Mar 8: Vengeful specters attack the girls

Today in Salem: The gale-force wind continues, blustering north through the streets of Boston, out of the town, over the roiling water, and through the marshes into Salem Village. Heavy clouds hang over naked trees that moan and sway in the gusts, carrying the vengeful specters of the beggar Sarah Good and the sickly Sarah Osborne. The women are locked in the Boston jail, 20 miles away from Salem Village. But their specters are here, bent on revenge, twisting and choking the girls who dared to testify against them.

The meeting house is in disrepair, and now a board is pried loose in the wind, sailing into the air and smashing against the wall of the parsonage. Inside, little Betty jumps at the sound and nearly faints, then bursts into tears before bending backward and twisting hard toward the fireplace.

11-year-old tomboy Abigail Williams isn’t much better, grasping the table, sobbing and choking at the same time. Across the village at the Putnam home, the 12-year-old Ann is flailing her arms and yelling at the specters that she will not, will not follow them. And, at the home of Dr. Griggs, his 17-year-old servant Elizabeth Hubbard is staring at the hearth fire, wide-eyed and seemingly in a trance, unmoving, even when the wood snaps and an ember flies toward her.


LEARN MORE: Were the afflicted girls really having “fits,” or were they faking it?

Probably both, sometimes maliciously, but also because of stress, past trauma, fear, boredom, and perhaps mass hysteria.

Of the ten main accusers, at least two and probably more were traumatized refugees from the Indian Wars in Maine. These were teenage girls and young women who’d watched as their homes and towns were burned and their family members murdered brutally. The attacks were not small or isolated. In one campaign, 60 miles of Maine coastland were destroyed in five weeks, with not one English settlement left.

Today we would say these girls had PTSD. But the Puritan Church of the time believed that dreams and nightmares carried messages and prophesies. One can only imagine what kind of dreams or even hallucinations these girls were having, and what they were told they meant.

Consider, too, that at least four of the girls – some of them refugees – were orphans who’d lost their parents, and therefore their financial and emotional support, dowries, and social connections. Puritan culture required each person to be “attached” to a family unit. So the orphan was taken in, frequently by extended family, and treated as a servant. Overnight these girls had lost their prospects. They’d never be married, never have children, and never have status in the church. They would be servants forever. Some of these hopeless girls had nothing else to lose, and may have been vengeful or uncaring.

On a larger level, the entire community was suffering tremendous anxiety. They were at war with the Indians, believed that Satan was active and intent on destroying them, and had just endured a brutally cold winter. Even the youngest accuser, age 9, would have picked up on that level of turmoil.

Still, despite any compassionate context, it’s true that some fakery was at play, with staged injuries, dramatic acting, and obvious teamwork. One accuser eventually confessed that she’d lied, and two of them joked that they just wanted to have fun. It was complicated, but not, and leaves us with questions we’ll never be able to answer fully.


Tomorrow in Salem: CHAINED: Good & Osborne

Mar 7: PAYING FOR THEIR SINS: the slave Tituba, the beggar Sarah Good, & the sickly Sarah Osbourne

Today in Salem: Three horses trot south, each one carrying a constable and a passenger. The slave Tituba, the beggar Sarah Good, and the sickly Sarah Osborne fold in on themselves for warmth as they ride through the blustery cold to a ferry, sail over the frigid bay, then continue riding to the jail in Boston, where criminals are tried and executed. These three aren’t scheduled for trial yet, but Salem is a day’s ride away, and it will save time if they’re already here when the court is ready for them.

The beggar Sarah Good snarls and holds her baby close as the jail keeper locks her into a shared cell with Tituba and Sarah Osborne. None has had anything to eat: the slave, the beggar, and the sick are hardly prosperous enough to bring food with them. Instead, the jail keeper’s wife will give them a simple supper of bread and butter and add the cost to their jail bills. Like any prisoner, each woman will pay the entire cost of her imprisonment. Even if she’s found to be innocent she’ll stay in jail – accruing even more costs – until the bill is paid.


LEARN MORE: Why did prisoners have to pay for their time in jail?

Then as now, it was expensive to keep someone in jail. Taxes were used to keep the building in repair and to support the jail keeper and his family (who usually lived upstairs). Prisoners had to buy everything else, though, including food, blankets, even their own shackles and chains. Wealthy prisoners could pay to stay in the jail keeper’s house, or go to church under guard.

