Tituba of Salem Village

“Remember always the slave must survive. No matter what happens to the master, the slave must survive.”

The stoic John Indian articulates the theme of the endurance and perseverance of the Black slaves. Whatever the trials, whatever the sufferings, whatever the indignities, the slaves will not surrender; they will survive.

“They found the stowaway […]. I told the captain where he was hiding.”

This is the first hint of Abigail’s warped personality. She shadows Tituba, who brings Pim food and water during the voyage to Massachusetts. For no reason other than malicious amusement, she turns the stowaway over to the ship’s authorities for punishment.

“After a few days of practice she could spin a thread on the flax wheel so fine, so strong that Goody Trumbull said it was like magic.”

The word magic is crucial. Because Tituba’s proficiency at the loom will be offered as evidence of her dealings with the Devil, the novel indicates that Tituba’s skill is the result of practice and hard work.

“In the meantime, she had made an enemy of the nine-year-old Abigail. She could tell by the sullen expression on the child’s face.”

Here begins the horrors of the Salem witch hysteria: a petulant and mischievous outcast girl taking a well-deserved punishment personally as a score that needs to be settled. Tituba understands that Abigail is a threat.

“This is Tituba and this is John—my servants.”

When Reverend Parris arrives in Boston, he stumbles over how best to introduce Tituba and John. Tituba wonders here why he does not use the word slave. Fearing repercussions among Boston’s enlightened residents and believing that servants sound more upper-class than slaves, he hypocritically denies the truth of things.

“It’s in the agreement. I’ll unpack my papers and find it. The congregation is to provide me with firewood.”

Reverend Parris reveals he is a greedy hypocrite. All he cares about is the congregation providing him free firewood for the winters. He fusses until he gets the agreement he wants, alienating him from his own church.

“Then slowly, slowly, as though an invisible hand were pushing it, the door of the minister’s study opened. [Tituba] sat up, hand over her mouth, so that no sound of a scream would come out.”

Here is one of those moments that is suspended between simple explanation and evidence of the supernatural. The novel refuses to explain it away, although John tells the terrified Tituba the parsonage is an old house with loose hinges.

“A fig for care and a fig for woe! / If I can’t pay, why I can owe.”

The happy bar song that John sings in his lusty exuberance is shut down by Reverend Parris, who dismisses the song as a dangerous threat to the community’s moral well-being because it celebrates enjoying life and not worrying about money.

“[Betsey’s] unwinking gaze was fixed on the pewter bowl that was filled with water. It had been left on the table. She was staring at it, not moving.”

It is a matter of historical conjecture whether Betsey Parris had epilepsy, but here she reveals her hypnotic state that may be a symptom of an epileptic fit. Her involuntary lapses become evidence of possession.

“When she stared into the watering trough she saw herself—dark brown dress, dark turban wrapped tightly around her head […]. She was standing alone on a table. People were seated around her, staring up at her, and their expressions were so angry that Tituba moved away from the trough, frightened.”

Tituba here is gifted with prevision, the ability to see the future. This moment is never explained—in the water of the trough, she sees herself with clear detailing in the meeting house after being arrested.

“We only did it for sport.”

This is how Abigail explains putting out bowls of water in the hopes that she can provoke Betsey into one of her fits. It is cruel and treats the girl’s illness as a game, revealing Abigail’s thoughtless cruelty.

“The cards said people would hang falsely because of Mary Warren. Tituba felt ashamed to be falsifying the message of the cards. But unless Mary Warren left […] excited and happy […], she would surely tell her master that there were fortune-telling cards in use in the home of the pious Reverend Parris.”

Tituba’s ability to read futures, taught to her by a woman in Barbados, traps her. She sees Mary Warren’s future as one responsible for the coming witch hysteria, but she lies because she fears if the girl is unhappy, she will tell on Tituba.

“This had happened before, especially in winter. […] the sapling in the chimney that held the hooks for the pots would char all the way through. And then it would break. It wasn’t the first time […]. It wouldn’t be the last. It didn’t mean anything.”

The death of Patience Mulenhorse cannot be a terrible accident, even though such accidents were all too frequent. Betsey tries to convince herself that the death meant nothing even though she is certain the poppet cried out, which makes the death caused by witchcraft.

“Tell ‘em the devil did it.”

Pim, desperate to run away, makes this joke when Mercy refuses to join him in his flight from Salem. He cuts her hair, but when Mercy panics, Pim makes this flippant remark, which, in turn, will become Mercy’s elaborate lie.

“John told Tituba that Mercy Lewis and Anne Putnam, Jr., were like a stage play in the taproom. Many farmers were coming from the outlying districts to watch them.”

The antics of the girls grow more theatrical. They dance around, flop about the floor, jump on tables and pretend to fly, and make animal noises and laugh hysterically. For everyone except the Salem Puritans, the girls’ performance is exactly that.

“He said that for all their long, slow prayers and their long, slow sermons, these were a cold, cruel people.”

John analyzes the hypocrisy of Salem. He cautions Tituba to take the witch hysteria seriously. He understands that beneath all this talk of witches, the Puritans will act against the threat of Satan.

“Hard work is what makes this place run smoother. These farmers’ wives could make their places run smoother if they did more work themselves.”

When evidence against her includes how well her farm runs, how great her gardens grow, and how well-cared-for her animals are, Tituba dismisses this as evidence of sorcery. Hard work is what makes the parsonage a model farm.

“Touch her!”

The touch test dooms Tituba. This evidence should be absurd in a trial where three women face execution. When Tituba touches the ranting girls, they quiet down, proof, according to the court, that Tituba is a witch.

“Very well, master. I am a witch.”

This heartbreaking moment reveals the depth of Reverend Parris’ hypocrisy and the cruelty of the Puritans. Reverend Parris beats Tituba until she utters the words he needs to hear.

“Abigail is a strange child. She may want more love and attention than we have given her. And perhaps she should have had more to do.”

Despite Abigail masterminding the witch hysteria that has landed Tituba in jail, Tituba cannot bring herself to hate the child or even blame her. This diagnosis of Abigail reflects Tituba’s gentleness, forgiving nature, and insight into her heart.

“Say yes you’re a witch and you’ll live. Deny you’re a witch and you’ll die.”

It is difficult to believe the Puritan judge can say this with a straight face. The Puritans need convictions, confessions, and proof of the reality of witches. To tell the truth, in the Puritan courtroom, means execution.

“I would sleep and dream, and presently I was there.”

The key to convicting Tituba is her admission that she had such vivid dreams of Barbados, the home she misses, that the dreams seem real. The Puritans argue, however, that Tituba exists in two places and must be able to fly.

“I have listened to the evidence against her. It has as much value as a bucket of broken shive.”

In defending Tituba, Samuel Conklin stands up to the Puritan judges: a shive is a cork that keeps a barrel sealed and is discarded after it is broken. Thus, Conklin dismisses the entire kangaroo court as useless.