Today in Salem: Rev Parris’s hands are red and swollen from beating his slave Tituba. Parris is done, done with waiting and praying. Little Betty and her cousin the tomboy Abigail are growing worse, not better, and now he’s beaten a confession out of Tituba. Yes. Yes, she’s a witch, she cries. Not just that, but so are the beggar Sarah Good and the sickly Saran Osborne, plus two other witches she doesn’t recognize.
Parris relays the confession to a church deacon, who enlists three other men to ride to town and file complaints against Tituba, Sarah Good, and Sarah Osborne. Warrants are immediately issued for their arrest, with orders to appear tomorrow morning for a hearing.
Tonight, according to the girls, the beggar Sarah Good’s specter torments the 17-year-old servant Elizabeth Hubbard. The specter of the sickly Sarah Osborne manifests as a human-headed bird and torments Betty, age 9, and Abigail, age 11. And the specters of Osborne and Tituba try to cut off 12-year-old Ann Putnam’s head.
LEARN MORE: How could Rev Parris beat his slave? Wasn’t slavery just during the Civil War?
No. The first enslaved Africans were brought to America more than 150 years before the witchcraft trials, and nearly 300 years before the U.S. Civil War.
The Massachusetts Body of Liberties of 1641 was the first legal code established in New England. It outlawed slavery but legalized the slave trade at the same time.
About 50 years before the trials, the Puritans outlawed slavery with two exceptions: prisoners of war (most often Native Americans), and strangers who were sold to them or sold themselves. So, ironically, the very law that outlawed slavery also legalized the slave trade between America, the West Indies, and Africa.
In Salem at the time, we know of at least five enslaved people: In the Parris household were Tituba and John Indian with their daughter Violet, who’s age and birthplace are unknown. Two other women, Mary Black and Candy, both named in the trials, were enslaved by other families.
While Rev Parris “owned” Tituba because of legal loopholes, beating her was immoral and outside the law. In fact, the Puritan minister Cotton Mather later promised that if owners mistreated their slaves, “the Sword of Justice” would sweep through the colony.
Today in Salem: The servant Elizabeth Hubbard is hugging herself in front of the fire, still shivering after walking nearly four miles in the bone chilling cold. She’s brought something from her uncle, the doctor, to the Putnam home, and as soon as she’s warm she’ll walk the four miles back.
13-year-old Ann Putnam is also shivering, but not from cold. She’s been tormented for three days now, grabbed and pushed and pinched by a strange specter who’s trying to make her sign the Devil’s book. Ann hadn’t recognized the specter until today: it’s that stinking, pipe-smoking beggar Sarah Good. As soon as she says the name she begins to shake, and it immediately spreads to Elizabeth, whose shivers are now so violent that she can hardly hold a mug of warm tea.
Elizabeth sets back out, but a piercing wind has kicked up. She walks as quickly as she can, but she’s already walked four miles, with four more to go, she’s freezing, it’s dark, and her eyes are watering in the wind.
Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, she can see a dark shape moving quietly just behind her. When she walks slowly, it does too, and when she walks quickly, it picks up the pace. Something is following her. It’s a wolf, stalking her, hunching its shoulders and waiting for a chance to jump. Wolves are rare, though, hardly ever seen, especially in the Village.
Elizabeth breathes in sharply. This is no ordinary animal. Ann has just named the beggar Sarah Good as tormenting her, and now the beggar has come to attack Elizabeth as well. The wolf is probably Sarah Good, who’s transformed herself. Or maybe it is a real wolf, but it’s being commanded by Sarah.
Next to the wolf, teeth glinting in the dark, is another specter: the sickly Sarah Osborne. Two, two witches are now chasing Elizabeth through the cold darkness, and she runs as fast as she can.
LEARN MORE: What is a specter?
A “specter” is a disembodied spirit that’s much like a ghost, except it appears while a person is still alive. In Salem, the “witches” were accused of using their specters to torment and harm other people. The specter could pinch, bite, choke, or otherwise harm its victims while the actual, real-life witch was somewhere else.
