Ann Putnam Jr. and the aftermath of the Salem witch trials

Danvers Witch Memorial. Photo by Robin Mason

Whether your ancestors took part in the Salem witch trials or heard about them second-hand, the emotional toll and the potential hardships they experienced no doubt lingered well beyond 1692. Consider their roles in the witch hunt and how that may have affected their political, judicial, and religious views as well as how they felt about particular individuals and their communities as a whole. Not surprisingly, some of the accused moved away, to start a new life, while some of the afflicted girls married and had children.

It took a few years before Reverend Samuel Parris finally packed his bags in 1697. He was replaced by Reverend Joseph Green, who helped rebuild the community of Salem Village. A new meeting house was built and the old one abandoned, the excommunication of church member Martha Corey was reversed, and, in 1706, Ann Putnam Jr. was accepted as a full church member.

Though the people of Salem Village probably never forgot 12-year-old Ann Putnam’s role in the witch trials, the church members apparently forgave her—or at least put her fate in God’s hands—when they accepted her confession 14 years later.

“I desire to be humbled before God for that sad and humbling providence that befell my father's family in the year about '92; that I, then being in my childhood, should, by such a providence of God, be made an instrument for the accusing of several persons of a grievous crime, whereby their lives were taken away from them, whom now I have just grounds and good reason to believe they were innocent persons; and that it was a great delusion of Satan that deceived me in that sad time, whereby I justly fear I have been instrumental, with others, though ignorantly and unwittingly, to bring upon myself and this land the guilt of innocent blood; though what was said or done by me against any person I can truly and uprightly say, before God and man, I did it not out of any anger, malice, or ill-will to any person, for I had no such thing against one of them; but what I did was ignorantly, being deluded by Satan. And particularly, as I was a chief instrument of accusing of Goodwife Nurse and her two sisters, I desire to lie in the dust, and to be humbled for it, in that I was a cause, with others, of so sad a calamity to them and their families; for which cause I desire to lie in the dust, and earnestly beg forgiveness of God, and from all those unto whom I have given just cause of sorrow and offence, whose relations were taken away or accused.

“This confession was read before the congregation, together with her relation, Aug. 25, 1706; and she acknowledged it.”

The Delusion of Satan

In Ann Putnam’s confession, she doesn’t exactly take responsibility for her actions of 1692. Instead, she repeatedly calls herself an “instrument” of Satan—as if she too made a pact with the Devil and acted on his behalf, much liked the people she accused. Written with the help of Rev. Green and reviewed by Samuel Nurse, son of Rebecca Nurse who was hanged in 1692, Ann’s confession gives little insight into the motives behind her actions that fateful year. From the history books, it does not appear as if she were coerced, but rather prompted, into accusing certain people of witchcraft. Undoubtedly, Ann was well-versed in local gossip, since it appears as if rumors of others’ behaviors (such as Rev. George Burroughs’ verbal abuse toward his wives) as well as unsettled disagreements (including land disputes between the Nurse and Putnam families) influenced who she targeted. At times, her dramatic fits and words seem deceptive, yet family members, neighbors, and magistrates did not call her bluff.

Throughout the 1692 trials, some people openly criticized the court for giving credence to the words, visions, and actions of the afflicted accusers. Reverend Samuel Willard, pastor of Boston’s Third Church, said the accusers were “scandalous persons, liars, and loose in their conversations and therefore, not to be believed.” Several accused witches, including Martha Carrier, chastised the court by saying “it is a shameful thing that you should mind these folks that are out of their wits.” It seemed, the more a so-called witch complained against them, the worse torment the afflicted showed.

When one of the afflicted girls, 20-year-old Mary Warren, claimed she had recovered and suggested the other girls “did but dissemble,” they accused her of witchcraft. Caught between two worlds, Mary confessed to being a witch and accused others, namely her employer, John Proctor and his wife Elizabeth. Teenager Margaret Jacobs, who was accused of witchcraft and in turn accused others, asked for forgiveness, admitting, “What I said was altogether false against my grandfather and Mr. Burroughs, which I did to save my life and to have my liberty.” Unfortunately, not enough credence was given to these admissions until after Governor William Phipps put a halt to the court proceedings in late fall.

Providence of God

Through her confession, it’s obvious the guilt Ann Putnam feels and her status of a pariah in the neighborhood must have weighed heavily on her. Unfortunately, her recorded confession does not include her Puritan conversion experience—or what turned her from being a sinner into a saint—which was a two-part requirement for becoming a full member of the Salem Village church.

After being the center of attention in 1692 by accusing 62 people of witchcraft, Ann Putnam’s position in society and her circle of friends no doubt diminished greatly. Five years after the witch hunt started, in 1699, Ann’s parents died within weeks of each other, leaving 19-year-old Ann and several guardians to care for her siblings, ranging in age from 7 months to 16 years. Unlike most girls of her age, Ann never married. In 1715, “being oftentimes sick and weak in body,” Ann wrote her will. She died the following year at age 37. She’s buried with her parents in an unmarked grave in the Putnam Cemetery in present-day Danvers, Massachusetts.

Psychological stress in 1692 Salem Village

Rev. Samuel Parris, Massachusetts Historical Society.

With a long and difficult winter, political uncertainty, ongoing Indian attacks, religious disagreements, strange illnesses, unexpected deaths, land feuds, and squabbles among neighbors, the people of Salem Village were feeling the pressure of the uncertain world around them in early 1692. 

