Tag Archives: Rebecca Nurse

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June 29: TRIED AND SENTENCED: the rebellious Susannah Martin and the beloved Rebecca Nurse

Today in Salem: If yesterday was a circus of beggars and broken knives, then today is a study in contrasts. Two women are on trial today: the rebellious and impatient Susannah Martin, and the frail and beloved Rebecca Nurse.

The rebellious Susannah Martin stands trial

Susannah’s petticoats rustle as she taps her foot. She’s 71, thinner after two months in jail, and her breathing is raspy. But she’s still hale, standing tall and straight as a pine, as if daring the judges to cut her down. She’s been in court many times before this, once for witchcraft, and has always left with no harm done. She’s sure this will end the same way.

The afflicted girls add to the drama

Susannah quickly realizes that this time is different, though, when the afflicted girls add to their usual screaming and convulsing by vomiting what looks like blood. Frightened and exasperated, Susannah taps her foot more quickly. But the judges take their time questioning the girls, waiting long intervals before the girls are composed enough to answer questions.

Witnesses agree: Susannah Martin might not be a witch; but she could be

Finally it’s time to hear from others, and it’s quickly obvious that Susannah has few friends and many enemies.

One man says 13 of his oxen drowned themselves after he argued with her and called her a witch. Two other men say they’d seen Susannah carrying a dog under one arm, but when they came closer, it turned out to be a keg. Then when they said something about it, their horses began to act strangely.

Another man describes how, 20 years ago, his wife felt prickling in her legs, then stomach cramps, then a swollen throat whenever Susannah came by. She’d testified against Susanna in her first witchcraft trial. Within two months the woman was distracted, distempered, and frenzied in mind.

Another says he’d fallen suddenly mute last summer, and only recovered his speech eight months later when Susannah was arrested.

Then a woman speaks up and says that Susanna had once walked a long way on extremely muddy roads to visit her. But Susannah’s petticoats, and even the soles of her shoes, were strangely dry.

“I’ve led a most virtuous and holy life,” Susannah says, still tapping her foot. But that’s no defense against the contorting, vomiting girls and her angry neighbors. The jury finds Susannah Martin guilty, and condemns her to hang.

The beloved Rebecca Nurse stands trial

The judges recess for lunch at a nearby tavern and, refreshed, reconvene for the trial of the beloved Rebecca Nurse.

Only three accused witches have been tried until now: Bridget Bishop, who was hanged a month ago. Then yesterday, the beggar Sarah Good was tried, but she barely fought against the accusation. And of course this morning there was Susannah Martin, who tried to defend herself, but was overwhelmed by a flood of evidence against her.

An outpouring of support

Rebecca’s trial is different, though. Most of the people in the courtroom haven’t seen Rebecca in the three months that she’s been in jail. Unlike Susannah Martin, she is as fragile as the tiny finch nesting under the eaves of her home, and the crowd is quiet as she’s led in. The judges, shuffling more than twenty depositions, barely look up.

The trial starts poorly enough, when one of the afflicted girls grabs her knee and cries that Rebecca’s specter has right this very moment stabbed her with a pin. But Rebecca’s daughter-in-law quickly stands and shouts that she’d seen the girl pull pins from her own skirts and stab herself with them. With some exceptions, this is the beginning of a remarkable amount of testimony in Rebecca’s defense.

When stories of suspicious infirmities and deaths are presented, influential people counter them, saying that they’d never heard witchcraft mentioned at the time of the events.

Others vouch for Rebecca’s character. One man says he’s known Rebecca for 40 years, and that she’s always acted like a good Christian woman. A married couple describe Rebecca’s concern for the afflicted girls.

Two of Rebecca’s daughters testify that the “witch mark” that had been found on Rebecca’s body was actually an infirmity she’d suffered for many years.

But then the wild child Abigail Hobbs and her stepmother are brought in to testify against her.

The tide turns

Rebecca turns toward her fellow prisoners in surprise.

“What? Do you bring her?” Rebecca asks, surprised. “She is one of us.”

Us. Rebecca Nurse’s entire fate rests in that one small word.

The jury returns a verdict of not guilty, but as soon as it’s announced, the afflicted girls begin shrieking, and the judges take a recess, not sure they agree with the jury’s decision. After some discussion, Chief Justice William Stoughton asks the jury to remember what Rebecca had said: that she’d called the two Hobbs women “one of us.”