“Spectral evidence” – testimony that said the accused person’s specter hurt someone – was enormously at fault in the Salem Witchcraft Trials. Ministers and judges believed that the Devil could lead faithful, religious people astray. But they did not believe that the Devil would impersonate that person. In other words, if you saw someone’s specter, it undoubtedly belonged to them, and it was there only because the person was in league with the Devil. That spectral evidence was enough to condemn a person.
WHO was Ann Putnam?
Age 12. Accused 18 of the 20 people who were eventually executed, and more than 40 more who were jailed.
Ann Putnam was the “leader” of the group of girls, which grew to include older women and men, as the accusations escalated. Ann was an oldest child, and her parents often encouraged Ann to identify “witches.” Most important, young girls then were nearly invisible and powerless, forbidden even to speak in church. When they became afflicted, though, they became the center of attention and were greatly influential. It must have been intoxicating.
14 years after the trials, Ann’s health was in decline and she was nearly an invalid. She asked to make a confession to be read at the meeting house. Working with a minister, she dictated a confession that was written and signed in the church-book one night before services. The next morning it was read by the pastor in front of the congregation while Ann stood. “The Confession of Anne Putnam, when she was received to Communion, 1706.
Ann Putnam’s mark
“I desire to be humbled before God for that sad and humbling providence that befell my father’s family in the year about ’92; that I, then being in my childhood, should, by such a providence of God, be made an instrument for the accusing of several persons of a grievous crime, whereby their lives were taken away from them, whom now I have just grounds and good reason to believe they were innocent persons; and that it was a great delusion of Satan that deceived me in that sad time, whereby I justly fear I have been instrumental, with others, though ignorantly and unwittingly, to bring upon myself and this land the guilt of innocent blood; though what was said or done by me against any person I can truly and uprightly say, before God and man, I did it not out of any anger, malice, or ill-will to any person, for I had no such thing against one of them; but what I did was ignorantly, being deluded by Satan. And particularly, as I was a chief instrument of accusing of Goodwife Nurse and her two sisters, I desire to lie in the dust, and to be humbled for it, in that I was a cause, with others, of so sad a calamity to them and their families; for which cause I desire to lie in the dust, and earnestly beg forgiveness of God, and from all those unto whom I have given just cause of sorrow and offence, whose relations were taken away or accused.
Today in Salem: Rev Parris thunders as if he’s behind the pulpit. Except he’s not behind the pulpit. He’s in his own kitchen, raging at Tituba, Betty, and Abigail and waving his fist in the air. You’ve opened the door to the Devil, he rages. You’ve used magic to counter-magic, and now God’s wrath will be unleashed!
Several other ministers are standing behind Rev Parris, holding their hats and looking first at Tituba, then at Betty and Abigail as the girls sob and contort their arms and legs into impossible positions. The girls have already choked out the story of the witch-cake, and now they gasp for breath, as if they’re being strangled. “It wasn’t us!” they cry. “It’s Tituba! She’s a witch!”
When Parris demands an explanation, Tituba looks at the floor and confesses to making the witch-cake. “But I am not a witch,” she says. Her owner in Barbados was a witch, she says. That’s where she’d learned how to use counter-magic. “But I am not the cause of evil. I am no witch.”
After yesterday’s visit from the doctor, Rev Parris had invited other ministers to see the girls for themselves and render their opinion. Now they’ve seen the full unraveling, and they step outside with Parris. They agree that the hand of Satan is on the children, but they still aren’t sure if it’s a witch that’s involved. “Be careful,” they say. “Don’t do anything. Just wait and see.”
LEARN MORE: What is counter-magic? Was it good or bad?
The Book of Magical Charms is a handwritten book from the 17th century. It contains charms for things like healing a toothache, recovering a lost voice, and talking to spirits.
