May 31: JAILED: the Pilgrim’s son

Today in Salem: Captain John Alden is standing in front of the magistrates, the latest in the parade of accused persons. He’s standing tall and calm, as anyone of his station would, parrying with the judges when he can, and ignoring the swoons of the afflicted girls.

Wenches, he thinks. Playing their juggling tricks. Falling down, crying out. Staring in people’s faces. His parents arrived at Plymouth on the Mayflower. He himself is a military commander, sea captain, and merchant. None of it matters, though. The girls have accused him, and now he’s here.

One of the girls is so limp that a court officer is propping her up so she can stand.

“Who hurts you?” the cruel magistrate Hathorne asks. The girl is silent, and points weakly at another military man. But when the officer who’s supporting her whispers in her ear, she recovers her strength, puts her finger down, and proclaims “Alden!”

“Are you sure?” Hathorne asks. Well, she’s never actually seen Alden in the flesh, she admits. But she knows it’s Alden who’s been afflicting her. She just needed someone to point out who he is.

It’s so crowded in the meeting house that people are sitting on windowsills and blocking the light, so the magistrates order everyone outside in the sunshine to get a clearer look at Alden.

“That’s Alden,” says the same girl. “He sells powder and shot to the Indians and French, and lies with Indian squaws, and has Indian papooses.”

While this is true, more or less, it has nothing to do with witchcraft. He’s an adventurous man who’s spent much time on the northern frontier, and stories with a grain of truth have grown into scandal (some of which is deserved). Again, though, it’s hardly the kind of evil a witch would practice.

After a lengthy break, followed by angry give and take, the magistrates send Alden to jail in Boston to wait for future trial. But it marks a permanent shift for the the jail keeper. He’s heard of John Alden, and holds him in high esteem. How could this be possible? Perhaps others in the jail are just as innocent. It’s still his responsibility to contain the prisoners, but after today he’s a little more compassionate with them.


About 15 people are examined and jailed today. The neighborly Elizabeth How and the crabby Wilmot Redd are both examined and sent to jail, based on little more than the afflicted girls’ torments. The outcast Martha Carrier’s own relatives are relieved when she’s sent to jail, with her hands and feet tied so her specter can’t hurt anyone between the meeting house and the jail.

John and Elizabeth Proctor’s son insists he’s innocent. The judges take an especially ruthless stance and order that he be hogtied, bound neck and heels for 24 hours or until he confesses. A gushing nosebleed ends the torture early, though.


WHY is this important?

Five years after the Trials began, the merchant Robert Calef wrote an account called More Wonders of the Invisible World. In it, he said the Trials led to “a Biggotted Zeal, stirring up a Blind and most Bloody rage, not against Enemies, or Irreligious Proffligate Persons, But (in Judgment of Charity, and to view) against as Vertuous and Religious as any they have left behind them in this Country, which have suffered as Evil doers with the utmost extent of rigour.”

In this book, Captain John Alden provided his own account of what happened to him. It’s one of the few first-hand narratives that survive today.

Also, that the magistrates could churn through about 15 examinations in one day shows what a machine the process had become.


WHO was John Alden?

John Alden was the oldest son of John and Priscilla (Mullins) Alden, who’d settled in Plymouth Colony in 1620, arriving on the Pilgrim ship the Mayflower.

John was in his mid-sixties when he was accused of witchcraft, and was a member of the Boston elite. He was a merchant, military commander, and sea captain, making several government-sponsored trips up and down the New England coast.

Alden was no stranger to scandal and gossip. At that time, northern New England, including Maine, was in a three-way tug-of-war between the English, the French, and the Native Americans. Raids and attacks were common, and when English settlers were taken captive they were frequently sent to Quebec. Alden participated in many prisoner ransoms and exchanges in French Canada; in fact, he spent so much time there that he was rumored to be selling guns to the French and their allied natives (not to mention sleeping with native women and siring several illegitimate children). It didn’t help that his interactions with the English prisoners were sometimes harsh, with some claiming he’d even left them behind for no good reason.

A few months before the witchcraft hysteria began, Alden’s ship was intercepted by a French frigate who captured the entire crew – including his son. Alden was released and sent to Boston to raise a ransom and arrange for a prisoner exchange, leaving his son behind in Quebec. His efforts were almost spectacularly unsuccessful (he managed to secure only six prisoners instead of 60). It was in the midst of this situation that Alden received a summons to appear in Salem Village, having been accused of witchcraft, then was sent to jail for several months. The French, losing patience with the delay, sent Alden’s son to the Bastille in France. It would be years before he returned home.

