If Salem shattered people's fantasies of pastoral love, then Andover was even more despairing than Salem.
This was not because Andover had suffered some natural disaster, but because this tiny village of only six hundred people was even more lifeless than Salem, a town of eight thousand. After all, Salem had once rivaled Boston and nearly became the capital of Massachusetts.
What made "witch-hunting" entertaining was resistance. Whether they desperately argued their innocence in court or tried to escape, those weeping "witches" dragged in by their husbands, sons, and brothers to confess did not make the investigators feel disgust, hatred, or fear. Instead, they inspired pity.
They were like lambs in the wilderness. By then, Indians had already been lumped together with wolves and devils. The Devil always appeared in the wilderness; Moses encountered him while leading the Israelites in their wandering, and Jesus encountered him during his journey through the wilderness. Men accused these women of sleeping with Indians. Servants accused their mistresses, but mistresses did not accuse servants. Wives did not accuse their husbands, while husbands did not bring slander suits to defend their wives. These women had to endure prolonged standing, sleeplessness, and merciless interrogation. Worse still, insisting on innocence was equivalent to proving oneself monstrously guilty. Thus, Andover's witches confessed especially quickly. Many no longer knew what they should believe, while others began believing everything they were told.
One girl had an elder brother who was the principal of an elementary school, and he had plenty of ways to make children tell the truth. He warned his sister not to lie, telling her she was a witch. The girl pleaded, "Dear brother, don't say that. If I confess, that would be lying. How am I supposed to answer to God?" But her brother remained unmoved, insisting