emissaries of the Devil? Courts charged with the handling of witchcraft cases had to deal not only with strict legal requirements but also with public opinion. Few ordinary folk appreciated the rigorous standards of proof that judges were bound to uphold: they often considered the evidence presented in court to be clearly damning and felt betrayed if the accused was acquitted. The most infamous clash between the legal system and public opinion in Connecticut had been some thirty years before, when Elizabeth Seager was tried for witchcraft on three separate occasions and each time went free: the first and second of these trials, both of which took place in 1663, resulted in acquittal; at the third trial in 1665 a jury did convict her, but the Court of Assistants overturned the verdict. Magistrates sometimes tried to contain public anger by recognizing quite openly in their formal judgments that legal innocence did not necessarily mean actual innocence. In one case they found the accused “suspiciously guilty of witchcraft, but not legally guilty according to law and evidence received.” In another they judged the defendant to be “not legally guilty according to indictment,” but acknowledged “just ground of vehement suspicion” against her. Magistrates wanted New Englanders to believe that courts charged with witchcraft cases took seriously the testimony that accusers submitted, even though that testimony could not always support a conviction. At the close of yet another trial the judges advised the defendant “solemnly to reflect upon the case and grounds of suspicion given in and alleged against her,” and told her that “if further grounds of suspicion of witchcraft or fuller evidences should appear against her by reason of mischief done to the bodies or estate of any by any preternatural acts proved against her, she might justly fear and expect to be brought to her trial for it.” Elizabeth Seager’s experience suggested that the neighbors of suspect witches, if not the suspects themselves, took such advice to heart. The cases of Elizabeth Clawson and Mercy Disborough would test the judicial and diplomatic skills of William Jones and his fellow magistrates to their utmost limits. Mister Jones came to Fairfield fully prepared, having read extensively on the vexed issue of how to conduct a witch trial. Most of the texts he examined had been published in England, including William Perkins’s famous Discourse on the Damned Art of Witchcraft and Richard Bernard’s no less respected Guide to Grand-Jury Men . Both authors wanted to establish a straightforward and reliable procedure for trying witches; he had found their careful discussion of the issues involved invaluable. Increase Mather, a learned pastor who lived in Boston, had penned his own contribution to the scholarship, an Essay for the Recording of Illustrious Providences . Published in 1684, this was a fount of wisdom on the subject of witchcraft as well as other supernatural phenomena. William Jones summarized the information that he gleaned from these various authorities in notes that would guide him as he assessed the evidence against Elizabeth Clawson and Mercy Disborough. Thus armed, he hoped to play a creditable role in the court’s proceedings as it sought to juggle its twin roles as an instrument of God against the forces of darkness and a rigorous agent of the law. Mister Jones’s memorandum was divided into two parts. The first gave a list of legitimate grounds for holding a formal inquiry following an accusation of witchcraft. According to the authors he had read, officials should launch an investigation if any one of the following conditions was met: Grounds for Examination of a Witch Notorious defamation by the common report of the people a ground of suspicion. A second ground for strict examination is if a fellow witch gives testimony on his examination or death that such a person is a witch. But this is not sufficient for conviction