Late in the year 1679, in the part of old Newbury, Mass., which is now Newburyport, very many startling pranks occurred, of a kind which to-day are called physical manifestations. These clustered mostly in and around the dwelling-place of William Morse, an aged man, who with his wife, then sixty-five years old, and their little grandson, John Stiles, constituted the whole family.

Perusal of the records of this case has rendered it probable to us that Mrs. Morse, the little boy John, and a young mariner, Caleb Powell, who was frequently in at Morse’s house, were all distinctly mediumistic, and that their systems either supplied, or were used for holding, instrumental elements and forces which spirits used in imparting seeming vitality, will, self-guiding and motive powers to andirons, pots, kettles, trays, bedsteads, and many other implements and articles.Beauty and attractiveness seldom drape the foundations of even very elegant and useful structures. Laborers digging trenches for foundations, and others placing stones therein, are frequently rough beings, in homely garbs, from whom the refined and sensitive often turn away as soon as politeness and civility permit. Yet, though rough, coarse, and unsightly materials go into foundations, and equally rough workmen lay them, the nature and quality of materials there used, and of work there performed, deserve inspection by any one whose duty, interest, or pleasure induces him to estimate with approximate accuracy the value and prospective utility of the structure which shall rest thereon.

Palpable, audible, visible pranks, seeming to be the willed actions of lifeless wood and iron, possibly occurred in the seventeenth, because they are common in the nineteenth century. Such pranks are foundations of arguments which prove a life after death. A table, a chair, or an andiron, manifesting all the usual signs of indwelling vitality, consciousness, intelligence, self-willed action, and of possessing animal senses and capacities, testifies to its being operated upon by some unseen intelligence more convincingly than can the lips of the wisest and truest man the world contains testify to any fact whatsoever which seems supernatural. Vitalized wood or iron speaks “as never man spake;” yes, as man, unless specially aided from outside of the visible world, can never speak; it addresses men’s external senses directly; it confides its teachings to the most trusted and most trustworthy conveyances of facts and truths to the mind within. The oft ridiculed, slurred, contemned antics of household furniture are signs put forth to human view by occult operators, whose stand-point, of vision and powers of comprehension enable them to use some natural laws and forces for affecting man and his interests, which human scientists have never clearly cognized, which schoolmen do not embrace in their philosophies, and therefore the cultured world generally has failed to put forth rational and satisfactory explanations of many marvels which the ocean of mystery is often buoying up on to its surface, where they become perceptible by human senses.

Modern mind has very extensively measured the credibility of witnesses to witchcraft facts much as the good woman did that of her “sailor boy.” On his return home from a voyage around the Hope, he soon began to describe what he had seen, and gave an account of flying fish. “Stop, stop, my son,” said the mother; “don’t talk like that; people can’t believe that, because fishes haven’t got no wings, and can’t fly.” “Well, mother,” replied Jack, “I’ll pass by the fish, and tell what happened in the Red Sea. When we weighed anchor there, we drew up on its flukes some spokes and felloes of Pharaoh’s chariot wheels.” “That, now,” rejoined the mother, “will do to tell; we can believe that, because that is in the Bible.”

In similar manner many people are prone to measure the credibility of witnesses by the reconcilability of the things testified to, with the general previous knowledge, observations, and experiences of the world. Such a course is usually very well. But the rule it involves is not applicable in all cases. Veritable flying fish exist, notwithstanding the mother conceived them to be nothing but the fictions of her wild boy’s lively fancy. The facts of witchcraft may have been veritable; many witnesses who testified to them may have been both truthful and accurate describers, notwithstanding the incredulity of some historians whose philosophies are too narrow to enwrap many facts which exist.

The strange manifestations at Morse’s house, we have said before, were nearly all such as to-day are denominated physical ones; that is, such as are manifested either upon, or through use of, matter that is uncontrolled by any mortal’s mind. Few if any intelligible utterances or communications imputed to invisible intelligences contributed to the consternation which was then excited in Newbury. This case differs very widely from either of those previously noticed both as to the objects directly acted upon mysteriously, and as to the human organs employed. It invites to extended and careful attention. We must transfer to our pages numerous, and some long, extracts from the old records; else we shall fail to manifest with desirable clearness and authority the multiplicity and character of those marvelous works, and their probable sources and authors.

Mr. Morse himself, for aught that appears, escaped all suspicion of complicity with, or connivance at, the strange doings. He seemingly came forth from the furnace with no sulphurous smell about him. Caleb Powell, a young seaman, mate of some vessel, but then on shore, was the first person to be legally accused in this case. He was arraigned at the instance, and on the testimony, of Mr. Morse himself. Some peculiar characteristics and habits ascribed to Powell were such as would naturally cause him to be watched, if strange doings appeared where he was present. In “Annals of Witchcraft, Woodward’s Historical Series,” No. VIII. p. 142, it is stated that Powell “pretended to a knowledge in the occult sciences, and that by means of this knowledge he could detect the witchcraft then going on at Mr. Morse’s.... The dancing of pots and kettles, the bowing of chairs, &c., was resumed with more vigor than ever when Powell came there ‘to detect the witchcraft.’”

