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.
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.
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.
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:
Today in Salem: The prison is dark and awash in the overwhelming smells of dung and filth. But while the other women lie in the dirty hay or lean against the cold walls, the flamboyant and rebellious Sarah Wilds manages to sashay even as she paces.
The beloved Rebecca Nurse has been reprieved. But Sarah has no illusions about her own fate. She is too pretty, too eager for love. She touches her neck, thinking about the noose that surely awaits her, and the silk scarf she’d worn many years ago. The judges had been so self-righteous about that scarf! But she’d confessed and accepted punishment for it, just as she had for other offenses, even fornication.
She turns and paces back to the other wall. It’s a rich irony, and a difficult choice. If she confesses to witchcraft, like her other sins, the judges will spare her life. If she doesn’t confess, if she clings to innocence, she will die.
Live with a lie? Or die professing innocence? She touches her neck again. She has always told the truth, even when she’s broken the law. And she would confess if she was guilty. But this time she’s innocent. It’s the truth.
Today in Salem: Three women have been tried for witchcraft this week, and one was hanged last month, but the court isn’t done yet. Two more trials are scheduled, both of them today: the neighborly Elizabeth How, and the flamboyant and aptly named Sarah Wilds.
The neighborly Elizabeth How stands trial
Elizabeth How walks quickly into the courtroom, energetic despite the dark circles under her eyes. She’s lain awake all night praying and trying to understand how she got to this point. But she knows the truth: though she’s surrounded by accusations, she is innocent.
Like always, the judges begin with the afflicted girls. They are swooning and seizing as usual, but recover when Elizabeth is forced to touch them.
Twelve or more people testify on Elizabeth’s behalf, including two ministers and her 94-year-old father-in-law. But it means little compared to the testimony of the two bereaved parents who are convinced she’s guilty. Several years ago, they’d watched helplessly as their ten-year-old daughter wasted away, growing smaller and thinner until she died two years later. During one fitful episode, the girl had accused Elizabeth of hurting her, but later took it back, even when prodded by her family. Still, there was no changing the parents’ minds. Who’s to say their daughter hadn’t recanted out of fear?
Other testimony follows, most of it from people who believe that she’d caused their cattle to die. But the courtroom crowd is shocked by one particular story: When a man refused to lend his horse to Elizabeth’s husband, the mare had stopped eating, her lips raw and swollen, and her tongue black and blue. When a treatment for belly-ache didn’t work, the man and his friend tried counter-magic: To attack any evil forces, they inserted a long-stemmed pipe of burning tobacco into the horse’s rectum. Immediately, a blue flame shot over the mare’s rump and flared toward the rafters of the barn. The next day the horse fell over dead. Clearly the magic of a witch – Elizabeth How – had triumphed over their counter-magic.
The support of a dozen people means nothing next to these statements. The judges pronounce Elizabeth guilty. She will be hanged.
The flamboyant Sarah Wilds stands trial
Sarah Wilds sashays into the courtroom, lifting her filthy petticoats just over her ankles. She’s pinched her cheeks until they’re rosy, and a wisp of hair curls out from her cap. She’s 65, and she’s been in jail for two months, but she will not let that change who she is. And she will not let the judges forget.
Sarah looks with disdain at the afflicted girls, already gasping and rolling on the floor, and points her chin when the judges say they have no accusations from “other” witches. What they do have, though, is story after story about her malicious acts, especially from the family of her husband’s first wife.
He had married Sarah only seven months after his first wife died. The family might have shrugged it off if Sarah was a godly woman. But they were all too familiar with her scandalous past. He was a good man. What could have made him marry such a salacious woman, and so soon after he was widowed? He must have been bewitched.
As a young woman, Sarah had been thought of as glamorous. When she was 22, she was whipped for fornication. Then, in her mid-30’s, she was brought to court for wearing fancy clothes that were above her station.
Sarah’s stepson had said she was a witch, and then died. Other family members were quick to chime in. Ruined crops, dead cattle, mysterious cats, broken carts – proof of her evil was obvious and endless.
Guilty.
Sarah doesn’t flinch when she hears the verdict. She just releases her petticoats and brushes them with her hands, the way she might brush off the ashes from a hearth fire, then turns toward the constable so he can escort her from the room.
Today in Salem: It’s 10:00 in the morning, but inside the Meeting House it’s dark, with so many people sitting on the windowsills that the light can’t get through. Nine people were arrested yesterday, and between the witnesses, accusers, family members, magistrates, and ministers the Meeting House is overflowing.
Rev Parris squints as he takes notes in the dim light. Six of the prisoners are quickly examined and sent to jail for future trials: a wealthy merchant’s wife, a slave, the wild child Abigail Hobbs’s parents, the unruly Bridget Bishop’s son and daughter-in-law. And one man is set free when he’s brought outside where the afflicted girls can see him better.
