At Groton, Mass., in 1671, Elizabeth Knap was more singularly beset than most others of that century who were deemed bewitched. The authority transmitting an account of her is exceptionally good, having been written by Rev. Samuel Willard, minister then at Groton, in the prime and vigor of life. He had graduated at Harvard College twelve years before, afterward became minister at the Old South Church in Boston, and was for several years at the head of Harvard College. The girl in question was his pupil, residing in his family during the earlier portion of her affliction, and was under his watch till its close. His opportunities for observing the case in its rise and progress were certainly very good, and he made a journalistic account of its phases and progress under many specific dates from October 30, 1671, to January 15, 1672, a space of eleven weeks or more. He was an attentive observer and close questioner of the girl, and also a cautious and intelligent chronicler.

She was at first subjected to extraordinary mental moods and violent physical actions, which came on rather gradually, showing themselves in marked singularities of conduct, for which she, when questioned, would give little if any account. Strange, sudden shrieks, strange changes of countenance, appeared first. These were soon followed by the exclamations, “O, my leg!” which she would rub; “O, my breast!” and she would rub that, it seeming to be in pain. Her breath would be stopped. She saw a strange person in the cellar, when her companions there were unable to see any such. She cried out to him, “What cheer, old man?” Afterward came fits, in which she would cry out sometimes, “Money, money!” offered her as inducements to yield obedience; and sometimes, “Sin and misery!” as threats of punishment for refusal to obey the wishes of her strange visitant. She said the devil appeared to her, and that she had seen him at times for three years. He often talked with her, and urged her to make a covenant with him, which she refused to do. November 26, six persons could hardly hold her. The physician, who for about four weeks had considered and treated the malady as a natural one, now pronounced it diabolical. She barked like a dog, bleated like a calf, and seemed at times to be strangled. At length distinct utterances came out. “A grum, low, audible voice” said to Mr. Willard himself, “You are a great rogue—a great rogue;” and yet “her vocal organs did not move.” The voice was replied to as being that of Satan himself, and its author responded, “I am not Satan; I am a pretty black boy; this is my pretty girl; I have been here a great while.” “When he said to me” (Mr. Willard), “O, you black rogue, I do not love you,” I replied, “Through God’s grace I hate thee.” He rejoined, “You had better love me.” The strength shown through the girl, the writer and witness says, “is beyond the force of dissimulation, and the actings of convulsions are quite contrary to these actings.” Through all her sufferings “she did not waste in body or strength.” Speech came from her without motion of the organs of speech. Also “we observed, when the voice spoke, her throat was swelled formidably, at least as big as one’s fist.” She said she “saw more devils than any one there ever saw men in the world.”

No attendant sacrifice of life gave intensification of interest to this Groton case, and it failed to become prominently conspicuous among witchcraft events. Still it is more instructive on some points than almost any other one of them. Here first have we found in colonial history any statement that an intelligence speaking through a borrowed or usurped form disclosed who he was.

Mr. Willard, to whose care this girl was intrusted, and in whose family she had been a resident, was convinced that some other being than the girl herself was giving utterance through her lips, and in harmony with a necessary inference from the general faith of his times, addressed the unknown one under supposition that he was veritably The Devil. The being thus accosted promptly said, “I am not Satan; I am a pretty black boy.”

The girl said she had been accustomed to see her visitant, at times, during three preceding years, and that she saw more devils than any one there ever saw men in the world. Her notions in reference to the proper application of words were obviously just as loose as the prevalent ones in community then, which deemed any spirit visitant whatsoever a devil, or the devil. An observer of such beings as she saw would to-day call them spirits. When she perceived and called out to some personage invisible to her companions, saying, “What cheer, old man?” she plainly indicated that the being thus hailed was apparently neither more nor less than an old man, and he, judged by her address to him, was by no means austere or repulsive; and yet he doubtless was one of those whom she, or whom the reporter of her utterances, was accustomed to call devils. There is no indication that she ever saw one specially huge, malformed, malignant personality, or that she ever intended to indicate perception of such a one.

