Escaping Salem: The Other Witch Hunt of 1692 by Richard Godbeer Page A

herself from her neighbors: perhaps she had exchanged some of the soap she recently made for a dozen of Goodwife Penoir’s candles. Thomas Penoir may have been about to ask several neighbors for help as he put up a new barn, just as over the years he had helped them when they needed extra hands or went through hard times. No doubt he could talk with them when they met at the next town meeting, or perhaps before then at the local tavern.
    Stamford’s minister taught that mutual assistance was a spiritual as well as practical necessity. Brothers and sisters in Christ should be knit together not only by day-to-day needs but also by godly affection and their common religious quest. Theirs was first and foremost a community of souls, the Reverend Bishop declared. The people of Stamford should reinforce each other’s faith, watch over each other in mutual stewardship, and rein each other in when temptation seemed to be luring them into sin.
    That emphasis on community support created intense pressure. When requests for help were denied and when neighbors argued, resentments and recriminations often lingered. People knew that conflict threatened to undermine the values on which their community was built: discord was, as the Reverend Bishop often reminded them, an opening to the Devil, who was always looking for ways to poison the well of God’s vineyard. No one wanted to be held responsible for that happening.

    Those who refused a neighbor’s request or quarreled with other townsfolk often felt guilty about their behavior. Some would look inward, examine their consciences, and try to mend their ways. Others preferred to focus on the anger of those they had wronged: they would watch for any misfortune that could be laid at the aggrieved party’s door and then conclude that they were the victims of a neighbor’s vengeful temper. Goody Clawson acted as if she was the injured party when the Newmans’ daughter stole from her orchard, but the Newmans saw things differently. When they found three sheep inexplicably dead the very next day, their quarrel with Goody Clawson and the ever-present threat of occult attack coalesced to provide a logical explanation for their misfortune—witchcraft.
    Similar resentments and suspicions swirled around Mercy Disborough as the residents of Compo recalled disputes with their sharp-tongued neighbor and the misfortunes that ensued.  About a year ago, thirty-nine-year-old Henry Grey recalled, one of his calves had began to act very strangely, running around in distress as if trying to escape from something and roaring in the oddest way for six or seven hours at a time. A lamb had also sickened without warning and died within the hour. When they skinned it, the creature looked as if it had been bruised or pinched on the shoulders, something he had never seen before.  Then, in the spring of 1692, one of Goodman Grey’s cows drowned in a swamp. Soon afterward another suddenly weakened for no apparent reason, refused to eat, and collapsed.
    Henry Grey had quarreled on several occasions with the Disboroughs and suspected that Goody Disborough was bewitching his livestock. She had told Goodman Grey’s neighbors Thomas and Elizabeth Benit that she could not abide him ever since he received some apples from her mother and claimed that they weighed less than she told him. That was eighteen years ago.  More recently, in early 1692, Henry Grey’s relationship with the Disboroughs had taken a turn for the worse. He needed a kettle and bargained for one with the Disboroughs. It seemed new when he first saw it, with fresh hammer strokes clearly visible on the metal surface. But within minutes of returning home with it, the kettle changed its appearance; it now looked old and battered, with several punctures that had been filled in with nails.  Goodman Grey returned it, which did not please the Disboroughs. Goody Disborough was especially angry and many hard words passed between them. It was after that