Let’s start this summary with a sincere moment of silence for the once-unruly Bridget Bishop, who was hanged yesterday.
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Bridget Bishop was a real person. But what do we know about her? Was she tiny like a peckish bird? Or pleasantly round? Could she carry a tune, or whistle like a chickadee, or did she leave that foolishness to others? Was she an impatient seamstress? Who was she?
We only know what the records tell us: that she was about 60 years old, give or take. That she came to the New World when she was in her 20s, so probably spoke with a trace of a British accent. That she’d had a violently abusive marriage, and did her share of punching and shouting. That when their father disinherited them, her stepsons accused of her of witchcraft, and her neighbors disliked her enough to testify against her.
In the last ten days, Bridget was tried, physically examined in the most humiliating way, then hanged. One judge was so appalled by the proceedings that he resigned. The people of Salem, though, celebrated. Today a stunned silence has descended. Tomorrow the witchcraft hysteria will continue.
Today in Salem: A hot wind is blowing as the Sheriff’s cart creaks to a stop under an old oak tree. A branch as big around as a man’s waist reaches out overhead and holds a noose, swaying in the empty air.
A hot sun glares down from the sky, and the horses are sweating, but the metallic smell of fear overrides all else. Hundreds of people have gathered, hungry to see the spectacle, and now they surge toward the tree. “Old witch!” someone shouts.
The once-unruly Bridget Bishop is standing in the cart, trying not to look up as a deputy ties her hands behind her back. She’s wearing her Sabbath clothes, the ones her daughter brought to her yesterday, the ones she wants to be buried in.
The deputy drops to one knee, gathers Bridget’s petticoats, and ties a rope around her legs. He yanks a sack down over her head, and then the noose, testing the knot.
Nearby, a minister is swaying on horseback, and now he raises his hand. The crowd shuffles, quiet for the moment, as he invokes the righteous fire of an angry God, and prays for Bridget’s soul. “Amen,” he says, finally, and the Sheriff’s horse jolts forward with the cart.
A giant huzzah lets loose from the crowd as Bridget leaps into the air and snaps down, hanging from the tightened rope, kicking and twisting for what seems like days before she is still.
Today in Salem: The two men are wincing in the heat as their shovels scrape against endless rocks. A grave shouldn’t be that difficult to dig, especially when it’s only three feet deep. But the soil is famously rocky here, and it will take the Sheriff and his deputy the better part of the afternoon to dig the trench, pull out the rocks, and replace them with soil.
A “good Christian burial” in a graveyard is out of the question for a dead witch, so the deputies have dug a grave for Bridget Bishop near the hanging tree. Tomorrow morning it will be put to good use.
As the men are digging her grave, Bridget is crying with her 25-year-old daughter, who’s come to visit her at the jail. She’s Bridget’s only child, and is here with a bundle of fresh clothes for her mother to wear tomorrow. They are Bridget’s Sabbath clothes, the ones she’s asked for, and her daughter has taken care to fold them neatly.
Will Bridget’s daughter be at the hanging tomorrow? Bridget has told her not to come. There’s nothing to be done, and it will only cause both of them pain. Besides, prayers can be said as easily at home as they can be at the hanging tree.
Today in Salem: Chief Justice Stoughton holds a candle under a block of red wax and lets it melt, dripping it onto the death warrant he’s just signed. He waits until the wax is warmly pliable, then presses his metal seal into it, hard.
He could have put his seal next to his signature, on the bottom of the document. Instead he’s chosen the middle of the wide blank margin, where no one can miss the red stain or his intent. Bridget Bishop is guilty of witchcraft, and it’s Stoughton’s duty to extinguish that evil.
The Tenth day of this instant month of June between the houres of Eight and twelve in the afternoon of the same day You [are commanded to] safely conduct the s’d Bridgett Bishop alias Olliver from their Maj’ties Gaol in Salem afores’d to the place of Execution and there cause her to be hanged by the neck untill she be de[ad] …
And this shall be [your] Sufficient Warrant Given under my hand & Seal at Boston.
Stoughton is already shuffling through other papers when the Sheriff appears. He hands him the warrant, but looks up only briefly. He’s a busy man.
The seal William Stoughton pressed onto Bridget Bishop’s death warrant
LEARN MORE: See Bridget Bishop’s original death warrant.
Today in Salem: The doubting judge has made a decision, and nothing will change his mind. He spent much of last night swimming in rum, but even dizzy with drink he was thinking more clearly than any of the other judges. And now their astonishing inability to question the church, the government, or even the defendant has sent the unruly Bridget Bishop to die.
