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Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts

24 March 2023

Book review: The Shortest History of Europe

Unless you're just collecting names and dates, your genealogy research becomes richer the more you know about history, religion, and culture. Putting your ancestors in context not only helps you understand their lives within their own times, but gives you better direction on what to look for in sources and what to research next. 


If you need a refresher, check out The Shortest History series published by The Experiment LLC. Current books in the series include Europe, England, Germany, Israel and Palestine, India, China, and Greece, with more in the works. Promoted as “Thousands of years of history. One riveting, fast-paced read,” the series is written by expert historians who are also international bestselling authors.

The title says it all: The Shortest History of Europe: How Conquest, Culture, and Religion Forged a Continent—A Retelling of Our Times. This is not a sprawling narrative filled with name-dropping and stringent timelines. Instead, John Hirst’s narrative explores how Greek and Roman learning, Christianity, and German warrior culture created modern Europe. 

At first, it’s hard to absorb how only three elements determined the course of European history. But Hirst shows how all the monumental events happened because of conquest, culture, and religion. 

For example, the Catholic Church banished or executed great thinkers like Copernicus and Galileo because their interpretations of how the universe worked contradicted the Greco-Roman view. Martin Luther and his followers wanted to return Christianity to its basic form—the Bible—without the Greco-Roman trappings and started the Reformation. Many years later, Isaac Newton and Einstein explained their scientific discoveries by following the Greek theory that answers would be “simple, mathematical, and logical.”

Throughout the book and its many revolutions, Hirst synthesizes European history in a way that went beyond my college classes, yet is simple and accessible.   

 







16 September 2017

George Burroughs’ genealogy: Burroughs-Thomas-Crocker line

Mather's book, The Wonders of the Invisible World,
shows his passionate dislike for fellow minister
and Salem witch trials victim George Burroughs
Cotton Mather’s profile in Colonial Collegians concludes by claiming a blood connection between the Puritan Boston minister and George Burroughs, the man Mather vilified in his writings on the 1692 Salem witch trials. In my previous post, however, I showed how the Colonial Collegians writer mistook a Joseph for a Josiah Crocker in Mather's line, which removed a marriage between their descendants. 

But what about the line of descent given for George Burroughs, former minister of Salem Village? It turns out the information in Colonial Collegians was almost correct. It skips one generation—the father of Isaiah Thomas, founder of the American Antiquarian Society (AAS)—but the other details check out.

Burroughs line in Colonial Collegians
George Burroughs (H.U. 1670)
[daughter Burroughs]
Isaiah Thomas, LL.D., founder of AAS
[child of Isaiah Thomas]
[granddaughter of Isaiah Thomas] m. Samuel Leonard Crocker (Brown U. 1822)


Isaiah Thomas Sr. (1749-1831),
descendant of George Burroughs,
printer and founder of AAS
Rev. George Burroughs (1650-1692), the 1670 Harvard graduate hanged as a witch in Salem, married as his first wife, Hannah Fisher (1653-1681). Their daughter Elizabeth Burroughs (1681-1719) married Peter Thomas (1683-1744). Elizabeth and Peter’s son Moses Thomas (1715-1752) married Fidelity Grant (d. 1798). Their son, Isaiah Thomas Sr. (1749-1831), married as his first wife Mary Dill (b. 1750). Isaiah was a printer and founder of the American Antiquarian Society in Worcester, Massachusetts. Their son Isaiah Thomas Jr. (1773-1819) married Mary Weld (1768-1825), and they had Hannah Weld Thomas (d. 1827). So, the granddaughter of the founder of the AAS married Samuel Leonard Crocker (1804-1883) who graduated from Brown University in 1822. That makes George Burroughs the third great-grandfather of Hannah (Thomas) Crocker.

For more information on Isaiah Thomas Sr., see the AAS prototype website, Isaiah Thomas: Patriot-Printer. 



13 April 2016

Dorcas Hoar really was a witch

Image: Chris 73/Wikimedia Commons
It could be an omen that John and Florence Galley were fined by the Essex Quarterly Court in 1635 for fornication before marriage. Born shortly thereafter, their daughter Dorcas had several confrontations with the law and clergy throughout her married life. Growing up, however, she lived a comfortable but not overly religious life. Her father was admitted to the church in Beverly, Massachusetts, in his early 60s, so it’s likely the Galley household was not as God-fearing as their neighbors. And, at his death in 1683, John Galley, planter, left an estate worth £200.