Alden spent four months in jail before escaping. His case was later dismissed, and he later contributed his first-hand account of his experience to Robert Calef’s More Wonders of the Invisible World.

Alden died ten years later at age 75. Nearly 170 years later, an excavation in Boston revealed old bones and gravestones, including the stone that had marked John Alden’s grave. The location of his remains is unknown, but his gravestone can be seen at the Old South Church in Boston.


Tomorrow in Salem: A summary in 3 letters

May 30: CHOSEN: the unruly Bridget Bishop prepares for the first of the Salem Witchcraft Trials

Today in Salem: Full pots of ink and sharpened quills greet the day as the magistrates begin to take two depositions against the unruly Bridget Bishop. Of all the accused witches, she’s the most likely to be guilty, so hers will be the first trial in the new court. The magistrates have three days to prepare, and they’re determined to cross every T and dot every I correctly. There will be no mistakes, not for this trial.

Now a 36-year-old miller stands before them and dictates his experiences with Bridget. Fourteen years earlier, he’d had smallpox, and Bridget had visited him and expressed great affection for him. He believed her, but later, when she hired him to do some small jobs, the money he gave her disappeared from his pocket. Another time, after a difficult conversation with her, the wheel of his cart sunk into a hole. But later when he went back to look at the hole, it was gone. He was also sure that it was her specter that threw him against a stone wall and down a bank, made him to weak to lift a bag of corn, and prevented his horse from pulling a small load.

Worst of all: He knows she was responsible for his daughter’s death two years ago. The little girl had been thriving. But one day she suddenly began crying and shrieking. It lasted for two weeks until she died.


Next, another man says it was fourteen years earlier (the same time frame as the miller), when he’d woken in the middle of the night and seen Bridget’s shape in his bedroom. His young child was sleeping in the same room and screamed as if he was hurt, but when the man picked him up he couldn’t comfort him or make him quiet. Only hours before, the child had been thriving. But after that he pined away, and several months later died.

The man hadn’t known who Bridget was at the time, but now, by the descriptions of her face and clothing, he knew it was her.


Tomorrow in Salem: JAILED: the Pilgrim’s son

May 29: A TANGLED WEB: an afflicted girl lies, again and again

Today in Salem: It’s the Sabbath. Ordinarily everything stops on Sunday; everything except prayer, Bible study, occasional fasting, and sermons. These are not ordinary times, though, so the constables are chasing down the accused witches named in yesterday’s arrest warrants.

Meanwhile, the afflicted servant Elizabeth Hubbard has also missed the sermon, but she’s been lying about it all day. She’d left to see a Village man with severe stomach cramps who’d asked her to visit and tell him who’s making him sick. It had taken time for her to make out the hazy specters of the harsh John Proctor, his quarrelsome wife Elizabeth, and two of their children pressing on his stomach.

It’s a perfectly good reason for Elizabeth to be called away, but the truth is she didn’t have to go this morning. She still could have gone to the sermon and then visited the man tonight. Why did she choose to miss the Sunday meeting?

Tonight her neighbor asks if she’s been to church. Why yes, she says. He cocks his head. We didn’t see you, he says. But Elizabeth holds fast to her story. Lie after lie, she defends herself with more than a few untruths. After repeated questioning, though, she’s cornered, and finally tells the truth.

What’s worse: missing church, or lying about it? Neither reflects well on her, and the neighbor will remember this day well.


Tomorrow in Salem: CHOSEN: the unruly Bridget Bishop prepares for the first of the Salem Witchcraft Trials

May 28: SHOEHORNED INTO JAIL: 11 more arrests

Today in Salem: The cruel magistrate John Hathorne is sweeping the breakfast crumbs from his desk, preparing to sign eleven more arrest warrants.

Hathorne has just returned from Boston, where he’s seen firsthand the dire situation in the overcrowded jails. More precisely, they’ve heard about it. Seeing it would have required walking into the overwhelming filth of the prison, where the the vermin are running free, the air is indescribably foul, and the wails and shouting are beyond imagining.

three crows

Witches deserve no better, though, so he orders all eleven of them to be arrested. Three of them have especially damning accusations:

The outcast Martha Carrier brought smallpox to the town of Andover, where 13 people died (including several members of her family). She and her husband have been pariahs ever since.

The neighborly Elizabeth How has a pleasantly ordinary life except for one long-standing accusation from a neighbor whose 10-year-old daughter died. The girl had convulsions, felt like she was being pricked by pins, and said – just once – that she wouldn’t treat a dog the way Elizabeth How treated her.