Upham, vol. i. p. 440, says Powell “determined to see what it all meant, and to put a stop to it, if he could, went to the house, and soon became satisfied that a roguish grandchild was the cause of all the trouble.... It is not unlikely, that, in foreign ports, he had witnessed exhibitions of necromancy and mesmerism, which, in various forms and under different names, have always been practiced. Possibly he may have boasted to be a medium himself, a scholar and adept in the mystic art, able to read and divine ‘the workings of spirits.’ At any rate, when it became known that, at a glance, he attributed to the boy the cause of the mischief, and that it ceased on his taking him away from the house, the opinion became settled that he was a wizard.... His astronomy, astrology, and Spiritualism brought him in peril of his life.”

It is no unusual thing for even wise men to write much more wisely than they know. If Powell correctly “at a glance ... found the boy to be the cause of the mischief,” it becomes probably a fact, and not simply a boast, that he was “a medium himself,” that he was “a wizard,” or knowing one, and that his “Spiritualism,” more accurately his mediumistic capabilities, “brought him in peril of his life.” One authority says the play “was resumed with more vigor than ever” when he came into the house. For some reason he was very soon arraigned and tried for witchcraft, but not convicted.

We have little doubt that his optics saw the boy performing tricks, and therefore can believe that he accused John in good faith; just as the clairvoyant soon to be noticed accused the medium Read. Powell probably saw the boy perpetrating the mischief. But with what eyes? The outer or the inner—his material or his spiritual ones? And which boy did he see? The external or the internal one—the boy material or the boy spiritual? In evidence both that our explanations of Powell’s doings will be neither sheer novelty nor mere fancy, and for the purpose of disseminating knowledge of highly important facts, the following extracts are taken from an instructive and interesting pamphlet upon “Mediums and Mediumship,” by Thomas R. Hazard: Wm. White & Co., Boston, 1873.

“I once saw Read” (a well-known medium for physical manifestations) “affected by the abrupt introduction of light at one of his circles in Boston, at which he was, as usual, securely tied by a committee chosen by the audience, and fastened securely to his chair. The manifestations were after the common order, and went on harmoniously until an Indian war-song and dance were inaugurated. The exhibition was very exciting, and both the song and the dance became so uproarious and violent that, although we were in a three-story back room, I was apprehensive that not only the temporary platform might give way, but that the attention of the police might be attracted to the spot by the noise. Near by me sat Miss F., an excellent clairvoyant medium, who was earnestly describing to some of her friends the scene that was being enacted on the platform. She stated that two powerful Indians stood by Read, and that it was he who performed the wonderful dance.... Thus one of the best ‘dark-circle mediums in the United States’ was not only proved to be an ‘impostor,’ but taken in the very act of his trickery.... From all that was occurring before us, it was too evident that Read was an impostor; for ‘Miss F. clairvoyantly saw him perform tricks which he palmed off on the public as spiritual.’... But now, ... mark the sequel, and observe how easy it is for those who suffer their zeal to outrun their knowledge to be mistaken; and how true it is that as spiritual things can only be discerned by the spiritual eye, and material things only by the material eye, so the spiritual eye can (under ordinary circumstances) discern only spiritual things, as the material eye can discern only material things.

“It seems that a self-lighting burner had been adjusted near the platform, at which an experienced man from the gas-works was stationed, with the gas-cock in his hand, ready at a moment’s notice to turn on the light. This man was within hearing distance of Miss F., and must have heard her remarks;... he gave the cock a sudden turn, and in an instant all was light, and of course the medium was—exposed—sitting fast bound in his chair, with every knot as perfect as when first tied, but in a dying condition from the effect of the tremendous shock his nervous system underwent by the sudden return of the unusual volume of elements that had been extracted from his physical body to furnish material clothing for his own double, or some other spiritual creation, that was performing the exhausting war-song and dance on the platform; nor is it probable that Miss F. ever saw the material body of Read during the whole time she clairvoyantly saw him.... Suffice it to say, that the suffering medium was released from his bonds as soon as practicable, but not until after three or four minutes had expired, ... after which, by the application of restoratives, Read was gradually revived, and restored to his right mind and condition.”

Such statement of direct personal observations—coming from the pen of an aged, but still vigorous, gentleman of ample pecuniary means, of more than average culture, of acute perceptions, of careful and critical observations, who has spent many years in “trying the spirits” and contesting the strength and quality of testimony in their favor at every step,—who hates, with a righteous and outspoken hatred, falsehood, fraud, imposture, oppression, or hypocrisy, wherever or in whatever cause they manifest themselves—is entitled to credence, and gives important inklings of some occasional methods of spirit operations upon and around mediums. From such a witness we learn that while a medium’s limbs were bound fast, and he claiming to be, and known, a few minutes before, to have been, sitting bound hand and foot on a stage in a room just made dark, a lady clairvoyant there present saw him loose, and moving about most vigorously over the stage, doing “things, as to jump up and down,” as Powell saw the Morse boy acting. The clairvoyant’s inner vision saw Read dancing—saw either a perfect semblance of him, formed by use of special properties drawn forth from his system, or else saw the veritable Read himself practically then a disembodied and unroped spirit. She no doubt actually saw thus, and saw the essential man Read loosed, and dancing most vigorously. A flash of light, however, let suddenly on at the time, enabled all external eyes to see the external form of Read sitting all fast bound upon the chair.

