Category: History

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seasonal magazines on Salem witch trialsEvery October it’s inevitable that new publications on the Salem witch trials are published. It’s odd because the witches of our Halloween imaginations have nothing to do with the innocent people hanged in 1692. This time one of the new entries, The Salem Witch Trials: The True Witch Hunt of 1692 and Its Legacy Today, you’ll find tucked between other seasonal special issues on the magazine shelves.

The Time-Life branded magazine covers a broad sweep of history in its 96 pages, from European origins and witch hunts of today to Arthur Miller’s play, The Crucible, and modern witchcraft. Like many ideas designed to make a quick buck, this one is rife with mistakes big and small. To be fair, that’s one of the most difficult problems with telling the Salem story: for more than 300 years, this one event has been cloaked in embarrassment while physical and historical details have been lost. Not having a witch-hunt historian to oversee or edit this project results in all sorts of difficulties.

Let’s hit on the easy mistakes. The trials occurred in Salem, now a city, though the first accusations of witchcraft happened in Salem Village, now known as the town of Danvers. Throughout the magazine, this geographic distinction is so confused that even the House of the Seven Gables is misplaced (94).

While the witch trials did make Salem the epicenter and focus of tourism, it’s not accurate to repeatedly say Salem has “embraced its history.” The city is known for its maritime trade, its literary scene, its unique and Far East-inspired architecture, its influence on education, and so much more, but it’s the dark shadow of the witch trials that not all the Salemites “embrace.” Of course, Salem has a plethora of witch shops and witch-related attractions, which some locals like and others hate—especially in October.

Of English traditions

In the 17th century, Massachusetts Bay Colonists were not exactly “European immigrants.” As an English colony, most people came from England. Plus, English witch hunts were much different from European ones. In Europe, witchcraft was considered heresy, which is why the Catholic Church and the pope-appointed Inquisitors rooted out witches and punished those found guilty by burning them to death. During Queen Mary Tudor’s reign, 1553-1558, English Protestants and other nonconformists who opposed her Catholic rule were charged with heresy and burned to death. However, English witchcraft accusations percolated up from the people to the courts and was a capital offense, punished by hanging (10-29).

Witchcraft and folk magic were very much a part of everyday life (6, 34). Puritans—from Harvard graduates and ministers to farmers, merchants, and sailors—believed in witches. Some were skeptical about the accusations, but notables like Puritan minister Cotton Mather and Judge William Stoughton believed witches were making pacts with the Devil to destroy their communities and take down their churches. Using occult magic (tarot cards, palmistry, dowsing, astrology, predicting the future, etc.) was fraternizing with the Devil to gain goods or knowledge that only God should have, while maleficent witchcraft (like cursing, casting spells, giving the evil eye) used the Devil to harm individuals, animals, crops, and cause other devastations.

Being a Puritan

All Massachusetts Bay people were required to attend church and could be punished if they did not. But only members were allowed to receive communion, baptize their children, and hold positions in the church (and in the government before the 1692 charter). Church membership required evidence of a personal conversion experience that confirmed to themselves that they were “elect” in the eyes of God, followed by the men sharing their conversion experience in front of the congregation, and a vote by members on whether they believed that person was qualified to join the ranks of members. (Women sometimes had church leaders speak for them.)

Each household was required to pay their share of the minister’s annual salary whether they were members or not, Puritan or not (9). Salem Village had three ministers within 16 years, a high turnover rate caused by village conflicts that meant members could not afford to be too picky when ministerial applicants interviewed. That’s why they accepted Samuel Parris, who never finished his Harvard education, had little ministering experience, and lacked the training to unify people. He had the upper hand, driving a hard bargain as far as his salary and demanding that the congregation ordain him as a minister (42).

Individual details

Tituba was a Native American and is referred to as an “Indian” and “servant” throughout the trial records. During the 19th century, revisionists turned her into an African American who practiced voodoo and lured young girls with stories of island life and magic. This unlikely circle of girls didn’t hang out in the Parris kitchen; they had plenty of chores to keep them occupied. Tituba most likely lived in Barbados before coming to Massachusetts, but her testimony is full of English demons and witches, not native beliefs and superstitions (38, 42, 43, 44, 57).

Tituba—and everyone else who falsely confessed to witchcraft—avoided execution not from confessing but because the trials started to wind down before they were tried (45). Judge Stoughton was ready to hang all the confessors. As the accused witches from Andover learned, people who had confessed were still in jail while some who cried innocence were dead. They may have been counting on the advantage of time to reprieve them. Tituba remained in jail because she confessed and was considered guilty. She, and everyone else who was not released on bail, stayed in prison until the general gaol (jail) delivery in spring 1693—which required them to pay their jail fees before being released (51).

Sarah Good and Sarah Osborne were not “condemned … when they refused to confess” (38). The court used spectral evidence, the afflicteds’ reactions to the accused, and the statements of others to convict. Osborne died in jail before her trial, so there was no verdict to execute her.

Sarah Good’s baby girl was born in December 1691, before her incarceration (38). Her 4- or 5-year-old daughter Dorothy Good was charged (not “convicted”) with witchcraft and jailed to await her trial. Her name was not “Dorcas”—a mistake made once and corrected in the trial records—which is not a nickname for Dorothy (46).

Philip and Mary English of Salem were arrested and jailed on charges of witchcraft. After weeks of being in the Boston jail, they escaped (52).

