Tituba by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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.

It's a powerful monologue taken from Longfellow's verse play New England Tragedies (1868), particularly from the part called Giles Corey of the Salem Farms. The play portrays the Salem witch trials, featuring Tituba as a character who delivers this soliloquy just before the magistrate Cotton Mather makes his entrance. Although the poem stands well on its own, it was crafted as a speech within a broader theatrical context.

The catalogue serves a dual purpose. First, it positions her as someone with actual, detailed botanical knowledge — this isn't just vague superstition; it's a thorough inventory. Second, it creates a sense of rhythm and momentum, resembling a spell being recited. By the time she reaches the phrase 'I know their secrets,' the reader has already been pulled into her world on her own terms.

The poem expresses clear sympathy. Longfellow gives Tituba the strongest voice in the scene, and her reasoning is solid: she has lost every social right, so she has developed the one power that cannot be taken from her. The final line — 'Who, while they call me slave, are slaves to me' — is meant to resonate as a triumph rather than a condemnation. Writing in 1868, shortly after the Civil War, Longfellow aimed to portray an enslaved woman not as a monster.

These are the legal and theological terms from the Salem witch trials that described how a witch was believed to harm her victims — either by a glance (the Evil Eye) or a touch (the Evil Hand). Accusers said they experienced pain when Tituba looked at or touched them. Instead of denying these claims, Tituba embraces them as her powers, which allows Longfellow to turn the trial's narrative on its head: what the court labeled a crime, she considers her only means of defense.

The stage direction highlights a structural irony. Tituba has just claimed to be more powerful than ministers and magistrates — and then in walks the most renowned Puritan minister of the time. Mather is 'booted and spurred,' indicating he has just arrived, showcasing his worldly authority. This contrast between her unseen, internal strength and his overt, institutional power encapsulates the central tension of the play in one striking image.

The poem argues that legal power and real power are different. Those who control Tituba's body don't possess her knowledge, and it's her knowledge that truly dominates them — through fear. Longfellow highlights that the Salem witch panic stemmed from a community's fear of what it couldn't comprehend or control. Tituba, seen as the most powerless person in the room by legal standards, emerges as the one everyone fears.

The poem is crafted in blank verse — unrhymed iambic pentameter — the typical format for dramatic monologues and stage speeches in Longfellow's tradition. This absence of rhyme prevents it from sounding like a nursery rhyme and instead lends it the gravity of genuine speech. The rhythm is adaptable, allowing for the lengthy plant catalogues at the beginning and the sharp turns at the end.