Despite a wretched hangover and a ferociously hot day, the doubting judge has marched purposefully to Chief Justice Stoughton’s office, and declines to sit, launching into the speech he’d laid awake composing.
“Perhaps Bridget Bishop is guilty, and her hanging is just,” he says. ”But if it’s her specter that’s doing evil, does that mean that she herself, in corporeal form, has committed a crime?”
Stoughton leans back in his chair and sets his jaw.
“And is it her specter at all? Could it be the Devil, pretending to be her?” Stoughton begins to speak, but the doubting judge presses on, dangerously disrespectful. “Could Bridget Bishop be innocent? Are we about to hang an innocent person?”
Stoughton raises his right hand and stands up.
“If the Devil is using her specter, it’s with her permission,” he says, his deep voice booming. “The Court has spoken, and the jury has decided: She is guilty. I would advise you to be careful with your questions.”
The doubting judge takes a sharp breath and reaches into his coat pocket, then hands a letter to the Chief Justice. If the court is going to use spectral evidence, then he wants no part of it. After less than two weeks on the Court, he resigns.
WHO was the doubting judge?
Nathaniel Saltonstall was 53, and was considered to be one of the most principled men of his time. He’d been a judge for 30 years when he took his seat in the witchcraft trials, but he resigned in protest just before the first hanging. He remained throughout the Trials, “very much dissatisfied with the proceedings.”
He was also known, discreetly, as having a drinking problem. His friend and colleague once said he was grieved when he “heard and saw that you had drunk to excess; so that your head and hand were rendered less useful than at other times … Let me intreat you, Sir, to break off this practice (so tis rumored to be) not as the river ; but obstinately and perpetually to refuse the yoke … I write not of prejudice, but kindness; and out of a sense of duty as indeed I do. Take it in good part from him who desires your everlasting welfare.”
Today in Salem: One of the judges sits alone in a tavern, staring into his mug of rum. He’s been a judge for 30 years and he’s never seen a trial conducted this way. It was a cacophony of noise and confusion, with the judges shouting their questions, the afflicted girls swooning and crying, and the defendant hardly able to speak a full sentence. The other judges seemed convinced that Bridget Bishop was guilty before she’d even arrived. And now she’s about to hang for it. But could she be innocent?
Witches and their craft are real, he has no doubt. But there are logical questions that should have been asked. First, are the afflicted girls really seeing specters? They do seem to be dramatically tormented. So perhaps they are.
If so, then it must be asked: Do those specters really belong to the people the girls have accused? Or are those specters the devil in disguise? The judge thinks about later tonight, when he’ll fall into a rum-soaked stupor and, if he’s lucky, sleep for several hours. It would be easy for the devil to pretend to be the judge’s specter, and the judge would never know.
He motions to the tavern owner’s wife for another mug, then asks himself the most troubling questions of all. Is Bridget Bishop’s specter actually the devil masquerading as her? Are we about to hang an innocent person?
The judge rubs his temples. His mind is muddled with rum, and the voices in the tavern sound like they’re underwater. It’s hard to think clearly. But someone has to.
Today in Salem: It’s the first time in ten years that one woman can walk through her garden, or even go outside, without crying. She’s feeling better, just the tiniest bit better, since testifying at the unruly Bridget Bishop’s trial.
As hard as it was, she’d told the judges about a dark night ten years ago, when Bridget’s specter had dragged her out of bed and down to the beach, then tried to drown her. The woman had managed to ask God for help, though, and soon found herself alone, wet, and shivering at the water’s edge. Ever since then, she’s been distracted and crazed, “a vexation to herself, and all about her.”
Now, though, with Bridget contained in jail and condemned, God has saved the woman again. She brushes the tops of the early carrots and thinks about using them in a stew. It will take time to recover from 10 years of distraction, but she knows God will guide her.
LEARN MORE: What did the Puritans think about depression and mental health?
The Puritans believed that illness was brought on by sin. So if you or your family were sick or injured, it meant God was testing or punishing you.
Depression, though, wasn’t seen as an illness. Instead, depression (what the Puritans called distraction, melancholy, or being crazed in the head) was an opportunity to increase faith and trust in God. Specifically, God used depression to make a person less able to take care of themselves, or even to live, which forced them to humble themselves and ask God for help. One could even see depression as a gift, because it left a person with increased faith.
Today we know that depression is not an opportunity or gift by any stretch. It’s an illness, and although faith in a higher power might help, other things can, too. If you or someone you care about might be depressed, talk to a doctor or another medical care provider. If that’s too hard, you can call a mental health hotline at 1-800-662-4357. And if that’s too hard, you can text “MHA” to 741741. It really is possible to feel better.