Living in a Puritan church-state and believing in its teachings are not one and the same. After settling into married life about 1655 and having children, Dorcas and her husband, fisherman William Hoar, strayed from the gospel. In 1661 and 1662, William was brought before the court for “allowing tippling” and celebrating Christmas at his house. All along, Puritans discouraged holidays as pure popery—especially Christmas, which not only had no celebratory date in the Bible, it also usurped a pagan solstice festival. In fact, from 1659 to 1681 the Massachusetts Bay Colony outlawed Christmas.

Around the same time, Dorcas started dabbling in the dark arts.

“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live”


Dorcas admitted she learned witchcraft from a book of palmistry and from a practicing healer. She and her daughters married poor men, and her skills at fortunetelling and predicting illnesses (even death) supplemented a meager income, not only for her household but for her grown children’s households too. Even though Puritan theology denounced divination as trespassing on God’s all-knowing plan, people still wanted to know what the future held for them. Badgered by the local minister, Mr. John Hale, in 1670 Dorcas repented for her sins.

Unfortunately, the good reverend didn’t understand her needs.

People in Beverly started noticing small things went missing, like an apron or a pillowcase of flour. After a while, John Hale realized the criminals in their midst were specifically targeting him and his house of plenty. At first, blame was placed on his servant, Margaret Lord, but stolen items appeared throughout Dorcas Hoar’s extended family, making her the mastermind behind the burglary ring. (Margaret Lord threatened the Hales' daughter into silence by telling her Dorcas Hoar was a witch.) In 1678, Dorcas was in court listening to a catalog of the bushels of foodstuff, the yards of cloth, the items of apparel, coins, and jewelry that were stolen, most of which was bartered off to keep the Hoars fed.

The court records don’t provide a verdict. Two years later, however, William Hoar was put in charge of sweeping the Beverly meetinghouse, keeping the time (using an hourglass!), and ringing the bell at nine o’clock every night. In recompense, he received one peck of corn yearly from every family in Beverly.

Escaping the Noose


Not surprisingly, in 1692 widow Dorcas Hoar was convicted of witchcraft and condemned to hang on September 22. She confessed and received a reprieve, with supporting testimony from none other than Mr. Hale. Given a month to prepare her soul for death, she fortunately survived the witch hunt and was set free. 


* As a footnote to Dorcas Hoar’s story, Deodat Lawson claimed she had an “elf-lock,” a matted section of hair different from the rest that was four feet and seven inches long—further evidence of being a witch. 



See also: Using restitution lists from the 1692 Salem witch trials to rebuild Dorcas Hoar’s family

Sources:

“'Where Thieves Break Through and Steal': John Hale versus Dorcas Hoar 1672-1692” by Barbara Ritter Dailey in Essex Institute Historical Collections, Vol. 128, (1992). 

Records and Files of the Quarterly Courts of Essex County, Massachusetts

Deodat Lawson, A Brief and True Narrative of Some Remarkable Passages Relating to Sundry Persons Afflicted by Witchcraft, at Salem Village (1704)

Bernard Rosenthal et al, Records of the Salem Witch-Hunt

29 October 2015

Tituba, Indian Servant of Mr. Samuel Parris

HEX: Old World Witchery in Salem
sells voodoo dolls*
From the 1692 Salem witch-hunt records, we know Tituba was “the Indian servant of Mr. Samuel Parris,” the minister of Salem Village. But we know very little about her life and her background. When was she born and where did she come from before being accused, interrogated, and jailed as a witch?

Although called a “servant,” Tituba probably lived in perpetual servitude. While slaves did exist in New England, most were of African descent, not Native American. Tituba could have been a Wampanoag, a Carib, or an Arawak Indian, which scholars have debated for years. Her foreignness within her small community went beyond her ethnic background though. In court, Tituba refers to “her mistress in her own country,” implying that she was born outside of the 13 Colonies as well.

The most in-depth study, Tituba, Reluctant Witch of Salem by Elaine Breslaw, claims Tituba was an Arawak Indian kidnapped from a Dutch settlement in South America and brought to Barbados. Based on the etymology of her name it could be plausible—but that scenario and the name also could apply to multiple people. Instead of suggesting Tituba absorbed an amalgam of cultural influences in Barbados, Breslaw creates a captive story that not only orphans Tituba but has the young Indian girl living with an African family. To tie the pieces together, Breslaw finds a 1676 plantation list of “negroes” that places a “Tattuba” with the “boys & girls,” suggesting an age range—and providing white owners with possible connections to Samuel Parris. As genealogists, we learn that even if the name is the same, we still need to connect the 1692 Tituba with earlier documents—and that cannot be done conclusively.