Salem witch trials
Gov. William Phips

Sir William Phips did not know of the witch-hunt crisis before coming to Massachusetts. He arrived to start a new government based on the new charter by William & Mary that curtailed some of the activities that the colonists previously enjoyed. In October 1692, Phips allowed some of the prisoners in jail, mostly children, to be let out on bail, to be recalled at a future date for trial. Prisoners who had been jailed based on spectral evidence still needed to wait for their trials to be held before being judged innocent. Only people whose verdicts were guilty and were sentenced to hang needed to be pardoned by Governor Phips (47, 51).

Ministers were on both sides of the witch trials debate. It was only Judge Nathaniel Saltonstall who “express[ed] doubts about the process” and resigned from the Court of Oyer and Terminer in June 1692. A change of heart did not happen when the new court handled the witch trials cases in January 1693; instead, the judges were told they must disregard all spectral evidence. Besides Judge Samuel Sewall (in 1697), no other judges publicly apologized, though 12 jury members during the witch trials asked pardon of God, of “the living sufferers,” and of “all whom we have justly offended” in Salem (51, 55).

Ann Putnam Jr., one of the major afflicted accusers, sought church membership in 1706 in the Salem Village church, now Danvers (55). She was received into full communion, with the support and guidance of Rev. Joseph Green.

Only the victims and their families who petitioned received financial reparations (55). Most did not. Businessman Philip English, whose goods and fortune were stolen by Sheriff George Corwin, received very little money for all that he lost (55).

Hundreds (maybe even thousands) of writers, “historians, psychologists, and scientists” have spent years trying to understand why the witch hunts happened (57).

History matters

Politicians today misuse the term “witch hunt” not because they are innocent victims but to flip the blame on those who expose the politician’s wrongdoings. Taking a broad look at this political trend is interesting, especially when you have Life photographs to fill the pages. Producing a full-color magazine to grab that short sale at the checkout line seems disingenuous.

Salem is a weighty subject, with layers of inaccurate details that accumulated over the centuries. Even though Salem has the best collection of witch trial records available, it’s hard to separate fact from what we learned in school, The Crucible, TV and film productions, tourist attractions, and modern witchcraft. These details trip up unwary writers and editors who have not spent years studying the witch trials.

Note: I am not pointing out every error I found, nor did I read the accompanying articles (modern witchcraft, The Crucible) in the magazine. This post follows up on an article in the Salem News, “Historians critical of magazine on Salem witch trials” (4 Nov. 2018) for which I was interviewed, along with historian and public speaker Margo Burns and Kelly Daniell, curator for the Peabody Historical Society and Museum.

If you’re looking for one of the most up-to-date and historically accurate read on the Salem witch trials, the best book currently on the market is Emerson W. Baker’s A Storm of Witchcraft (2015).

Note: This article was published in November 2018 and refers to the magazine issue that came out in 2018. I’ve seen the same magazine cover on bookstore shelves since then and I do not know if the latest version has been updated since 2018.

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Proctor’s Ledge, Salem

If your ancestors lived in Massachusetts Bay Colony during the 17th century, at some point they were affected by the Salem witch trials of 1692. Perhaps they were one of the accused witches, one of the participants (afflicted “girls,” accusers, judges, or jury members), one of the trial attendees, or watched, as Rev. Nicholas Noyes said, the “firebrands of hell hanging there.” Perhaps they were neighbors of the accused or the accusers—or maybe they lived far enough away from the vortex. But, undoubtedly they knew about the events in Salem, whether from experience, word-of-mouth, ministers preaching, or reading various treatises on the subject.

More than 300 years have passed since the witch hunts, and over time, much has been lost, from original court papers to buildings associated with the trials. It’s as if the communal memory was erased, once men such as Rev. Cotton Mather and Robert Calef wrote their books. In the 19th century, after Salem’s maritime fortunes were on the wane, writers such as Nathaniel Hawthorne and Charles W. Upham returned to the theme of witchcraft. Since then, many theories have been proposed of what really did happen in the Massachusetts Bay Colony to cause more than 150 people to be imprisoned for witchcraft—and the answers still elude us today.

A Discovery of Witches

Although we’ve lost much through the passage of time, we’ve also heard, seen, or read many things that are not true—from Salem tourist attractions, popular media, and even scholars—about the witch hunts of 1692. So let’s clear up 10 misconceptions.

