There is another aspect that perplexes and confounds the judgments of all who read the story.  It is this:  As it is at present the universal opinion that the whole of this witchcraft transaction was a delusion, having no foundation whatever but in the imaginations and passions; and as it is now certain, that all the accused, both the condemned and the pardoned, were entirely innocent,—­how can it be explained that so many were led to confess themselves guilty?  The answer to this question is to be found in those general principles which have led the wisest legislators and jurists to the conclusion, that, although on their face and at first thought, they appear to be the very best kind of evidence, yet, maturely considered, confessions made under the hope of a benefit, and sometime even without the impulses of such a hope, are to be received with great caution and wariness.  Here were fifty-five persons, who declared themselves guilty of a capital, nay, a diabolical crime, of which we know they were innocent.  It is probable that the motive of self-preservation influenced most of them.  An awful death was in immediate prospect.  There was no escape from the wiles of the accusers.  The delusion had obtained full possession of the people, the jury, and the Court.  By acknowledging a compact with Satan, they could in a moment secure their lives and liberty.  It was a position which only the firmest minds could safely occupy.  The principles and the prowess of ordinary characters could not withstand the temptation and the pressure.  They yielded, and were saved from an impending and terrible death.

As these confessions had a decisive effect in precipitating the public mind into the depths of its delusion, gave a fatal power to the accusers, and carried the proceedings to the horrible extremities which have concentrated upon them the attention of the world, they assume an importance in the history of the affair that demands a full and thorough exposition.  At the examination of Ann Foster, at Salem Village, on the 15th of July, 1692, the following confession was, “after a while,” extorted from her.  It was undoubtedly the result of the overwhelming effect of the horrors of her condition upon a distressed and half-crazed mind.  It shows the staple materials of which confessions were made, and the forms of absurd superstition with which the imaginations of people were then filled:—­

The Devil appeared to her in the shape of a bird at several times,—­such a bird as she never saw the like before; and she had had this gift (viz., of striking the afflicted down with her eye) ever since.  Being asked why she thought that bird was the Devil, she answered, because he came white and vanished away black; and that the Devil told her she should have this gift, and that she must believe him, and told her she should have prosperity:  and she said that he had appeared to her three times, and always as a bird, and the last time about half a year since, and sat upon a table,—­had