Like many slaves, we may never know her parents, her birthplace, or her age, though we can surmise some details based on the life of Tituba’s owner, Samuel Parris (1653-1720).

The Life of Parris

Samuel was the son of Thomas Parris (d. 1673), a cloth merchant of London. Thomas’ older brother John (d. 1660) owned a sugar plantation in Barbados in the 1640s, where he was a merchant and sometime slave trader. When he died there in 1660, part of John’s property went to his brother Thomas and his children. Thomas’ eldest son John inherited land from his uncle in England and Ireland. Younger son Samuel inherited a plantation and other property in Barbados.

At some point, Thomas and son Samuel moved to Barbados, where the climate, the foods, and the racial demographics were much different from England and even New England. With such valuable and income-producing properties, they would have become accustomed to having slaves and servants as an everyday part of island life.

Samuel left Barbados to attend Harvard College in Massachusetts Bay Colony, where his classmates would be future ministers, government officials, and businessmen. To an aspiring young man, Parris may have made the association that true gentlemen had servants and slaves to take care of farming and household chores so they themselves could be occupied with worldly matters. Before completing his degree, however, Thomas died, causing Samuel to return to Barbados to settle his father’s estate. Instead of living on the plantation, Samuel moved to Bridgetown, where he acted as a merchant agent. In December 1679, he was listed with one slave and one servant on the Barbados census.

By 1680, Samuel Parris returned to Boston, most likely bringing with him Tituba and John Indian. In short order, the 27-year-old bachelor married Elizabeth Eldridge/Eldred (1648?-1696) and set up house. Without the business acumen of his uncle and because of his own fractious nature, Samuel was not a successful merchant. He defaulted on a commercial loan and spent time in the courts. Perhaps thinking the ministry was a more suitable, pastoral occupation, in 1685, Samuel took a position as a paid preacher in Stowe, Massachusetts. Several years and much negotiating later, he became the minister at Salem Village, taking Tituba and John Indian with him.

The Qualities of a Servant

In the court trials, Tituba mentions her “previous mistress” in whose home she would have learned how to be in charge of a household—from tending the garden, preserving foods, cooking meals to housecleaning, laundry, spinning, and making candles and soaps. To be capable of running the household, we can estimate that Tituba would have been between the ages of 15 and 25 when she came to Boston. Without having much supervision in a bachelor’s home, it’s doubtful she would have been younger. If she were much older, that would have meant a shorter working life, and we know from his biography that Samuel was stingy and too demanding for that.

When Samuel married, Tituba’s workload would not have been divided in half. From his interactions with the Salem Villagers, it’s easy to get the impression that Samuel aspired to a higher social strata than a yeoman farmer. In Boston, Elizabeth Parris may have done more entertaining than cleaning. And as a minister’s wife, she was expected to make her rounds, helping people in the community, leaving Tituba to take care of hearth and home—and children.

Samuel and Elizabeth had three children—Thomas (b. 1681), Betty (1682-1760), and Susanna (1688-1706)—and, at some point, niece Abigail Williams joined the family.

Tribulations and Trials

Although the children had chores and schooling to attend to, Betty and Abigail’s so-called witch afflictions in 1692 meant more work for Tituba. Not only was the house filled with visitors observing the two girls, Betty and Abigail’s ailments were a convenient excuse to get out of housework.

After weeks of hysterical outbursts, fits, and twitches from the two girls, Samuel Parris gave up on Cotton Mather’s proscribed prayers and fasting, pushing instead for names of those who had bewitched the children. It’s not surprising whose names were on the list—the outcasts and outsiders—including Tituba, the overworked Indian slave from Barbados. These women didn’t fit in polite, Christian society, with their cursing (impoverished Sarah Good), their lack of church attendance (bedridden Sarah Osburn), their otherness (Indian woman Tituba).

If you visit local attractions in Salem, Massachusetts, Tituba is portrayed as a black slave telling tales to young and impressionable girls at the Salem Village parsonage. But the role of storyteller wasn’t created for Tituba until Charles W. Upham (1802-1875) re-imagined her as the center of the maelstrom in his book Salem Witchcraft (1867), which was widely read and repeated by historians and authors.

Probably after being physically coerced by Samuel Parris, Tituba confesses to being a witch before the magistrates—but not to occult practices like fortune-telling or Caribbean voodoo. She does, however, tell of Satan making her pinch and hurt the girls, of riding a stick to night-time meetings with other witches, and of the existence of more witches. With obvious references to British witchcraft folklore, Tituba’s testimony weaves together Samuel Parris’ sermons of Satan’s conspiracy against his church and the people’s fears that the girls were experiencing a preternatural battle for their souls. Instead of creating unity to save the church, Tituba’s words turned neighbor against neighbor.  