  • No accused witches in Colonial America were burned at the stake. Witchcraft was a capital offense, which meant death by hanging. In continental Europe, witchcraft was heresy against the church and punishable by burning at the stake.
  • What is now called Gallows Hill in Salem is not where the accused witches were hanged. In early 2016, the Gallows Hill Project team verified conclusions made by early 20th-century historian Sidney Perley that the victims were hanged at Proctor’s Ledge, on the lower slope of Gallows Hill bounded by Proctor and Pope streets. In 2017, a memorial was created and dedicated at that location.
  • Judge Jonathan Corwin’s house, now called the Witch House, is billed as “the only structure in Salem with direct ties to the witchcraft trials of 1692.” Yes, the wealthy judge lived there, but were any of the accused witches brought there? Probably not.
  • Salem is considered the epicenter of the 1692 witch hunt. However, the first accusations were from “afflicted” girls in Salem Village, now the town of Danvers. The witch hunt spread to other towns, most notably Andover. Salem is where the Court of Oyer and Terminer tried people accused of witchcraft and where the 20 victims were executed. The accused were jailed not only in Salem but in such places as Boston and Ipswich.
  • The “afflicted accusers” were not all girls. Nine-year-old Betty Parris and her 11-year-old cousin Abigail Williams were the first to have strange fits. However, their “affliction” spread to the young and old, men as well as women and children.
  • Old, poor widows were not the only ones accused of witchcraft. People jailed for witchcraft in 1692 range in age from 4 years old to in their 80s, both male and female. Some were poor, some were wealthy. The first three people arrested for witchcraft were 38-year-old beggar Sarah Good; sickly 50-year-old Sarah Osborne; and Rev. Samuel Parris’ Indian servant Tituba. Sarah Good was hanged, Sarah Osborne died in jail, and Tituba, who pleaded guilty, survived.
  • Though Upham and many other writers claim Tituba told stories of voodoo and the Devil to impressionable young girls, starting the witch hunt, no contemporary accounts point fingers at Rev. Parris’ Indian servant. Images from the trials are of witches on broomsticks, witches with animal familiars (a yellow bird was rather popular), witches signing the Devil’s book in blood, heretical baptisms and communions—all centuries-old Western European themes, not voodoo. In the Danvers church records, Rev. Parris believed the “diabolical means” of making the witch cake “unleashed the witchcraft in the community.”
  • Bridget Bishop, one of the most notorious accused witches and the first to hang, was not the rowdy tavern keeper as often portrayed. In 1981, David L. Greene, editor of The American Genealogist, proved how Bridget Bishop of Salem Town and Sarah Bishop of Salem Village were conflated into one person. Both were married to men named Edward Bishop.
  • The youngest victim, Dorothy Good, is mistakenly called “Dorcas” in many books about the Salem witch trials. Dorcas is the name Judge John Hathorne wrote on her original arrest warrant, though he wrote Dorothy on subsequent records. (The name Dorcas is not a nickname for Dorothy.) According to William Good, his daughter Dorothy, “a child of 4 or 5 years old, was in prison seven or eight months and being chained in the dungeon was so hardly used and terrified that she has ever since been very chargeable, having little or no reason to govern herself” (petition for compensation, Salem, 13 September 1710).
  • Although the last executions for witchcraft occurred on 22 September 1692, there were more trials and even some guilty convictions. In March 1693, four weeks after she was found not guilty of witchcraft, Lydia Dustin died in prison because her family could not pay her jail fees.

The more you learn about the 1692 witch hunts in the Massachusetts Bay Colony, the better you can understand the times and trials your ancestors lived through.

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In 1892, Salem—which basked in its architectural splendor, its rich maritime history, and its scientific and educational pursuits—wanted to bury its dark past. But as the 200th anniversary of the Salem Witch Trials approached, publishers and businessmen stirred up the pot by producing newspaper articles, travelogues, books, pamphlets, photographic prints, and even witch spoons. Taking advantage of the renewed interest, many of these printed items relied on town histories, Charles W. Upham’s Salem Witchcraft (Vol. 1 and Vol. 2), Nathaniel Hawthorne’s fiction, and unsubstantiated traditions.

One such book, Witchcraft Illustrated, Witchcraft to be Understood: Facts, Theories and Incidents with a Glance at Old and New Salem and its Historical Resources, includes images of Salem and Danvers interspersed between stories of witchcraft near and far. One curious photograph, identified as “The House Where Witchcraft Started, Now Danvers, Mass.,” also appears on Wikipedia and Find a Grave, but not in the many witch-hunt history books that have been published. The photo caption clearly is referring to the parsonage, home of Reverend Samuel Parris (1653-1720) when his daughter Betty Parris and niece Abigail Williams showed symptoms of being “under an Evil hand” in 1692. This same photo is featured on postcards captioned “the Old Parris House,” of which a colorized version, available at CardCow.com, is postmarked 1914.

1734 parsonage addition
from Henrietta D. Kimball’s Witchcraft Illustrated

What a find! But, wait. If this is “the parsonage in Salem Village as photographed in the late 19th century” (as labeled on Wikipedia), why didn’t historians include the image in their books?

The Parsonage

The first minister of Salem Village, Rev. James Bayley (1650-1707), kept his own house, though the village promised a few times to build a parsonage. It wasn’t completed until after the second minister, George Burroughs (1650-1692), arrived, for in February 1681, the town voted: “We will Build a House for the Ministry and provid convenient Land For that end: the Dementions of the House are as followeth: 42 foot long twenty foot Broad: thirteen foot stude: fouer chimleis no gable ends” (“Salem Village Book of Records 1672-1697,” SWP No. d1e711).

According to the plaque at the parsonage site, “The house faced south and included a half-cellar on its west side which was composed of dry-laid fieldstones, and which was entered by means of a stairway from the porch (front entry). The east side of the house did not include a cellar, the house sills resting on ground stones. The first floor consisted of two rooms separated by the front entry and a massive brick chimney structure. Two bed chambers were located on the second floor. Each of the house’s four rooms included a fireplace. By 1692 a saltbox lean-to was attached to the rear of the house, and used as a kitchen.”

Addition and Demolition

list of Salem Village ministersRev. Peter Clark (1696-1768), who served as the Salem Village minister from 1717 to 1768, had the town build an addition to the original building. In January 1734, “it was then voted that ‘we will demollesh all ye Lenture behind ye parsonage house, and will build a new house of three and twenty feet long and eighteen feet broad and fifteen feet stud with a seller [cellar] under it and set it behind the west room of our parsonage house.’ This new addition was two and one-half stories high, included a side door which faced the west and a roof which ran perpendicular to the 1681 parsonage. The cellar foundation was composed of cut and faced stones and included a jog for a chimney” (from 1734 Addition marker).