That case teaches that properties drawn forth from the little boy John Stiles, and molded into that boy’s form, may have, by Powell’s interior vision, been seen playing tricks with pots and kettles, while neither the boy’s consciousness, will, or physical muscles had the slightest connection with the antic articles. Facts showing such susceptibilities in human organisms as were manifested in the case of Read, are too significant and important for any scientist, philosopher, or historian to ignore, so long as he claims to be, or, in fact, can be, a wise and helpful expounder of very many records of ancient marvels.

At page 392, vol. ii., of Mather’s “Magnalia,” New Haven ed., 1820, account is given of this case wherein it is stated that,—

“A little boy belonging to the family was a principal sufferer in these molestations; for he was flung about at such a rate that they feared his brains would have been beaten out: nor did they find it possible to hold him.... The man took him to keep him in a chair; but the chair fell a dancing, and both of them were very near being thrown into the fire.

“These and a thousand such vexations befalling the boy at home, they carried him to live abroad at a doctor’s. There he was quiet; but returning home, he suddenly cried out he was pricked on the back, where they found strangely sticking a three-tined fork, which belonged unto the doctor, and had been seen at his house after the boy’s departure. Afterward his troublers found him out at the doctor’s also; where, crying out again he was pricked on the back, they found an iron spindle stuck into him.

“He was taken out of his bed, and thrown under it; and all the knives belonging to the house were one after another stuck into his back, which the spectators pulled out; only one of them seemed to the spectators to come out of his mouth. The poor boy was divers times thrown into the fire, and preserved from scorching there with much ado. For a long while he barked like a dog, clucked like an hen, and could not speak rationally. His tongue would be pulled out of his mouth; but when he could recover it so far as to speak, he complained that a man called P——l appeared unto him as the cause of all.

“The man and his wife taking the boy to bed with them ... they were severely pinched and pulled out of bed.... But before the devil was chained up, the invisible hand which did all these things began to put on an astonishing visibility. They often thought they felt the hand that scratched them, while yet they saw it not; but when they thought they had hold of it, it would give them the slip.

“Once the fist beating the man was discernible, but they could not catch hold of it. At length an apparition of a Blackamoor child showed itself plainly to them.... A voice sang revenge! revenge! sweet is revenge. At this the people, being terrified, called upon God; whereupon there followed a mournful note, several times uttering these expressions—Alas! alas! we knock no more, we knock no more! and there was an end of all.”

In no other remembered account is that little boy credited with saying anything whatsoever. Mather reports that upon coming out of one of his scenes of torture so far as to recover power of speech, “he complained that a man called P——l appeared unto him as the cause of all.” That statement discloses a fact worth observing. There was tit for tat between little John and Powell. Each found the other a focus of issuing force that caused the witchery. The sensitive boy probably saw and felt, by his interior faculties, that properties and forces from Powell were applied to the strangely moving objects, and also in producing his own sufferings. Powell, too, through his inner perceptives, could learn the same in relation to the boy. Both were probably right in their perceptions, and in their allegations. Mr. Morse suspected and complained of Powell. That is something in favor of deeming John the lesser focus of force in this case.

The mauling “fist” was once seen, but eluded grasping, as spirit limbs generally do. At last, a “Blackamoor child,” perhaps brother to Elizabeth Knap’s “pretty black boy,” was visible—and not only that, but audible also. If it was the spirit of either an Indian or African child, sympathizing with his own race, and who had been taught to look upon all whites as oppressors, revenge would naturally be sweet to such a one, or to a band of such. Earnest, heartfelt prayer might psychologically break their hold, and induce them to say, “we knock no more.”

Though Powell, when tried, escaped conviction, yet, said the court, “he hath given such grounds of suspicion of working by the devil, that we cannot acquit him;” therefore the judges charged him with the costs attending the prosecution of himself. Such was equity practice in those days.

Having failed to prove conclusively that the harum-scarum sailor boy was the devil’s conduit for the startling occurrences among them, the good people of Newbury naturally proceeded to inquire what other person was the channel through which his sable majesty was pouring out malignity. Who, next to Powell, among those present at the manifestations, was most likely to have made a covenant with the Evil One? All eyes would turn instinctively to the spot where the deviltries transpired, and to persons who were generally near by when and where the performances came off. The inmates of the house of exhibition, Mr. Morse, Mrs. Morse, and their grandson, John Stiles, would naturally be very keenly watched and thoroughly scrutinized. Their traits, habits, and antecedents would be fully discussed; it was almost certain that one of the three must be guilty; and which of them was most likely to be the devil’s tool? Result shows that Mrs. Morse was pitched upon. But why she? Her character was good—she was religious and beneficent. But—but—

Mrs. Jane Sewall—Woodward’s “Hist. Series,” No. VIII. p. 281—testified and said, “Wm. Morse, being at my house, ... some years since, ... begun of his own accord to say that his wife was accounted a witch; but he did wonder that she should be both a healing and a destroying witch, and gave this instance. The wife of Thomas Wells, being come to the time of her delivery, was not willing (by motion of his sister in whose house she was) to send for Goodwife Morse, though she were the next neighbor, and continued a long season in strong labor and could not be delivered; but when they saw the woman in such a condition, and without any hopeful appearance of delivery, determined to send for the said G. Morse, and so Tho. Wells went to her and desired her to come; who, at first, made a difficulty of it, as being unwilling, not being sent for sooner. Tho. Wells said he would have come sooner, but sister would not let him; so, at last she went, and quickly after her coming the woman was delivered.”

