Salem Witchcraft, Volumes I and II / With an Account of Salem Village and a History of Opinions on Witchcraft and Kindred Subjects

by Charles Wentworth Upham

Edward Bishop had resided, for some seven years previous to the witchcraft delusion, within the limits of Salem, near the Beverly line. His wife Bridget was a singular character, not easily described. She kept a house of refreshment for travellers, and a shovel-board for the entertainment of her guests, and generally seems to have countenanced amusements and gayeties to an extent that exposed her to some scandal. She is described as wearing "a black cap and a black hat, and a red paragon bodice," bordered and looped with different colors. This would appear to have been rather a showy costume for the times. Her freedom from the austerity of Puritan manners, and disregard of conventional decorum in her conversation and conduct, brought her into disrepute; and the tongue of gossip was generally loosened against her. She was charged with witchcraft, and actually brought to trial on the charge, in 1680, but was acquitted; the popular mind not being quite ripe for such proceedings as took place twelve years afterwards. She still continued to brave public sentiment, lived on in the same free and easy style, paying no regard to the scowls of the sanctimonious or the foolish tittle-tattle of the superstitious. She kept her house of entertainment, shovel-board, and other appurtenances. Sometimes, however, she resented the calumnies circulated about her being a witch, in a manner that made it to be felt that it was best to let her alone. A man called one day at the house of Samuel Shattuck, where there was a sick child. He was a stranger to the inmates of the family, and evidently had come to the place to make trouble for Bridget Bishop. He pretended great pity for the child, and said, among other things, in an oracular way, "We are all born, some to one thing, and some to another." The mother asked him what he thought her poor, suffering child was born to. He replied, "He is born to be bewitched, and is bewitched: you have a neighbor, that lives not far off, who is a witch." The good woman does not appear to have entertained any suspicion of the kind; but the man insisted on the truth of what he had affirmed. He succeeded in exciting her feelings on the subject, and, by vague insinuations and general descriptions of the witch, led her mind to fix upon Bridget Bishop. He said he should go and see her, and that he could bring her out as the afflicter of her child. She consented to let another of her boys go with him, and show the way. They proceeded to the house, and knocked at the door. Bridget opened it, and asked what he would have: he said a pot of cider. There was something in the manner of the man which satisfied her that he had come with mischievous intent. She ordered him off, seized a spade that happened to be near, drove him out of her porch, and chased him from her premises. When he and the boy got back, they bore marks of the bad luck of the adventure. Such things had perhaps happened before, and it was found that whoever provoked her resentment was very likely to come off second best from the encounter; yet Bridget was a member of Mr. Hale's Church in Beverly, and retained her standing in full fellowship there. It must have been thought, by the pastor and members of that church, that no charge seriously affecting her moral or Christian character was justly imputable to her.

The traveller of to-day, in passing over Crane-river Bridge, approaching the present village of "The Plains," near the eastern end of the Townsend Bishop or Nurse farm, will notice a roadway by the side of the bridge descending through the brook and going up to rejoin the main road on the other side. Such turnouts are frequent by the side of bridges over small streams. They are refreshing and useful, cooling the feet and cleansing the fetlocks of horses, and washing the wheels of carriages. One afternoon, Edward Bishop, with his wife behind him on a pillion, was riding home from Salem. Two women, mounted in the same way, joined them; and they chatted together pleasantly as their horses ambled along. When they came to the bridge, Bishop, probably merely for the fun of the thing, dashed down into the brook, instead of going over the bridge, to the great consternation and against the vehement remonstrances of his wife, who berated him soundly for his reckless disregard of her safety. They got through without accident; and the four jogged on together until the Bishops turned up to their house, and the other two kept on to their home in Beverly. But all the way from the bridge, until they parted company, Bishop was finding great fault with his wife, saying that he should not have been sorry if any mishap had occurred. She did not say much after her first fright and resentment were over; but he kept on talking very freely about her, and using some pretty hard language. This affair, which perhaps is not without a parallel in the occasional experiences of married life, was, with other things of an equally trivial and irrelevant character, brought to bear fatally against her at her trial on the charge of witchcraft, between seven and eight years afterward.

I can find no evidence against the moral character of this woman. One person, at least, who participated largely in getting up accusations against her, acknowledged, in a death-bed repentance, the wrong she had done. Mr. Hale, the minister of the Beverly congregation, states, in a deposition, that a certain woman, "being in full communion in our church, came to me to desire that Goodwife Bishop, her neighbor, wife of Edward Bishop, Jr., might not be permitted to receive the Lord's Supper in our church till she had given her satisfaction for some offences that were against her; namely, because the said Bishop did entertain people in her house at unseasonable hours in the night, to keep drinking and playing at shovel-board, whereby discord did arise in other families, and young people were in danger to be corrupted; that she knew these things, and had once gone into the house, and, finding some at shovel-board, had taken the pieces they played with and thrown them into the fire, and had reproved the said Bishop for promoting such disorders, but received no satisfaction from her about it." According to Mr. Hale's statement, the night after this complaint was brought to him, the woman was found to be distracted. "She continuing some time distracted, we sought the Lord by fasting and prayer." After a while, the woman recovered her senses, and, as Mr. Hale says he understood, expressed a suspicion "that she had been bewitched by Bishop's wife." He declares that he did not, at the time, countenance the idea, "hoping better of Goody Bishop." He says further, that he "inquired of Margaret King, who kept at or near the house," what she had observed concerning the woman who had been distracted. "She told me that she was much given to reading and searching the prophecies of Scripture." At length the woman appeared to have entirely recovered, went to Goody Bishop, gave satisfaction for what she had said and done against her, and they became friends again. Mr. Hale goes on to say, "I was oft praying with and counselling of her before her death." She earnestly desired that "Edward Bishop might be sent for, that she might make friends with him. I asked her if she had wronged Edward Bishop. She said, not that she knew of, unless it were in taking his shovel-board pieces, when people were at play with them, and throwing them into the fire; and, if she did evil in it, she was very sorry for it, and desired he would be friends with her, or forgive her. This was the very day before she died." That night her distemper returned, and, in a paroxysm of insanity, she destroyed herself.

