Observation—whether gazing up at the stars in search of oneself or scrutinizing one's neighbors—was at the heart of the great work of worshipping God. The word appeared in the covenants of every church.
Ministers themselves were prophets and watchmen, while parishioners maintained a "holy wakefulness" toward one another. In Salem, everyone and everything was subject to surveillance. The villagers had every reason to scoff at the notion that a ship could dock in Salem Town without anyone noticing. Besides fence viewers and wheat surveyors, every community funded a patrol made up of constables. They watched over countless households and taverns, intervening whenever someone drank too freely.
They were tax collectors, guardians of morality, law enforcers, and informers. They investigated anyone still out after ten and encouraged people to conduct catechism at home. Meanwhile, these town watchmen took turns watching one another, serving twice a week. Like shepherd dogs tending an insecure flock, their eyes watched both the Indians lurking in the darkness and the parlors of every household. Thanks to them, there were no secrets in town.
Boston was different. Once night fell, people busied themselves with nightlife. Darkness was the best disguise; as long as smugglers paid enough in bribes, their ships could dock in Boston Harbor.
Cambridge, where Harvard was located, was not far from Boston. These well-educated young people could be somewhat reckless, but they generally remained within manageable bounds. Thus, although Salem and Boston were roughly the same size, Boston still felt more like a city.
Crime rates in seventeenth-century Massachusetts were not yet high, perhaps because of the education people received at the time.
In truth, many people watched plays not for the actors, but for the stories. The Bible was also a storybook. Puritan faith made them content with poverty and cautious in their