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TITUBA. by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Summary, meaning, line-by-line analysis & FAQ.

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Tituba, an enslaved Indigenous woman in colonial Salem, recounts the poisonous plants she knows and the harm she can inflict—asserting a power that remains unseen and unclaimed by those around her.

Poet
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Themes
anger, fear, freedom
The PoemFull text

TITUBA.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Here's monk's-hood, that breeds fever in the blood; And deadly nightshade, that makes men see ghosts; And henbane, that will shake them with convulsions; And meadow-saffron and black hellebore, That rack the nerves, and puff the skin with dropsy; And bitter-sweet, and briony, and eye-bright, That cause eruptions, nosebleed, rheumatisms; I know them, and the places where they hide In field and meadow; and I know their secrets, And gather them because they give me power Over all men and women. Armed with these, I, Tituba, an Indian and a slave, Am stronger than the captain with his sword, Am richer than the merchant with his money, Am wiser than the scholar with his books, Mightier than Ministers and Magistrates, With all the fear and reverence that attend them! For I can fill their bones with aches and pains, Can make them cough with asthma, shake with palsy, Can make their daughters see and talk with ghosts, Or fall into delirium and convulsions; I have the Evil Eye, the Evil Hand; A touch from me and they are weak with pain, A look from me, and they consume and die. The death of cattle and the blight of corn, The shipwreck, the tornado, and the fire,-- These are my doings, and they know it not. Thus I work vengeance on mine enemies Who, while they call me slave, are slaves to me! Exit TITUBA. Enter MATHER, booted and spurred, with a riding-whip in his hand.

Public domain

Sourced from Project Gutenberg

§01Quick summary

What this poem is about

Tituba, an enslaved Indigenous woman in colonial Salem, recounts the poisonous plants she knows and the harm she can inflict—asserting a power that remains unseen and unclaimed by those around her. This monologue reveals a woman who has lost every outward sign of status, transforming her sole possession—secret knowledge—into a form of revenge. The twist at the end reverses the entire power dynamic: she asserts that those who label her a slave are, in fact, enslaved by her.

§02Themes

Recurring themes

§03Line by line

Stanza by stanza, with notes

  1. Here's monk's-hood, that breeds fever in the blood; / And deadly nightshade, that makes men see ghosts;

    Editor's note

    Tituba begins by listing toxic plants: monk's-hood, nightshade, henbane, meadow-saffron, black hellebore, bitter-sweet, briony, and eye-bright. Next to each name, she details its specific harm. The enumeration feels systematic and almost clinical, making it more disturbing than a frenzied outburst would be. She isn’t losing control; she’s simply cataloging.

  2. I know them, and the places where they hide / In field and meadow; and I know their secrets,

    Editor's note

    The transition from simply naming plants to asserting ownership over them is the central focus of the poem. "I know their secrets" stands out as a crucial line — this kind of knowledge can't be taken away like land or freedom can. It resides within her, granting her a form of power that slavery can't touch.

  3. I, Tituba, an Indian and a slave, / Am stronger than the captain with his sword,

    Editor's note

    Tituba explicitly identifies herself — her name, her ethnicity, her legal status — and then quickly tears down every hierarchy constructed from those labels. Captain, merchant, scholar, minister, magistrate: she lists each level of colonial authority and positions herself above every one. The repeated phrases 'Am stronger... Am richer... Am wiser... Mightier' accumulate like a chant.

  4. For I can fill their bones with aches and pains, / Can make them cough with asthma, shake with palsy,

    Editor's note

    Now she clearly explains how her power affects the bodies of those who oppress her. The ailments she mentions — asthma, palsy, visions, convulsions — are exactly the symptoms that Salem's accusers claimed during the witch trials. Longfellow reminds us that the hysteria of 1692 revolved around a real, named woman.

  5. I have the Evil Eye, the Evil Hand; / A touch from me and they are weak with pain,

    Editor's note

    The accusations of the 'Evil Eye' and 'Evil Hand' were directed at Tituba during the Salem trials. By turning these phrases into her own boast rather than a confession, Longfellow flips the trial's reasoning: what the court saw as a crime, she reclaims as a badge of honor.