The jury asks to reconsider their verdict, but they can’t agree on what Rebecca meant. So they come back to the courtroom and ask her directly.

When you say “one of us” are you identifying with them as a fellow witch, or as a fellow prisoner?

Rebecca sways at the bar, elderly and unwell, looking down at her shaking hands without speaking. The jury foreman repeats the question, but still Rebecca just looks down and says nothing in her defense.

After a short recess, the jury revises its verdict. Guilty.

Later it will become clear the the elderly Rebecca, hard of hearing, hasn’t even heard the question. But it’s too late. Now, even with so many testifying in her defense, she will hang.

Tomorrow in Salem: GUILTY: the neighborly Elizabeth How and the flamboyant Sarah Wilds

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June 19: The meaning of time

Today in Salem: It’s the Sabbath, and Rev Parris is raising his hands skyward and thundering on about the Father of all mercies, comforting us in our despair so that we can, in turn, comfort others.

hourglass

Next to the pulpit, a large hourglass trickles sand, marking time until the meeting ends. The sand is mesmerizing, and one man in particular can’t look away. He is far from feeling comforted. His wife, the nervous Sarah Cloyce, has been in jail for two and a half months. Both of her sisters are there as well, the pious Mary Esty and the beloved Rebecca Nurse.

It’s hot in the meeting house, and the man waves a fly away as he thinks about the sand. Nine days ago, the unruly Bridget Bishop was hanged. And nine days from now, the Trials will resume, this time for his sister-in-law, the beloved Rebecca Nurse. Today is a midpoint, as dangerously empty as the time between the last breath of this day and the first breath of the next. What will fill the space? Is time moving too slowly? Or too quickly?

The meeting house rustles as people stand for prayer, and the man joins them, grateful to close his eyes and break the spell of the hourglass. Thy will be done, he thinks. But what if that means his wife and her sisters must die? Is it wrong of him to pray for their lives?

Tomorrow in Salem: ATTACKED: the rapist Timothy Swan

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May 1: the beloved Rebecca Nurse’s friends rally

the petition in favor of Rebecca Nurse
A petition signed by 39 people attesting to Rebecca Nurse’s good character.

Today in Salem: The cruel judge John Hathorne rubs the thick paper between his thumb and forefinger. This is no accident. The man who has written it, with such a deliberate hand, is married to Hathorne’s sister. He’s also from the richest family in the Village, a position that the judge respects, and one that made for a good match for his sister.

Now the man has handed the document, a petition, to Hathorne, and asked for his consideration. 39 people have signed it, attesting to Rebecca Nurse’s good Christian character. She is 70 years old and frail, and has been in jail for more than a month. Now, at the behest of her worried husband, the judge’s brother-in-law has sent it to some of the more influential families.

“We have knowne her for many years and Acording to our observation her Life and conversation was Acording to her profession and we never had Any cause or grounds to suspect her of Any such thing as she is nowe Acused of.”

Most of the signatures are those of married couples, the men signing for themselves and for their wives. There are tavern owners, a prominent landowner, and the grandson of a governor. Most interesting are the signatures from Putnams and Porters, who are usually feuding and rarely agree on anything.

The judge floats the paper onto his desk and turns away. He’ll consider it.

LEARN MORE: Why couldn’t the women sign their own names? Was illiteracy common?

50 years before the Salem Witchcraft Trials, Massachusetts passed a law requiring that children be taught to read and write. In some ways, this literacy law was born of fear and resolution. Not long before that, the Mayflower had arrived, with half of its passengers dying within the first year. It took life-saving help from indigenous people, not to mention more immigrants, for the colony to take root and begin to grow.

For that to continue, the Puritans believed that its men needed to be able to read and understand the laws. And everyone, especially children, needed to be able to read the Bible. So the Puritan leaders mandated that all heads of households teach their dependents — apprentices and servants as well as their own children — to read English or pay a fine.

Many parents were half-hearted in their efforts, though, so another law was passed, requiring that towns with 50 or more families hire a schoolmaster. But many towns were reluctant, and for some, the fines were cheaper than the cost of a school. In Salem, the Town complied (it already had a fine school for boys heading into the ministry). But the agricultural Village didn’t.