Over the ensuing decades, the parsonage continued its decline, but the townspeople could not afford to build a new parsonage nor repair the old one. In 1784, Rev. Benjamin Wadsworth (1750-1826) was given “an acre of land, bordering upon the road, for a house-lot. And upon this lot, the bounds of which may now be traced, he built for himself, about twenty rods west of the old site, the spacious house which is still standing” (Proceedings at the Celebration of the Two Hundredth Anniversary of the First Parish at Salem Village: Now Danvers, October 8, 1872, p. 91). Afterwards, the original 1681 parsonage was demolished and the 1734 addition was moved to Sylvan Street.

By 1872, Charles Baker Rice describes the 1734 addition on Sylvan Street “in a condition next to ruinous, and occupied by hay, squashes, old barrels, and pigs” (p. 91). Rice continues, “It will thus be seen that this building, contrary to the report that has had some currency, was not in reality any part of the original parsonage, and was never occupied by Mr. Parris or any of his witches. It was not in existence until nearly forty years after he had left the place; and it has no other flavor of witchcraft upon it than what it may have absorbed in standing for half a century in contact with the older and once infected building” (p. 92).

Righting a Wrong

sign for Samuel Parris archaeological siteIn his footnote, Rice refers to mistakes in J.W. Hanson’s History of the Town of Danvers, from its Early Settlement to 1848 (a sketch on p. 276) and John W. Proctor’s Centennial Celebration at Danvers, Mass., June 16, 1852 (on p. 13). Rice says: “Mr. Hanson has given, in his history, a view of the building now standing as of ‘a portion of the old Parris house.’ John W. Proctor also was misled in the same manner, though he speaks less confidently, and only as from report. But the measurements are conclusive. The present building corresponds to the dimensions of the addition of 1734, while it bears no likeness to the original house of 1681, or to any practicable section of it. The difference in height to the plates, for one item, is three feet. Due inquiry would have shown, too, that the more trustworthy tradition does not identify the buildings; while the fact of the removal of the present structure from the old site will readily account for the mistaken notion of some concerning it” (p. 92).

Richard B. Trask, town archivist at the Danvers Archival Center, also says the 1734 addition moved to Sylvan Street “acquired an incorrect but much touted witchcraft connection during the 19th century” (Postcard History Series: Danvers, p. 20). That mistaken belief persisted long after the 1734 addition was torn down in the 1870s, and now has cropped up again, thanks to digital reproductions of the photo, postcards, and old books.

Recovering the Past

1681 Salem Village parsonage site

In time, the parsonage cellar hole filled in and by 1898 only “a rough stone on the slight elevation in the field off the street…helps to identify the place where the Parris house stood,” Edwin Monroe Bacon writes in Historic Pilgrimages in New England. After all, he explains, “Upham says there was a ‘general desire to obliterate the memory of the calamity’” (p. 178).

The place where the witchcraft outbreak started was almost lost to history until 1970, when Trask, then a history student, asked the property owners about excavating the land. Today, visitors can see the stone outline of the original parsonage, with a few interpretive markers adding context. Artifacts from the archaeological dig are located at the Danvers Archival Center.

Thanks to Pie Ball and others who replied on my Facebook page, for helping me resolve this photo identification—once again.

Originally published on my Genealogy Ink website 31 May 2015.

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Perley 1700 map Bridget Bishop lot shown in yellow
On Perley’s map, Bridget Bishop’s lot highlighted in yellow

As mentioned in a previous blog post, Which Bishop? The one who got away, Sarah (Wildes) Bishop and her husband Edward ran an unlicensed tavern in Salem Village near the Beverly line. Bridget Bishop, wife of Edward the sawyer, lived in Salem Town. Unfortunately, during the Salem witch trials, some afflicted accusers mistook one Goody Bishop for the other, heaping more accusations on one than she deserved. In 1981, David L. Greene solved the problem of mistaken identities in The American Genealogist (157:130), though people today continue to mix up the Bishop women’s lives.

Bridget Bishop lived in Salem Town

Sidney Perley’s “Salem in 1700” series mentioned past and post-1700 owners of property, including Thomas Oliver who married the widow Bridget (Playfer) Wasselbe in 1666:

“Benjamin Ropes House. Thomas Oliver owned this lot and the small house upon it as early as 1661. He died possessed of the estate in 1679. It was then appraised at 45 pounds. His widow Bridget Oliver continued to live there until 1681, and married Edward Bishop, being hanged as a witch in 1692. In the distribution of Mr. Oliver’s estate, in 1693, this house and lot were assigned to his grandson Job Hilliard of Boston, cordwainer, it being valued at that time at 38 pounds. Mr. Hilliard, for 65 pounds, conveyed the house and lot to Benjamin Ropes of Salem, cordwainer, January. 22, 1694/5” (Essex Antiquarian, 8:35-36).

After the death of her second husband, Bridget was granted administration on the Oliver estate on 24 June 1679. Instead of receiving the typical widow’s third, Bridget was ordered to pay 20 shillings each to two stepsons and her daughter. In return, the court gave “the estate to be for the use of the widow … and to have liberty to sell the 10-acre lot by advice of the selectmen of Salem, towards paying the debts and her present supply, and as need be, any other part of the estate” (Early Probate Records, 1635-1681, 3:319).

