July 20: Seeds of doubt take root

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

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

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

Who croweneth thee
With His tender compassion
And kind benignity

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


Tomorrow in Salem: SUMMARY: Paying respects

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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


Tomorrow in Salem: Seeds of doubt take root

July 18: The last goodbyes

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

and finally, the beloved Rebecca Nurse

They will be hanged one week from today.


Tomorrow in Salem: War games

July 9: RESIGNED: the sharp-tongued Susannah Martin

Today in Salem: The sharp-tongued Susannah Martin rubs the inside corners of her eyes and breathes shakily. She’s hardly slept the last two nights.

This is the second time she’s been found guilty of witchcraft. But the first time – more than 20 years ago – the charges were dismissed. Couldn’t that happen again? Especially since Rebecca Nurse has been reprieved?

It’s been nine days since Susannah’s trial, and each day it’s more clear: The answer is no. She and Rebecca Nurse are the same age, but they couldn’t be more different. Where Rebecca is soft-spoken, Susannah is forthright and even rude. Rebecca’s long membership in the church is a rebuke to Susannah, who rarely goes. Rebecca is still cared for by a well-respected husband. Susannah is a widow.

Susannah has no regrets. She’d tried being a good Puritan, but it was like wearing a cap that was too tight. God has already ordained whether she is saved or damned, and nothing she says or does will make a difference. Why put on a show? Why constrict herself?


Tomorrow in Salem: LIFE OR DEATH: the rebellious Sarah Wilds

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

Apr 30: ARRESTED: Widows, a burglar, and a minister

arrest warrant for Susannah Martin
Susannah Martin’s
arrest warrant

Today in Salem: 23 people are languishing in jail, some in Salem, and the rest – the overflow – in Boston. None has had a trial yet, but the judges aren’t thinking about that when they write arrest warrants for six more people.

The first is a woman in the nearby town of Amesbury; someone they haven’t even heard of. But the powerful Putnam family has filed a complaint against her, so they just write the name “Martin” and leave a space for her first name, which they fill in later: Susannah, and then cross out her station of “widdow,” even though she was one.

They know the second person well, though: the Reverend George Burroughs, the former minister of Salem who’d left two dead wives and a string of debts in his wake. They write his warrant in a decisive hand, but knowing that he can’t be fetched from Maine for an examination in two days, order the Marshall to “Convay him with all Speed to Salem before the Magestrates there, to be Examened, he being Suspected for a Confederacy with the devil.”

Others: the fortune teller and leader of a burglary ring Dorcas Hoar, one of her widowed neighbors, the rich merchant Philip English (whose wife is already in jail), and the widow Lydia Dustin, from the nearby town of Reading.


WHO was Dorcas Hoar?

old house
A late-1890s photo of
Dorcas Hoar’s house. It was
torn down in the early 1900s.

Age 58. A widow who was also a fortune teller and leader of a burglary ring, which included six of her children and numerous servants in households around town. Among her victims was a local minister whose servant stole an abundance of money, jewelry, clothing, and food, funneling all of it to Dorcas Hoar. Once captured, the burglars’ only sentence was to pay the costs of what they stole, a light sentence indeed, but one that was still resented by the Hoar family, who beat two of the minister’s cows (one to death) in revenge.

Dorcas Hoar’s hair was four feet, seven inches long, a so-called “elf lock” where evil spirits could hide. During her trial, the suspicious court ordered that her hair be cut off, a devastating blow. Her execution was delayed when she confessed.

After the trials, she moved in with her son-in-law and died in poverty. Case files: Dorcas Hoar

WHO was Susannah Martin?

Susannah Martin's memorial bench
Susannah Martin’s
memorial bench in Salem

Age 71. Depending on you you asked, she was either “one of the most “impudent, Scurrilous, wicked creatures in the world” (Cotton Mather), or an “honest, hard-working Christian woman and a “Martyr of Superstition” (her historical house marker).

We do know that her past included six unsuccessful lawsuits to inherit her father’s estate. She had also appeared in court as a defendant numerous times when her neighbors accused her of a variety of offenses, including calling one of them a liar and a thief. She was accused twice of witchcraft the Salem hysteria, with the charges eventually dropped.

During Martin’s examination, she laughed at her accusers. When asked if she had compassion for the afflicted, the forthright and hardened Martin replied, “No. I have none.”

At her later trial, at least nine (perhaps as many as 24) traveled by horse for nearly three days to Boston just to testify against her. Among their grievances: she’d caused one man’s oxen to drown themselves, her specter had stalked a farm hand, she’d bitten another man’s hand, she’d driven a neighbor mad, and she’d been seen at witch meetings. Case files: Susannah Martin


Tomorrow in Salem: The beloved Rebecca Nurse’s friends rally