Even if a school did exist, parents weren’t required to send their children. When they did, the kids that did go were typically free, white boys. Families couldn’t or wouldn’t spare the labor of slaves or indentured servants. And girls, who would never be leaders in the community or church, weren’t expected to need much education. They sometimes learned to read the Bible, but rarely to write.

In the existing documents from the Salem Witchcraft Trials, men often signed their names, and women usually made marks. This is why, as in the petition for Rebecca Nurse, the women’s ”signatures” are in their husbands’ handwriting.

book pages
Pages from “The New England Primer,” published around 1690, just before the Salem Witchcraft Trials. This reading book was in use for 150 years, and is where the prayer “Now I lay me down to sleep” first appears.

Tomorrow in Salem: A storm rages around George Burroughs

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Apr 29: The resistance takes root

petition signatures

Today in Salem: The tavern keeper is fast with his quill, so eager to sign the petition that the quill catches on the paper and the ink splotches at the first stroke. This witchcraft hysteria is just that, he thinks. Hysteria. At best, those “afflicted” girls are misguided. At worst, they’re liars and trollops, drunk on attention and throwing accusations around like it’s a game. Now they’ve caught the beloved Rebecca Nurse in their net. So when one of his customers asks him to sign a petition attesting to Rebecca’s character, he doesn’t hesitate.

Nearby, a venerable old man nods and points at the paper. So the tavern keeper signs his name, too. Then of course there’s the tavern keeper’s wife, who’s incensed by the accusations against Rebecca and insists on writing her own first name. And there’s his 36-year-old daughter, who never married and has been God’s own blessing to him and his wife. He signs her name, too, then blows on the wet ink before handing the petition back to his customer.

In Boston, the prominent minister Cotton Mather is writing and praying about the “horrible enchantments and possessions” that have broken out in Salem. Could some of the prisoners be innocent? Is it possible that their specters are the Devil in disguise?

LEARN MORE: Why were some people against the search for witches? Wasn’t it dangerous to disagree?

Three kinds of records have survived the centuries: church, legal, and personal.

Church sermons paint witchcraft as a tool of Satan. Puritans believed that when bad things happened, it was because they had sinned, and God was allowing Satan to hurt them. Witchcraft was one of Satan’s tools.

Legal records show an intellectual approach to solving problems. Before Salem, calling someone a witch was sometimes just a legal (not moral) problem between arguing neighbors, and disputes could be settled in court. (This is why many of the accused people in Salem had mothers or grandmothers who’d been called witches, with nothing ever coming of it.)

Personal records, like diaries, are very few. From those we do have, it’s clear that while people often looked to the church to understand misfortune, they also knew that the world can be a naturally dangerous place. When bad things happen, it might have nothing to do with whether they’d sinned. Maybe the world is just a hard place.

Salem of 1692 was unusual in that the legal system had completely caved in to the religious one. There was no check or balance. (In fact, that tricky relationship between the church and the courts is the root of the American constitution’s separation of church and state.) Calling someone a witch was suddenly the same thing as accusing them of witchcraft.

300 years later we can see that the collapse was caused by a perfect storm of political upheaval, colonization of native lands, brutally cold weather patterns, and disease epidemics. At the time, though, it was a tremendous shock. Making it worse, children were suddenly holding immense power over adults, overturning the entire social order. Young girls called adults witches, and almost all of them went to jail, with 20 executed. In normal times, children couldn’t speak in church, court, or really anywhere in public. And now they were standing up and shouting during sermons, wailing and collapsing in court, and causing a stir in the taverns.

Was it dangerous to object? Sometimes. Calling an afflicted girl a liar could provoke her into accusing you – and she always won. Now, though, with petitions and letters, people could object in groups. There was safety in numbers.

Tomorrow in Salem: ARRESTED: Widows, a burglar, and a minister

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Apr 14: The constable’s baby sickens

Today in Salem: The constable is stumbling through the day, so tired and distracted that he hardly understands what’s said to him. His two-month-old baby girl was violently ill last night, and he and his wife have hardly slept. In the middle of the night, desperate, he’d asked his mother to come. She’d brought a doctor with her, but there was nothing they could do. They agreed there was an evil hand upon the child.