Therefore, some years before the time of Mrs. Morse’s trial, Mr. Morse, in Mrs. Sewall’s own house, volunteered “to say that his wife was accounted a witch;” at which he wondered because of her beneficence, and then he instanced her doings in the case of Mrs. Wells as evidence of her goodness. The accounts pertaining to her render it probable that Mrs. Morse sometimes acted as midwife, and show clearly that some people had previously called her a witch. Such reports being in circulation, it is not surprising that some women should object to admitting her into their houses, fearing the introduction of brimstone; while others, who had previously found her help very efficient, would seek her assistance in hours of pain or sickness. The point of most significance is, that Mrs. Morse had, some years previous to the disturbances at her house, been suspected of witchcraft. Why? We do not know with any certainty. But the appearance that she was a midwife, whose labors involved more or less of general medical practice, suggests the possibility that her “simple remedies,” or her hands, had sometimes produced such extraordinary effects, as led people to surmise that the devil must be her helper; just as, for the same reasons, more than thirty years before, he was believed to be co-operator with Margaret Jones. The conjecture naturally follows that she was highly mediumistic, and that her intuitions and magnetism, if nothing more, enabled and caused her to be a worker of marvelous cures. It was at the abode of such a woman, and in apartments saturated with her emanations, that the unseen ones frequently held high, rude, and consternating frolic, during many weeks; it was at the home of one previously reputed a witch.

An indication that, even before the wonders occurred at her home, she had been suspected of exercising also perceptive faculties that were more than human; had been suspected of manifesting “wit” of the special kind which cost Ann Hibbins her life, is given in the following deposition by Margaret Mirack, who testified thus, Woodward’s “Hist. Series,” No. VIII. p. 287:—

“A letter came from Pispataqua by Mr. Tho. Wiggens. We got Mr. Wiggens to read the letter, and he went his way; and I promised to conceal the letter after it was read to my husband and myself, and we both did conceal it; nevertheless, in a few days after, Goode Morse met me, and clapt me on the back, and said, ‘I commend you for sending such an answer to the letter.’ I presently asked her, what letter? Why, said she, hadst not thee such a letter from such a man at such a time? I came home presently and examined my husband about it. My husband presently said, What? Is she a witch or a cunning woman? Whereupon we examined our family, and they said they knew nothing of the letter.”

Mrs. Morse’s possession of their secret was so unaccountable that the husband in astonishment asked, “Is she a witch or a cunning woman?” The question implies that it seemed so extraordinary to the man that she should have knowledge of the letter and its answer, that any process by which she could obtain it was seemingly beyond the power of mortals to apply. Either witchcraft or supernal cunning must have helped her. When asked by the same Mrs. Mirack afterward “how she came to know it,” the witness says, Mrs. Morse “told me she could not tell.” This indicates a mind so conditioned, as many mediumistic ones now are, that knowledge is inflowed to them, they know not whence or how, and, literally, they cannot tell whence it has come. This gives presumption that she possessed mediumistic receptivities, and the outworkings from such faculties would suggest that she received supernal aid. The only imagined source of such aid at that day was the devil. Obviously she “felt knowledge in her bones,” as the acute negress did in Mrs. Stowe’s “Minister’s Wooing.”

Though Mrs. Morse was tried and condemned for witchcraft, the sentence was never put in execution. When on her way from Ipswich jail to Boston for trial, she said, among other things, that “she was accused about witchcraft, but that she was as clear of it as God in heaven.” When saying this she probably spoke no more than exact truth.She appears to have been a good woman. The candid and generally cautious Rev. Mr. Hale, of Beverly, wrote that “her husband, who was esteemed a sincere and understanding Christian by those that knew him, desired some neighbor ministers, of whom I was one, to discourse with his wife, which we did; and her discourse was very Christian, and still pleaded her innocence as to that which was laid to her charge.” This examination occurred after her discharge from prison. The aged couple came out from their severe ordeal with characters bright enough to claim the confidence and respect of good men in their own day, and may claim as much from after ages.

There is no indication that the boy of the house, John Stiles, whom Powell accused as the great mischief-maker, was suspected of being such by any other one of the many witnesses of the strange transactions. Those witnesses were much better judges as to what persons the wonders apparently proceeded from, than any person can be to-day; and one whom they left unblamed, it is distinct injustice, as well as folly, for expounders of the case in our times to put forth and traduce as having been the contriver and performer of all that so agitated, distressed, and exposed the lives of those who sheltered, fed, and kindly cared for him. Modern historians, however, have been guilty of this great wrong.

It has recently been stated (Woodward’s “Hist. Series,” No. VIII. p. 141), that, “what instigated him to undertake the tormenting of his grand-parents, there is no mention as yet discovered.” This begs the primal question, viz., Did he undertake to torment them? To this inquiry it can truly be said, there is no mention in the primitive records, as yet discovered, that he did. There is no evidence that any one but Caleb Powell (that swift witness) suspected him of undertaking any such thing. Where the records are so extensive and full as in this case, their omission to mention any other accusers of the boy is strong evidence that there was no apparent contriving or executing pranks and outrages by him. The writer above quoted says also, “How long the young scamp carried on his annoyances ... does not appear.” Neither does it appear that he ever began or was consciously concerned in any such. Only in appearance, and that only to Caleb Powell the clairvoyant, and to the eyes of modern commentators, was that boy in fault.

