“It began, over a week of inky black nights, with prickling sensations. Abigail Williams, the reverend’s blond, eleven-year-old niece, appears to have been afflicted first. Soon enough nine-year-old Betty Parris exhibited the same symptoms The cousins complained of bites and pinches by “invisible agents.” They barked and yelped. They fell dumb. Their bodies shuddered and spun. They went limp or spasmodically rigid. Neither girl ran a fever; neither suffered from epilepsy. The paralyzed postures alternated with frantic, indecipherable gestures. The girls launched into “foolish, ridiculous speeches, which neither they themselves nor any others could make sense of.” They crept into holes or under chairs…Neither appeared to have time for prayer, though until January, both had been perfectly well behaved and well mannered. At night they slept like babies.”
- Stacy Schiff, The Witches: Salem, 1692
There are few events in American history that loom so large in relative proportion to size and impact than the Salem Witch Trials of 1692-93. All told, in less than a year, some 185 people in Salem were accused of witchcraft; there were 59 trials; of those trials there were 31 convictions; and of those convictions, nineteen people were hanged. (Giles Corey was pressed to death. There were no burnings).
In the grim mathematics of history, twenty deaths over the course of several months is not exceptional. Indeed, King Philip’s War had only recently ended by the time the Witch Trials began. That frontier conflict between New England colonists and Wampanoag Indians killed roughly one in ten military-age participants. Yet King Philip’s War is something you might hear about at bar trivia on Thursday night (“What is the bloodiest war, in proportion of population, in American history?”), while the Salem Witch Trials endure in popular culture.
Why?
One answer is that we might feel a certain smugness towards those morally upright, psychosexually tortured, Indian-shy Puritans who allowed themselves to be led by the nose by a gaggle of adolescent girls shrieking about neighbors flying on broomsticks. And yet, over 300 years later, we still cling to ridiculous beliefs ourselves, very often to our own detriment.
More likely, the lasting fascination with the Salem executions is the way it presents such a wonderfully blank canvas upon which to act out our own morality plays. We know some things about the trials, since the Puritans were inveterate scribblers. But there are huge gaps in the story. The chief scribe, Cotton Mather, wasn’t even an eyewitness. All the trials were transcribed, but those transcriptions were lost (likely when the American Revolution erupted in Boston). Some of the major participants in the story flit only briefly across the stage, and then are lost to the shadows of time. This is fertile ground to surmise, invent, and interpret, as Arthur Miller did to such great effect.
Stacy Schiff has fun with this reality The Witches, her highly entertaining look at the intersection of religion, group hysteria, and fuzzy logic. This is an engaging book, with bantering, oft-witty prose, that is also heavily researched and packed with annotated endnotes. It is solid history – Schiff is a Pulitzer Prize winner – that doesn’t take itself too seriously. On one page there might be a serious dissection of Mather’s Wonders of the Invisible World, while on the next there might be lighthearted comparisons to The Wizard of Oz and Harry Potter.
In telling this tale – which has been rendered in so many ways – Schiff has triple duty. She has to tell us what we know. She has to tell us what we don’t know. And she has to puncture lingering myths (the inflated role of Tituba, the fact that no witches were burned at the stake). That’s a lot of work for a writer-historian, especially one that also wants to entertain. She does it all with style.
For all its loose vibe, Schiff is meticulous with the evidence, and she is very careful (often within the narrative) to explain where her story is coming from. I liked how she created a psychological context for the Witch Trials. She explains the darkness of the nights, the boredom of daily life, and the constant, paralyzing fear of Indian attack. She displays an ability, a keen empathy, to imagine what it might have been like to live in the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1692. She is careful to weigh the credibility of witnesses, the veracity of evidence, and to acknowledge when she has to speculate.
Schiff also does a good job dealing with the larger forces at work (and I’m not talking about the Devil). A lot of things fed into the hysteria and reprisal at Salem, and even though nothing can be pointed at as the definitive answer to this calamity, it is reasonable to assume all of it played a part. There was, to begin, the local disputes over boundary lines, grazing rights, and who was going to provide the town’s minister with his allotted amount of firewood. The Puritans were a moody, prickly lot, quick to run to court. You can see how the quarrel between Salem Village (now Danvers) and Salem Town (now just Salem) played into the trials.
Politics also played a role. At the time of the Witch Trials, a new charter had just been approved for Massachusetts Bay. The old charter had been vacated in 1684 by King James II, who installed a governor who was ousted five years later, after which time the colony operated without any constitutional authority. The new governor, William Phips, arrived in the midst of the frenzy, and immediately set up a special Court of Oyer and Terminer to try the witches. (Legal Note: If hauled before a Court of Oyer and Terminer, you are screwed). In creating the court, he followed the prevailing political winds; likewise when he finally ended the court.
This is a thorny, complicated story, made more difficult – as Schiff points out – by the Puritan fondness for reusing the same names. The complexity can sometimes be made more pronounced by Schiff’s dizzying style. The Witches has many virtues, but organization is not one of them. Schiff has a tendency to be all over the place, trading a certain stylistic panache for a narrative more anchored in a firm chronology. It’s fun to read, but important concepts can be lost or under-stressed. There is also a certain amount of sloppiness. For instance, early on, Schiff writes “[a] wife and daughter denounced their husband and father,” and then, three lines later, contradicts herself by writing that “[o]nly fathers and sons weathered the crisis unscathed.” Also, the chipper digressions found in her footnotes eventually started to irritate by interrupting the flow of the story.
These are small complaints. This is the kind of book that drives academic historians to hate, probably because it’s bound to be so popular. There are other titles out there, if this isn’t for you. I’ve read Frances Hill’s A Delusion of Satan, which is 224 pages shorter than The Witches. A Delusion of Satan is perfectly readable, digestible, and informative. But it’s not memorable. It gave me the facts of Salem; it did not give me the essence.
There is nothing so lifeless in history as a hyper-religious, hyper-litigious, fun-hating, narrow-minded Puritan. It’s hard to bring such dour, sour, two-dimensional objects to life, especially with the paucity of sources at hand. It is Schiff’s great accomplishment that she manages to do so. Salem has always been a quintessentially human drama, rife with all the foibles, slights, vendettas, and assumptions that entails. Schiff captures that humanity, which is hard to do with any history, much less the unsmiling Puritans that stare at us from their portraits, which portraits are included – in color! – in this generous volume. I can understand that The Witches would be frustrating for someone looking for a traditional history of the Salem Witch Trials. But if you feel that historical writing should be art – with literary merit – as well as a sturdy vehicle for conveying facts, then this is the book for you.