Tag Archives: Rebecca Nurse

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Aug 31: SMALL MERCIES: Rev Parris forgives absences

Today in Salem: Rev Samuel Parris is pacing in front of the meeting house and praying for guidance. Six weeks ago the beloved Rebecca Nurse was hanged, and her family essentially disappeared from church. Two weeks ago, he and a committee of men were appointed to ask them why.

They’ve made the rounds and heard them out, and now the question is what to do about it? Rebecca’s son actually has been to church, but not every week, he admits. Her daughter has an infant, and has been tending a sick husband for the entire time. And her sister, the outspoken Sarah Cloyce, is still in jail. Still, Sarah’s husband ought to be in church – although he’s been visiting her so much that he’s hardly home.

Attendance at church is mandatory, and those who miss it are fined, or whipped if they can’t pay. He could argue with the excuses, but Rev Parris decides to wait and see if things improve.

Tomorrow in Salem: ACCUSED: the fortuneteller Samuel Wardwell

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Aug 14: The Nurse family is AWOL from church

Today in Salem: The tavern owner is picking a splinter from the wooden table, listening intently to the other men and trying not to leap up from his chair. He’s used to greeting his customers and walking from table to table, not sitting at one.

It’s the Sabbath, and the men of the church have met at the tavern to discuss a troubling matter. Three families have not attended worship in several weeks, all of them related to the beloved Rebecca Nurse: her son, her daughter, and her brother-in-law. Including their spouses and children, their meeting house benches have been conspicuously empty.

“She was hanged three weeks ago,” one of the deacons says. He is a thoughtful man who takes his duties seriously. But he is also a member of the powerful Putnam family, which no one around him forgets. “They should be here, praying for understanding and forgiveness.”

The tavern owner is also a deacon, and now he looks up from the splintered table. “Yes, but can they not pray from their homes? Is understanding only to be found at the meeting house?”

The other men agree with one deacon or the other, and the conversation is pointed. As a group, though, they agree on one thing: the families must explain themselves. They appoint a committee of four men to visit the families: Rev Samuel Parris, the two church deacons, and the 73-year-old patriarch of the powerful Putnam family.

The other men drift away while the newly formed committee gathers more closely around the splintered table. They quickly make their first decision: They will wait before visiting the families. There’s another hanging in a few days, and they have much prayer and work to do. Perhaps the Nurse families will right themselves without intervention.

Tomorrow in Salem: the bold John Proctor prepares

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July 23: A resistance takes shape

Today in Salem: The seeds of resistance are fully rooted and beginning to grow.

In May the former deputy John Willard quit after arresting what he considered to be innocent people. In June a judge quit for the same reason. Soon after that, a group of ministers sent a letter to the judges in protest of spectral evidence.

This month grassroots protests have begun to take hold, with 11 people testifying on the neighborly Elizabeth How‘s behalf, and 39 signing a petition to the governor for the beloved Rebecca Nurse.

Now the harsh John Proctor writes a letter on behalf of his fellow prisoners to several influential ministers. Yesterday’s torture of the teenage boys (as well as Proctor’s own son) shows that confessions are being forced and accepted, even when they’re inconsistent. He and his fellow prisoners are condemned before they’ve even had their trials.

Proctor begs the ministers to attend the trials and see for themselves what’s happening. He asks them to intercede and have the trials held at the larger court in Boston, or at least replace the judges with more unbiased ones. Just as important, he begs for their prayers.

Tomorrow in Salem: A letter finds its way

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July 20: Seeds of doubt take root

Today in Salem: People are catching their breath. Yesterday was a whipsaw of emotion, with cheers at the hanging of the beggar Sarah Good, loud support for that of the widows Sarah Wilds and Susannah Martin, confusion at the execution of the neighborly Elizabeth How, and bewildered grief at the death of the beloved Rebecca Nurse.

The doubt extends to one of the judges, who is also a well-regarded minister. “Are much perplexed per witchcrafts,” he writes, in a letter to his cousin. “Six persons have already been condemned and executed at Salem.”

With the Rev Cotton Mather and other ministers, he attends a fast at the home of Captain John Alden, who’s been in jail for longer than six weeks.

Who croweneth thee
With His tender compassion
And kind benignity

they sing, after a day of fasting and praying. It’s no small thing for a judge to pray at the home of an accused man, but the judge is a minister after all.

Tomorrow in Salem: SUMMARY: Paying respects

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July 19: *** Sensitive Content: Death by Hanging***

Today in Salem: The Sheriff is choking on the hot dust rising around his cart as it jerks along the dirt road. Five women kneel in the cart, three of them elderly, their hands tied behind them.

With only a single horse to pull the heavy cart, it’s a slow journey to the hanging tree, where a minister waits on horseback, an unsure crowd shuffling behind him. He’ll pray, of course, but it’s also his job to urge each woman to confess and repent for her sin. It won’t change her fate. She will die. But her heart will be lighter.

