The Salem Witchcraft Trials
Few trials dramatically change the way that people look at their world. The
witchcraft trials in Salem during the summer of 1692 did just that. The tragedy
of Salem--which saw nineteen suspected witches hanged and several more accused
witches die in prison--caused colonists to rethink both their relationship with
the supernatural world and the sort of procedural devices necessary to protect
accused persons.
It is widely assumed that hysteria comparable to that seen 308 years ago in
Massachusetts could never again infect our justice system. Some of the
notorious day care center cases of the 1980s--often involving implausible
accusations of child molestation--called that assumption into question. In some
of these cases we saw striking similarities to what happened
at Salem: multiplying accusations, innocent behavior misinterpreted, use of
investigatory techniques that assumed guilt, heavy reliance on the testimony of
suggestible children, and a fear of skeptics to step forward and bring common
sense to the proceedings. As Arthur Miller recognized when he wrote "The
Crucible," Salem remains a cautionary tale.
Douglas Linder
University of Missouri-Kansas City School of Law
linderd@umkc.edu
July, 2000
* * *
From June
through September of 1692, nineteen men and women, all having been convicted
of witchcraft, were carted to Gallows Hill, a barren slope near Salem Village,
for hanging. Another man of over eighty years was pressed to death under
heavy stones for refusing to submit to a trial on witchcraft charges. Hundreds
of others faced accusations of witchcraft. Dozens languished in jail for
months without trials. Then, almost as soon as it had begun, the
hysteria that swept through Puritan Massachusetts ended.
Why did this
travesty of justice occur? Why did occur in Salem? Nothing about this tragedy
was inevitable. Only an unfortunate combination of economic conditions,
congregational strife, teenage boredom, and personal jealousies can account
for the spiraling accusations, trials, and executions that occurred in
the spring and summer of 1692.
In 1688,
John Putnam, one of the most influential elders of Salem Village, invited
Samuel
Parris, formerly a marginally successful planter and merchant in Barbados,
to preach in the Village church. A year later, after negotiations
over salary, inflation adjustments, and free firewood, Parris accepted
the job as Village minister. He moved to Salem Village with his wife Elizabeth,
his six-year-old daughter Betty, niece Abagail Williams, and slave Tituba,
a West African native that Parris had acquired in Barbados.
The Salem
that became Parris's new home was in the midst of change: a mercantile
elite was beginning to develop, prominent people were becoming less willing
to assume positions as town leaders, two clans (the Putnams and the Porters)
were competing for control of the village and its pulpit, and a debate
was raging over how independent Salem Village, tied more to the interior
agricultural regions, should be from Salem, a center of sea trade.
Sometime
during February of the exceptionally cold winter of 1692, young Betty Parris
became strangely ill. She dashed about, dove under furniture, contorted
in pain, and complained of fever. The cause of her symptoms may have been
some combination of stress, asthma, guilt, child abuse, epilepsy, and delusional
psychosis, but there were other theories.
Cotton Mather had recently published a popular
book, "Memorable Providences," describing the
suspected witchcraft of an Irish washerwoman in Boston, and Betty's behavior
in some ways mirrored that of the afflicted person described in Mather's
widely read and discussed book. It was easy to believe in 1692 in Salem,
with an Indian war raging and the village in political turmoil, that the
devil was close at hand. Talk of witchcraft increased when other
of Betty's playmates, including eleven-year-old Ann
Putnam, seventeen-year-old Mercy Lewis, and Mary Walcott, began to
exhibit similar unusual behavior. William Griggs, a doctor called to examine
the girls, suggested that the girls' problems might have a supernatural
origin when his own nostrums failed to effect a cure. The widespread belief
that witches targeted children made the doctor's diagnosis seem increasing
likely.
A neighbor,
Mary Sibley, proposed a form of counter magic. She told Tituba to bake
a rye cake with the urine of the afflicted victim and feed the cake to
a dog. ( Dogs were believed to be used by witches as agents to carry out
their devilish commands.) By this time, suspicion had already begun to
focus on Tituba, who had been known to tell the girls tales of omens, voodoo,
and witchcraft from her native folklore. Her participation in the
urine cake episode made her an even more obvious scapegoat for the inexplicable.
Meanwhile,
the number of girls afflicted continued to grow, rising to seven with the
addition of Ann Putnam, Elizabeth Hubbard, Susannah Sheldon, and Mary Warren.