Story with No Ending

Tituba’s value as a witness against Sarah Good and Sarah Osburn unexpectedly saved her life, while forfeiting theirs. As more afflicted accusers came forward, more innocent victims were accused, and spectral evidence spread near and far, Tituba lay forgotten in prison.

According to contemporary chroniclers, after the General Jail Delivery, Samuel Parris refused to pay Tituba’s jail fees. But by paying seven pounds for her shackles and 13 months’ room and board, a new master bought an Indian slave whose future labor was worth more than the fees. After watching others die in jail or being led out to the gallows and being rejected by the family she had served for a dozen years, perhaps her new owner thought Tituba would be a docile and obedient servant. Beaten down and neglected, she was malnourished, her body stiff from the shackles and hardly any exercise, her mind constantly living in fear. No doubt, Tituba was grateful to be part of the living again. And, so, quietly Tituba the Indian servant disappeared from recorded history.

In 1711, no one came forward to ask for compensation from the government on behalf of the Indian slave.




Sources:


Larry Gragg, A Quest for Security: The Life of Samuel Parris 1653-1720.

Elise Lemire, Black Walden: Slavery and Its Aftermath in Concord, Massachusetts.

Bernard Rosenthal, et al, Records of the Salem Witch-Hunt.

Charles W. Upham, Salem Witchcraft.


For more on Tituba, see also:


* It is unclear whether the voodoo dolls sold at HEX are in reference to a supposed (and incorrect) connection to Tituba since Bridget Bishop poppets also are sold in the store, or if they are just one of many magical products available. The owners are 
“modern-day Warlocks with Witchcraft shops in both Salem and New Orleans.”




15 October 2015

Top 5 Places to Visit in Salem, Massachusetts

When you visit the Witch City, there are many attractions, museums, tours, and events vying for your attention. I put together a list of five not-to-miss places that are worth the trip to Salem, Massachusetts, for people interested in the 1692 witch hunts in Essex county.

Site of the Salem Village Parsonage (behind 67 Centre Street, Danvers, MA).

The parsonage was built after February 1681, when Salem Village voted to build the parsonage for their second minister, George Burroughs (1650-1692). Here, strange fits first possessed nine-year-old Betty Parris and her 11-year-old cousin Abigail Williams, causing a local doctor to declare the girls were under an evil hand. The first accused witches lived close by, including in the parsonage itself, but it quickly spread to Salem Town and around Essex county.

In 1734, a new house was added to the old parsonage. In 1784, the original parsonage was demolished and the 1734 addition was moved. In time, the foundation filled in. In 1970, Richard Trask and a team of archeologists uncovered the foundation stones. Artifacts discovered at the site are located at the Danvers Archival Center (15 Sylvan Street, Danvers).

The archeological site not only gives you an idea of how small the house was, it also puts into perspective where Rev. Samuel Parris (1653-1720) and his family lived in relation to the First Meeting House and Ingersoll’s Ordinary—just a quick walk around the corner—and how far away Salem Town was by foot, horseback, or wagon. 

While you’re in the area, visit the Danvers witch memorial on Hobart street.

Rebecca Nurse Homestead (149 Pine St., Danvers, MA)

Rebecca Nurse Homestead
In 1678, Francis and Rebecca Nurse leased this 300-acre parcel from Rev. Allen. Their farm was productive and the terms of their lease were generous. In 1692, the afflicted girls accused Rebecca of being a witch, the jury failed to convict her, and the magistrate asked them to reconsider after the girls acted out in court. Even the villagers’ petition and the governor’s reprieve didn’t save her. She was hung on July 19, 1692.

The volunteers who give tours at the homestead are very knowledgeable, so you’ll get more out of your visit than a self-guided tour. The homestead includes the original house built about 1678, plus several additions; the 1681 Endecott barn; a 19th-century shoemaker’s shed; and a replica of the 1672 Salem Village Meeting House that was used in the film Three Sovereigns for Sarah. The property now consists of 27 acres, including the Nurse graveyard. It’s likely that Rebecca Nurse was buried in the graveyard, though the location is unknown. There are two memorials, from 1885 and 1992, erected in her memory. You’ll also find a 17th-century-styled gravestone for George Jacobs, whose supposed body was reburied at the site.