The beleaguered Reverend Samuel Parris, whose congregants were not providing him with the food and firewood his family needed, preached dark tales of the Devil at the pulpit. Instead of making his listeners do good deeds, like pay his salary, however, his sermons caused them to look suspiciously at each other—and find witches among them. After all, witches would explain away the bad luck that had befallen them.

The parsonage became the epicenter of the witch storm, with Reverend Parris’ daughter Betty and his niece, Abigail Williams, being afflicted or “under an evil hand” first. That center soon shifted to the Thomas Putnam household, more than a mile away, where Ann Putnam Jr. showed the same affliction, and eventually accused more than 60 people of bewitching her. In total, about 70 afflicted accusers displayed symptoms of maleficium (evil magic) or had spectral dreams and visions.

In Witchcraft at Salem (1969), Chadwick Hansen suggested the afflicted showed symptoms of mass hysteria. In her novel Conversion (2014), author Katherine Howe uses a contemporary setting—an all-girls school in modern-day Danvers—to explore the mass hysteria theory, which today would be called conversion disorder, “a condition in which you show psychological stress in physical ways. The condition was so named to describe a health problem that starts as a mental or emotional crisis—a scary or stressful incident of some kind—and converts to a physical problem” (Mayo Clinic).

The people of Salem Village could have different psychological causes, depending on their backgrounds and situations, yet still exhibit physical symptoms that fit under the umbrella term of conversion disorder. According to the Mayo Clinic, symptoms of conversion disorder include:

• Weakness or paralysis
• Abnormal movement, such as tremors or difficulty walking
• Loss of balance
• Difficulty swallowing or “a lump in the throat”
• Seizures or convulsions
• Episodes of unresponsiveness
• Numbness or loss of the touch sensation
• Speech problems, such as inability to speak or slurred speech
• Vision problems, such as double vision or blindness
• Hearing problems or deafness

Symptoms could be persistent or sporadic, and certain stressful conditions—like being a witness in a court case or waiting for an acceptance letter from Harvard—could make the disease worse. Looking at the list, it appears as if most of the afflicted accusers exhibited one or more symptoms of conversion disorder.

And, while Howe offers up the conversion theory, she also suggests, as the Proctors’ maid Mary Warren put it, the afflicted “did but dissemble.”

Descendants of witch-hunt victims turn to fiction to reimagine history

More than 300 years have passed since the Massachusetts witch hunts in 1692, and yet every year, more books are written to explore theories of why more than 150 people were jailed for practicing witchcraft while 19 were convicted and hung. For genealogists seeking answers about how this turbulent time affected their ancestors’ lives, whether they were participants or not, reading trial records and historical accounts may not bring the past to life. But a good writer can reimagine the past, filling it with characters, dialogue, settings, context, and historic facts. 

Kathleen Kent, a 10th generation descendant of Martha (Allen) Carrier (hanged 1692), doesn’t shy away from her ancestor’s austere and uncompromising personality or her sharp tongue—as shown in actual historical records. She builds it into her novel, The Heretic’s Daughter, narrated by Martha’s young daughter Sarah. From being accused of bringing smallpox to Andover to being accused of witchcraft, Martha and her family’s bonds grow stronger through persecution.

Though Reverend Cotton Mather famously calls her the “Queen of Hell,” Martha Carrier professes her innocence and chastises the judges for believing the words of a few hysterical girls, aware her harsh speeches might lead her to the gallows. But when her three sons and daughter Sarah are imprisoned, she tells them to lie and admit to witchcraft to save their lives, even if it means damning their souls. Meanwhile, Martha’s giant and silent husband Thomas walks miles to the prison to support and sustain his family.

Besides historical sources about the trials, Kent uses family stories passed onto her by her mother and her grandparents to infuse character and details into her novel. Though fictional, you’ll be wishing one of the Carrier descendants has a little red book hidden away.

Katherine Howe, descendant of Elizabeth (Jackson) Howe (hanged 1692) and Elizabeth (Bassett) Proctor (sentenced to death in 1692 but reprieved), turned to fiction to understand the past. In writing The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane, Howe asks herself: What if some of the accused were practicing witches? In real life, Deliverance confesses to being a witch to save herself, so Howe turns her into a witch with supernatural but good powers and an in-depth knowledge of herbology. But Howe strays from history by having Deliverance executed in her novel, though she lived until 1735, because it works better for her story.

In Conversion, Howe considers how Ann Putnam Jr.’s 1706 confession came to be. In interludes between a present-day story, Ann tells the rapt Reverend Joseph Green her role in the witch hunt and why she thinks her heart is black. This confession, this humbling before God to admit wrongdoings, is Ann’s saving grace to become a full-fledged member of the Salem Village Church. From Reverend Samuel Parris’ sermon notes, we know he denounced Mary Sibley for suggesting the making of a witch cake. In her novel, Howe expands upon that little detail, putting the required ingredients of the recipe together—making it uncomfortable for the girls, for Tituba, and even for the reader. 

For the present day, Howe weaves the story of girls at an exclusive Catholic boarding school in Danvers, preparing for their last year and moving onto college—and all the stress that entails. These girls end up exhibiting conversion disorder, a medical diagnosis in which psychological stress manifests itself as physical symptoms.

The juxtaposition between Ann’s confession of getting caught up in lies and deceit and the cloistered girls displaying conversion disorder makes the reader ask if one or both were the underlying causes of the 1692 witch hunt.

In their novels, Kent and Howe show in-depth knowledge of the witch hunts. Both successfully use their imaginations to help readers envision what their ancestors may have experienced in 1692.