Not much has changed. In fact, “pay-to-stay” is practiced in every state except Hawaii (as of Nov 2020). Depending on the state, prisoners pay for anything from toilet paper to food. In some prisons, more affluent inmates can pay for cells with bigger beds, private TVs, and sofas.

At the time of the trials, prisoners were held until their entire bill was paid. Today, prisoners are released and expected to pay their bills over time. If they default on the debt, the government may seize their savings, paychecks, inheritances, or other sources of income.

jail bill for accused witches
An expense report listing jail costs for some of the accused witches of Salem. The transcription and a large scan can be seen at http://salem.lib.virginia.edu/n171.html#n171.14

Tomorrow in Salem: Vengeful specters attack the girls

Mar 6: ACCUSED: the quarrelsome Elizabeth Proctor

Today in Salem: The girls’ leader Ann Putnam is sweating and shaking when her father demands “Who afflicts you?” Thomas Putnam is one of the most powerful and vengeful men in the Village. When he speaks, people listen, including his wife and children.

Ann is 12, but her father still frightens her. So when he asks if it’s the quarrelsome Elizabeth Proctor who’s tormenting her, Ann just nods. There’s been more than a whiff of suspicion around Elizabeth for 30 years, thanks to Elizabeth’s grandmother, a Quaker midwife and healer who was tried (and acquitted) for witchcraft 30 years earlier. Now Elizabeth is 40, stronger and more capable than most Puritan women, perhaps even too much so. She is her husband’s quarrelsome third wife, raising six of his children while adding five more of her own. She’s also supporting a 700-acre farm, running a tavern from the Proctor home and, like her grandmother, sharing knowledge of her garden herbs when people need a healer. If the Proctors are successful, it’s in good part due to Elizabeth.

Thomas is a Village farmer and has never liked the Proctors, whose tavern is open only to merchants and other well-to-do people from Salem Town. It wouldn’t surprise him if their prosperity was ill-gotten, through earthly means or not.


LEARN MORE: What was the difference between Salem Town and Salem Village?

Salem was divided into two distinct parts: Salem Town and Salem Village. Although they were part of the same entity, they were distinct in economy, social class, and values. The Village was inland, and most of its people were farmers. But the Town was a prosperous seaport, and most of its residents were merchants (many of them wealthy). But even though it was more prosperous, the Town still collected taxes from the Village, and depended on its farms for food.

map of accused and accusers

As much tension as there was between Town and Village, there was also division within the Village itself. Those who lived near Ipswich Road, close to the Town, made more money as merchants and tavern keepers (like the Proctors). But those who lived farther away weren’t as prosperous, and believed the Town’s worldliness threatened their Puritan values.

In the early days of the witchcraft hysteria, most of the supposed witches and those who accused them lived on opposite sides of the Village, with the “witches” living closer to the Town.


WHO was Thomas Putnam Jr.?

Thomas, age 40, was a third-generation resident of Salem Village. Some of the most active accusers were his daughter Ann, his niece Mary Walcott, and his servant Mercy Lewis. He gave their accusations tremendous legal weight by seeking arrest warrants, transcribing depositions, swearing out complaints, and writing letters to the judges.

Thomas was seen as a resentful and bitter man, for reasons that boiled down to a family feud between Thomas’s family (the Putnams) and the Porters.

The feud began 20 years before the Trials, when a dam and sawmill run by the Porters flooded the Putnam farms, with the Putnams then suing the Porters. The Putnams lived in the rural Village, while the Porters lived in the urban, mercantile Town. The Putnams were farmers, and the Porters were merchants. The Putnams were prosperous enough, but all of their worth and income were tied up in a farm. The Porters, with their ability to start and fund new businesses, eventually became one of the wealthiest families in the region. It was a classic conflict of rural vs. urban, farmer vs. merchant, and Thomas was squarely on the rural farmer side.

The feud continued when Rev Samuel Parris arrived, and a Village committee dominated by the Putnams gave him a generous offer of house and lands. Later the Putnams were ousted from the committee and replaced by the Porters and others who were hostile to the Putnams.

The feud exploded personally for Thomas when his father died and disinherited him, leaving his estate instead to a half-brother who’d married into the Porter family.

Now, as the Trials set in, many of those accused of witchcraft were connected to the Porter family, with many of the accusers connected to the Putnams.

And Thomas had more than a few axes to grind.

WHO was Elizabeth Proctor?