Counter-magic can be thought of as “good magic,” or superstitious behavior that prevents or protects against evil. People today practice counter-magic without even realizing it. When you hang a dreamcatcher, throw salt over your shoulder, burn sage, or whisper to a child “sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite” — you’re keeping evil forces at bay with counter-magic.
In the 17th century, any kind of magic was demonic. That’s what the Puritan ministers believed anyway. Lay people weren’t so sure. In the 20 years before the trials in Salem, witchcraft cases were usually dismissed by the courts for lack of evidence. This left people feeling defenseless against people they knew were witches. Something had to be done, even if it was just to protect themselves. Witch bottles were filled with urine, nails, wine, or other objects and hidden under hearths. Poppets were tucked under floorboards. Horseshoes were nailed to walls.
Those objects are sometimes uncovered in today’s archaeological digs, and can be surprisingly similar to the objects we use today – more than 300 years later.
Today in Salem: It’s been pouring for two days, and the frozen ground is liquifying to mud. It’s a relief to Tituba, who’s spent most of the brutally cold winter longing for the warmth of Barbados and telling its old stories to Betty and Abigail. Some are about duppies, the ghosts of dead people who manifest as humans (or animals!) and make people do and say strange things. Even worse is the Heartman, who carves the hearts out of disobedient children, then gives their hearts to the Devil. Then there’s the tale of the baccoo, a tiny man who lives in a bottle and can decide a person’s destiny.
Tituba has also taught the girls how to drop an egg into a mug of water so they can see their future husbands. So far they haven’t seen more than a few white swirls, but Tituba can see their husbands clearly – working large farms, with warm houses, and plenty to eat.
Recently, though, the girls have been suffering from strange afflictions, and now a neighbor approaches Tituba with an idea. Rev Parris and his wife are gone for the day, she says, so it’s a perfect time to make a witch-cake. If the girls’ afflictions are caused by a witch, the cake will reveal who that is.
This is not one of the old stories from Barbadoes, but Tituba does believe in witches, so when the neighbor explains it to her it makes sense. When someone is bewitched, the witch is inside every part of the person’s body. So if a dog bites the bewitched person, he’s also biting the witch. That makes the real-life witch cry out in agony and reveal who they are.
The trick is to find a way for the dog to bite the bewitched person without hurting them. But there’s a solution: Since a witch inhabits every part of a person’s body, that includes urine. If you take out the urine and find a way to feed it to the dog, it should work. Hence, the witch-cake.
Tituba fills a small iron pan with rye flour and ashes from the hearth. She’s already scooped a small bit of urine from the girls’ chamberpot, and now she mixes it into the flour and ashes until it makes a paste. She slides the pan into the fire and waits until the mixture cooks into a flat biscuit. Then she feeds it to the family dog, and waits. And waits.
The Parris family dog is only too happy to eat anything that’s given to him, including the witch cake. But then nothing happens. No one is screaming or running away. The dog just finishes his snack, curls up in front of the warm hearth, and goes to sleep.
LEARN MORE: What were some other ways to identify a witch?
There were many ways to identify witches. In Salem, these were the ones used most frequently.
Moles, birthmarks, skin tags, scars, or any other mark or protrusion of flesh could be marks of the Devil. For additional proof, the examiner would nick the mark with a blade. If it didn’t bleed or hurt, it was the Devil’s mark. During the Salem Witchcraft Trials, some examiners used knives with retractable blades, so when they “punctured” the mark, nothing happened, proving the person was indeed in league with the Devil.
The inability to recite scripture correctly pointed to the Devil’s influence. In Salem, the judges most frequently used the Lord’s Prayer as the test. Not only was it Scripture, but any devout churchgoer should be able to recite it perfectly. The Devil, though, or anyone in league with him, would not be able to say it.
The touch test said that if a witch touched someone they were bewitching, the witch’s evil power would immediately transfer back to them, leaving the bewitched person “cured” (at least for the moment).
WHO was Tituba?