The crabby Wilmot Redd is widely reviled. She sells butter and milk that’s moldy and sour, and curses her neighbors mightily when they object. (She even caused severe constipation in revenge for a neighbor’s complaint.) Worse: she’s threatened children repeatedly. No one feels a twinge of concern on her behalf when they hear she’s been accused.


WHO was Elizabeth How?

Age 55, née Jackson. Married to James How, who was fully blind, and had six known children. Compared to many people, Elizabeth was thought to be friendly and a good neighbor. During her trial, at least twelve people testified on her behalf.

Elizabeth’s accusers fell into two camps: first, a family whose ten-year-old daughter was very sick, and claimed that Elizabeth’s specter was to blame. She took back her accusation, but after two or three years of illness, the girl died, and her parents continued to hold Elizabeth accountable.

Second, church members who then suspected her of witchcraft and wouldn’t let her join the church. Their gossip increased the number and fervency of accusations. Case files: Elizabeth How

Elizabeth How’s descendants include British fashion designer Alexander McQueen.

WHO was Wilmot Redd?

Age around 55. Redd had a reputation for being ornery and unlikeable. Case files: Wilmot Redd 


Tomorrow in Salem: A TANGLED WEB: an afflicted girl lies, again and again

May 27: Preparing for trials

Today in Salem: It’s a miserably hot day, as humid as it is hot, and the women in Boston Jail are fanning themselves with their caps while the grieving Sarah Good seems not to notice. 300 feet away, the Governor and his council of advisors are at the Town House, building the Court that will hang the guilty witches.

handprints

More than 50 people are crowded into the rank jails of Salem, Boston, Ipswich, and Cambridge. Some have been there for months, shackled and chained, and as more people are arrested and jailed, it’s only getting more crowded, rank, and impossible. One person has already died from the conditions, and more are sick.

The only one way out is through a trial, which, given the judges’ assumption of guilt, will probably end badly. But even that exit is blocked, because trials can’t happen without a court. There hasn’t been a court in eight years, not since the King revoked the last Charter. Now, though, now the Charter is back, with a new governor who is wasting no time setting up a government.

After meeting with his Councilors, the royally appointed Governor Phips announces the formation of a new court: the Court of Oyer and Terminer (meaning “to hear and determine”). Its sole purpose is to clear the backlog in the jails, using strict English law rather than the more flexible colony laws. He puts the conservative, tough-minded William Stoughton in charge as Chief Justice, leading eight other judges.


WHY is this important?

Four big wheels were set in motion today, which together made a straight and slippery path from jail to the hangman’s noose.

1 – Witchcraft was now officially a capital offense, according to English law. There was no more room to question a death sentence or debate shades of gray.

2 – The court of Oyer and Terminer wasn’t restricted to a recurring schedule. Judges could hold court whenever and as often as they wanted to.

3 – Appointing William Stoughton as Chief Justice was almost like putting the fox in charge of the hen house. It wasn’t obvious at first that he would be so ruthless. But, as a conservative Puritan with no legal background, he was zealous in finding and eliminating witches, and often deviated from normal courtroom procedure. In addition to admitting questionable spectral evidence, he allowed accusers and judges to talk privately, let spectators interrupt trials, wouldn’t allow the accused to have lawyers defend them, and let judges interrogate witnesses and otherwise play the role of prosecutors.

4 – Governor Phips was now free to attend to what he really cared about: the Wars in Maine. Later he would write that when he’d returned from London he’d found the province “miserably harrassed with a most Horrible witchcraft or Possession of Devills.” But during the fateful summer of 1692, he didn’t attend a single trial or execution. Instead he spent the summer recruiting troops and gathering supplies to build a fort in Maine, and left Massachusetts entirely for about two months. It wasn’t until his own wife was accused that he turned his attention fully to Salem.


WHO were the Judges and Officials of Oyer and Terminer?