When Elizabeth was about 10, her grandmother was tried (and acquitted) for witchcraft. Like her grandmother, the adult Elizabeth also grew medicinal herbs, had a significant knowledge of folk medicine, and was sometimes consulted as a healer.

Elizabeth was the third wife of John Proctor, a somewhat harsh man who rented a large farm just south of the Village. They also ran a tavern from their home, serving patrons only from the Town (not the Village), and while John ran the farm, Elizabeth ran the tavern. She was confident and quarrelsome, always insisting on payment, even if it was in the form of goods rather than money.

Elizabeth and John had 6 known children, one of whom had died. She was pregnant with a seventh when she and John were arrested. When she was tried and sentenced, her execution was stayed until after she gave birth. The executions came to an end before the birth of her son, whom she named John Jr.


Tomorrow in Salem: PAYING FOR THEIR SINS: the slave Tituba, the beggar Sarah Good, & the sickly Sarah Osborne

Mar 5: CHOICES: The beggar Sarah Good

Today in Salem: The sickly Sarah Osborne will almost certainly be condemned. The only thing standing between her and the hangman’s noose is a trial, which to the magistrates is just a technicality. She’s guilty, they know she is. But they’ve given up waiting for her to admit it, and it was up to God whether to forgive her.

The magistrates have not, however, given up on the pipe-smoking beggar Sarah Good, and now they’re at the jail one last time to pull a confession from her. They know she’s guilty, of course, and just like Osborne she says she’s innocent. But where Osborne is steadfast, Good is evasive, slippery even, and the details of her story keep changing. She’s hiding something. Why does she hurt the children? they ask her. Has she signed the Devil’s book? What evil spirit is she familiar with?

woman peeking through hole

Sarah peers at them through her pipe smoke and laughs, her voice gravelly and hoarse from too many years with a pipe between her teeth. The cruel magistrate Hathorne steps forward and narrows his eyes against the sting of the smoke.

“Will you not profess your guilt?” he asks. It’s a simple choice.

If she confesses, she will live.

If she says she’s innocent, she will die.

Which will she choose?


LEARN MORE: This seems backward. If a crime leads to the death penalty, you wouldn’t confess to it, like Tituba did. You’d deny it, like the two Sarahs. Why was this reversed in Salem? Why were the judges so eager to execute an innocent like Sarah, but slow to condemn a confessor like Tituba?

At the time of the Trials, the Puritan ministers of New England were convinced that the Church had become complacent. They’d worried for weeks that God was about to punish them by allowing attacks from the Devil. Entire congregations had been fasting and praying about it, and the ministers were on high alert for any sign of evil.

When the news exploded that a group of girls could see the specters of witches, the source of the evil was revealed. But the girls weren’t the only ones who could see into the “Invisible World.” Witches could also see and identify each other to the authorities. The longer the confessed witches were alive, the more of their evil friends they could expose.

Tituba was the first of several accused “witches” to realize that she could save her life by confessing, then describing in great detail what – and who – she could see. Those who maintained their innocence either hadn’t figured it out or would rather die than tell a lie.


Tomorrow in Salem: ACCUSED: the quarrelsome Elizabeth Proctor

Mar 3: Dorcas, the tiniest witch

broken doll

Today in Salem: The three accused witches are finally behind bars, and 9-year-old little Betty, the tomboy Abigail Williams, and the 17-year-old servant Elizabeth Hubbard are feeling somewhat better.

Ann Putnam is still tormented, though, this time by the specters of a woman and a little girl. Ann doesn’t know who the woman is, but she recognizes the girl: It’s the beggar Sarah Good’s 4-year-old daughter, Dorcas. Sarah has her baby in jail with her, but has left Dorcas behind in the care of her hapless father.

Can it be? Is it possible for a small child to be a witch? If any child could be, it would be Dorcas. In the best of times Dorcas is a wild child, dirty, disheveled, and often hungry. Now, though, with her mother gone, the little girl is frightened and furious, and her specter bites, pinches, and chokes Ann in revenge.

Meanwhile the magistrates are interviewing the three imprisoned witches at the jail. It doesn’t matter that the two Sarahs have denied being in league with the Devil. The magistrates know they’re guilty, and they must confess.

The beggar Sarah Good has been brought back to Salem, and now she’s twisted at an awkward angle, nursing her baby in one arm. The other is bruised and swollen from leaping off the constable’s horse, and she holds it close, as if it’s in an imaginary sling. In another corner of the jail cell, the sickly Sarah Osborne is sleeping in dirty straw, breathing shallowly. The cruel magistrate John Hathorne prods her with his foot until she rolls over to look at him.