Little is known about Tituba’s background, though scholars have traced her roots to an Arawak-speaking group in present-day Venezuela. At the time, there was a labor crisis in Barbados, with a huge demand for indigenous slaves. So it’s possible (or even likely) that Tituba and her husband were taken from South America and enslaved in Barbados before they were purchased by Reverend Samuel Parris.
In white Puritan Salem, Tituba had three strikes against her: She was a black, female, slave. This plus her exotic accent and culture made her an easy target. So it may not be a surprise that she was the first person to be accused.
Although Tituba was the first person who was accused, she languished in prison for 15 months until she was sold to an unknown person for the price of her jail fees. (It’s presumed that Rev Samuel Parris refused to pay them because he was so angry at her involvement.) We know nothing about what happened to her after that.
Today in Salem: Betty and Abigail are huddling in a corner in a wild panic, gasping and wheezing and unable to speak. The stinking gum has joined the long list of herbs, seeds, roots, and all manner of strange substances that have made no difference whatsoever in the girls’ condition. Even prayer, constant prayer, hasn’t helped.
Rev Parris and his wife are at their wits’ end, and summon the only village doctor. He’s 78, and his horse walks almost as gingerly as he does. His great-niece Elizabeth Hubbard follows on her own horse and carries her uncle’s box, as far behind as is acceptable. She’s 17 and has been living with him as a servant for quite some time. He and his wife are amiable enough, and they treat Elizabeth well, but she’s a teenage girl after all, and always hungry to socialize with other girls.
The parsonage is cold, but the doctor and Elizabeth hardly notice as they turn in circles of their own, watching the spinning and convulsing girls. He grabs their arms and stumbles a little, looking into their eyes as much as he can until he proclaims what the neighbors have been whispering for weeks: The girls are under an evil hand. But why?
LEARN MORE: What were Puritan doctors like?
The Puritans believed that all things were from God: good things like bountiful crops and summer rain, and bad things like disease and affliction. When bad things happened, it wasn’t because the person was sick. It was because they’d sinned and God was displeased. So, while a doctor tried to diagnose illness, he was also asked to find and explain the sin behind the affliction.
This put doctors almost on par with ministers, and their opinions were greatly respected. In fact, sometimes they were the ministers. This could explain why doctors were so poorly trained in medical practices. There were no medical schools or programs in America. Instead, doctors practiced what they knew from British medicine, which was usually passed down through the decades and had become obsolete years before.
That said, it’s likely that the doctor in Salem had at least some medical training, because he was actually called “doctor” — a title used only for the educated — and used “feseke” (phisic, or medicine). If a person’s illness exhausted all of a doctor’s knowledge, as it did with Betty and Abigail, the sick person was sometimes said to be afflicted by an evil source.
WHO was Elizabeth Hubbard?
Elizabeth Hubbard’s mark
Elizabeth lived as a servant with her great-uncle, Dr. William Griggs. She had a reputation for lying, having a strong imagination, and sometimes denied the Sabbath day.
Like many of the other young women who were servants, Elizabeth’s prospects were uncertain at best, or even non-existent. She was probably an orphan, with no physical or emotional support from direct family members. And she was a servant, with no dowry or connections.
By the end of the trial Elizabeth had testified against 32 people, 17 of whom were arrested, 13 of them hanged, and 2 who died in jail.
History isn’t clear about what happened to Elizabeth after the trials. Records exists for a woman named Elizabeth Hibbert, who married a John Bennett and had four children. But it isn’t known whether this was the same Elizabeth Hubbard. Case files: Elizabeth Hubbard
Today in Salem: Fornication is not Sarah Osborne’s biggest scandal or sin. Neither is marrying her younger servant, or even skipping church (for 3 years, no less). No. God will certainly punish her for her wickedness; in fact, God’s displeasure might be why He allows her husband to beat her.
The worst sin, the thing that lies like bedrock under everything else, is the way she’s deceiving and stealing from her two sons. Or at least she’s trying to. When her first husband died he’d left 150 acres to Sarah, in trust until their sons came of age. But now that she’s remarried, she and her former servant are trying to break the trust, to keep the land for themselves.