Upham, following the witchy Powell’s lead, ignorantly regards what was done by mystical use of the boy’s properties as being the boy’s voluntary performances. And regarding the boy as a great rogue, and as author of all the great mischief, he says (vol. i. p. 448), “His audacious operations were persisted in to the last.” We look upon that allegation as an “audacious” defamation of an innocent youth.

In this Morse case we chose to present ostensible and reputed actors, prior to presenting descriptions of the special scenes in which history makes them prominent, because considerable knowledge of the age, character, and abilities pertaining to the chief supposed performers in the great Newbury tragedy, or semi-tragedy, will be helpful, if not essential, to any well-based conclusion as to whether any one of them was the leading intelligence that brought it upon the stage, and supervised and managed its apparent actors—and, if either was, then which one among them? If neither of them, then somebody else was manager there. Our instructive citation from Hazzard discloses the occasional action of agents and forces that are not recognized even to-day by the community at large, and therefore we wished it to be read in advance of facts which it greatly helps to explain. Way is now opened for introducing to those readers whose patience has sustained them through this long prologue, the facts of the case as stated by William Morse himself, and sworn to by both him and his wife.

“The testimony of William Morse: which saith, together with his wife, aged both about sixty-five years: that, Thursday night, being the twenty-seventh day of November, we heard a great noise without, round the house, of knocking of the boards of the house, and, as we conceived, throwing of stones against the house. Whereupon myself and wife looked out and saw nobody, and the boy all this time with us; but we had stones and sticks thrown at us, that we were forced to retire into the house again. Afterward we went to bed, and the boy with us; and then the like noise was upon the roof of the house.

“2. The same night, about midnight, the door being locked when we went to bed, we heard a great hog in the house grunt and make a noise, as we thought willing to get out; and that we might not be disturbed in our sleep, I rose to let him out, and I found a hog in the house and the door unlocked: the door was firmly locked when we went to bed.“3. The next morning, a stick of links hanging in the chimney, they were thrown out of their place, and we hanged them up again, and they were thrown down again, and some into the fire.

“4. The night following, I had a great awl lying in the window, the which awl we saw fall down out of the chimney into the ashes by the fire.

“5. After this, I bid the boy put the same awl into the cupboard, which we saw done, and the door shut to: this same awl came presently down the chimney again in our sight, and I took it up myself. Again, the same night, we saw a little Indian basket, that was in the loft before, come down the chimney again. And I took the same basket, and put a piece of brick into it, and the basket with the brick was gone, and came down again the third time with the brick in it, and went up again the fourth time, and came down again without the brick; and the brick came down again a little after.

“6. The next day, being Saturday, stones, sticks, and pieces of bricks came down so that we could not quietly dress our breakfast; and sticks of fire also came down at the same time.

“7. That day, in the afternoon, my thread four times taken away, and came down the chimney; again my awl and gimlet wanting; again my leather taken away, came down the chimney; again my nails, being in the cover of a firkin, taken away, came down the chimney. Again, the same night, the door being locked, a little before day, hearing a hog in the house, I rose and saw the hog to be mine. I let him out.

“8. The next day, being Sabbath day, many stones, and sticks, and pieces of bricks came down the chimney: on the Monday, Mr. Richardson and my brother being there, the frame of my cowhouse they saw very firm. I sent my boy out to scare the fowls from my hog’s meat: he went to the cow-house and it fell down, my boy crying with the hurt of the fall. In the afternoon, the pots hanging over the fire did dash so vehemently one against the other, we set down one, that they might not dash to pieces. I saw the andiron leap into the pot, and dance and leap out; and again leap in and dance, and leap out again, and leap on a table and there abide; and my wife saw the andiron on the table: also I saw the pot turn itself over, and throw down all the water. Again we saw a tray with wool leap up and down, and throw the wool out, and so many times, and saw nobody meddle with it. Again, a tub his hoop fly off of itself, and the tub turn over, and nobody near it. Again, the woollen wheel turned upside down, and stood up on its end, and a spade set on it: Step. Greenleafe saw it, and myself and my wife. Again, my rope-tools fell down upon the ground before my boy could take them, being sent for them; and the same thing of nails tumbled down from the loft into the ground, and nobody near. Again, my wife and the boy making the bed, the chest did open and shut; the bed-clothes could not be made to lie on the bed, but fly off again.”