“Good fences make good neighbors”

Burdened with her dead husband’s debts, Bridget was in dire straits. Fortunately, in January 1679/1680, the selectmen allowed her to sell 10 acres of Salem land in the north field to John Blevin for 45 pounds (Essex deeds book, 5:274-276). In June 1681, she sold a narrow strip of land to schoolmaster Daniel Epes. It’s described as about two poles wide bounded by the street on the west (now Washington Street), with the length being the border between Epes’ land on the north and Oliver land on the south. In return, Bridget received 35 shillings in hand, plus a newly built fence 8 poles long and 5 feet high dividing the two properties—installed and paid for by Epes. This parcel, “lying on the back side of her house,” eventually became Church Street (Essex deeds book, 6:352-355).

Sometime after this date, Bridget married Edward Bishop. Contrary to Perley’s comment above, Bridget did not move out in 1681. The 1679 probate gave her rights to the Oliver estate until her death, not until remarriage. Edward, who had no property to call his own, moved into the Oliver house. According to Marilynne K. Roach, about 1685 Bridget and Edward Bishop built a second house on the Oliver lot (American Ancestors magazine, 14.4:45-47). As a sawyer (literally, someone who saws wood), it’s likely Edward used lumber from the old Oliver house to build the new structure.

Following the evidence

After the Bishop home was completed, John Bly Sr. was hired to tear down the cellar wall of the old Oliver house. In testimony given at Bridget’s witch trial in 1692, Bly claimed during demolition 7 years before, he found several poppets made with rags and hog bristles with headless pins stuck in them in the cellar wall.

John Louder also testified that 7 or 8 years prior, when he was living with John Gedney Sr. (d. 1688), owner of the Ship Tavern, the Gedneys were having troubles with Bridget Bishop’s fowl escaping her property. One night, Louder experienced sleep paralysis, and in his hallucinations, he thought it was Bridget sitting on his stomach and choking him. The next day, he and Mistress Susannah Gedney were in their orchard when Susannah confronted Bridget—in the next adjoining orchard—about her supposed nighttime travels.

Another time, Louder opened Gedney’s back door and walked toward the house end when he spied Bridget in her orchard going toward her house. In fear, he froze in place, unable to move, and saw the devilish shapeshifting creature he’d seen before fly over the apple trees. He claimed he was struck dumb for three days afterward. At her trial, Bridget denied knowing Louder but admitted having some differences with the Gedneys before, whose orchard adjoined hers (Records of the Salem Witch-Hunt, pp. 368-371).

Placing Bridget on the map

From probate records and trial testimony, we know Bridget’s second home was situated near the town house, with her garden “by the northwest corner of her house” and orchard bordering the former John Gedney Sr. property (shown on Perley’s 1700 map as estate of Deliverance Parkman). Today, a bank building at 71 Washington Street is the approximate site of the Bishop house while the old Lyceum Hall at 43 Church Street covers land previously occupied by Bridget’s orchard.

Bridget’s trial for witchcraft in 1692 was held in the town house only steps from her home. One block in the opposite direction and a few blocks north stood the old wooden 1684 jail (now corner of Federal and St. Peter streets), from which Bridget was carted to Proctor’s Ledge (7 Pope Street) and unjustly hanged for witchcraft on 10 June 1692.

A month after Bridget’s death, Job Hilliard was appointed administrator of his grandfather Thomas Oliver’s estate. In August 1693, the Oliver lot with orchard and garden was appraised for 20 pounds, and the house on it at 18 pounds (Essex Probate #20009).

FOR SALE: “A dwelling house, orchards, and garden containing about three-quarters of an acre of land butted and bounded as followeth: on the land of Mr. Daniel Epes northerly, on the land of John Preist easterly, on the land of Coles. Gedney & John Ropes southerly, & on the lane or Towne House street westerly, to have and to hold the said dwelling house & grounds together with all the trees, fences, ways, easements, waters, water courses, & all the privileges and appurtenances hereunto.”

After selling the property to Benjamin Ropes, Hilliard paid 9 pounds to widower Edward Bishop for building the house on the Oliver lot (Essex deeds, 10:112). According to Perley, Bridget’s house was torn down by 1768.

Special thanks to Emerson W. Baker, author of A Storm of Witchcraft. During lunch at History Camp Boston 2018, he drew a map for me showing Bridget’s orchard adjoining Gedney’s property, then wiped his mouth with the napkin before I could grab it.

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Dorcas Hoar home, no longer extant

Dorcas Hoar made her mark on history and in the court records. Known for telling fortunes and being the center of a crime family, you’d think she would be easy to convict of being a witch. And she was. Yet an 11th hour confession and the pleadings of several ministers asking for a 30-day reprieve prevented her imminent execution. The timing was perfect, for her at least. The next day, September 22, 1692, eight victims of the Salem witch trials were hanged at Proctor’s Ledge on the edge of town. They were the last to suffer that fate.

#WDYTYA

On Monday’s hit TV show Who Do You Think You Are, actress Jean Smart learns that she is a descendant of the notorious Dorcas Hoar. She’s ably guided through the story by Professor Emerson W. Baker of Salem State University, author of A Storm of Witchcraft, and Margo Burns, project manager, Records of the Salem Witch-Hunt.

Dig deeper

If you’re curious about Dorcas Hoar’s story, check out my blog post, Dorcas Hoar Really Was a Witch. You also may want to take a roadtrip to Beverly. You can peek into the bedroom where 19-year-old David Balch, on his deathbed, claimed Dorcas Hoar was one of the witches tormenting him. Rev. John Hale, who played a major part in her story, wrote his book, A Modest Inquiry into the Nature of Witchcraft, at his farm there. Both homes, owned by the Beverly Historical Society, are open to visitors.