Unfortunately for her, the Putnams had been the executors of her first husband’s will, and they were none too pleased that she was breaking the agreement. Now she’s earned more than God’s wrath. She’s also offended the powerful Putnam family, and the disagreement has been going on for so long that it’s hard to imagine the end of it.
Tituba, the Parris family slave, has been to one of the Putnam houses for a basket of salted fish. Now, on her way back to the parsonage, she passes the Osborne house, so still that it almost seems empty. It isn’t though. Caught between the Putnams and the parsonage, human judgment and God’s wrath, the Osborne family waits, unsure how the dispute will end.
LEARN MORE: Who were the Puritans? Were they really that harsh?
The Geneva Bible was published in 1560 by English reformers who fled to the continent to escape persecutions by Queen Mary. It was used by the Pilgrims and Puritans in New England until it was gradually replaced by the King James Bible.
The Puritans were protestants who wanted to purify the Church of England. They believed it was too similar to the Catholic Church, and should eliminate ceremonies and practices not rooted in the Bible.
The people of Salem were Puritans. But they weren’t the dour, unhappy people we think of today. In fact, Puritans sometimes wore colorful clothes; drank rum, brandy, and hard cider; and enjoyed (marital) sex. But they were disciplined about indulging in these things too much. Every part of life was grounded in Scripture, and anything that brought too much joy could distract a person from work or prayer, the two most important parts of life.
The people who were hanged in Salem covered the spectrum of Puritanism, from disreputable beggars to full members of the church – even a minister. It introduced disturbing questions. Was it even possible for a member of the church to partner with the Devil? If Scripture said the Devil could use people’s specters as a disguise, did that mean innocent people had been executed? If the Devil was invading the church, what sin had the community committed to deserve it?
WHO was Sarah Osborne?
Age 49. Osborne was a social outcast who’d married her own servant, and was rumored to have committed fornication with him. She was also sickly, of a nervous temperament, and hadn’t been to church in more than three years.
Osborne was also disliked by the Putnams. When her first husband died, he left his land to Sarah to be held in trust until their two sons were of age. Two of his Putnam brothers-in-law were the executors of the estate.
Several years later, Sarah purchased her own servant’s indenture, then married him. They then went to court to try to break the trust and gain control of the property. The Putnams were deeply offended; in fact, of the four people who’d signed the complaint resulting in her arrest, two of them were Putnams.
Sarah Osborne was the first victim of the witchcraft hysteria, dying in jail after nine weeks of being chained. Case files: Sarah Osborne
Today in Salem: Rev Samuel Parris’s wife is also wrinkling her nose and breathing shallowly, trying not to inhale the stench of stinking gum. She’s tried remedy after remedy for 2 months now, trying to help her 9-year-old daughter Betty, but nothing is working. And it’s not just Betty: It’s also her 11-year-old niece Abigail Williams, who’s been living with the family since she’d lost her own parents. The girls were practically sisters.
Betty wails in the next room, and a thud quickly follows. Her crying barely stops, though, and now Abigail joins in. For weeks they’ve been sobbing, moaning, throwing things, crouching under chairs, fainting, and gasping. At times they panic so severely that they cannot breathe, and Abigail has complained constantly of a severe headache. No amount of prayer has helped, though. In fact, praying only seems to make it worse. Could it be something evil?
Today Mrs. Parris has reached the end of her list, and is mixing wine with stinking gum. Betty and Abigail’s eyes water as they drink the foul-smelling concoction, which is supposed to be as powerful as it is obnoxious. But the stench makes them choke until they gasp and fall on the floor as if they are dying.
LEARN MORE: What medicinal herbs were used as remedies for witchcraft?
Like other women of the time, Mrs. Parris would have had a “kitchen garden” that included medicinal herbs, plants, and roots. But the commonly known remedies against evil were more exotic than she would have had at hand. History doesn’t tell us what remedies she tried: only that she’d used several, and none had worked.