How did this happen? What did he do to deserve this? He can only think of one thing: the nervous Sarah Cloyce’s examination was three days ago, and she was sent to jail to join her sister, the beloved Rebecca Nurse. After the examination the constable had said he wasn’t surprised they were witches, since their mother was one, too.

It seemed like such an easy comment. He could have said much worse. But still: Were Sarah Cloyce and her sister Rebecca Nurse angry? Were they sending their specters to hurt the baby in revenge?

Tomorrow in Salem: A father’s grief

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Mar 28: The Nurse family demands answers

Today in Salem: Three hard raps on the Putnam’s door announce a visitor: Rebecca Nurse’s son-in-law. When the door opens, he steps in without being asked and immediately confronts Ann Putnam’s mother.

“Who said it first?” he demands. “Who accused Rebecca first?” Yesterday’s slammed church door was a wake-up call to the beloved Rebecca Nurse’s family, and the men are taking action, starting with the Putnams.

Ann’s mother touches her pregnant belly and sits in her chair by the warm hearth. Her cheeks are flushed, but it’s hard to tell whether it’s from warmth of the fire. “If Ann says Rebecca’s specter is tormenting her, then she’s speaking the truth,” her mother says.

Ann Putnam is 12, but she’s never been questioned about her accusations. Now she’s shrinking as the man turns to her. ”Yes,” she admits in a small voice. She had seen the specter of a pale woman, sitting in her grandmother’s rocking chair. But she never said it was Rebecca. Her mother had encouraged her.

“You’re mistaken, child,” her mother says. “You were so upset. It was Mercy who said Rebecca’s name first.” Mercy Lewis is the family servant, but she’s not going to accept the blame, not this time. She, too, has never been questioned, and this angry man frightens her.

“How can you lie?” says Mercy, looking at Ann. And so it goes, from Mercy, to Ann, to her mother in a round robin of finger pointing that will not end.

Tonight the moon is new, and the dark tavern is lit by more candles than usual. In the flickering light, two men lean in to share a rumor they’ve heard: that the quarrelsome Elizabeth Proctor is the next to be arrested. But when a woman at the next table defends Elizabeth, one of the afflicted girls points into the empty air.

“She’s right there,” she says. “There!”

“Old witch,” another girl says. “I’ll have her hang.”

The men look at them coldly. You’re lying, one man says. He doesn’t see any specter, and he doesn’t believe they do either. Later he’ll testify that the girls treated it like a joke. The other man will say that the girls said they did it for fun. They needed to have some fun.

Tomorrow in Salem: Governor Phips heads for rocky shoals

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Mar 27: A door slams, and eyes open

Today in Salem: It’s Easter Sunday, but not for the Puritans. While the Anglicans in Boston are celebrating the resurrection, Rev Parris is preaching about “dreadful witchcraft broke out here a few weeks past.”

Sitting in the women’s side of the Meeting House, the nervous Sarah Cloyce is clasping a piece of cloth to stop her hands from shaking. She is angrier than she’s ever been. Her sister, the beloved Rebecca Nurse, is in jail, sharing a cell with the gospel woman Martha Corey. Both are full members of the church, and both have been accused of witchcraft. So when Rev Parris says there are two “vehemently suspected” witches, Sarah knows exactly who he’s talking about, as does everyone else.

But then Parris starts talking about the traitor Judas Iscariot, and reads Christ’s words from the Bible. “Have I not chosen you twelve,“ Parris reads, “and one of you is a Devil?”

Sarah doesn’t remember unclasping her hands, or standing up in the middle of the sermon, or running past her husband and out of the Meeting House. All she remembers is the thundering slam of the door as she pulls it shut behind her.

closed door

WHO was Sarah Cloyce?

Age 50-55, née Towne. With Rebecca Nurse and Mary Esty, Sarah was one of three sisters to be arrested for witchcraft. Her dramatic exit from church – complete with a slammed door – can be thought of as the first public protest against the trials.

Popular myth says that Sarah’s husband helped her escape from prison; that they spent the winter living in a cave while they built a house. This myth probably grew out of people misinterpreting the phrase “escaped execution.”