The cart has hardly stopped when the deputies begin to pull the women off, one at a time, until they reach the beggar Sarah Good.

“Stay” one of them commands, and puts up his hand. The gesture isn’t lost on Sarah. She lurches forward as if to attack, but her hands are tied, and she falls back into the cart.

“Confess!” the minister says, loudly enough for those in the back of the crowd to hear. “Repent for your lies!” Sarah takes a deep breath and erupts in a rage.

“You’re the liar! Take my life, and God will give you blood to drink!” she roars, spitting and twisting away from the deputy who’s holding her back. A second deputy kneels to tie her petticoats and legs together, and the crowd cheers when he yanks the hood over her head and tightens the rope around her neck.

“May God forgive you,” the minister says. With that, the sheriff’s cart pulls away, hard, and Sarah jerks in the noose, her body emptying itself in one last insult.

The smells of waste and sweat are overwhelming, but the deputy doesn’t slow as he carries Sarah’s body to one of the graves, then turns toward the sharp-tongued Susannah Martin. She’s quieter than Sarah, but no less furious and will not, will not confess. She dies more quickly, but not without kicking, hard, then swaying, until she’s impossibly still.

The now-friendless Elizabeth How doesn’t need to be pushed or lifted into the cart. She bends and steps awkwardly into it on her own, her hands tied behind her. She looks at her husband, and for the first time is thankful that he is blind, that he will not see her die. But she’s also determined that he will not hear it, so she just shakes her head when the minister urges her to confess, looking at her wide-eyed daughter one last time as the hood is pulled over her head.

By now the people in the crowd have noticed the unmarked graves. No Christian burial for these lying witches. They turn to watch the proud Sarah Wilds as she’s pulled roughly into the cart. She, too, has seen the graves, but looks away, staring instead at her only witness, her son, who’s mouthing “Look at me. Look at me.” And so she does, even when the minister tells her to confess, even when she refuses and insists that she’s innocent, staring into her son’s eyes even as she is hooded, then hanged.

Only one more hanging is left, and the crowd grows quiet as the elderly and beloved Rebecca Nurse is lifted carefully into the cart. “Will you confess?” the minister asks. “No,” she says. “I am as innocent as the babe unborn.” Her voice trembles and she looks into the crowd, where she can see her husband, her eight children, their husbands and wives, and some of her grown grandchildren. Friends and neighbors are here, too, and others who know her from church, holding their hats in their hands. This time the deputy is gentle when he pulls the hood down, even when he tightens the noose around her neck. Rebecca’s shoulders begin to shake, but she barely kicks when she falls from the cart, and many in the crowd begin to cry.

Tonight in Salem: Two men row slowly, trying to soften the sound of the water splashing against their boat. Light from the half-moon guides them around the bend of the river to the ledge where the hanging tree cuts a silent, black silhouette.

The men slide the boat with a quiet scrape onto the riverbank. With shovels and blankets the two begin to climb, their shoes scrabbling in the loose dirt. To be seen would be to invite disaster, so they make quick business of it and carefully dig her out, wrap her in the blanket, and carry her back the way they came. She’s heavier than they expected, and it’s a precarious slide down the steep bank. But they’re determined to bring her home, to risk everything to bring the beloved Rebecca Nurse home for the Christian burial she deserves.

Tomorrow in Salem: Seeds of doubt take root

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July 18: The last goodbyes

Today in Salem: The grave digger is alone with the stones and the clay, digging, pulling, and throwing dirt with his shovel, thinking about last night’s eclipse of the moon. Red, it had been. Blood red, he can’t help thinking it. But, while the red shadow had disturbed him, it was the white crescent of light at the edge, growing smaller and smaller, that he can’t stop thinking about.

Tomorrow five women – five witches, he corrects himself – will hang. But the jails are full, with so many more people still to be tried. And the magistrates are arresting more every day. Is it possible that all of them are guilty? How many more graves will he need to dig? Will this dark shadow ever pass?

In jail the now-friendless Elizabeth How touches her blind husband, who’s just paid her final jail bill. The sharp-tongued Susannah Martin, widowed years ago, paces and mutters to herself. The rebellious Sarah Wilds, also widowed, whispers with her only son. The beloved Rebecca Nurse prays with her husband, an elderly artisan. And the beggar Sarah Good huddles in a corner, alone except for her 4-year-old daughter, who tomorrow will refuse all comfort.

Tomorrow in Salem: ***Sensitive Content: Death by Hanging***

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July 12: REVOKED: the beloved Rebecca Nurse’s fate changes

Today in Salem: Revoked. Rebecca Nurse’s reprieve has been revoked. Chief Justice Stoughton unfolds the letter and skims the formalities until he sees the sentence that matters: In their Maj’ties name William & Mary now King & Queen over England etc. you are commanded to cause Rebecca Nurse to be hanged by the neck until she be dead.