Although Dorcas’ house no longer exists, it was located at what is now the Central Cemetery at 60 Hale Street. Rev. Hale and his wife Sarah, who was accused but not formally charged as a witch, are buried at the Ancient Burial Ground at 15 Abbott Street.

Are you related to Dorcas Hoar (and Jean Smart)? Check out my post for Using Restitution Lists from the 1692 Salem Witch Trials to Rebuild Dorcas Hoar’s Family. Plus, check out Beverly resources as well as other research materials online.

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Philip English mansion (Peabody Essex Museum)

There’s a certain charm in old travel books. I read them to learn about houses and objects that have disappeared or have since been hidden from view. Take, for example, The Book of Boston by Robert Shackleton (1860-1923).

One hundred years ago, the author ventured to “the famous old Seaport of Salem.” He found much of interest, from the mansions on Chestnut Street to the “staid old homes” built around Washington Square.

“Yet, if all these old houses, with their wealth of belongings, should be destroyed, the Salem of the past would still be represented if it should still retain the treasures of its Essex Institute. The building that holds these treasures is a three-story structure of generous portions, standing near the center of the city, on Essex Street. …The Essex Institute holds, in itself, Old Salem. Enter the door…and instantly you are generations away from the present, for there is nothing that does not tell of the past, and the past is shown with infinite picturesqueness and particularity. There is a great central portion, and there are little alcove rooms full-furnished as rooms of the olden time, all in ship-shape order….

“Here in Essex Institute is the furniture of our forefathers, tables and sideboards and chairs, and among them is a black, heavy three-slat chair with high-turned posts which was the favorite chair of that beloved Mary English, who, with her husband, the richest shipowner of Salem, had to flee from Massachusetts for very life under the shadow of witchcraft accusation; and this excellent old chair seems to stand as a reminder that neither wealth nor high character nor charm of manner nor social position can be relied upon to check a popular delusion.”

Provenance of Mary English’s Chair

Mary English chairIn the 1908 Annual Report of the Essex Institute, we learn that Miss Mary R. Crowninshield of Madrid, Spain, donated the “wooden-seated armchair that formerly belonged to Mary English.” The report also mentions its provenance and how it came to have a certain inscription—details critically important to museum pieces.

“This chair is unlike any other chair in the museum and is of greatest interest because of its association with an important character at the time of the witchcraft delusion in Salem. Miss Crowninshield is a great-granddaughter of Mrs. Hannah Crowninshield with whom Rev. William Bentley lived for many years and in his diary is recorded the following:

“June 3, 1793: Ordered the chair received from the family of English in memory of 1692 to be painted green, and on the back 1692, upper slat; middle slat, M. English; lower slat, Apr. 22, the time of her mittimus; on the front upper slat, “It shall be told of her.”

“This inscription placed upon the ancient chair over a century ago at the direction of Doctor Bentley yet remains and in our safe and careful custody will exist for generations, a memorial to a noble woman who suffered unjustly during a time of great mental delusion.”

The donation was so notable that scores of newspapers across the country picked up the story. For instance, the Boston Daily Globe (10 Jan. 1909) wrote of the “Relic of Witchcraft Days” and described Mary English’s arrest, imprisonment, and escape. The wording is the same from The Republic (Columbus, Ohio) and the Wichita Searchlight (Kansas) to the Times Herald (Olean, New York), though some articles include more or less detail, depending how many inches of copy they had to place. The last line is particularly poignant:

“The chair in the Institute is one of the few memorials to them, or to witchcraft victims, in Salem.”

Let’s hope, as the Peabody Essex Museum expands, it once again will display the witch-hunt documents and related objects, including Mary English’s chair, to “invite visitors to discover the inextricable connections” between “the past and the present” (as stated on PEM’s website).

By Posted on Posted in History, Q&A Tagged with , , , ,
ergot fungus on rye

A Q&A with Margo Burns, associate editor and project manager of Records of the Salem Witch-Hunt and expert featured on the Who Do You Think You Are? TV series.

WitchesMassBay: What is the premise behind the idea that ergot caused the Salem witch hunts?

Margo Burns: The initial proposition of this idea came from an observation that the symptoms of the accusing girls in Salem Village appeared to resemble the physical and hallucinogenic symptoms of convulsive ergotism. Ergot is a toxic fungus that can grow on rye grain used to make bread in the 17th century, and it has a chemical similarity to LSD, a known hallucinogen. The connection does not explain why the adults in the community—parents, clergy, judges—interpreted such reported symptoms as being caused by bewitchment.

WitchesMassBay: Some notable people, including accused witch John Proctor, believed the core group of afflicted accusers were lying and pretending their illnesses. In 1692, would people have had an understanding that ergot (or contaminated food) caused hallucinations and physical reactions?

Margo Burns: Doctors and “chirurgeons” were often called for help when someone fell ill mysteriously, and ministers were often asked to come pray for the patients to recover with the help of God. A popular witch-finding guide of the period by Richard Bernard gives a list of examples of how doctors were able to diagnose what may have appeared to be bewitchment instead of known physical ailments, including one case that was as simple as the patient having worms, and who got better after “voiding” them. Blood-letting, laxatives, emetics, and diuretics were common treatments as a result of their understanding of how the four “humours” worked in the body. Some of their cures were actually right on the money. They knew about the dangers of spoiled food and many other things, which, frankly, were more common then than now.

WitchesMassBay: Today, the debate on ergot continues, with scientists and witch-hunt historians on both sides. Why is this such a popular theory?