The purposes and moods of Mr. Willard’s interlocutor seem to have been playful and kindly, rather than morose and satanic. Temporarily reincarnated spirits are often prone to smile at the long-faced and cringing thoughts which their advent evokes in persons not accustomed to interviews with them. “You are a great rogue—a great rogue,” and “you had better love me,” can hardly be deemed ill-timed or inappropriate expressions from a lively boy, whatever his hue, who, on being mistaken for the devil, would naturally banter the sedate clergyman whose creed forced him to regard such a visitant as the Prince of Evil. He said truly, and in better spirit than the minister’s, it would be better for you to love than to “hate” me.

Common fairness asks all men to regard any speaker’s account of himself as true, until some reason appears for distrusting him. No word or deed ascribed to this pretty black boy, who said he was not Satan, renders the accuracy of his statement doubtful. Distrust of him, if it spring up, will probably be the offspring of prejudices, combined with ignorance of spirit methods of opening ways to reach man’s cognizance, and win him to seek communings with his preceding kindred who possess more experience and consequent greater wisdom than pertains to any dwellers in mortal forms. Our incrustations of ignorance and prejudice withstand every gentle appliance, and yield only to sledge-hammer blows.

Sensations, conditions, and various powers attendant on Elizabeth Knap were emphatically extraordinary. Detailed journalistic account of them having come down from a sagacious, cautious, truthful, and cultured man—from one of the eminently trustworthy men of his generation—demands credence. He says the strength of her body was “beyond the force of dissimulation;” that “six persons could hardly hold her;” and that “the actings were contrary to those of convulsions.”

Another point is, that through the eleven weeks of such rough exploits, “she did not waste in body or strength.” Cotton Mather speaks of some who were so preserved through similarly tortured states, that, “at the end of one month’s wretchedness, they were as able still to undergo another.” Similar preservation of flesh and strength, amid fastings and most excessive activity, are frequent experiences to-day with the highly mediumistic, especially in the earlier stages of their dominations by invisibles.

Speech came from her without motion of her vocal organs. That much may pertain to simple ventriloquence; but Mr. Willard says also that “we observed, when the voice spoke, her throat was swelled formidably, at least as big as one’s fist.” Ventriloquence has not usually such an adjunct as that. Moreover, the minister was convinced that the utterings were prompted by other will than hers.

This girl’s experience abounds in evidences that her spirit faculties of perception were so freed from hamperings by the outer body, that she could consciously see, hear, and converse with spirits, and that her physical system was subject to control by them for speech in varied forms and modes, and for strange and violent action by her limbs.

In parts of the narrative which we have not copied, it appears that accusation came from her lips that Mr. Willard himself and some other godly ones in his parish were her tormentors. This was saying to Samuel in most startling manner, as one of old did to David, “Thou art the man;” for at that day faith was common that the devil had not power to accuse a godly person, could not indeed accuse any others than guilty ones of being contributors to outworkings of witchcraft. If the announcement was true, Mr. Willard and other good ones, according to the faith of some at that day, were covenanters with the devil. It was a fearful moment when such accusation of the good clergyman fell upon his ears from the lips of his tortured pupil. His resort, and that of another accused one, was to prayer; and we can readily fancy that petitions heavenward then rose up from the lowest depths of true and earnest souls, and went forth, in the girl’s presence, with such psychologizing power as loosened the hold of any spirit possessing her form, and allowed her to regain full possession and control of all her normal powers.

This subject of spirit control retained consciousness during her entrancements, or during the times when her body was subject to a will not her own, as many mediums do at this day. Consequently she would possess more or less knowledge of whatever was said or done by her organs and limbs, whoever controlled them. Being young, she could scarcely be competent to make, and keep in remembrance, the broad severance of her individual responsibility for what was done by others and what by herself, through use of her own physical faculties. It was natural—almost necessary—that she should become self-condemnatory for having had done through her what gave distress and anguish to her friends, even though she had lent no voluntary aid to the deeds, nor had power to prevent their being enacted.

We presume her statement was true that Mr. Willard and the others then accused were, though unconsciously, made to be contributors of aid to the controllers of his pupil; true that she felt the workings of emanations from them. Twenty years afterward an “afflicted” one in Salem Village began to cry out upon this same man as being one of her afflicters. And why? Because, probably, of constitutional properties in him which spirits could avail themselves of as helps for entrancing or controlling mediumistic persons. The laws which governed detection of tormentors of the bewitched will come under more extended consideration in subsequent parts of our work. Results indicate that Samuel Willard’s system possessed either material or psychic properties, or both, which exposed him to accusation of bewitching some sensitives, whose perceptive powers could trace back to their source any mesmerizing forces that entered into and acted efficiently upon their own systems.