The disturbances commenced Thursday night, November 27; on December 3, six days only from the commencement of the troubles (see Upham, vol. i. p. 439), Powell was complained of before a magistrate, by William Morse, “for suspicion of working with the devil.” Powell appeared for a hearing five days later, on the 8th, and the testimony quoted above was, either then or at the time of the complaint on the 3d, submitted before Jo. Woodbridge, commissioner. Therefore the facts were of such recent occurrence as to be fresh in the memory of the deponent; and his prompt suspicion of Powell gives probability to the correctness of the statement in Woodward’s Series, that when Powell came to the house, pots, kettles, and chairs “resumed” their action “with more vigor than ever.” Powell’s presence was helpful to the performance. But the whole of Morse’s testimony is not embraced in the preceding. There is extant

“A further testimony of William Morse and his wife,” as follows:—

“We saw a keeler of bread turn over against me, and struck me, not any being near it, and so overturned. I saw a chair standing in the house, and not anybody near. It did often bow toward me, and rise up again. My wife also being in the chamber, the chamber door did violently fly together, not anybody being near it. My wife going to make a bed, it did move to and fro, not anybody being near it. I also saw an iron wedge and spade was flying out of the chamber on my wife, and did not strike her. My wife going into the cellar, a drum, standing in the house, did roll over the door of the cellar; and being taken up again, the door did violently fly down again. My barn-doors four times unpinned, I know not how. I, going to shut my barn-door, looking for the pin—the boy being with me—as I did judge, the pin, coming down out of the air, did fall down near to me.“Again: Caleb Powell came in as aforesaid, and seeing our spirits very low by the sense of our great affliction, began to bemoan our condition, and said that he was troubled for our afflictions, and said that he had eyed this boy, and drawed near to us with great compassion: ‘Poor old man, poor old woman! This boy is the occasion of your grief; for he hath done these things, and hath caused his good old grandmother to be counted a witch.’ ‘Then,’ said I, ‘how can all these things be done by him?’ Said he, ‘Although he may not have done all, yet most of them; for this boy is a young rogue, a vile rogue. I have watched him and see him do things as to come up and down.’ Caleb Powell also said he had understanding in Astrology and Astronomy, and knew the working of spirits, some in one country and some in another; and, looking on the boy, said, ‘You young rogue to begin so soon. Goodman Morse, if you be willing to let me have this boy, I will undertake you shall be free from any trouble of this kind while he is with me.’ I was very unwilling at the first, and my wife; but, by often urging me, till he told me wither and what employment and company he should go, I did consent to it, and this was before Jo. Badger came; and we have been freed from any trouble of this kind ever since that promise, made on Monday night last, to this time being Friday in the afternoon. Then we heard a great noise in the other room, oftentimes, but, looking after it, could not see anything; but, afterward looking into the room, we saw a board hanged to the press. Then we, being by the fire, sitting in a chair, my chair often would not stand still, but ready to throw me backward oftentimes. Afterward, my cap almost taken off my head three times. Again, a great blow on my poll, and my cat did leap from me into the chimney-corner. Presently after, this cat was thrown at my wife. We saw the cat to be ours; we put her out of the house, and shut the door. Presently the cat was throwed into the house. We went to go to bed. Suddenly—my wife being with me in bed, the lamp-light by our side—my cat again throwed at us five times, jumping away presently into the floor; and one of those times, a red waistcoat throwed on the bed, and the cat wrapped up in it. Again, the lamp standing by us on the chest, we said it should stand and burn out; but presently was beaten down, and all the oil shed, and we left in the dark. Again—a great voice, a great while very dreadful. Again—in the morning, a great stone, being six-pound weight, did move from place to place; we saw it. Two spoons throwed off the table, and presently the table throwed down. And, being minded to write, my ink-horn was hid from me, which I found covered with a rag, and my pen quite gone. I made a new pen; and while I was writing, one ear of corn hit me in the face, and fire, sticks, and stones throwed at me, and my pen brought to me. While I was writing with my new pen, my ink-horn taken away; and not knowing how to write any more, we looked under the table and there found him; and so I was able to write again. Again—my wife her hat taken from her head, sitting by the fire by me, the table almost thrown down. Again—my spectacles thrown from the table, and thrown almost into the fire by me, and my wife, and the boy. Again—my book of all my accounts thrown into the fire, and had been burnt presently, if I had not taken it up. Again—boards taken off a tub, and set upright by themselves; and my paper, do what I could, hardly keep it while I was writing this relation, and things thrown at me while a-writing. Presently, before I could dry my writing, a Mormouth hat rubbed along it; but I held so fast that it did blot but some of it. My wife and I, being much afraid that I should not preserve it for public use, did think best to lay it in the Bible, and it lay safe that night. Again—the next day I would lay it there again; but in the morning, it was not there to be found, the bag hanged down empty; but after was found in a box alone. Again—while I was writing this morning, I was forced to forbear writing any more, I was so disturbed with so many things constantly thrown at me.”