Margo Burns: It is not technically a theory, but a hypothesis, a guess. It would be a theory if there were solid evidence to support it, but it is circumstantial at best. Both historians and medical professionals have found that the evidence offered contains cherry-picked data and ignores known exculpatory evidence. There doesn’t seem to be a debate about that, even though it is often portrayed as such in the popular media, because who doesn’t like experts disagreeing? Except that they don’t. If there’s debate, it is more like debating whether the moon landing was real or not: There will always be someone who believes it was faked, no matter what is presented to them as evidence.  Also, many people who hold this explanation as valid often do so because it positions the people of the 17th century as ignorant and superstitious while we in the 21st century are superior in our scientific understanding. Single-bullet solutions for complicated events are also reassuring, especially if it feels like a secret has been revealed, and we’re in on it.

Ergot as the toxic culprit behind the accusers’ symptoms was not necessarily what engaged people about this idea in the mid-1970s when first posited: It was that ergot was chemically and symptomatically similar to LSD.

WitchesMassBay: Any other theories you would like to debunk?

Margo Burns: It is not really about debunking as it is understanding that every critical approach to historical material is actually a filter through which the facts are perceived—some coming into focus and others blurring into the background, depending on the person’s interests and world-view, often with some creative embellishment to complete a popular trope of the time period.

Charles Wentworth Upham, an antiquarian from Salem writing during the mid-18th century, portrayed Tituba, known to be a slave from Barbados, as a Civil War-era stereotype of a voodoo-practicing Black African Mammy from the South, even though Tituba was consistently described in the primary sources as being an Indian. From this, he fabricated the story that the accusing girls had been learning magic from her and went dancing in the woods—none of which is in any of the primary sources—to explain the girls’ behavior. Because this story is vivid and shocking, it comes across as plausible and is generally accepted as true, even now and even though it is not supported by any primary sources.

Arthur Miller repeated the story about the girls dancing in the woods in his play, The Crucible, in the 1950s. Miller was swept up personally in Senator McCarthy’s anti-Communist activities, and the story of public trials based on false accusations condemning innocent people in Salem resonated for him. The Crucible is an extremely popular play, and his craftsmanship so superb that audiences start believing that the story and characters are based more closely on the real events and people than they are. His use of names of real people for his characters further blurs the line. The play is so compelling, in fact, that over the years in discussing the origins of his play, Miller himself began to believe that some of the fictive things he wrote were in the primary sources he had read, even though he hadn’t.

Margo Burns was project manager for Records of the Salem Witch-Hunt, the most complete compendium of the trial documents.

Margo recorded two lectures on ergot—and both of them are different:

Ergot – What a long strange trip it has been -The Moldy Bread Myth by Margo Burns (Witch House, 2018)

The Salem Witchcraft Trials and Ergot, the “Moldy Bread” Hypothesis by Margo Burns (History Camp 2018)

By Posted on Posted in Book, History Tagged with , ,

Only a handful of books published on the Salem witch hunts have become standard textbooks in classrooms and popular among the reading public. These influential books, published between 1974 and 2002, are “exemplary histories that have greatly augmented the world’s knowledge of witch hunting in 17th-century America,” according to Tony Fels, associate professor of history at the University of San Francisco. However, in looking for underlying causes of the witch hunts, Fels claims these writers lost sight of the real victims—the accused witches.

Switching Sides: How a Generation of Historians Lost Sympathy for the Victims of the Salem Witch Hunt is not a history book, Fels explains. Its purpose is to describe author biases and how they chose data to emphasize their storylines, while justifying myriad causes of the accusers.

Literally the study of historical writing, “historiography” emphasizes not the events of the past and their causes—the standard subject matter of the discipline of history—but rather how historians construct their narratives and explanations of these events. —Tony Fels

As counterpoint, Fels begins with Marion L. Starkey’s The Devil in Massachusetts: A Modern Enquiry into the Salem Witch Trials (1949). In spite of its Freudian analysis and out-of-fashion sexism, Starkey highlights the heroism of the men and women who were martyred for their religious beliefs or for standing up for truth. (She tells a good story, but for me, Starkey relies too much on Charles W. Upham’s 1867 History of Salem Witchcraft with its caricatures and imaginations disguised as truth.)

Fels interweaves many other witch-hunt books into his narrative, but centers on the themes of socioeconomic imbalances, village factionalism, social solidarity, deviant behavior, gender oppression, and racial politics as found in these four scholarly works:

As students of the 1960s and 1970s, Fels claims these “New Left” authors are attracted to the marginality and psychological factors of the afflicted accusers, who they see as the rebels of 1692. The accusers’ motives stem from their own victimization, or from the dead cows and sickly children the accused witches leave behind.

Switching Sides emphasizes that accused witches were innocent targets of injustice in an out-of-balance world. If we read all four books together, we understand multifaceted reasons behind the witch hunts—but skirt around what Fels believes are the underlying causes, of Puritanism and communal scapegoating. By reviewing these classic texts, Fels also incorporates newer research to update the Salem story.

Well worth reading, especially if you’re familiar with the books mentioned.

Switching Sides: How a Generation of Historians Lost Sympathy for the Victims of the Salem Witch Hunt by Tony Fels (2018)

For more about Tony Fels, go to https://www.tonyfels.com/.

By Posted on Posted in Education, History, Q&A, Tours & Sightseeing Tagged with
Tom in front of Judge John Hathorne’s grave

Thomas O’Brien Vallor has been sharing his knowledge of the 1692 witch hunts with countless tourists for the last 15 years. Unlike ghost tours and campy attractions, Tom tells the Salem story in a way that is respectful, inclusive, and educational. And his perspective is just a little different from your average tour guide.