In his usual temper and judgment witchward, Hutchinson pronounced the sufferings of Elizabeth Knap “fraud, imposture, and ventriloquism”! Shade of Samuel Willard! How look you now, and how shall we mortals look upon the man, who, ninety years after your day, casting a glance backward into the darkened chambers of the long past, perceived yourself to have been a credulous dolt and simpleton, unable, by eleven weeks’ close study and vigilant watch, to determine that the source of marvelous phenomena manifested in your own domicile, before your own attentive eyes, was exclusively mundane? From looking at the occurrences, as they lay dormant and half buried under the dust which ninety full years had been throwing over them, Hutchinson saw at a glance that they were nothing but frauds, impostures, and ventriloquism. You, Rev. Sir, at first doubted their supermundane source, but study of and deliberate reflection upon them for weeks satisfied you that your doubts were untenable; you obviously was devoid of such credulity as enabled Hutchinson to very promptly obtain conviction that your Elizabeth was but an actor of fraud and imposture. Alas for your sagacity, Samuel Willard!

Upham makes no account of either Ann Cole or Elizabeth Knap, though these were decidedly the best American prototypes of the magic-taught girls in Salem Village, whose schemings and exploits he dwells upon at great length. He claims that the witchcraft generators and enactors there studied, schemed, and practiced in concert at “a circle,” and thus learned how, and by what means, to originate and perform it. All known circumstances conspire to indicate that neither Ann Cole nor Elizabeth Knap had either visible teachers or co-operators in their marvelous operations. Therefore, had the historian adduced those two cases—these good exemplars of the performers at Salem—perhaps he would have been asked who trained the isolated performers twenty and thirty years before a necromantic seminary had been founded, at which the arts of magic, necromancy, and Spiritualism could be taught and learned. Was there anywhere a prior institution of that kind? If not, then we ask, was any circle kindred to that at Salem an essential—a sine qua non—to acquiring competency for skillful practice of witchcraft? or of acts called witchcraft of old? May not natural endowments sometimes be ample qualification for admitting the evolvement through one’s form of very great marvels? If not, the sporadic performances at Hartford and Groton are troublesome to account for.The advent of one spirit to Elizabeth Knap, and his use of her organs of speech in carrying on a dialogue with the Rev. Samuel Willard, is distinctly stated by that trustworthy chronicler. Also, according to him, the girl saw vast hosts of similar beings—yes, more in number than any one present had ever seen men in their lives. Here, surely, is very strong testimony to the general fact that spirit action took sensible effect upon and among human beings away back in 1671-2, in the quiet inland town of Groton.

What is fit treatment of such facts and testimony from such a source? Should they be left unadduced and unalluded to, as they were by one elaborate historian? Should they be called outgrowths from “fraud and imposture,” as they were by another? Or should writers upon the subject, in manly way, both let the facts come forth and speak for themselves, and leave the sagacity and veracity of their exemplary chronicler above suspicion, till by facts, and fair deductions from them, they render it probable that Samuel Willard was the slave of such delusion as disqualified him for reasoning with common accuracy upon what his external senses perceived day after day and week after week? Shrinking, by an historian of New England’s witchcraft, from distinct notice of Willard’s deliberate and carefully drawn conclusions from facts transpiring in his presence, is not only a keeping back of important information, but possibly is an implication either that Willard himself was an unreliable witness, or a witness on the other side of the question, whose testimony would be troublesome. Generous blood boils with rebuke when boasted enlightenment either ignores or traduces the most competent and trustworthy transmitters of marvelous facts, where so doing facilitates command of room for setting up modern fancies in niches where ancient facts have rightful foothold.

On the good authority of Samuel Willard we find that Elizabeth Knap saw hosts of spirits, was roughly handled and spoken through by some of them, and by one who said he was not Satan, but a pretty black boy. This was a case of spirit manifestation.