Such is the account given by an eye and ear witness, who had as good opportunities to receive sensible demonstration of acts performed as can well be imagined. Did he see, hear, and feel all that he testifies to? Has he left record of a series of facts, or only of fictions which he set forth as facts? Was he a faithful and true witness, or not? Who and what was he? An aged shoemaker, who ran the gantlet of a fierce witchcraft ordeal and came out with character sound and untarnished; a man who “was esteemed a sincere and understanding Christian by those that knew him.” The strong words in his favor, which came from such a trustworthy scribe as the Rev. Mr. Hale, on an occasion when circumstances would influence him to be careful and exact in expression, are clearly indicative that Morse’s testimony was probably true and discriminative. “A sincere and understanding Christian.” What qualities give better a priori promise of correct testimony than do sincerity and a sound understanding? Where these combine, their utterances imperatively claim very respectful hearing by any one who is in pursuit of positive facts pertaining to human experience. The history of him and his family, during those ten or eleven days and nights through which they were enveloped in the waters of mystery, trouble, and consternation, gives no indication that Mr. Morse’s reason ever yielded its normal and just sway over his actions or his words—no indication of his being blinded by any excessive or bewildering excitement or enthusiasm. The fact that he himself wrote out with his own hand, and in the very midst of the startling and hair-lifting phenomena, a narrative of events which gives dates, occurrences, and experiences clearly, in perspicuous and often terse language, accompanied by appropriate specifications of circumstances which elucidate the character of the whole scene, bespeaks a straightforward, truthful, unexaggerating mind, self-controlled, and moving straight forward in an honest statement of events actually witnessed. Our ancient records contain few testimonies that exhibit clearer or stronger internal evidences of exactitude and reliability than that of William Morse. The form, language, and tone of his account are all in favor of his intelligence, discrimination, and credibility; so much so, that, taken in connection with his whole character, we can conceive of no objection to crediting his narration, excepting what shall be wrung out from the nature and kind of facts he swore to. But neither their nature nor source was concern of his, as a witness; and his own sound understanding perceiving this, kept him back from expressing any surmises or innuendoes as to who were the actual authors of his great annoyances. The man understood his position as a witness, kept his reason at the helm throughout the fearful storm, and suspected and accused, not the little boy, but Powell. Obviously his own senses, unbeclouded by the mists of unreasoning excitement, had witnessed the facts he stated, and he knew that they had occurred. His testimony is true.

How can the occurrence of such facts be explained, or rather who produced them? Historians say that the little boy, John, did. How could he? Had history-weaving heads, when at work in the quiet study, been as clear and as free from the blinding action of foregone conclusions, as was that of Mr. Morse amid the flying missiles about his head while he was writing, their reason, as his did, would have asked their witness Powell, “How could all these things be done by him,” the boy? And the cowed witness would have replied to them in the nineteenth century as he did to Morse in the seventeenth, “Although he may not have done all, yet, most of them.” He would have backed down before the historians as he did before the better “understanding” of Mr. Morse. Obviously to common sense, the boy was incompetent to perform a tithe of what was ascribed to him. No one but Powell accused him. The age of that boy is not given. He is not known to have been called upon as a witness, and Powell says to him, “You young rogue, to begin so soon.” These facts, together with the absence of any words spoken by him to any one, excepting on a single occasion, lead naturally to the inference that he was quite young, and perhaps also that he was apparently inactive. At no age in boyhood, nor yet in manhood, could a single performer, or a host of men, have accomplished by unobservable processes and forces all that is distinctly stated to have been performed in and around the house of William Morse.

Any designation of its source which avows the mischief to have come primarily from the mind of little John Stiles, by necessary implication impeaches Mr. Morse’s powers of perception and observation, and the worth of his testimony. It indirectly, at least, accuses him of a great blunder when he suspected Powell rather than little John. On the hypothesis of modern historians, the sedate old man—the “understanding Christian”—was but making much ado about nothing, or next to that; for the little boy was not competent to much. So little could he do alone, that, were he the chief deviser and performer, Mr. Morse was incompetent to distinguish with common acuteness between the ordinary and the marvelous, or else he was an egregious fictionist and impostor. Far, far better would it be both for himself and his readers if the historic instructor recognized, and based his inferences upon, facts well attested, and sought for agents and forces adequate to manifest such results as were evolved. Vastly better would be history when founded upon broad comprehension of existing agents and forces, and a firm basis in the nature of things spreading out wide enough to underlie each and all of the ancient marvels, and admitting an imputation of them to authors whose inherent powers could bring them out to distinct cognition by human senses, than it can be when it ruthlessly pares down the dimensions of facts, dwarfs their fair import, and impeaches the trustworthiness of those who solemnly attested to the truth of descriptions which have come down from former generations! Better, much better would it be to honor the fathers by omitting to undermine and topple over their strong powers and good traits of character, and perversely bring their positive knowledge, gained through the senses, down to the lower level on which modern speculation obtains convictions! Descent to free and reiterated insinuations and allegations that the best individuals and communities of old were infatuated, credulous, deluded, stultified, because some of their statements and actions are unexplainable by our theories and philosophies, is unbecoming any generous and philanthropic spirit. Fair play calls for frank admission that giant facts occurred of old,—facts so huge that they cannot be stretched at full length upon the beds of modern science and philosophy, nor be wrapped up in the narrow blankets now in fashion,—facts so huge that they cannot squeeze themselves through, nor be forced through, the narrow entrance doors of some modern mental chambers. Does the hugeness which debars them from entering contracted domiciles to-day prove their existence to be but fabulous? Surely not. The sagacity and truthfulness of our predecessors were sound and good. They recorded facts. Shame be to those who are ashamed to admit that their equals in mental acuteness and accuracy of statement may, of old, actually have witnessed genuine phenomena which justified their descriptions. To brand the events as being the products of fraud, credulity, and infatuation, because only modern limitations to nature’s permissions and powers render them unexplainable as facts, is shameful.

Newbury, in 1679-80, was obviously visited and disturbed by giants. To deem that the biggest of these were children of little John Stiles, is not only farcical in the extreme, but it necessarily, however indirectly, asperses good William Morse, that “sincere and understanding Christian,” and also his equally good wife, who passed through the severe ordeals of witchcraft scenes and persecutions, and came forth untarnished,—asperses them by an imputation of incompetency to observe and describe with average clearness and accuracy events that passed before their eyes,—incompetency to give a truthful and unexaggerated account of what they saw.