WitchesMassBay: With so many tours in Salem, what makes your tour different?

Thomas O’Brien Vallor: My tour is unique in that I talk about witch-hunt history from a practicing witch‘s perspective and witchcraft from a historian’s perspective. Magic is a cultural phenomenon that exists in all societies and its influence on the Salem witch trials is very interesting.

WitchesMassBay: How would you define a modern-day witch compared to what people were accused of in 1692?

Thomas O’Brien Vallor: To put it simply, a witch today is someone who practices magic; the people of 1692 were not practicing magic. Of course, there‘s a bit more nuance to it than that.

WitchesMassBay: Tourists flock to Salem looking for telltale signs of the witch hunts, but very little physically remains that has ties to 1692. Do you have any suggestions of where to go or what to do next (after taking your tour, of course!)?

Thomas O’Brien Vallor: Because I feel such a strong connection to history, I think the important sites in Salem still hold the most power even if today they’ve been replaced by office buildings or intersections. I think that if I were a tourist visiting Salem, I really would just like to walk around the city and soak everything in.

WitchesMassBay: What’s something that tourists repeatedly ask you?

Thomas O’Brien Vallor: One common question we get is: “Where were the witches burned?” They weren’t witches and they weren’t burned. It’s frustrating that people still believe that.

WitchesMassBay: Even though people on your tour sign up for a witch walk, do some tourists expect something else?

Thomas O’Brien Vallor: What‘s annoying is when people think witchcraft is all hocus pocus and magic tricks and then expect me to perform for them. If I‘m teaching someone about witchcraft, sometimes all they want to do is wind me up like a toy and watch me do tricks.

WitchesMassBay: What’s your experience been like as a tour guide?

Thomas O’Brien Vallor: I can‘t even begin to get into all the ways that being a part of the magic of Salem has changed my life for the better. Just being able to help educate people has given me a fulfilling and happy life at such a young age, especially when I see so many people around me searching for meaning in their lives.

Updated 29 May 2019 after Tom started his own Satanic Salem Walking Tours, which regularly receive great reviews at TripAdvisor.

By Posted on Posted in Education, Exhibit, History Tagged with , , , , , , ,

1684 John Ward house (PEM)

For the 300th anniversary of the Salem witch trials, the Peabody Essex Museum created the Days of Judgement: Salem in 1692 exhibit and video. On display were original trial documents along with artifacts belonging to some people involved in the trials. Items included Judge Jonathan Corwin’s chest, Mary (Hollingsworth) English’s embroidered sampler, old George Jacobs’ canes, and John Proctor’s sundial.

Besides the exhibit, the Peabody Essex offered The Everyday & the Extraordinary: Salem in 1692 tours to school groups. Originally located across the street from the “old witch gaol,” the 1684 John Ward house helped students imagine what 17th-century life was like, from its simple furnishings to outmoded kitchen implements. The old home set the stage for talking about the social, economic, religious, and political conditions that led to the witch hunt.

Next, the students congregated in the one-room meetinghouse, which was similar to the 17th-century courthouse with bench seating, where they learned about court procedures. Afterward, the students reenacted the parts of accuser and accused using testimonies from the witch trials.

Recommended for middle and high school students, the program also provided teachers with a 50-page curriculum packet and reading list. Developed and tested by educators, the lesson plans introduced the basic story of the witch hunt and covered four themes: jurisprudence/law; folk belief and magic; group dynamics and prejudice; and material culture.

What the Witch Hunts Teach Us

Between the museum visits and the classroom lessons, students discovered why studying the Salem witch hunt is still relevant today. Some of the ideas include:

  • The importance of primary sources and how secondary accounts and later interpretations can change how we view history
  • The difference between bias and objectivity, and how loaded words can influence the audience
  • How group dynamics and mob mentality can influence outcomes
  • How to weigh evidence based upon what you know, and what’s admissible evidence within the historical context
  • How laws, scientific knowledge, and belief systems change over time
  • How traditions and practices are different among groups of people and through time
  • How ethnocentric groups discriminate, stereotype, and scapegoat others; and how we can combat intolerance and prejudice by recognizing it
  • How the roles of women have changed over 300 years; and why gender, ethnicity, religious beliefs, race, culture, etc., influence us today
  • How to have courage and believe in yourself, like the innocent victims who would not falsely confess to witchcraft and were hanged

In 1998, the Peabody Essex Museum opened The Real Witchcraft Papers “permanent exhibit” at the Phillips Library across the street from the main museum. Before 2011, when the Phillips Library collection was moved to a “temporary” collection center during renovations to the building, the so-called permanent exhibit was dismantled and taken off display.

Today, the Peabody Essex no longer maintains a permanent witch-hunt exhibit nor offers witch-hunt-themed school programs, despite the huge value of using these artifacts and original documents as teaching tools. Over the last 10+ years, the Peabody Essex Museum changed its mission by focusing on art and culture, while relegating “history” to the tourist attractions. Unfortunately, those businesses don’t have the historical settings, artifacts, original documents, educational resources, and prestige to put together an influential exhibit and educational program like PEM did with The Everyday & the Extraordinary: Salem in 1692.

Note: Since this post was written, PEM’s Phillips Library moved to Rowley, Massachusetts. The Peabody Essex Museum also presented two Salem witch trials exhibits, with plans for more. Check the PEM site for upcoming events and exhibits.

To see photos of some of PEM’s Salem witch trials artifacts, check out The Salem Witchcraft Trials, a booklet by Katherine Richardson (1983).