  • William Stoughton (Chief Justice) – age 61; the only bachelor on the court. He’d studied for the ministry at Harvard and Oxford, and had preached successfully both in England and in Massachusetts. He left the pulpit without being ordained to enter a life of politics, and, despite lacking any legal training, became the Chief Justice of Massachusetts. Served as a justice under an immensely unpopular Governor .
  • Nathaniel Saltonstall – age 53; a militia leader who resigned from the court in protest after the first hanging. He was replaced by Jonathan Corwin, age 52, a merchant and magistrate at the early examinations in Salem.
  • Wait-Still Winthrop – age 50; a militia leader and trained physician who attended Harvard for one year.
  • Peter Sergeant – age 45; a merchant and former constable.
  • John Richards – age 40; a military officer, businessman, and merchant who’d worked his way up from a position as a servant.
  • Samuel Sewall – age 40; educated for the ministry at Harvard, but entered business. His diaries are among the most important documents that show us life through Puritan eyes. He would be the only judge to apologize for his role in the Trials.
  • Bartholomew Gedney – age 52; a trained physician. Served as a justice under an immensely unpopular Governor. a magistrate, physician, town selectman. merchant and the colonel of the Essex County militia.
  • John Hathorne – age 51; a merchant and magistrate known to be ruthless and even cruel in his questioning. He was one of the magistrates at the early examinations in Salem.

Clerk of the Court: Stephen Sewall. Samuel Sewall’s brother. It was his family that was caring for Rev Parris’s daughter 9yo Betty, one of the first afflicted girls. Parris had sent her away to protect her from the chaos.

King’s Attorney General: Thomas Newton. Anglican. He’d probably participated in another witchcraft trial several years earlier.

Sheriff: George Corwin. Related to three of the judges. As Sheriff, he replaced the Marshall, who’d arrested several of the suspects.


Tomorrow in Salem: SHOEHORNED INTO JAIL: 11 more arrests

May 26: ***Sensitive Content (infant mortality)*** the beggar Sarah Good loses her baby

Today in Salem: No one has ever heard the beggar Sarah Good cry. They’ve heard her snarl, curse, and complain, and even when she’s quiet her eyes look angry. But today her eyes are wet and her breath is strangled as she looks down at her baby, impossibly still, lifeless since last night.

“Hand the baby to me,” the jail keeper says, and holds his arms out. But Sarah just looks away and pulls the thin bundle of blankets close. For three months now Sarah has held the baby’s head against her neck so they could sleep, to her breast for suckling what little she could, and in the crook of her arm for comfort. She’s held her baby every minute that she’s been in jail, every minute of every day, and she’s not about to stop now.

Sarah’s four-year-old daughter Dorcas crouches behind her and stares with saucer eyes at the jail keeper.

“Right now,” he says, and motions with his hands. His voice is firm but not unkind. “Give it to me.”

“Mercy,” Sarah says, and looks up. “Her name is Mercy.”

The jail keeper leans down and reaches for the baby, but when Sarah twists away, the healer Ann Pudeator steps between them. She may be elderly and wretched from her own imprisonment, but she’s midwifed more than a few women, and she knows her way around a mother’s pain.

Ann glares at the jail keeper until he steps back, then sits on the floor in front of Sarah. She puts her hands on Sarah’s shoulders and leans in.

“Mercy is with God now,” Ann says quietly, and caresses Sarah’s arms. “Let me hold her for a moment. Just for a moment,” Ann says, and moves her hand from Sarah’s arm to the blanket. Sarah begins to sob and rock, but Ann just keeps her hand on the blanket and waits quietly. A long minute goes by before Sarah kisses the top of the baby’s head and looks up. It takes many tiny movements, but she finally hands the baby to Ann, who slowly stands up while Sarah keens, her arms bent inward as they’ve been for all of Mercy’s short life.


Tomorrow in Salem: Preparing for trials

May 25: Smallpox, Babies, and Chains

Today in Salem: A new, smallpox-infected specter is afflicting the girls in full force. Girls in the nearby town of Andover have been seeing and hearing the pariah Martha Carrier’s specter for a month now. No one is surprised that she’s a witch. She and her family recently brought the terrifying scourge of smallpox to their town, where 13 people died, including seven members of Martha’s own family. Her children are scarred, and the Carriers have been shunned ever since. Now the Devil himself has named her the Queen of Hell, and her furious presence is being felt in earnest.

black cat

In Boston, five new prisoners are waking to the smells of dung and wet dirt. One of them, the pious Mary Esty, has been here before and is wearing heavier irons than anyone else. Of the other new prisoners, four of them have surprised and dismayed the quarrelsome (and possibly pregnant) Elizabeth Proctor, who had no idea that her 15-year-old daughter, stepson, sister, and sister-in-law had been accused and arrested.

roped hands

In the corner, as always, the beggar Sarah Good curls around her baby, who’s growing thinner by the day. The baby’s weak cry sounds more like a small cat than a baby, but there’s nothing to be done, as Sarah’s breasts are slack. Her four-year-old daughter, Dorcas, leans into her, sleeping against what softness is left in her shoulders.