Things slow down, though, when the flamboyant Sarah Wilds sashays in. She’s 65 and married, but she’s always been glamorous and outspoken, and has spent her entire life leaving a trail of scandals in her wake. She’s been whipped for fornication, brought to court for wearing a silk scarf, and accused of witchcraft for years. Nothing fazes her, and now the afflicted girls launch into spectacular convulsions.
“What do you say to this?” the magistrate asks. “Are you guilty or not?”
“I am not guilty, sir,” she says. The magistrate is incredulous. Has she allowed the Devil to use her specter to hurt the girls? No? How can she deny what everyone can see?
The magistrates send her to jail for future trial. As she’s led away, one of the constables catches her eye and looks especially uncomfortable: he is her son, and he knows she’s innocent. But what does that mean about the other women?
The crowd is silent when the pious Mary Esty enters the room. She’s the exact opposite of Sarah Wilds. How can both of them be guilty of the same thing? Like her sisters, the beloved Rebecca Nurse & nervous Sarah Cloyce, Mary is esteemed and well-liked. The afflicted girls, though, are as wracked and convulsing as ever.
“How far have you complied with Satan whereby he takes this advantage of you?” the magistrates ask.
“Sir, I never complied, but prayed against him all my days. I will say it, if it was my last time—I am clear of this sin.”
She’s so insistent on her innocence that the magistrates press the girls to be sure the specter they’ve seen belongs to Mary. They’re certain though, and they continue their fits until the judges commit Mary to prison.
WHO was Sarah Wilds?
SARAH WILDS – Age 65. Sarah was bold, and in her younger years even a little glamorous. At age 22 she was whipped for fornication. In her mid-30’s she was charged with wearing a silk scarf (considered to be above her station; an offense to the Puritans).
Like many accused people, Sarah and her family had been part of several feuds and scandals. When her husband’s 1st wife died, he married Sarah within months – a scandalous insult to the 1st wife’s family, who accused Sarah of witchcraft early and often. Two of her stepsons had died; one mysteriously, and the other of depression or possession. And unexplained illnesses and deaths seemed to follow her arguments with neighbors. She was an outspoken non-conformist, which may have made her an easy target. Case files: Sarah Wilds
WHO was Mary Esty?
Age 58, née Towne. Sister of Rebecca Nurse and Sarah Cloyce. Married to Isaac Esty, with whom she had 11 children. Mary’s mother had long ago been suspected of witchcraft. Despite her piety, with the arrest and indictment of 2 of her sisters, it was no surprise that she was also caught up in it. Case files: Mary Esty
Mary Esty’s descendants include baseball great Ty Cobb.
LEARN MORE: Why would someone be whipped for wearing a silk scarf? What did it mean to dress “above one’s station,” and why was that bad?
Today we think of Puritans as wearing all black, with the women in tight white caps and even the children in mournful gray clothing. While that was somewhat true in the earliest Puritan colonies, 50 years had passed by the time of the Trials, and Puritan standards had loosened.
That said, they weren’t exactly ready for powdered wigs and waistcoats. In fact, men were forbidden to wear periwigs, with one Salem Trial judge calling them “Horrid Bushes of Vanity.” With the exception of the ministry, magistrates, and others in the upper-class, men’s hair was expected to be very short, not over the neck, the band, or the doublet collar. In the winter it might be allowed to grow a little below the ear for warmth. Facial hair was verboten; in fact, even 80 years later, not a single man who signed the Declaration of Independence had facial hair.
As for women’s hair, Cotton Mather’s father preached “Will not the haughty daughters of Zion refrain their pride in apparel? Will they lay out their hair, and wear false locks, their borders, their towers like comets about their heads?” Another clergyman called these women “Apes of Fancy, friziling and curlying of their hair.”
Puritan colors
Of course, hair wasn’t the only object of the Puritan fashion police. Clothing was also regulated, for both sexes. Again with the exceptions of ministers and magistrates, men and women were expected to wear only “sadd” (serious) colors. This did not include the black clothing that we often associate with Puritans. Black was too bold, requiring scarce black dye and care that it not fade. Instead, Puritans wore subdued colors like russet, rust, purple, gray-green, dark green, and dark gray-brown. Shades of blue were usually reserved for servants and slaves.
King Charles I of England in his great boots and slashed sleeves
Higher class Puritans like magistrates, or those with a net worth higher than £200, were exempt from the laws. Poorer people who dressed like them were seen as greedy and envious, and sometimes liars — all punishable offenses.
Finally, clothing was not just about color. It was also about fabric, and cut, and design, especially for women. “Sumptuary laws” were very common throughout Europe and the colonies, and were meant to control behavior and distinguish the high classes from the lower ones. For the Puritans, the laws also implied morality. Dressing in a simple manner meant embracing modesty and simplicity, and rejecting the sins of pride, greed, and envy. Dressing extravagantly was wasteful and unseemly. For example, in Europe slashed sleeves revealed expensive undergarments that flaunted the wealth of the wearer. So the Puritans outlawed sleeves with more than one slash. Also out: lace, silk, gold and silver thread, any embroidery or needlework, scarves, and bright buttons, shoes with heels, leather great boots, and so much more.