Every sentiment of justice begs for a tongue with which to rebuke the sneers that overweeningly wise witchcraft historians have cast upon the senses and the mental and moral states of the observers and describers of the great marvels of former days. The foul broods of harpy adjectives which history has sent forth to prey upon the vitals of good characters for truthfulness and discrimination, should be forced to unloose their talons, and hie themselves back to roost where they were hatched.

Assuming, as the histories of all nations in all ages and lands indicate, and as many tested modern workers demonstrate, that some disembodied, unseen intelligences can at times either banish from the human body, or put in abeyance, or irresistibly control, the mental, affectional, and moral powers of some impressible human beings, and also use their whole physical structures and nerve elements as instruments; assuming, further, both that such unseen workers may have been the actual authors of many startling phenomena which the preceding pages have brought up before the reader’s mind, and that Mrs. Morse, Caleb Powell, and the boy were each of them mediumistical, contributing to the performance of the wonders—assuming this, the proximity of those several persons to the spots where the marvels appeared, would subject them all to rigid scrutiny, and their movements or their positions would probably, at times, indicate to external senses that they were somehow actors in the mÊlÉe. They were obviously unconscious reservoirs of the forces there used, and as such were all involved in the production of the great mischief. It is credible, yes, quite probable, that the little boy was actually seen by Powell enacting a prominent part; but that Powell, who then saw, was practically a spirit, beholding a spirit form like in all things to the boy, but moved, energized, and controlled, all imperceptibly to external vision, by disembodied spirits. At the very time when all merely external beholders saw the external boy standing about the room in quiet and repose, or sitting still in the corner, spirit vision might have seen his semblance being used for infiltrating seeming life, motive powers, and longings for a lively jig and a merry time generally into the whole group of household utensils and supplies. When dead wood and iron, when leather and wool, when sausages and bread, when an iron wedge and a spade, find legs, and arms, and wings,—when such become things of seeming life, of forceful life, too, and of self-guiding actions,—they preach with power which no mere human tongue can command. No eloquence from its common sources can equal theirs in forcing conviction. They say “unseen intelligences move us”—“unseen intelligences move us,” and every self-possessed and logical hearer responds, Amen.

All things have their use. This case of seemingly low as well as rough manifestations, where spirits exhibited the effects of their force mainly upon gross, lifeless matter and brute animals, shows more forcibly and convincingly, if possible, the fact of supermundane agents, than did the effective hands, and simples, and clear visions of Margaret Jones; the “wit” or clairaudience of Ann Hibbins; the Dutch tones and unconscious utterances of Ann Cole, or the contortions of Elizabeth Knap, and the words of the pretty black boy. Life and self-action in dead wood and iron are phenomena too striking and pregnant with meaning to be wisely slurred or ignored.

Essex County has been the theater of several exhibitions of astounding marvels. The performances detailed in this chapter beyond question excited fears and disturbed peace throughout Newbury and its surrounding towns. Also an apparitional boy has recently shown himself to a teacher and her pupils in Newburyport, to the no small disturbance of that place. During the first decade of the present century, famous Moll Pitcher, who, as Upham says, “derived her mysterious gifts by inheritance, her grandfather having practiced them before in Marblehead,” practiced fortune-telling and kindred arts at the base of High Rock, in Lynn, where “she read the future, and traced what to mere mortals were the mysteries of the present or the past....” so successfully, or at least so notoriously, that “her name has everywhere become the generic title of fortune-tellers.” In that county, too, the mysteries and horrors of Salem witchcraft were encountered. But scarcely any other event in that territory seems more highly charged with the elements of incredibility than the Salem historian’s perception that little John Stiles was the bona fide author of the pranks played at William Morse’s house. No cotemporary of the boy, excepting impressible, wayward Powell, seems ever to have suspected the little one as being the giant rogue. How blind, therefore, were the eyes of all others of that generation! For now an historic eye, looking back through the darkening mists of eight score years and twenty miles north, absolutely sees audacity and action, which all living eyes, alert and vigilant on the spot and at the time, were incompetent to detect. The world progresses; new clairvoyance has been developed—clairvoyance which sees what never existed—to wit, little John Stiles as the designing and conscious enactor of superhuman works.

Very many modern scenes rival this ancient one at Newbury in the roughnesses of manifestations and the difficulty of fathoming the purposes and characters of the performers. Perhaps no other one of them is more worthy of attention or more instructive than the prolonged one which occurred at the residence of Rev. Eliakim Phelps, D. D., at Stratford, Conn., 1850. In “Modern Spiritualism, its Facts and Fanaticisms,” by E. W. Capron (Bela Marsh, Boston, 1855), page 132, commences a very lucid and authentic account of this case, covering nearly forty pages. The character and position of Dr. Phelps, who furnished Capron with his facts, and whose permission was obtained for their publication, make the account referred to well worthy of careful perusal. On several different occasions, years ago, it was our privilege to hold familiar conversations with Dr. Phelps upon the subject of Spiritualism, and his details of spirit performances in his presence prepared is to view him as having transmitted to his offspring properties which were very helpful in setting The Gates Ajar.