It is evident, from his own account, that Mr. Hale did not then fall in with, or countenance at all, any unfavorable impressions against Bridget Bishop; and that the poor diseased woman, when entirely free from her malady, repented bitterly of what she had done and said of Goodman Bishop and his wife, and heartily desired their forgiveness. So far as the facts stated by Mr. Hale of his own knowledge go, they prove that Bridget Bishop was the victim of gross misrepresentation. Five years afterwards, as we shall see, Mr. Hale gave a very different version of the affair, and one which it is extremely difficult to reconcile with his own former deliberate convictions at the time when the circumstances occurred.

As it is my object to bring before you every thing that may help to explain the particular occurrences embraced in the account I am to give of the witchcraft prosecutions, two other persons must be mentioned before concluding this branch of my subject,—George Jacobs, Sr., and his son George Jacobs, Jr. They each had given offence to some persons, and suffered that sort of notoriety which led to the selection of victims, although both were persons of respectability. The father owned and had lived for about a half-century on a farm in North Fields, on the banks of Endicott River, a little to the eastward of the bridge at the iron-foundery. He was a person of good estate and an estimable man; but it was his misfortune to have an impulsive nature and quick passions. In June, 1677, he was prosecuted and fined for striking a man who had incensed him. George Jacobs, Jr., his only son, at a court held Nov. 7, 1674, was prosecuted, "found blamable, and ordered to pay costs of court." His offence and defence are embraced in his deposition on the occasion.

"George Jacobs's Answer to Nathaniel Putnam's Complaint.—That I did follow some horses in our enclosure on the Royal Side, where they were trespassing upon us; that the end of my following them was to take them; but, rather than they would be taken, they took the water, and I did follow them no further; but straightway they turned ashore, and I did run to take them as they came out of the water, but could not: and I can truly take my oath that since that time I did never follow any horses or mares; and I hope my own oath will clear me."

The result of his attempt to drive off the horses was, that several valuable animals were drowned. Their owner, Nathaniel Putnam, brought an action; but he could not recover damages. The horses were evidently trespassing, and the Court did not seem to regard Jacobs's conduct as a heinous matter. It is not to be supposed, that Nathaniel Putnam harbored sentiments of revenge or resentment for eighteen years, or had any hand in prosecuting Jacobs in 1692. There is every indication that he did not sympathize in the violent passions which raged on that occasion, although he was much under the power of the delusion. But the affair of drowning the horses was probably for a long time a topic of gossip, and may have given to the author of the catastrophe a notoriety which nearly cost him his life.

The account that has been given of the elements of the population of the Salem Farms or Village, shows that, while there were the usual varieties entering into the composition of all communities, it is wholly inadmissible to suppose that the witchcraft delusion took place there because it was the scene of greater ignorance or stupidity or barbarism than prevailed elsewhere. This will be made more apparent still by some general views of the state of society and manners. The people of a remote age are in general only regarded as they are seen through prominent occurrences and public movements. These constitute the ordinary materials of history. Dynasties, reigns of kings, armies, legislative proceedings, large ecclesiastical synods, dogmatic creeds, and the like, are, as a general thing, about all we know of the past. Portraits of individuals appear here and there; but, separated from the ordinary life of the times, they cannot be fairly or fully appreciated. The public life of the past is but the outline, or, more strictly speaking, the mere skeleton, of humanity. To fill up the outline, to clothe the skeleton with elastic nerves and warm flesh, and quicken it with a vital circulation, we must get at the domestic, social, familiar, and ordinary experience of individuals and private persons; we must obtain a view of the popular customs and the daily routine of life. In this way only can history fulfil its office in making the past present.

The people of the early colonial settlements had a private and interior life, as much as we have now, and the people of all ages and countries have had. It is common to regard them in no other light than as a severe, sombre, and pleasure-abhorring generation. It was not so with them altogether. They had the same nature that we have. It was not all gloom and severity. They had their recreations, amusements, gayeties, and frolics. Youth was as buoyant with hope and gladness, love as warm and tender, mirth as natural to innocence, wit as sprightly, then as now. There was as much poetry and romance: the merry laugh enlivened the newly opened fields, and rang through the bordering woods as loud, jocund, and unrestrained as in these older and more crowded settlements. It is true that their theology was austere, and their polity, in Church and State, stern; but, in their modes of life, there were some features which gave peculiar opportunity to exercise and gratify a love of social excitement of a pleasurable kind. Let me mention some of the customs having a tendency in this direction, that prevailed in the early settlements of New England.

Whenever a young man had made his clearing in the forest, got out the frame of his house, and selected a helpmeet to dwell with him in it, there was "a raising." On an appointed day, the neighbors far and near assembled; all together put their shoulders to the work; and, before the shadows of night enveloped the scene, the house was up, and covered from sill to ridgepole. The same was done if the house of a neighbor had been destroyed by fire. In this case, often the timbers, joists, and boards were contributed as well as the labor. These were made the occasions of general merriment, in which all ages and both sexes participated. Then there were the "huskings." After the barns were filled with hay and grain, and the corn was ripe, at "harvest home," gatherings would be seen on the bright autumnal afternoons of successive days, in the neighborhood of the different farmhouses. The sheaves would be taken from the shocks and brought up from the fields, the golden leaves and milky tassels stripped from the full ear, and the crib filled to the brim. These were scenes of unalloyed enjoyment and unrestrained gayety.