The truth is that Sarah stayed in jail and was released after the trials ended, thereby escaping execution. Once released, she and her husband moved first to Boston and then to Framingham, where they built a house on Salem End Road. Case files: Sarah Cloyce

LEARN MORE: Why didn’t Puritans celebrate Easter? Did they celebrate other holidays?

The Puritans believed that the Church of England was too much like the Catholic Church. They wanted to purify the church (hence the name “Puritan”), and remove everything that even smelled of Catholicism, especially practices that didn’t come directly from the Bible. Therefore, since “Easter” isn’t mentioned in the Bible, they believed it was a Catholic invention, and therefore it was a sin to celebrate it. They also banned Christmas, and anyone who celebrated it paid a fine of five shillings.

So what holidays did the Puritans celebrate? Only four:

Election Day – When colonists elected their local leaders. Some people had to travel quite far, and might stay overnight. It was a festive day, and celebrations sometimes included rum, gingerbread, and fruitcake. The Puritan ministers didn’t entirely approve; in fact one prominent minister wrote that Election Day had become a time “to meet, to smoke, carouse and swagger and dishonor God with the greater bravery.”

Commencement Day – The day when ministerial students graduated from Harvard. It was a day of pride, and dinner, wine, and commencement cake were served. This holiday was typically celebrated in Cambridge by other ministers and notables.

Thanksgiving – As most Americans know, the first Thanksgiving was celebrated in Plymouth by the Pilgrims. But it didn’t become an official U.S. holiday until Abraham Lincoln was president, 240 years later. Before that, Puritans could declare a Thanksgiving any time there was something to be thankful for. During the year of the Salem Witchcraft Trials, the governor declared a day of Thanksgiving in July for his own safe arrival from England.

Training Day – The militia’s public display of firing guns, shooting cannons, and other military exercises. Prayers were offered before and after, followed by a festive dinner.

Tomorrow in Salem: The Nurse family demands answers

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Mar 24: JAILED: the beloved Rebecca Nurse and 4yo Dorcas Good

Today in Salem: How is it possible for a four-year-old girl to be a witch? The judges are intent on finding out, and will question little Dorcas Good as soon as they’re done with the elderly and beloved Rebecca Nurse.

Two days ago, Rebecca was sick in bed when kindly friends told her about the accusations. She could hardly speak, she was so astonished. Now she is standing in front of the normally cruel Judge Hathorne, who is speaking kindly to her. No one wants her to be guilty, he says, but if she is, then now is the time to confess. But Rebecca, in the soft voice of an elderly woman, says that she’s innocent before God. Over and over the judge questions her, but she doesn’t waver. “I am as clear as the child unborn,” she says.

The afflicted girls are shaking and suffering so badly, though, that some in the crowd start to cry. Soon the girls are shrieking so loudly that Rev Parris, appointed to take notes, gives up trying. Pandemonium breaks loose, and ends with the constable holding Rebecca’s head firmly between his hands, forcing her to look forward.

The judge sits back and narrows his eyes. It’s odd, he thinks, that Rebecca herself isn’t crying, even if it’s just from sympathy. He leans back in and asks Rebecca if the girls are genuinely suffering. But Rebecca is hard of hearing, and with the constable holding her head in place, she can’t lean in or cock her head. She can’t hear him, so she doesn’t answer. Her silence, with the girls’ torments, are enough. Beloved or not, Rebecca Nurse is sent to jail.

The constable holds little Dorcas Good’s hand and leads her to stand in front of the judges. Dorcas’s mother, the beggar Sarah Good, has been in jail for three weeks, but Dorcas is still hale and hearty.

The constable takes no chances and holds Dorcas’s head still, just as he’d held Rebecca’s. But the afflicted girls claim that Dorcas’s specter is biting them, and hold out their arms to show small bite marks. With almost no questioning, Dorcas is sent to stay with the Salem jail keeper.

Tomorrow in Salem: The harsh John Proctor and the Devil’s pitchfork

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Mar 19: NEWLY AFFLICTED: Mary Walcott, the captain’s daughter

Today in Salem: The minister brings the candle closer and asks the teenage girl to show him her wrist. There, in the flickering light, he can see fresh teeth marks. Now he motions to Nathaniel Ingersoll, the tavern’s owner, to come look.

