who believed they had been bewitched. But friends as well as enemies of the witch suspects crowded into the meetinghouse—the lives of the accused also hung in the balance.

The meetinghouse in Fairfield was bigger than its counterpart in Stamford, but similar in design. A square building with no architectural frills, simple and functional in design, the setting in which the trials took place would have seemed quite familiar to those who had come from Stamford. But the witnesses were no longer speaking to local judges within their own community. Instead they must address a panel of great men from Hartford who sat in state on a raised platform. Witnesses from Compo, located just a few miles away, would mostly likely know the jurymen, who were chosen from among the male residents of Fairfield and its surrounding communities. But those who lived in Stamford, some fifteen miles away, were speaking for the most part in front of strangers.

The magistrates began by administering the oath of office to James Bennett and Eliphalet Hill, who would serve as prosecutors on behalf of the Crown. They then swore in members of the grand jury, whose task it was to determine whether the evidence against the accused was sufficient to justify going ahead with a trial. With regard to the allegations against Mary Staples, Mary Harvey, and Hannah Harvey, the jurymen took the view that there was sufficient evidence to proceed. But the magistrates disagreed and so dismissed the cases against all three. There was no disagreement about the bills of indictment against Elizabeth Clawson and Mercy Disborough, which the jurymen and magistrates approved without hesitation. William Jones and his colleagues now released the grand jury and swore in a separate trial jury whose task it was to determine whether Elizabeth Clawson and Mercy Disborough were guilty as charged.

The joint trial began with the reading aloud of the indictments. The prosecutors then presented their case. They and the magistrates questioned witnesses, who testified under oath, and also the accused. The defendants had no attorney and did not speak under oath, so their words did not necessarily carry the same credibility as those of witnesses. But they did have the right to cross-examine witnesses for the prosecution and they could call their own witnesses in an attempt to refute the charges against them. Once everyone had been heard, the jury withdrew to consider its verdict.

There is no surviving account of the mood in the meetinghouse up to that point. The recent proceedings in Salem had often plunged into chaos as the afflicted girls claimed to be attacked by spectral tormentors: they fell to the floor, contorted in agony, and cried out in terror against their alleged assailants. Katherine Branch may well have been present at the trials in Fairfield, but it is also possible that the testimony she gave that spring was read to the jury instead of having her appear in person. Given how controversial a figure she was, the prosecutors might have decided to keep her in Stamford so as to focus attention on evidence given by other, more credible victims of the accused. If Kate was there, we have no way of knowing if she suffered from fits during the trials or, if so, how the magistrates, jurymen, or defendants reacted. Nor do we know how Elizabeth Clawson and Mercy Disborough behaved under interrogation. Some of the accused at Salem were defiant and outspoken; others were pious in their words and respectful in demeanor. Neither of the women on trial in Fairfield were submissive by temperament, but they may have decided that it would be politic on this occasion to restrain themselves.

One thing is certain, that as William Jones listened to the testimony given by witnesses in the meetinghouse, he cannot have heard anything that lessened his sense of foreboding as the jury retired to deliberate. The evidence was assuredly impressive in quantity, but its substance was problematic. It soon became clear that his concerns were fully justified. So far the trials had moved along quickly, as was the custom, but now they ground to a halt as the jury spent hour after hour debating the evidence without reaching any final resolution. The governor had instructed the jury to keep in mind the specific language used in the indictments. The defendants were each accused of “familiarity with Satan, the grand enemy of God and man.” The jury must be confident that the accused had forsaken allegiance to God and formed an alliance with Satan. There lay the problem.

Not all of the jurymen were convinced that the two women were guilty of witchcraft. Even those who were convinced had to consider the discrepancy between the evidence they had heard and the terms of the indictment. The sticking point was the need for clear proof of the Devil’s involvement since hardly any of the depositions mentioned dealings between Elizabeth Clawson or Mercy Disborough and “the grand enemy of God.” The witnesses focused on who had a motive to inflict occult harm on the victims, not how the harm was inflicted or whether the Devil was involved. That made for a perplexing situation. Should the jury convict the women regardless of whether or not the evidence demonstrated “familiarity” with Satan? If Elizabeth Clawson and Mercy Disborough were clearly using dark cunning to bewitch those who crossed them, should the safety of their neighbors take precedence over legal niceties? Or should they adhere closely, as the magistrates evidently wanted, to the precise wording of the indictments?

As it became clear that the jury could not reach a unanimous decision on either case, the magistrates had to decide between three options. They could continue to wait, trusting that the jurymen would eventually reach a verdict of their own accord. But that seemed increasingly unlikely and in any case waiting indefinitely was impractical since the magistrates needed to leave Fairfield as soon as possible—these were men of substance with many other demands on their time. Given that there was no immediate prospect of resolution, a second option involved the magistrates stepping in to provide additional advice. But they had already given what they considered to be a clear and sufficient explanation of the law. Besides, interfering in a jury’s deliberations was a serious and delicate matter.

A third option involved referring the cases back to Connecticut’s representative assembly with a request for further guidance. The assembly had ultimate authority on judicial matters and was often referred to as the General Court. Adopting this expedient would in all likelihood mean bringing the special court back into session once the assembly gave its views on the case; and there was, furthermore, no guarantee that the assemblymen would say or do anything particularly helpful. But it would at least delay matters while the magistrates pondered their next move. The judges accordingly issued the following statement: 

The court having with long and much patience waited upon the jury to make verdicts upon the trial of the two prisoners Mercy Disborough and Elizabeth Clawson and after all endeavors the jury persisting in a non-agreement to a verdict wherein they may all agree, this court do see good reason to remand the prisoners to the common jail, there to be kept in safe custody till a return may be made to the General Court for further direction what shall be done in this matter and the gentlemen of the jury are also to be ready when further called by direction of the General Court to perfect their verdict. And if the attorneys for their Majesties find further testimony, they may have liberty to make further use of them when the court shall meet again.

The magistrates suspected that their expression of willingness to hear “further testimony” once the court reconvened was probably wishful thinking. As it turned out, a few additional testimonies did surface over the next few weeks, but they did not change the fundamental contours of the case. Magistrates, jurymen, and all those who awaited with concern the outcome of the trials must hope for enlightenment from the assembly.

Such enlightenment was not forthcoming. On 13 October, Governor Robert Treat gave members of the assembly in Hartford a detailed account of the court’s proceedings and the jury’s failure to agree on a verdict. The representatives were blunt in their response: they insisted that the special court must itself take responsibility for ensuring that the cases were resolved in a timely and judicious fashion. The special court was, after all, better acquainted than the assembly with the issues involved. The assemblymen accordingly passed a resolution asking the governor to “appoint a time for the said court to meet again as soon as may be, and that the jury be called together and that they make a verdict upon the case and the court to put a final issue thereto.” The assembly offered no opinion or recommendation with regard to the cases under consideration.

This response came as no great surprise to the seven judges. Indeed they had already decided on their return from Fairfield to seek assistance from another quarter; namely, Connecticut’s ministers. Most New England magistrates had no formal training in the law, much less the mysteries of the invisible world.