According to historian Peter Hoffer, the girls "turned themselves from
a circle of friends into a gang of juvenile delinquents." ( Many people
of the period complained that young people lacked the piety and sense of
purpose of the founders' generation.) The girls contorted into grotesque
poses, fell down into frozen postures, and complained of biting and pinching
sensations. In a village where everyone believed that the devil was real,
close at hand, and acted in the real world, the suspected affliction of
the girls became an obsession.
Sometime
after February 25, when Tituba baked the witch cake, and February 29, when
arrest warrants were issued against Tituba and two other women, Betty Parris
and Abigail Williams named their afflictors and the witchhunt began. The
consistency of the two girls' accusations suggests strongly that the girls
worked out their stories together. Soon Ann Putnam and Mercy Lewis were
also reporting seeing "witches flying through the winter mist." The
prominent Putnam family supported the girls' accusations, putting considerable
impetus behind the prosecutions.
The first
three to be accused of witchcraft were Tituba, Sarah
Good, and Sarah Osborn. Tituba was an obvious choice (LINK
TO TITUBA'S EXAMINATION). Good was a beggar and social
misfit who lived wherever someone would house her (LINK
TO GOOD'S EXAMINATION) (LINK TO GOOD'S TRIAL),
and Osborn was old, quarrelsome, and had not attended church for over a
year. The Putnams brought their complaint against the three women to county
magistrates Jonathan Corwin and John Hathorne,
who scheduled examinations for the suspected witches for March 1, 1692
in Ingersoll's tavern. When hundreds showed up, the examinations were moved
to the meeting house. At the examinations, the girls described attacks
by the specters of the three women, and fell into their by then perfected
pattern of contortions when in the presence of one of the suspects. Other
villagers came forward to offer stories of cheese and butter mysteriously
gone bad or animals born with deformities after visits by one of the suspects.The
magistrates, in the common practice of the time, asked the same questions
of each suspect over and over: Were they witches? Had the seen the Devil?
How, if they are were not witches, did they explain the contortions seemingly
caused by their presence? The style and form of the questions indicates
that the magistrates thought the women guilty.
The matter
might have ended with admonishments were it not for Tituba. After first
adamantly denying any guilt, afraid perhaps of being made a scapegoat,
Tituba claimed that she was approached by a tall man from Boston who sometimes
appeared as a dog or a hog (obviously the Devil) who asked her to sign
in his book and to do his work. Yes, Tituba declared, she was a witch,
and moreover she and four other witches, including Good and Osborn, had
flown through the air on their poles. She had tried to run to Reverend
Parris for counsel, she said, but the devil had blocked her path. Tituba's
confession succeeded in transforming her from a possible scapegoat to a
central figure in the expanding prosecutions. Her confession
also served to silence most skeptics, and Parris and other local ministers
began witch hunting with zeal.
Soon, according
to their own reports, the spectral forms of other women began attacking
the afflicted girls. Martha Corey, Rebecca Nurse,
Sarah Cloyce, and Mary Easty
(LINK TO EASTY'S EXAMINATION) (LINK TO EASTY'S
PETITION FOR MERCY) were accused of witchcraft. During
a March 20 church service, Ann Putnam suddenly shouted, "Look where Goodwife
Cloyce sits on the beam suckling her yellow bird between her fingers!"
Soon Ann's mother, Ann Putnam, Sr., would join the accusers. Dorcas
Good, four-year-old daughter of Sarah Good, became the first child to be
accused of witchcraft when three of the girls complained that they were
bitten by Dorcas's specter. (The four-year-old was arrested, kept in jail
for eight months, watched her mother get carried off to the gallows, and
would "cry her heart out, and go insane.") The girls accusations
and their ever more polished performances, including the new act of being
struck dumb, played to large and believing audiences.
Stuck in
jail with the damning testimony of the afflicted girls widely accepted,
suspects began to see confession as a way to avoid the gallows. Deliverance
Hobbs became the second witch to confess, admitting to pinching three
of the girls at the devil's command and flying on a pole to attend a witches'
Sabbath in an open field. Jails approached capacity and the
colony "teetered on the brink of chaos" when Governor
Phips returned from England. Fast action, he decided, was required.
Phips created
a new court, the "court of oyer and terminer," to hear the witchcraft cases.
Five judges, including three close friends of Cotton Mather, were appointed
to the court. Chief Justice, and most influential member of the court,
was a gung-ho witch hunter named William Stoughton.