Today in Salem: The judges are adding to their notes from yesterday’s trial. No more proof is needed to condemn Bridget Bishop, but the judges are still meticulous, recording everything.
Yesterday morning, six female prisoners were stripped naked so a group of other women and a male surgeon could examine them for witch marks. Three of the prisoners, including Bridget Bishop, were found to have abnormal outgrowths — an “odd excrescence” — of flesh in their private areas, “much like a teat.”
Witches were known to have teats, like skin tags, all over their bodies, and used them to suckle their familiars. The surgeon thought Bridget’s teat was highly suspicious, so at the end of the day they examined her again. The teat had disappeared, replaced by a bit of dry skin.
That was proof positive as far as the surgeon was concerned. But the group of women included an experienced midwife, who said the extra flesh was probably scar tissue from difficult birthing. Her opinion was in the minority, though, and the proof was duly noted.
LEARN MORE: What were Puritan doctors like?
The Puritans believed that all things were from God: good things like bountiful crops and summer rain, and bad things like disease and affliction. When bad things happened, it wasn’t necessarily because the person was sick. It was because they’d sinned and God was displeased. It could be:
God was testing your faith.
You’d sinned and made God angry.
If a lot of people were sick, God was wreaking revenge for the collective sins of the society.
Someone else was attacking you, often a “witch” in league with the Devil, or even Satan’s army of demons.
So, while a doctor tried to diagnose illness, he was also asked to find and explain the sin behind the affliction.
With that in mind, a doctor cared for the body so the minister could care for the soul. In fact, sometimes the doctors were the ministers. This could explain why doctors were so poorly trained in medical practices. There were no medical schools or programs in America. Instead, doctors practiced “feseke” (physick, or medicine) based on what they knew from British medicine, which was usually passed down through the decades and was sometimes obsolete.
Today in Salem: The unruly Bridget Bishop is frightened and furious. Why, why is she the first to be tried? Nine people were arrested before she was. Are the judges that sure of her guilt?
The stakes are high. This is not a small hearing in the Village meeting house. It’s a trial, in a courtroom, with the colony’s Chief Justice and four assistant judges presiding. They have authority that the local magistrates do not. If these judges decide she’s guilty, she will hang.
The afflicted girls are the first to testify, swearing under oath that they have indeed been tormented by Bridget’s specter. At first they are calm as they relate their stories, but as they talk they grow more and more agitated until they are having the same dramatic fits that they did in the hearings.
Bridget stands taller when the first neighbor begins to testify. It’s impossible to defend herself against the afflicted girls’ wild stories of specters and ghosts. But she can argue with neighbors. And argue she does, using her right to defend herself and question members of the jury who don’t seem impartial.
It quickly becomes fruitless. The neighbors aren’t talking about things she’s done. They’re talking about things they think she’s done; suspicious things. Four men tell about Bridget’s maliciousness in their dreams. Another tells about a time her specter sat on his stomach and tried to choke him, with further tales of mischief she caused through the Devil’s imps.
“I never knew you” Bridget proclaims. “You are a stranger to me!” Not so. More than a few people know they’d lived next door to each other for years and had argued more than a few times.
Her credibility gone, Bridget listens angrily as neighbors talk about arguments with Bridget that later made children die, carts get stuck, and money disappear. The only tangible testimony comes from a neighbor who says that he’d found several poppets in her wall. The suspicious cloth dolls were made of rags and hog bristles, and were stuck full of pins that were pointing out every which way.
Can she explain it? She tries, but just as before, her stories are inconsistent, with obvious lies.
Now the judges take a surprising step back. The neighbors’ calamities may or may not have been caused by Bridget, who may or may not have used witchcraft. But it just doesn’t matter. The reason Bridget was originally arrested was because her specter was tormenting the afflicted girls. Their convulsions and seizures in court today are enough to prove her guilt.
The jury agrees. Bridget Bishop is found guilty, and she will be hanged. The only question is when.
LEARN MORE: What is a poppet?
A poppet on display at the home of the quiet magistrate Jonathan Corwin. Today the Corwin home is called the Salem Witch House, and is open for tours.
A ”poppet” was a small doll that was meant to represent a specific person. In theory, anything that was done to the doll would also be done to the person. To inflict evil, pins were used to cast spells or inflict pain. To provide healing or joy, the poppet was stuffed or bound with medicinal herbs.
Voodoo dolls are one kind of poppet. Others kinds have been used in many other cultures and times.
The poppets in Bridget Bishop’s walls were the only ones known to be used during the time of the Salem witchcraft trials. But they’ve never been found. They were probably much like this one, which was found in a New England home of the same period and is on display today at the house belonging to one of the trial judges.
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.