“What promise have you made to the Devil?” He looks back and forth to each of them. None, they both say at the same time. “Have you signed his book? Tell the truth!” The beggar just laughs and holds her baby closer. The sickly Sarah Osborne sighs. No, they say.

As for the slave Tituba, she’s been pacing in a small circle all day. She’s already confessed, but to prove her worth, she adds a new detail: when the previous minister’s wife and child died, it was because of witchcraft.


LEARN MORE: What was the jail in Salem like?

The Salem “Gaol” was only eight years old when the witchcraft trials began. The floor was dirt, and the windows had iron bars. But we don’t know much more about the building, except that it was described as “thirteen feet stud, and twenty feet square, accommodated with a yard.” It’s hard to translate that into today’s measurements. Was the facade of the building 20 square feet? Or did that refer to the length and width? Did it have two stories? What was the distance between studs? Was it built of stone or wood? We know it had a yard, but was it secured to the exterior of the building, or was it a central courtyard?

The most important thing we know is that the conditions were appalling. It was hot in the summer and cold in the winter, and smelled of dung, vomit, dead vermin, and unwashed bodies year-round. It was miserably overcrowded, and prisoners were infested with fleas and lice thanks to vermin, which spread “jail fever” (typhus). An earlier prisoner said he was “almost poisoned with the stink of my own dung and the stink of the prison having never so much as a minute’s time to take the air since I came into this dolesome place.”


WHO was Dorcas Good? Dorcas was the 4-year-old daughter of the beggar Sarah Good. Dorcas was accused of witchcraft, like her mother, and confessed that her mother had given her a little snake that sucked on her finger. The magistrates took this to mean she had a “familiar” and was, therefore, guilty. Dorcas stayed in prison for eight months and was emotionally damaged for the rest of her life.


Tomorrow in Salem: Choices: the beggar Sarah Good

Mar 2: On the run: the beggar Sarah Good

Today in Salem: A buzz of energy has everyone talking about the beggar Sarah Good, her daring escape from house arrest, and how the servant Elizabeth Hubbard could possibly have known about it.

After yesterday’s hearing, Sarah Good and her baby had been sent to her constable relative’s house and put under guard. But she’d made a quick escape, racing out so quickly that she’d left her shoes and stockings behind. She didn’t last long, though. It was frigidly cold, her feet were bare (and so were her legs), and she was nursing a baby. So she went back to her relative and begged, this time for shelter.

Then, last night, before anyone knew of Sarah’s escape, wide-eyed neighbors had watched Elizabeth wince and jerk away as Sarah’s specter inflicted terrible pains on her. “She’s right there!” Elizabeth had cried. “On the table! Right in front of you!” The specter had bare feet, Elizabeth said, and her legs were bare, too. And one breast.

How could Elizabeth have known? The neighbors agree: She must be able to see into the Invisible World. And specters must look exactly like the people they belong to. What else could explain it?

Now the magistrates are taking no chances. No more staying at a relative’s house. A guard is taking Sarah to jail 10 miles away, where she cannot escape. That doesn’t stop her from trying, though. Even holding her 10-week-old baby, she slides off the guard’s horse and tries to run, three times. She curses and kicks and spits, but the guard wrestles her and the baby back onto the horse every time.


Tomorrow in Salem: Dorcas, the tiniest witch

Mar 1: IN COURT: the beggar Sarah Good, the sickly Sarah Osborne, & the slave Tituba

Today in Salem: the village has turned out in full force to goggle at the slave Tituba, sickly Sarah Osborne, and the beggar Sarah Good, clustered in the middle of the meeting house. The tavern owner’s wife has already examined the accused women for witch’s marks, but hasn’t found any. Now it’s the judges’ turn to look for evidence.

When they’re not staring at the accused witches, the crowd is gaping at the four afflicted girls. Little Betty Parris hides behind her tomboy cousin Abigail Williams, both of them breathing hard through tears. The girls’ leader Ann Putnam stands at the front of the group, gasping and wringing her hands. The servant Elizabeth Hubbard stands back, holding her neck with both hands and choking as if she’s being strangled.

The crowd quiets as the two magistrates intone the opening prayers. Then the Sheriff takes the slave Tituba and the sickly Sarah Osborne out, leaving the beggar Sarah Good behind, her baby in her arms, and her pipe clenched firmly between her teeth.