Ingersoll leans down so close that the minister has to pull the candle back. But they agree: she’s been bitten, just now when she’d screamed. It’s Mary Walcott’s first spectral injury, and now she joins her friends in being afflicted. She is 17, the militia captain’s daughter, and cousin to the girls’ leader Ann Putnam.

Across the street at the parsonage, Rev Parris and his wife are looking at each other with fresh alarm as their niece, the 11-year-old tomboy Abigail Williams, flaps her arms furiously and shouts “whish, whish, whish,” as if she’s flying through the house. She screams at the specter of the beloved Rebecca Nurse, then flings herself into the fireplace and throws burning sticks into the room.

Meanwhile, after days of accusations against the gospel woman Martha Corey, the magistrates order the sheriff to bring her to Ingersoll’s Ordinary for a hearing in two days. This will be the second time the Village has gathered to examine an accused witch.

WHO was Nathaniel Ingersoll?

Age about 60. One of two deacons in the church, and a Lieutenant in the militia. Nathaniel was known to be unfailingly honest, fair, and generous. He donated land for the Meeting House. After his father’s death, Nathaniel, 11, went to live with his father’s friend Governor Endecott on a 300-acre country estate, where he apprenticed for several years. There he learned to run his own farm and home, and when he was only 19 he married a young woman and moved on to his own land. The Ingersolls had one daughter, who died young. But their neighbor had several sons, and offered to let the Ingersolls adopt one of them and raise him as their own.

Nathaniel Ingersoll's signature
Endecott Pear Tree
The Endecott Pear Tree is America’s oldest cultivated tree, planted between 1632-1649.

The Ingersoll Ordinary is still standing, though much of the building has been renovated or added to since. The original part of the building was built around 1670. Case files: Nathaniel Ingersoll

Side note: Governor John Endecott was the longest-serving Governor of Massachusetts Bay Colony: he was the 1st, 10th, 13th, 15th, and 17th governor. He planted a pear tree sometime between 1632 and 1649, which is still standing. It’s America’s oldest cultivated tree.

WHO was Mary Walcott?

Age 17, she was one of the “core accusers.” Compared to the others, she was unusual in that she had a stable home life. She was not a servant, nor an orphan, and hadn’t been traumatized by the wars in Maine.

She was, however, cousin to Ann Putnam, the girls’ leader. Ann was 12, and her family servant was 18. Mary, age 17, undoubtedly spent a good amount of time with them, and witnessed or heard about their torments.

Mary may have been the first girl to fake affliction. In mid-March, when only one hearing had taken place, a minister was invited to Salem Village to witness the afflictions for himself. One of the first people he met was Mary Walcott, who, during a pleasant conversation, suddenly screamed that she’d been bitten by a specter. Sure enough, the minister could see teeth marks on Mary’s arm.

After the trials, Mary married twice and had at least 10 known children. She died in her mid-70s.

Side notes: Mary’s father was the captain of the village militia. Her aunt was the neighbor who’d suggested a witch-cake to Tituba. Case files: Mary Walcott

Tomorrow in Salem: Martha Corey and her yellow bird go to church

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Mar 18: AFFLICTED: Ann Putnam’s mother

child's hand

Today in Salem: 12yo Ann Putnam’s mother has just learned that she is pregnant, for the ninth time, and all she wants in the entire world right now is a nap.

“Mercy,” she says to the family servant. “Please mind the children while I rest.” But Mercy Lewis is feeling fragile from her memories of fire and war, and has hardly slept for the nightmares. So she doesn’t argue when Ann’s mother waves her out of the kitchen and tells her to go rest.

“Ann,” she says to her daughter, and makes the same request. Ann is the oldest, and it’s only right that she should help her mother. But Ann’s eyes are shining with tears. She’s bone-tired from the specters’ torments, and won’t even get out of her bed.

Her mother is ragged with exhaustion, utterly without a drop of energy. She’s been tending to Ann for weeks, and now Mercy. She’s pregnant, and with no help is still running the home, cooking, and caring for her other five living children and her husband. Now all she can do is hope for the best and take a nap anyway. But she’s too wound up to sleep. All she can think about is Ann’s recent accusations against the beloved Rebecca Nurse, until she’s sure that it’s Rebecca’s invisible specter that’s keeping her awake.

Tomorrow in Salem: NEWLY AFFLICTED: Mary Walcott, the captain’s daughter