Asafetida soaked in wine, as described here, would have been easy to find, and was also known to counteract the “foul vapors of the uterus.” Folklore also recommended soot or blood mixed with hartshorn (the ground up antler from a deer), blood from a male cat’s ear, dewdrops refined into dust, and amber soaked in castor oil.
Parsnip seeds soaked in wine were also thought to be among the most powerful elixirs, but Mrs. Parris would have had a great deal of trouble finding them. Parsnips were easily acquired, but to produce seed they needed to stay in the ground, unharvested for a full season. Food was too precious to let it go to seed, so it’s unlikely she tried them.
WHO was Betty Parris?
Betty was the 9-year-old daughter of Reverend Samuel Parris. She and her cousin Abigail Williams, who lived with the Parris family, were the first girls to suffer from strange fits and afflictions. Betty was the youngest of the afflicted girls and among those who accused the first three suspects. As the trials began to pick up steam, Reverend Parris grew alarmed and sent her to live with his cousin in Boston.
Betty suffered occasional fits at her new home, but was cared for and went on to lead a healthy and happy childhood. She married and had four children, two of whom she named after her siblings, and lived to the old age of 77. Case files: Betty Parris
WHO was Abigail Williams?
Abigail Williams’ mark
Abigail was 11 and lived with her uncle, the Reverend Samuel Parris. History doesn’t tell us, though, who her parents were or how she came to live with the Parris family.
Abigail and her cousin Betty Parris were the first girls to suffer afflictions. Ultimately Abigail testified in 7 cases and was involved in up to 17 of the capital cases.
Abigail’s later life is also a mystery, as she disappears from the records once the trials were over. Case files: Abigail Williams
Today in Salem: Reverend Samuel Parris can smell her before he sees her, the acrid scent of pipe smoke followed by the pungency of a sweating and long-unwashed body. It’s dusk on the Sabbath, with an entire day of sermons behind him, and all Rev Parris wants is his supper. Instead the homeless beggar Sarah Good is knocking on his door, smoking her pipe and shivering in the February cold, a baby squirming in her arms and a little girl hiding behind her petticoat. She is begging, again, having knocked on nearly every door in Salem Village.
Parris hesitates. He doesn’t have much to give, having not been paid in seven months. And Sarah hardly inspires sympathy. She has a legendary temper and nothing but scorn for those who help her. Even her husband complains about her ill-mannered nature, and she’s worn out any charitable feelings people may have once felt.
Still. The children are innocent, and what kind of minister would he be to turn them away? He gives a coin to the little girl, but Sarah doesn’t even look at the money. She just whirls around and stalks off, muttering under her breath, words he hears but can’t quite understand.
LEARN MORE: What was it like to be homeless then?
During the time of the Salem Witchcraft trials, homeless people were known as “vagrants” or “vagabonds.” They didn’t live outdoors; instead, they stayed with relatives or friends and moved from place to place. If the local government had budgeted for it, sometimes the poor were given money or jobs. (In Boston, as much as 25% of the city’s budget went to relief for the poor.)
In the case of Sarah Good, it doesn’t appear that her family was given any government support. Neither did they have support from friends or even relatives: Sarah was so mean-spirited and ill-tempered that she was quickly turned out everywhere she went. Eventually she and her husband, a laborer, were able to find a home away from the village. Still, they never recovered from poverty, and thus Sarah was reduced to begging.
WHO was Sarah Good?
Sarah was 39, a near vagrant who smoked a pipe & had a temper. One of the first to be accused. Mother of 4yo Dorcas Good, who was also accused and put in prison.
Sarah was born to a well-to-do innkeeper who drowned himself when Sarah was 17. He’d left a sizeable estate of 500 pounds to be shared among his 3 daughters, but when her mother remarried, Sarah’s stepfather kept the money to himself and left her with virtually nothing.