In Cambridge, the shipmaster is begging the jail keeper to remove the eight pounds of irons that are shackled to his wife. Last night he’d managed to have her transferred from Boston to the jail in nearby Cambridge, close to home. But the jail keeper had immediately clapped and shackled eight pounds of irons onto her legs. She’d sobbed and convulsed so severely, all night long, that the shipmaster is afraid she’ll die if she spends just one more night there (never mind chained). But the jail keeper just goes about his business, looking away, as if the shipmaster is nothing more than a fly buzzing about.


WHO was Martha Carrier?

Martha, age 39, was from Andover, Massachusetts. Before her marriage, she moved to the nearby town of Billerica, where she lived with her sister and brother-in-law. There she met Thomas Carrier, a 7’4” Welshman who was twenty years her senior. They married when she was 21, and had their first child two months later.

Her husband was rumored to be one of the “headsmen” who executed King Charles I. Were people afraid of him, an extraordinarily tall executioner? Did their obvious premarital relations make them the subject of gossip? Was Martha’s obnoxious behavior toward her neighbors overly aggressive? It’s impossible to know why, but they were asked to leave Billerica, and soon moved back to Andover to live with Martha’s parents.

At that time, the highly contagious smallpox virus regularly swept through entire communities, leaving terror and death in its wake. Two years before the Trials, it broke out in Martha’s family, and seven of them died, including her father, both of her brothers, two nephews, one sister-in-law and one brother-in-law. Not just that, but six other people from Andover died, too. From that point on, the Carriers were outcasts, believed to be the cause of the epidemic.

Martha Carrier’s name was cleared of all charges nearly twenty years after her death. In 1999, Billerica’s Board of Selectmen unanimously voted to rescind the 1676 banishment of the Carrier family, 323 years earlier.


LEARN MORE: If people were so afraid of smallpox, why were they fighting about inoculation? What role did the media play?

A disease that’s highly contagious, with a 30% fatality rate, is terrifying in any context. Imagine: In a small family of only 3 people, it’s likely that one person will die. In the average Puritan family, two or three of the children would probably die (if not their parents). Across the community, they would lose up to a third of the ministers, the farmers, the midwives, adults in every occupation. Those who survived were almost always left with scarring, sometimes severe. Some became blind.

Wouldn’t people do anything they could to reach immunity? The answer: “Yes, but.”

In colonial days, there was no ”germ theory.“ People didn’t know exactly how smallpox spread, only that it did, sometimes through the air, and sometimes through things that had been touched by sick people. Aggressive quarantines weren’t always successful, since there was a lag between when a person was infected and when they showed symptoms. And there was no such thing as a vaccine.

There was, however, “inoculation,” where a small amount of pus or a scab from someone with smallpox would be rubbed into a small incision in a healthy person’s skin. That healthy person usually became ill with a much milder case, and then became immune. These days science tells us why that’s true, but at the time the belief was based on anecdote and experiences in other countries. And while some people fully believed in the practice, others thought it just spread smallpox even more.

Cotton Mather, one of the prominent ministers involved with the Salem Witchcraft Trials, is largely credited with introducing inoculation to the colonies, and vigorously campaigned for it during a 1721 smallpox epidemic. It engendered a fierce public debate; in fact, a small bomb was hurled through Mather’s window, with the message “Cotton Mather, you dog, dam you! I’ll inoculate you with this; with a pox to you.’’ And the doctor who was administering inoculation received so many threats that he hid in his house for two weeks.

Emotions ran high on both sides of the debate, and was fueled by the media of the time. Newspaper and pamphlet articles from both sides condemned their opponents with name-calling, sarcasm, and verbal abuse. (One anti-inoculation newspaper was headed by its 16-year-old editor, Benjamin Franklin. His own son would die of smallpox 15 years later.) Both sides had merit, and both sides claimed support from God: In the short-term, inoculation did spread smallpox, since people who were inoculated came down with a mild-case of it. But in the long term it built immunity.

The proof was in the pudding, as they say. Once the outbreak was over, the death rate in the inoculated population was 2%, as compared to the 15% death rate of the non-inoculated in that specific epidemic. After that, the procedure was used for decades until the first vaccines became available.

The last major smallpox epidemic in the United States was in Boston between 1901-1903; the last outbreak was in 1949. In 1980, the World Health Assembly declared smallpox eradicated. No cases of naturally occurring smallpox have happened since.