  6. The death of cattle and the blight of corn, / The shipwreck, the tornado, and the fire,--

    Editor's note

    Tituba extends her claimed control from human bodies to encompass the natural world — including livestock, crops, weather, and disasters. This shift ventures into the realm of myth. She's not merely a herbalist anymore; she's positioning herself as a natural force, embodying both her desire for freedom and a chilling reflection of the Puritan community's true fears about her.

  7. Thus I work vengeance on mine enemies / Who, while they call me slave, are slaves to me!

    Editor's note

    The closing couplet condenses the entire argument of the poem into just two lines. The word 'slave' is used twice, with the second instance completely flipping the meaning of the first. Her 'enemies' are actually bound by fear — fear of her knowledge, her gaze, her touch — even as they think they are the ones in control. Longfellow delivers this bitter yet triumphant irony with unwavering confidence.

§04Tone & mood

How this poem feels

The tone is both defiant and incantatory—it feels like a spell being spoken aloud. There’s genuine fury beneath the surface, but Tituba expresses her monologue with a chilling precision instead of fiery anger, which adds to its danger. By the end, it veers into a sense of dark triumph.

§05Symbols & metaphors

Symbols & metaphors

Poisonous plants
The herbs represent more than just their physical presence — they symbolize elusive, uncontainable knowledge. They thrive in the wild, can't be possessed, and their potency remains unseen until it's too late. For Tituba, gaining control over them is the only form of power accessible to someone who has been stripped of all other forms of authority.
The catalogue of colonial authority (captain, merchant, scholar, minister, magistrate)
This list outlines the complete framework of Puritan colonial power — military, economic, intellectual, religious, and legal. By piling them up only to tear them down, Tituba (and Longfellow) reveal the entire hierarchy as weak, founded on fear rather than true strength.
The Evil Eye and Evil Hand
These are the specific accusations from the Salem witch trials flipped on their heads. In the courtroom, they were seen as proof of guilt; here, they’re worn as badges of honor. This symbol illustrates how the same act can appear entirely different based on who has the power to define it.
Natural disasters (shipwreck, tornado, fire)
By taking credit for disasters, Tituba connects herself with powers beyond the reach of any human authority. This evokes a sense of freedom through fear — the only form of freedom that the poem implies was accessible to her.
Slavery / the word 'slave'
The word shows up twice in the last two lines, but it carries opposite meanings each time. The first instance refers to the label placed on her, while the second signifies the condition she has quietly enforced on her oppressors. This repetition serves as the poem's main rhetorical strategy.

§06Historical context

Historical context

This poem is a dramatic monologue inspired by Longfellow's verse drama *New England Tragedies* (1868), which was later included in his larger trilogy *Christus: A Mystery* (1872). Tituba was a real person—an enslaved woman likely of Indigenous Caribbean descent, owned by Reverend Samuel Parris in Salem, Massachusetts. In 1692, she was among the first three accused of witchcraft, and her confession—whether forced or calculated—helped spark the Salem witch trials that led to nineteen executions. Longfellow wrote in the aftermath of the Civil War, and his portrayal of Tituba resonates deeply with that period: a nation confronting slavery was also being prompted to revisit a woman whose enslavement was tied to the hysteria that devastated her community. The stage direction at the poem's conclusion—Mather entering booted and spurred—immediately brings colonial religious authority into the room she has just claimed as her own.

§07FAQ

Questions readers ask

Yes. Tituba was an enslaved woman owned by Reverend Samuel Parris in Salem Village. In 1692, she was among the first three individuals accused of witchcraft. There is some debate about her origins—she likely hailed from Barbados and may have had Indigenous Caribbean or African ancestry. Her confession during the trials was the first and most detailed, significantly influencing the community's perception of a witches' sabbath. Ultimately, she was sold to cover her jail fees and subsequently vanishes from the historical record.

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