Mather urged Stoughton and the other judges to credit confessions and admit
"spectral evidence" (testimony by afflicted persons that they had been
visited by a suspect's specter). Ministers were looked to for guidance
by the judges, who were generally without legal training, on matters pertaining
to witchcraft, and Mather's advice was heeded. Judges also decided
to allow the so-called "touching test" (defendants were asked to touch
afflicted persons to see if their touch, as was generally assumed of the
touch of witches, would stop their contortions) and examination of the
bodies of accused for evidence of "witches' marks" (moles or the like upon
which a witch's familiar might suck) (SCENE
DEPICTING EXAMINATION FOR MARKS). Evidence that would
be excluded from modern courtrooms-- hearsay, gossip, stories, unsupported
assertions, surmises-- was also generally admitted. Many protections that
modern defendants take for granted were lacking in Salem: accused witches
had no legal counsel, could not have witnesses testify under oath on their
behalf, and had no formal avenues of appeal. Defendants could, however,
speak for themselves, produce evidence, and cross-examine their accusers.
The degree to which defendants in Salem were able to take advantage of
their modest protections varied considerably, depending on their own acuteness
and their influence in the community.
The first
accused witch to be brought to trial was Bridget
Bishop. Almost sixty years old, owner of a house of ill
repute, critical of her neighbors, and reluctant to pay her her bills,
Bishop was a likely candidate for an accusation of witchcraft (LINK
TO EXAMINATION OF BISHOP). The fact that Thomas Newton,
special prosecutor, selected Bishop for his first prosecution suggests
that he believed the stronger case could be made against her than any of
the other suspect witches. At Bishop's trial on June 2, 1692, a field hand
testified that he saw Bishop's image stealing eggs and then saw her transform
herself into a cat. Deliverance Hobbs, by then clearly insane, and
Mary Warren, both confessed witches, testified that Bishop was one of them.
A villager named Samuel Grey told the court that Bishop visited his bed
at night and tormented him. A jury of matrons assigned to examine Bishop's
body reported that they found an "excrescence of flesh." Several
of the afflicted girls testified that Bishop's specter afflicted them.
Numerous other villagers described why they thought Bishop was responsible
for various bits of bad luck that had befallen them. There was even
testimony that while being transported under guard past the Salem meeting
house, she looked at the building and caused a part of it to fall to the
ground. Bishop's jury returned a verdict of guilty . One of the judges,
Nathaniel Saltonstall, aghast at the conduct of the trial, resigned from
the court. Chief Justice Stoughton signed Bishop's death warrant,
and on June 10, 1692, Bishop was carted to Gallows Hill and hanged (LINK
TO IMAGE OF BISHOP'S HANGING).
As the
summer of 1692 warmed, the pace of trials picked up. Not all defendants
were as disreputable as Bridget Bishop. Rebecca Nurse was a pious,
respected woman whose specter, according to Ann Putnam, Jr. and Abagail
Williams, attacked them in mid March of 1692 (LINK
TO EXAMINATION OF NURSE). Ann Putnam, Sr. added her complaint
that Nurse demanded that she sign the Devil's book, then pinched her. Nurse
was one of three Towne sisters , all identified as witches, who were members
of a Topsfield family that had a long-standing quarrel with the Putnam
family. Apart from the evidence of Putnam family members, the major piece
of evidence against Nurse appeared to be testimony indicating that soon
after Nurse lectured Benjamin Houlton for allowing his pig to root in her
garden, Benjamin died. The Nurse jury returned a verdict of not guilty,
much to the displeasure of Chief Justice Stoughton, who told the jury to
go back and consider again a statement of Nurse's that might be considered
an admission of guilt (but more likely an indication of confusion about
the question, as Nurse was old and nearly deaf). The jury reconvened,
this time coming back with a verdict of guilty (LINK
TO NURSE TRIAL). On July 19, 1692, Nurse rode with four
other convicted witches to Gallows Hill.
Persons
who scoffed at accusations of witchcraft risked becoming targets of accusations
themselves. One man who was openly critical of the trials paid for
his skepticism with his life. John Proctor,
a central figure in Arthur Miller's somewhat fictionalized account of the
Salem witchhunt "The Crucible," was an opinionated
tavern owner who openly denounced the witchhunt. Testifying against
Proctor were Ann Putnam, Abagail Williams, Indian John (a slave of Samuel
Parris who worked in a competing tavern), and eighteen-year-old Elizabeth
Booth, who testified that ghosts had come to her and accused Proctor of
serial murder. Proctor fought back, accusing confessed witches of lying,
complaining of torture, and demanding that his trial be moved to Boston.
