Salem: The Witch City
Earlier this fall, I spent some time in New England. My tour began in Salem, Massachusetts, an absolutely charming place: historical, quaint, rational. Yet simmering not far beneath the surface was something a little more curious.
The Hawthorne Hotel
When we arrived it was late, dark, and raining, the air full of the sea. We checked into our room at the Hawthorne Hotel, named after Salem born author, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and to my pleasant surprise, I discovered the hotel is considered one of the most haunted hotels in America, in particular room 612.
We stayed in room 616.
Bridget Bishop’s Apple Orchard
Bridget Bishop, one of the first to be executed during the witch trials, owned an apple orchard where the hotel is now located. And guests often report scents of apples, even when apples are not on the menu.
A Little Background
The English Puritans who colonized the area differed from the Indigenous people already residing there in many ways; however, they had at least one thing in common: Both groups believed in magic and the actuality of the spirit world.
The Indigenous thought magic could be used to help the community, whereas the Puritans viewed magic with suspicion. The Algonquins of New England believed in many gods, while the Puritans believed in only one God, holding all spiritual power, and considered anyone who used magic as going against God’s will.
Puritan leaders trusted they were building God’s kingdom on earth. The towns they established along the north shore were close-knit, with each person depending upon his or her neighbors for survival. Open conflict was prohibited, and social harmony was to be maintained at all costs.
But beneath the strictly enforced social order was present the customary interpersonal conflicts found in human nature. Every misfortune, no matter how small, was viewed with wariness.
Why did one person’s cow die and not his neighbor’s? Why did a certain family’s children become ill while a different family’s remained healthy?
Why did perfectly good milk not churn into suitable butter?
And that benevolent woman living next door, who smiles so sweetly in the streets and attends Sunday Services, well now, she just may be a malevolent witch.
Witches
Puritans believed witches were responsible for a wide range of problems: crops failing, sinking ships, people and livestock becoming ill, the disruption of important household chores.
Puritans thought witches could transform themselves into animals and would spy on their neighbors and torment the bodies of both humans and animals, who in turn behaved strangely, often contorting in pain.
They believed a witch could project their spirit out of their body and cause harm. And unlike many other cultures who believe in magic, the Puritans thought witches did this only maliciously.
How Did One Become a Witch
Puritan minsters claimed anyone could become a witch, as long as they signed their soul away to the devil. During the witch trials, the judges spent considerable effort pressuring the accused to admit they had indeed entered into a compact with Satan.
However, the average English colonist was more likely to think witches were simply a part of life. Just as some people were tall or short, some people were naturally witches.
The Morality of Magic
To Puritan theologians, any form of magic was considered a disgrace to God. And anyone who used magic, even to work good, was inadvertently working for the devil.
On the other hand, common people felt magic was morally neutral and could be used for positive purposes. For example, ship captains and merchants often consulted with astrologers to determine the best timing for a sea voyage.
Some also used magic for protection against witchcraft. Why not fight fire with fire? An example of this was the hanging of bay leaves from windows to keep witches from entering.
But even this defensive magic was frowned upon by Puritan ministers.
Something Brewing
By early 1690, the Massachusetts Bay Colony was in chaos. The new king in England had revoked the colony’s original charter. And the French soldiers in Canada, with their Native allies, were attacking the northernmost frontier in New Hampshire and Maine.
Villages were burned and pillaged; English settlers were killed or held captive.
As a result, hordes of refugees fled to coastal Massachusetts seeking safety, arriving in towns such as Salem, where they told tales of violence and warfare, the Puritan ministers concluding the political chaos was the work of Satan.
By 1692, this fear and confusion culminated into the Salem witch hunts. The triggering event was a group of young girls: Reverend Samuel Parris’ nine-year-old daughter, Betty, and her cousin, Abigail Williams, who were contorting their bodies into bizarre positions, and doing odd things, such as making animalistic sounds and trying to climb up chimneys.
Spectral Evidence
Witchcraft created little hard evidence. Therefore, the judges relied on spectral evidence to convict witches. For example, during the trials, an accuser would claim that a witch, visible only to them, was in the room tormenting them.
And the court accepted it.
How to Defend
An accused witch the Reverend George Burroughs, a former minister in Salem Village but living in Maine at the time, was accused as being the head of the witches of which were attacking Salem. The girls claimed they saw him giving another victim, Martha Carrier, unholy sacraments, and that his dead wives had appeared saying he had murdered them.
Burroughs tried to defend himself by reciting the Lord’s Prayer as he stood awaiting his death on Gallows Hill, which was something no witch could do. So the girls claimed they saw the devil beside him, whispering the words into his ear.
And the people believed it.
Damage Done
The chaos ended when one of the girls, bold with power, named the wife of Governor Phipps as a witch. Phipps promptly shut down the Court of Oyer and Terminer, and spectral evidence was banned for any future witchcraft conviction.
The reputations of the ministers and magistrates who led the trials were damaged, including Nathaniel Hawthorne’s great-grandfather, John Hathorne, his enthusiasm during the proceedings earning him the nick-name “the hanging judge.”
