Children of Salem

When Jeremiah and Serena had been in Boston, and he’d exhausted every avenue, legal or otherwise to get help for Salem, he’d attempted to get word to the Governor as his last resort; it was then he’d learned that, like Increase Mather, William Phipps had abandoned them.

The most powerful man in the colony, and the brightest man in the colony gone. One to ostensibly fight Indians but clearly to wash his hands of Salem, while the Senior most powerful clergyman, Mather was off to fight for a charter—a constitution agreed upon by the brightest minds in the colonies and written up and taken to King William for ratification.

Wishing to avoid any confrontation with Parris and making his way back to the Nurse home and Serena, Jeremy thought 1692 a cursed year. So much was in flux commingling with so much fear—fear of Indian uprising, fear of the new King of England’s sending troops to hang those who’d dared hang the former king’s man and perhaps worse, failing to pay taxes. Not to mention fear of crop failures, and fear of witches, wizards, demons, and the Antichrist himself and all his minions.

During his night ride home, Jeremy recalled the last time he’d seen Increase Mather, whose son had proved such a disappointment to Jeremy. The elder Mather had assured Jeremy that Cotton, his son, was of the same mind as he on the matter of Reverend Parris and the troubles in Salem Village Parish. Obviously, the man misjudged his son or simply didn’t know the other Mather as well as he’d thought, for it seemed the younger Mather, too, had disappeared so as to wash his hands of the Salem matter.

With the night wind rustling through the trees, Jeremy thought of his original mission to Salem, the deal he’d struck with Increase Mather. He recalled the late afternoon sun in his eyes there on the dock where he’d last spoken to the man before he’d boarded the Undaunted for England. His last words to Jeremy had been about the absolute necessity of his gaining favor with “King Willy” and his court for the continued prosperity if not existence of the Massachusetts Bay Colony and the rule of law. “Without a charter, Jeremy, we are still just a colony of rebels, subject to the whims of whomever might be King of England at any given time.”

With the death of Higginson and Increase Mather’s firm hand to guide the colony, with the temptation to replace the Andros issues for the dread of a witch hunt, Jeremy Wakely felt that things were as out of control as a log skidding down a mountainside.

Glumly, fearfully Jeremy arrived at the gate that Serena had enjoyed swinging on, and he saw her rushing out to meet him. She threw her arms around him, and they held one another for some time. “What new trouble is it, Jeremy.”

“Your father is wise; he warned me that you’d be reading my mind!” He kissed her and held onto her. She felt like the only port in a storm.

She pulled free and with hands on his face, she said, “I see trouble in your eyes.”

“Reverend Higginson is gone from us and to his Maker.”

“Oh, my . . . such a good soul.” She hugged Jeremy to her. “Mother will be saddened to learn it, and Father and Proctor were counting on his good counsel.”

“If I were a suspicious man, I’d say they drove the old man into his grave, the vultures. Wonder if he wasn’t poisoned by Noyes.”

“That’s a terrible accusation! Have you any proof of it?”

“No, none, but Noyes has one strong trait—ambition.”

“Father will take this news badly.”

“From the beginning . . . my first day in Salem, dear, even before arriving, I knew of the factions within Parris’ congregation, but only recently have I had my eyes opened to the fact that Judges Hathorne and Corwin are in the Parris-Putnam camp as well.”

“Those who intend to run against the judges in the next election stand with our side.”

“Our side, eh?” Jeremy considered this for a moment. “The witchcraft scare has changed the face of the elections even before they’ve begun.”

Her laugh was hollow and angry. “You mean who’s going to vote for Francis Nurse or any of his cronies so long as his wife is jailed as a witch?”

He nodded solemnly. “So your father was planning to run for Corwin’s seat?”

“Yes.”

“And even should they come to their senses and release your mother—”

“The taint of having been accused, arrested, excommunicated and humiliated would follow her, and Father, I know.”

“And her family, you and me! No matter the real issues as in where Corwin and Hathorne stood during the Andros years.”

“When will it end, Jeremy? When will they come to their senses?”

He smiled and held her close. They shared a warm kiss and turned to walk to the porch, arms locked.

Finally, Jeremy said, “I’m afraid that fat-headed Governor Andros filled positions of state with clergymen, and this has led to widespread abuse of power. Sir William Stoughton is shaping up as a fine example.”

Overhearing from his rocker on the porch, Francis added, “Andros men used the clergy in shrewd measure. Whenever any person was excommunicated from the church, they were typically prosecuted for some exaggerated real offense simultaneously.”

“Evening to you, sir.” Jeremy took off his hat with a flourish. “Know you that the elder Mather, Increase, like myself—and many another man—wants a safe division of church and state, so that such fiends as Andros must never again wield such power over us.”

“But here it comes again, Jeremiah,” countered Francis. “Andros had declared whole tracts of land his on the basis of bogus trials, overturning original land grants. A circumstance that made many a magistrate and minister wealthy.”

“I see the parallels, yes, but we must believe it can’t occur again.”

“Increase Mather himself rose to prominence and great power and influence in the colonies due to the marriage of church and state,” concluded Francis.

“But he abhors the abuses he’s witnessed, especially those committed during the Andros era. He is a man with foresight, who sees the future cannot sustain a theocracy on these shores.”

“I am a simple man, Jeremiah, but what is happening in Salem with these church excommunications and courtroom trials, this is pure theocracy of the deadliest sort.”

“It may’s well be another Papal State!” cried out Serena. “And we can all become Papists if they can run their own bloody Inquisition here.”

This made the men laugh.

“Why do you find that funny?”

“Because it is so true,” replied Jeremy.

“Because it is either laugh or cry,” added Francis.

“Besides, Serena, you are so beautiful when you’re angry.”

“Remember on your firs return home, Jeremy?” asked Francis. “Serena holding you at bay at gunpoint?”

Again the men laughed. Serena frowned, turned, and stomped inside.

# # # # #

At the meetinghouse, the following Sabbath Day, little Anne Putnam Junior shouted above Mr. Parris’ sermon, “Why does God punish the unborn? Tell me that, Mr. Parris!” Anne’s tone was both authoritative and accusatory.

Parris stared blankly at the sickly, thin child who’d suffered so much harm from the invisible agents of Satan. “Anne,” he finally responded, coming around the podium, “you know the answer to that as well as anyone here.”

Mercy Lewis, as if on cue, stood up and spread her arms wide, pleading, “Mr. Parris, why does God allow Satan to have his own kingdom?”

Parris stammered something unintelligible and was cut off by little Anne’s screaming, “Where are my brothers and sisters who died before being baptized? Where is Hopestill’s soul now? William, Henry Junior, Matthew, Luke, all of them?”

Parris composed himself, but then one of his adult congregation asked, “Why don’t you answer these children?”