Notes:

1721 Boston smallpox outbreak
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1721_Boston_smallpox_outbreak

History of Smallpox
https://www.cdc.gov/smallpox/history/history.html

Making the right decision: Benjamin Franklin’s son dies of smallpox in 1736
https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2653186/

The Boston Smallpox Epidemic, 1721
http://www.researchhistory.org/2011/04/13/the-boston-smallpox-epidemic-1721/

To Inoculate or Not to Inoculate?: The Debate and the Smallpox Epidemic of Boston in 1721
https://digitalcommons.iwu.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1071&context=constructing


Tomorrow in Salem: ***Sensitive Content (infant mortality)*** The beggar Sarah Good loses her baby

May 23: RESISTANCE

ghostly dancing women

Today in Salem: The shipmaster has crossed his arms and is watching without expression as the pious Mary Esty is once again trembling before the magistrates. He and his wife have arrived early and are close enough to see the veins on Mary’s hands as she grips the bar. None of it makes sense.

He and his wife have ridden 20 miles from Boston to clear up a misunderstanding with the magistrates. 11-year-old Abigail Williams has named his wife during a fit, and it’s so obviously a mistake that they’re sure a simple conversation should fix it. But the magistrates aren’t available. It’s an Examination Day, and since he and his wife are already here, they’ve stayed to watch.

It’s hot outside, and even hotter in, and the smell of fear and unwashed bodies is overwhelming as the afflicted girls eke out their story. In starts and stops, passing the story from girl to girl, they tell about an iron spike that had been stolen. It was the spindle from a spinning wheel, and had been locked up in someone’s home. Then, mysteriously, it was missing.

No one knew where the spindle was until Mary Esty’s specter produced it with a flourish and began attacking the afflicted girls. No one could see it – it was spectral – until one of the girls grabbed it. Suddenly it was visible, and of course: It was the stolen spindle.

The pious Mary Esty is hardly allowed to speak before the judges send her back to jail, this time in Boston, with even heavier chains.

The next defendant hasn’t arrived yet, and the girls, only a few feet away, look at the shipmaster and his wife with curiosity. They’re visitors. Who are you? But the shipmaster has barely answered the question when the next defendant is brought in, then the next, and the next, one at a time. The shipmaster is more and more astonished as the spectacle continues.

The magistrates order touch tests, forcing the defendants to touch the afflicted girls and, if they are witches, to remove the evil afflictions. Somehow the girls are always “cured,” with the magistrates hardly glancing at them. They ask the defendants to recite the Lord’s Prayer, and punish them for the slightest pause. They say the girls have been struck dumb when they are simply recovering for a brief second.

None of it is convincing.

Later, taking a break from the proceedings, the shipmaster and his wife find themselves at Ingersoll’s Tavern. The shipmaster has arranged to talk personally with 11-year-old Abigail to clear up her accusation against his wife. But when she and the other girls come in, they convulse violently and fall to the floor. Like swine, he thinks. Like clumsy, rooting hogs.

“It’s her!” one of them cries, then they all join in, pointing and shouting his wife’s name.

His wife protests. She’s never heard of the girls before today. She’s innocent. But the magistrates make her stand up and stretch her arms out until she’s shaking.

“May I at least hold one of her arms?” the shipmaster asks, but no. He’s forbidden to help. They do allow him to wipe the tears and sweat from her face, but when she says she’s about to faint and asks to lean against him, the cruel Judge Hathorne says no again.

“If you are strong enough to torment these girls,” he says, “then you are strong enough to stand without help.”

Suddenly the slave John Indian falls down and begins tumbling around on the floor. He can’t speak, though, and when the magistrates ask the girls who is afflicting him, they say it’s the shipmaster’s wife.

The magistrates order the touch test, which the shipmaster has already seen with dismay. But this time it’s not a simple touch: When she gets close to John Indian, he grabs her hand and pulls her down on the floor with him, rolling and grasping until the constable can pry his hand away. The constable then forces her to touch John’s hand to ”cure” him.

“I hope God takes vengeance on this court!” the shipmaster shouts, “and delivers us from such unmerciful men!” But the magistrates are unmoved, and send his wife to jail.


Tomorrow in Salem: Smallpox, Babies, and Chains

May 22: Summary: Kissing the King’s ring, while stuffing the jails

Hello, Salem-ites! Act II in Salem has begun and we’re about to turn a corner.

The royally appointed Governor Phips has returned from London with the all-important Charter from the King. This is huge. Massachusetts hasn’t been able to put the accused witches on trial because there’s no high court, and the King wouldn’t let them create one. But the King has changed his mind and given them a Charter to go ahead. So the Trials (and sentences) will begin in just a few days. To learn more about the Charter and why it was so important, go here.