The efforts proved futile, of course, and Proctor was hanged. His wife
Elizabeth, who was also convicted of witchcraft, was spared execution because
of her pregnancy (reprieved "for the belly").
No execution
caused more unease in Salem than that of the village's ex-minister, George
Burroughs. Burroughs, who was living in Maine in 1692, was identified
by several of his accusers as the ringleader of the witches. Mercy
Lewis, the most imaginative and forceful of the young accusers, offered
unusually vivid testimony against Burroughs. Lewis told the court
that Burroughs flew her to the top of a mountain and, pointing toward the
surrounding land, promised her all the kingdoms if only she would sign
in his book (a story very similar to that found in Matthew 4:8).
Lewis said, "I would not writ if he had throwed me down on one hundred
pitchforks." At an execution, a defendant in the Puritan colonies
was expected to confess, and thus to save his soul. When Burroughs
on Gallows Hill continued to insist on his innocence and then recited the
Lord's Prayer perfectly (something witches were thought incapable of doing),
the crowd was reportedly "greatly moved," forcing Cotton Mather, who was
in attendance, to intervene and remind the crowd that Burroughs had had
his day in court and lost.
One victim
of the Salem witchhunt was not hanged, but rather pressed under heavy stones
for two days until his death. Such was the fate of octogenarian Giles
Corey who, after spending five months in chains in a Salem jail with
his also accused wife, had nothing but contempt for the proceedings.
Seeing the futility of a trial and hoping that by avoiding a conviction
his farm, that would otherwise go the state, might go to his two sons-in-law,
Corey refused to stand for trial. The penalty for such a refusal
was peine et fort, or pressing. Three days after Corey's death, on September
22, 1692, eight more convicted witches, including Giles' wife Martha, were
hanged. They were the last victims of the witchhunt.
By early
autumn of 1692, Salem's lust for blood was ebbing. Doubts were developing
as to how so many respectable people could be guilty. Reverend John Hale
said, " It cannot be imagined that in a place of so much knowledge, so
many in so small compass of land should abominably leap into the Devil's
lap at once." The educated elite of the colony began efforts to end
the witch-hunting hysteria that had enveloped Salem. Increase
Mather, the father of Cotton, published what has been called "America's
first tract on evidence," a work entitled "Cases of Conscience," which
argued that it "were better that ten suspected witches should escape than
one innocent person should be condemned." Increase Mather urged the court
to exclude spectral evidence. Samuel Willard, a highly regarded Boston
minister, circulated "Some Miscellany Observations," which suggested that
the Devil might create the specter of an innocent person. Mather's and
Willard's works were given to Governor Phips, and most likely influenced
his decision to order the court to exclude spectral evidence and touching
tests, and to require proof of guilt by clear and convincing evidence.
With spectral evidence not admitted, twenty-eight of the last thirty-three
witchcraft trials ended in acquittals. The three convicted witches were
later pardoned. In May of 1693, Phips released from prison all remaining
accused or convicted witches.
By the
time the witchhunt ended, nineteen convicted witches were executed (LINK
TO LIST OF DEAD), at least four accused witches had died
in prison, and one man, Giles Corey, had been pressed to death. About one
to two hundred other persons were arrested and imprisoned on witchcraft
charges. Two dogs were executed as suspected accomplices of witches.
A period
of atonement began in the colony. Samuel Sewall,
one of the judges, issued a public confession of guilt and an apology.
Several jurors came forward to say that they were "sadly deluded and mistaken"
in their judgments. Reverend Samuel Parris conceded errors of judgment,
but mostly shifted blame to others. Parris was replaced as minister of
Salem village by Thomas Green, who devoted his career to putting his torn
congregation back together. Governor Phips blamed the entire affair on
William Stroughton. Stroughton, clearly more to blame than anyone for the
tragic episode, refused to apologize or explain himself, He criticized
Phips for interfering just when he was about to "clear the land" of witches.
Stoughton became the next governor of Massachusetts.
The witches
disappeared, but witchhunting in America did not. Each generation must
learn the lessons of history or risk repeating its mistakes. Salem
should warn us to think hard about how to best safeguard and improve our
system of justice.
Douglas Linder
University of Missouri-Kansas City School of Law
linderd@umkc.edu
For more imformation and documentation, visit Professor Linder's Web site on The Salem Witchcraft Trials.
© 2000 by Douglas Linder. All rights reserved.