Haunted by the Past
Hawthorne was haunted by the past. His antagonist in The House of the Seven Gables Colonel Pyncheon was most likely based off his great-grandfather. (For more about this classic gothic novel, click here.)
It is even said that Hawthorne changed the spelling of his last name, adding a W, in an effort to distance himself from his Puritan ancestor, who he felt had tarnished the family’s reputation.
More Weight
One reason the court was able to obtain confessions from accused witches was the use of torture. Although torture was illegal at the time, the judges felt it was justified due to the dire nature of the circumstances.
An elderly man, Giles Corey, was accused of witchcraft. Instead of confessing to save his life as most did, or pleading innocence as his wife had (but was still executed) he simply stopped talking, which made the magistrates angry.
In a field across from Salem jail, the sheriff and his men piled stones on his chest. Yet Corey remained quiet, his only words “more weight” before he died.
A Curse
Legend claims Corey still haunts the field in which he died, today Howard Street cemetery. It is said Corey’s ghost appears before a disaster strikes, the most notable before the 1914 fire of which destroyed a large portion of Salem.
Apparently, Corey’s spirit haunts those holding office in the sheriff’s department in Salem, cursing them with heart and blood ailments. A young George Corwin suffered a painful heart attack at a young age, as did many other Salem lawmen.
It is said the curse was broken only when the sheriff’s office was relocated to the town of Middleton.
Not All Witches Are Bad
Even though most witches are feared for their malicious powers, south of Salem, in Marblehead, an Edward Dimond was respected for his ability to help people.
Wizard Dimond
A sailor by trade, Edward was called “Wizard Dimond” or “Old Dimond” by his neighbors and well-known for his magical abilities.
He claimed magical powers had run in his family for many generations, and that he descended from famous astrologers. His granddaughter, Moll Pitcher of Lynn, also possessed magical powers.
On stormy nights, Old Dimond would make his way to a graveyard on a hill overlooking the sea. As he walked about the gravestones, he spoke orders and sent advice to the ships out at sea, caught up in the rough weather.
Sailors at the helm claimed they heard his voice in their ears, providing them with directions on how to navigate their ships safely through the treacherous waters.
For Justice
Wizard Dimond also used his magic to punish evildoers. As the story goes, one cold day a poor widow came to his house in distress. A neighbor had stolen her firewood and refused to return it. The constable didn’t believe her, and so she turned to Old Dimond for assistance.
He agreed to use his powers to help her, and that night the thief awoke suddenly, finding himself controlled by a strange compulsion. From the pile of stolen wood, he took the heaviest log and laid it across his back. He continued this process, walking back and forth from his house to the widow’s until dawn, until he had returned all her wood. When he collapsed on the ground with exhaustion in the morning, he cried for forgiveness. (For a short video about Wizard Diomond, click here.)
At the end of the day our tour of Salem came to an end. We left Massachusetts’s north shore, and all its lore, and headed north.
Stay tuned for future blog posts about more of my New England visit.
And for those of you wondering, things are coming together very nicely with my book.
Sources:
Images of America: Sorcery in Salem by John Hardy Wright
Images of America: The House of the Seven Gables by Ryan Conary, David Moffat, and Everett Philbrook
The house that inspired Hawthorne’s novel of the same name is known today as The House of the Seven Gables and is situated on the edge of Salem Harbor. It is the oldest surviving 17th century wooden mansion in New England and was built in 1668 for Captain John Turner I, a wealthy sailor and merchant.
Two generations of Turners occupied the house before it was sold to Captain Samuel Ingersoll, whose daughter, Susannah, introduced the house to her cousin, Nathaniel, who went on to write his 19th-century gothic tale, immortalizing the manse.
Pictured above is also the house’s beautiful seaside gardens, with a trellis and raised flower beds, the breathtaking view of the harbor just out of sight.
The House of the Seven Gables exists in that hazy area between history and myth. On one hand, the museum’s rooms are dedicated to scenes from the novel, such as Hepzibah’s cent shop, pictured above.
On the other hand, many of the rooms showcase as if a museum, with architecture and antiques from the past, such as the small, dark kitchen, where my 6’2” and 6’4” husband’s and son’s heads, respectively, nearly touched the ceiling. With an enormous fireplace, the room depicted the 17th century.
The beams, bricks, and insulation in the attic are all originals, three-hundred and fifty years old, the post-medieval wooden frame, joined with trunnels,visible.
Entering the museum gift shop after completing our tour of The House of the Seven Gables, I saw it.
Shades of purple. A silhouetted tree. A white crescent moon.
It was the only one. It was my colors.
The purple pillow drew me forward, and I followed, as if spellbound. As I reached for it, I noticed the blue ink on the tag slashing the price in half.
It was on clearance. Why had no one picked it up? Had it been waiting for me?
At the purchase counter the clerk said, “finally,” with visible relief. “We’ve been trying to sell this forever. Really, I’m surprised no one has picked it up yet. I guess it was just waiting for you.”
I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. “I guess so.”
The pillow now lives in my writing studio. (For more about this space, click here.)