Sarah first married an indentured servant who died and left her with massive debts. When she married again, she and her new husband, William Good, inherited that debt. The government seized some of their land to pay it, leaving only a small portion, with William doing odd jobs around the Village. A recent smallpox epidemic had made that nearly impossible, though, and he and Sarah – with their children – fell into poverty.
Over time Sarah became impoverished and bitter, friendless, a near vagrant who was almost universally disliked. She was quarrelsome and loud, smoked a pipe, refused to go to church “for want of clothes.” It was true that she had only two dresses, ten years old, and her children had even less. Still, she showed no interest in leading a virtuous life, which made her suspect. Case files: Sarah Good
WHO was Samuel Parris?
Samuel Parris was the 39-year-old Puritan minister of Salem Village, the father and uncle of two afflicted girls, and the slave-master of one confessor. The witchcraft hysteria began in his family.
Samuel Parris
Parris was born in London and attended Harvard College in Boston, then left to run a sugar plantation he’d inherited in Barbados. Several years later he returned to Boston with his slaves Tituba and her husband “John Indian.” He dabbled in business, but soon decided to enter the ministry.
Parris was considering leaving business for the ministry and had begun filling in for area ministers when Salem Village invited him to lead their church. But he negotiated their offer like a business contract instead of an invitation, and held out for a full year, insisting on a binding contract and adding clauses for things like price freezes, future pay raises, and ownership of land. Finally, when the committee met to sign the final agreement, Parris didn’t show up.
With that mutual misunderstanding, Parris took up his appointment and began preaching at the Village church. What followed was two years of acrimonious disagreement punctuated by weekly sermons of thinly veiled barbs against the congregation. Finally, they stopped paying him. It was a brutally cold winter, and the lack of firewood and low supplies of food were a hardship, but Parris doubled down in his sermons. Three months later, the witchcraft hysteria began in his home. Case files: Samuel Parris
A trembling girl stands at the edge of the ocean shore, looking past the dark waves and willing her heart to be quiet and slow. It’s nighttime, and the hem of her long petticoat is wet with seawater.
Behind her, the black woods loom. Twigs snap and leaves rustle, whispering threats in a language she doesn’t know. The forest is thick with angry Indians, and it’s too late, too dark, too dangerous to walk home through the trees.
Before her, through the waves and across the ocean, is her grandfather’s home in England, its warm hearth waiting. But it’s impossibly far away. There’s no step forward, no calling for help, no safety to be had. Trapped between the woods and the water, all she has is prayer.
“Dark” is perhaps the best way to describe the Salem witchcraft trials. Hundreds of people were accused of witchcraft, and most of them were jailed. In the course of four months, nineteen people were hanged, one was tortured to death, and several died in prison. Even two dogs gave their lives.
But if the trials were the black heart of Salem, the Village itself was also surrounded by darkness and fear.
A deadly smallpox epidemic had recently swept through the area, leaving a trail of grief for nearly every family.
Traumatized refugees were arriving with terrifying stories of savage Indian attacks, part of a larger and never-ending war between France, England, and various feuding tribes.
Winters were brutally cold during this period as well; in fact, the Massachusetts colony was founded at the end of what today we call “The Little Ice Age.” In Salem, the winter at the start of the trials was especially harsh. Bread froze on the communion plates; likewise ink in pens and sap in fireplaces.
What could explain it? How do you find safety in such a terrifying world? The Puritan Church, the dominant religion in Salem, held that God actively punished people – or families, or villages, or continents – when they’d sinned. With no germ theory to explain the smallpox, no way to predict Indian attacks, and no science to forecast the severe weather, the harsh and even deadly realities of life could only be signs of God’s displeasure. They must have sinned, and their job was to figure out what they’d done, then repent and excise the evil.
Witches didn’t stand a chance.
Over the next eight months, Today in Salem will tell the story of the Salem Witchcraft Trials as they occurred, unfolding in real time. Each post will provide a historically researched snapshot of what happened on that day, and the real people who were part of it. Put together, they’ll tell the evolving story of a human-inspired tragedy, while showing that history is more than just names and dates on a calendar.