Meanwhile, the group of endangered people continues to grow. The former deputy John Willard was nabbed after four days on the run, and put in jail after he tried and failed (five times!) to recite the Lord’s Prayer.

The pious Mary Esty was actually released from jail, and spent all of two nights in her own bed before being arrested again. But her accuser, Mercy Lewis, is still suffering, so the jail keeper chained Mary in heavy irons to keep her specter under control.

The quarrelsome Elizabeth Proctor thinks she might be pregnant. Assuming she’s found guilty, if she’s pregnant her execution will be delayed until after she gives birth.

Notes:

  • If you’re following the story on Facebook or Twitter and the daily posts are disappearing in your newsfeed, you can subscribe to the Salem Substack.
  • You can always find historical context, biographical sketches, and an archive of posts at www.TodayInSalem.com.

WHO’S DIED: 1 person

The sickly Sarah Osborne died in prison, probably of typhus. She was a scandal-ridden woman who’d married her servant and was trying to take her sons’ inheritance.


WHO’S BEEN ACCUSED and/or ARRESTED: 51 people (3 have escaped)

Bridget Bishop (unruly) – an outspoken woman who’s been in and out of court for years. She’s in prison with her son and daughter-in-law, who are noisy tavern owners.

George Burroughs (Reverend) – a minister from Maine who used to be the minister of Salem Village. He’s resented for leaving unpaid debts behind, suspected because his first two wives died, and disliked for the way he did or didn’t protect his flock from Indian attacks in Maine.

Sarah Churchill (servant) – George Jacobs Sr.’s servant. She was afflicted, then was “cured.” Her former friends accused her, and she confessed, but is now afflicted again.

Sarah Cloyce (nervous) – Rebecca Nurse’s younger sister. She’d stormed out of church, which sparked people to question whether innocent people were being accused.

Giles Corey (cantankerous) – an 80yo farmer, in prison with his wife, the gospel woman Martha Corey.

Philip English (wealthy) – a French immigrant and member of the Anglican church who’s become very wealthy, very fast, incurring a lot of resentment. He’s in prison with his wife, Mary.

Mary Esty (pious) – With the nervous Sarah Cloyce, another sister of the beloved Rebecca Nurse.

Sarah Good (beggar) – a vagrant who smokes a pipe and has a terrible temper. She’s in prison with her baby and her daughter, 4yo Dorcas Good.

Dorcas Hoar (fortuneteller) – the leader of a former burglary ring, with hair that’s more than 4 feet long.

Abigail Hobbs (wild child) – a 15yo girl who wanders through the woods at night, disobeys her parents, and claims she’s made a pact with the Devil. She’s in jail with her parents.

George Jacobs Sr. (abusive) – a toothless 80yo man with long white hair, who’s so tall and infirm that he needs two walking sticks. He has a violent temper and has abused his servant.

Margaret Jacobs — George Jacobs Sr.’s granddaughter. She was afflicted, but when her symptoms went away the other girls accused her of using witchcraft to recover. She confessed, She confessed, and because her grandfather was already accused, has named him. Now she is stricken by her lie.

Susannah Martin (rebellious) – a mean, pole cat who a prominent minister called one of the most “impudent, scurrilous, wicked creatures in the world.”

Rebecca Nurse (beloved) – a 70-year-old grandmother who is well-loved throughout the community. 39 people have signed a petition on her behalf, attesting to her upstanding character, but she’s still in jail.

Alice Parker (shrew) – forthright and even aggressive in her speech. She may have suffered from catalepsy, which causes sudden unconsciousness and rigid posture.

John Proctor (harsh) – A farmer and tavern owner, opinionated and sometimes overbearing, but respected. He’s in prison with his wife, the quarrelsome Elizabeth Proctor.

Ann Pudeator (healer) – a 70yo nurse and midwife who is suspected of murdering a woman so she could marry her widower, who is 20 years her junior.

Tituba (slave) – Enslaved by Rev Samuel Parris. She was the first to be accused and the first to confess.

Mary Warren (servant) – the Proctors’ maid. She keeps waffling between afflicted and accused, depending on who she’s afraid of and what other people say. The judges can’t figure out which side she’s on, so they’re keeping her in jail.

Sarah Wilds (flamboyant) – an aging, glamorous woman who’s left a trail of scandals in her wake.

John Willard (former deputy) – He quit his job when he became convinced he was arresting innocent people. Despite that integrity, he’s also known for beating his wife severely and being uncharitable with his extended family.

25 people from other towns. (3 have escaped.)