The aggressive magistrate John Hathorne attacks first. What evil spirit is Good familiar with? None! Have you made a contract with the Devil? No! Why do you hurt these children? I scorn it! The quieter magistrate Jonathan Corwin watches carefully as the girls insist that Sarah’s specter is lunging at them this very minute. But when her own husband tells the judges that she is an enemy to all good, it’s over. The magistrates send Sarah with her baby to stay with a relative, who is a constable and can keep her and her baby under lock and key.

When the sickly Sarah Osborne is ushered in she denies being a witch. But yes, she did have a nightmare once about a black Indian who grabbed her by the hair. And yes, she’d once heard a voice telling her not to go to church. The judges squint. Couldn’t the Devil be the nightmare Indian? And couldn’t the voice she was hearing actually be his? Unlike the beggar’s husband, Sarah Osborne’s husband testifies that she’s telling the truth. The judges aren’t sure, though, and releasing her is risky. So they send her to jail to wait for a trial.

The slave Tituba confronts the same questions and denies all evil-doing, but the judges’ eyes narrow when she pauses. Perhaps remembering yesterday’s beating, she changes course and spills out a partial confession. Actually she did see the Devil, she says in her exotic accent, and four witches, too. And yes, she admits that she agreed to join the witches, but then she changed her mind. And yes, she has hurt the children, but only because the Devil man threatened her.

Judge Hathorne leans in and begins rapid-firing questions. Who were the other witches? She doesn’t know two of them, but the other two are the beggar Sarah Good and the sickly Sarah Osborne. She pauses, and suddenly the details pour out. She’d seen them around a hog, a black dog, also a red cat and a black cat, plus a yellow bird, she says, with two imps warming themselves by the fire in the parsonage last night. She gives detailed accounts of the witches’ clothing and the Devil man’s appearance, and finally, in the face of the non-stop questions, closes her eyes and says she is suddenly blind, and then mute, and then chokes and gasps just like the afflicted girls. Then, recovering her voice, she says the specters of the two Sarahs are attacking her. Tituba has confessed, so the judges send her to jail to await trial and sentencing.


LEARN MORE: Is a magistrate the same thing as a judge?
In a way, yes, but a magistrate is lower level, a lay judge who deals with minor offenses. They may also hold preliminary hearings for more serious offenses that will later go to trial.

In Salem, the magistrates were local politicians and/or respected merchants. They usually dealt with minor charges like drunkenness. For the Salem Witchcraft Trials, they held examinations, or hearings, for people accused of witchcraft to decide whether a more former trial should take place. If the magistrate decided there was enough evidence to suggest guilt, the accused person would go to jail until a grand jury could convene for a trial.


WHO was magistrate Jonathan Corwin?
Jonathan Corwin — Age 51. Magistrate. Corwin was a wealthy merchant who was elected to the colonial assembly twice, and was an active magistrate of the local courts, hearing cases dealing with petty crimes and minor charges such as drunkenness and burglary. With his friend and fellow judge John hathore, he presided over many of the initial hearings for the witchcraft trials and was relentless in seeking confessions.

Corwin’s personal life was hardly peaceful. Four of his children had recently died when he called the first witchcraft hearing into order, and another had nearly drowned. One of his other children was said to have been afflicted by one of the accused women. Later his mother-in-law would be accused of witchcraft, though she was never arrested.

Corwin never expressed regret or remorse for his role in the trials, and died 26 years later a wealthy and respected man. His house is still standing and is known today as the Witch House. Case files: Jonathan Corwin

WHO was magistrate John Hathorne?
Age 51. Magistrate. Hathorne began his business career as a bookkeeper, but quickly moved to land speculation. Eventually he acquired a ship, a wharf, and a liquor license, and made enough money to build a mansion in Salem Town, plus a warehouse near the wharf.

Hathorne had served the Salem community as a judge for about five years when the trials began. He was fierce in his questioning, always assuming the accused person was guilty and that the afflicted girls were truthful. It was a perfect example of “guilty until proven innocent.”

Hathorne was thought to be an aggressive and even cruel judge, and showed no introspection or remorse after the trials ended. Some of his descendants were ashamed of their connection to him, including his great-great-grandson Nathaniel Hawthorne, who added a W to his name before writing “House of the Seven Gables.” Case files: John Hathorne


Tomorrow in Salem: On the run: the beggar Sarah Good