The letter is written in someone else’s hand, but it’s the Governor’s signature and wax seal. Someone – who? – has convinced him to undo his earlier decision. No more waiting. With a steady and firm hand, Stoughton signs a warrant for the executions of all five women:

the beggar Sarah Good
the now-friendless Elizabeth How
the sharp-tongued Susanna Martin
the rebellious and flamboyant Sarah Wilds

and finally, the beloved Rebecca Nurse

They will be hanged one week from today.

Tomorrow in Salem: War games

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July 11: REVOKED: the beloved Rebecca Nurse’s reprieve

Today in Salem: Two men take their hats off as they enter the governor’s office. They’ve taken the entire day away from their farms to ride to Boston and back for this 5-minute conversation.

In the week since she was reprieved, they say, Rebecca Nurse’s specter has defiantly tormented the afflicted girls, gleeful that the governor was blind to the truth. The reprieve should be revoked, and these letters say why. The men unfold them on the desk, the paper crackling.

The governor skims the letters and thinks for a moment. He’s about to lead hundreds of militia into Maine to fight the French and Indians, and he’s too busy with preparations to be concerned with one case from an outlying village. Fine, yes. He revokes the reprieve and waves them away.

Tomorrow in Salem: REVOKED: the beloved Rebecca Nurse’s fate changes

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July 4: APPEAL: the beloved Rebecca Nurse asks for a reprieve

Today in Salem: The smells of animal sweat and leather cling to a group of men as they tie up their horses. They’d left Salem at daybreak and ridden hard to get to Boston by this afternoon, stopping only twice to water the horses and eat. With no time to waste, the men have come straight to the Governor himself: Will he reprieve Rebecca Nurse from execution?

A clerk waves the men in and tells them to be quick about it. Governor Phips has more pressing matters to attend to, he says, and nods his head toward another room, where the Governor’s council is debating how to pay for the wars in Maine. Soldiers, sailors, garrisons – all of them cost money, and unless these men have extra coins in their pockets, they’d best speak quickly.

Three documents, one request

The men step into Phips’s office and get straight to the point, unrolling three documents on the Governor’s desk.

First, the petition, signed by 39 of Rebecca Nurse’s family and neighbors, including seven members of the powerful Putnam family, several prominent merchants, even two people who’d testified against Rebecca and have since changed their minds. It’s meant nothing to the Salem magistrates and the high court. But perhaps it will influence the Governor.

Second, a statement from Rebecca’s jury foreman, explaining why the jury had changed their verdict from Not Guilty to Guilty, and the question about what Rebecca meant by saying that two fellow prisoners (who were also confessed witches) were “one of us.”

Third, they present a letter from Rebecca Nurse herself, explaining that when she said “one of us” she meant the two women were fellow prisoners, not witches, and her remark shouldn’t count as evidence against her. “And I being something hard of hearing, and full of grief, none informing me how the court took up my words, and therefore had not opportunity to declare what I intended,” she wrote.

The Governor taps his fingers as they describe how prayerful Rebecca is, how caring for the poor, and how deeply she is loved and respected. Will Phips grant her a reprieve so she can appeal the verdict?

Yes, he says. Yes, yes. He asks the clerk to scribble a few lines, then signs it quickly. “Now if that’s all,” he says, and strides out the door and toward the other room, without finishing the sentence.

Tomorrow in Salem: Where there’s smoke

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July 3: EXCOMMUNICATED: the once-beloved Rebecca Nurse

Today in Salem: It’s Communion Sunday. The tavern owner has filled the communion cup with wine, and now it’s being passed from person to person as they each take a sip and consider. Five women have been found guilty of witchcraft this week, and each of them is condemned to death. Is it wrong to pray for their souls? Are they truly beyond redemption?

The smell of wine is overwhelming in the heat as the minister leads them in the Lord’s Prayer.

Thy will be done.

A long pause follows the final Amen, and the minister looks triumphant and grief-stricken at the same time when the elders stand and ask the congregation a single question:

Should the once-beloved Rebecca Nurse be excommunicated?

It’s a sad but quick vote. Rebecca has been a full member of the church for 20 years, much loved and well-respected. But now they know: Her kind words and good deeds were a facade. Just as the single communion cup has been shared by all, their vote is unanimous: Yes.

In the afternoon, the warden escorts Rebecca from the jail to the meeting house. She is frail and exhausted, but stands tall as the Reverend reads a list of her sins, then declares, in the name of Christ, that she is spiritually unclean and will be severed from the church. Amen.

Tomorrow in Salem: APPEAL: the beloved Rebecca Nurse asks for a reprieve