VIPs

  • Reverend Samuel Parris is Salem Village’s Puritan Minister. The first two accusers were part of his family: his 9yo daughter, and his 11yo niece. Parris hasn’t been paid in 9 months because the Village leadership is unhappy with him, and refuses to collect taxes to support his salary.
  • Thomas Putnam is the father of one of the most vocal afflicted girls. Two large families have been feuding for years, and he’s the head of one of them. He’s powerful and often angry.
  • John Hathorne is a harsh and even cruel judge who assumes people are guilty, and questions them relentlessly.
  • Jonathan Corwin is a quieter judge, but makes the same assumptions of guilt.
  • William Phips is the new governor, appointed by the King. Phips is intelligent and ambitious, but he’s also arrogant and disliked, an upstart who commands little respect.

THE AFFLICTED GIRLS

Some of the afflicted girls were orphaned or otherwise traumatized by the Indian Wars in Maine, and could be said to have PTSD. Others were bored, or scared, or manipulative. For detailed info about any of them, click any linked name, or go to Who’s Who.

  • 17yo Elizabeth Hubbard – an orphan who’s the doctor’s servant
  • 18yo Mercy Lewis – a servant in the Putnam home. She is a traumatized orphan and refugee from the Indian Wars in Maine.
  • 9yo Betty Parris – Rev Parris’s little daughter. She’s been sent away to live with a cousin.
  • 12yo Ann Putnam – the girls’ unspoken leader.
  • 17yo Mary Walcott – the daughterof the militia captain.
  • 20yo Mary Warren – a servant in the Proctor home.
  • 11yo Abigail Williams – a tomboy who’s Rev Parris’s niece. She lives with his family.

Tomorrow in Salem: RESISTANCE

May 21: *** Sensitive Content*** CHAINED and PREGNANT

Today in Salem: The beggar Sarah Good is curled into a corner of the jail cell, leaning into the wall with her knees up, sound asleep. Somehow she’s still holding her baby. She’s been here for almost three months now, and has kept the baby in her arms constantly.

Sarah startles awake, though, when the jail keeper pushes his way into the cell and drops a pile of heavy irons on the floor next to her. The sickly Sarah Osborne had been in that spot until she died, just a few days ago. Now it’s the pious Mary Esty who’s being chained there.

Mary is pressing her fingers into her eyes, swollen from a night of crying and praying. Only three days ago she’d been released from prison. Then last night the Marshall had come for her again, dragging her away in the middle of the night. And now the jail keeper is here, with his chains and shackles and muttered curses.


red rose

On the other side of the jail cell, the quarrelsome Elizabeth Proctor touches her stomach and watches the jail keeper. She hasn’t bled in nearly two months, and her breasts are tender. But there’s been no quickening, and how could she not feel ill in these wretched conditions? In ordinary times she might have used the medicinal herbs in her garden to bring down her courses. She’s 42, after all, with five children already (and another four from John’s earlier marriages). And she’s feeling so ill.

Things are different now, though. If she is pregnant, and she feels a quickening before her trial, then the judges will delay her hanging. A child unborn is innocent, whether its mother is a witch or not.


LEARN MORE: Wasn’t it illegal (or at least immoral) to terminate a pregnancy? What were the Puritans’ views about abortion?

Throughout Western history, much of the debate about abortion begins with one question: When does life begin?

The Puritans believed that life begins at “quickening,” when a pregnant woman feels her baby move for the first time (about the fourth month of pregnancy). And without today’s pee-on-a-stick pregnancy tests, that was also the moment that pregnancy began.

Before quickening, abortion was legal, safe (given the medical knowledge and practices of the time), and readily available from midwives and healers using herbs from their own gardens. But it wasn’t called “abortion“ because it wasn’t seen as such. It was called “restoring the menses,” or more euphemistically “bringing down the flowers.” It was a way to balance a woman’s ill health, and to cure the “pregnancy sickness” if a woman suspected as much.

After quickening, though, abortion was homicide. By extension, if a pregnant women was convicted of a capital crime, she could “plead the belly” and delay her execution. She would be examined by a group of women, and, if she was pregnant with a “quick child,” she was reprieved until the next hanging time after her delivery.

This distinction remained true in the United States until the 1860s, more than 170 years after the Salem Witchcraft Trials. Abortion was legal before quickening, and illegal after.

All of this was different for enslaved women, from early colonial days through the Civil War. They were subject to the rules of their ”owners,” who often refused to allow them to terminate pregnancies. The slave masters had their own reasons, but since any children legally belonged to them, they had an interest in producing as many as possible.


Tomorrow in Salem: Summary: Kissing the King’s ring, while stuffing the jails