Cry Innocent: The People vs. Bridget Bishop (Old Town Hall, 32 Derby Street, Salem, MA)

If you wander down Essex Street in Salem, you may come across a 17th-century town crier and a band of similarly dressed townspeople. After several arguments, they arrest Bridget Bishop for being a witch and bring her to the Town Hall for questioning. Like other attractions in town, you will hear dialogue taken from the witch trial papers, but in this case, you—the audience—become the jury and vote to determine whether she should be held for trial. You also get a chance to ask questions of the witnesses and Bridget herself. The performances are well done and there are no poorly made mannequins sitting in for the afflicted girls—just quiet chairs—so, unlike 1692, you can listen to the words spoken instead of the distraction caused by the afflicted girls. 

The Salem Witch Trials Memorial (between Charter and Derby streets, adjacent to Old Burying Point, Salem, MA)

Salem Witch Trials Memorial
Built 300 years after the witch trials, the memorial consists of 20 granite benches that float in the middle of a low stone wall. Each bench is inscribed with the victim’s name and date of execution. Unlike the cemetery next to the memorial, there are no bodies here (they are cenotaphs) and the benches hovering above the ground remind us of that fact.

Over the years, Salem tried to bury its witchcraft past, so we don’t know where the witch-hunt victims were hanged (though most people assume it’s somewhere on Gallows Hill) or buried. The memorial serves as a contemplative spot to honor these brave women and men who stood up for their religious beliefs and wouldn’t condemn their souls by lying to save their lives. At the threshold of the memorial, you’ll see some of their poignant words cut off, just like their lives were. 

While you’re in the area, stop by the repaired gravestone of Judge John Hathorne (1641-1717) at Old Burying Point. It’s hard to miss.

The Salem Witch Walk (Crow Haven Corner, 125 Essex Street, Salem)

Having been on a trolley tour and a historical 1692 walking tour, I’ve learned where Bridget Bishop’s house or apple orchard stood (43 Church Street) and where the 1684 jail once existed (corner of Federal Street and St. Peter’s Street, formerly known as Prison Lane). But much of the tour guides’ scripts have not kept up with current research and often repeat myths and misconceptions.

The Salem Witch Walk is different, right from the start. The walk begins with a magic circle, in which the tourists are invited to participate. As Tom, a practicing witch and our tour guide, explains during the ceremony, witches hold true to two words: “Harm none.” Tom says none of the accused in 1692 were witches, but 17th-century cultural beliefs, superstitions, and magic came into play, turning neighbor against neighbor and ending in a land grab. He explains what some witch symbols mean, including the pentagram, and why Laurie Cabot and other witches came to Salem. There’s no scary hocus pocus. 

In the end, you may realize the juxtaposition of Count Orlok’s Nightmare Gallery and Elizabeth Montgomery’s Bewitched statue with the Salem Witch Museum, the maritime heyday of the Peabody Essex Museum, and Salem’s leather manufacturing history are not that strange. It’s how Salem survives its past and moves into the future.

NOTE: Some of these places have limited, seasonal hours. Check the websites for details.

Want to read more about Salem and the witch trials? Click on the keyword "witch-hunt" on the right-hand column to see other articles, from a short genealogy of the victims and a timeline of the witch-hunt to books and tourist attractions. 


31 May 2015

The house where witchcraft started

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.

Photo from Henrietta D. Kimball’s Witchcraft Illustrated (1892)
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

Rev. 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

67 Centre Street, Danvers
In 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 (2014)

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.



30 October 2014

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.

21 October 2014

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.”



24 July 2014

Museums and historic sites tell the story of your ancestors’ occupations part 2

Tewksbury Hospital old administration building
In order to learn about our ancestors’ lives, it’s important to know their occupations. Fortunately, in Massachusetts, we have many museums and historic sites that can help you envision their lives and work—and the tools and equipment they used. Below, you’ll find Part 2 (M-Z) of places to visit in person or online to learn more about your ancestors’ occupations. If you missed Part 1 (A-L), read it here.

Some of these places feature live demonstrations of their craft, while others have tours, displays, classes, and/or hands-on activities. Before you go, contact the museum about hours and admission fees. Some have seasonal schedules and limited hours.

Maritime Adventurer:


Coast Guard Heritage Museum in Barnstable. Also features the oldest jail left in the U.S. 


Hull Lifesaving Museum in Hull. 1889 Point Allerton U.S. Lifesaving Station. 

Liberty Fleet of Tall Ships in Boston. Sail in Boston Harbor. 


Marine Museum at Fall River. Ship models and artifacts. 


New Bedford Whaling Museum in New Bedford. Check out the half-scale Lagoda whale ship built in 1916. See also New Bedford National Historical Park.

USS Constitution Museum in Charlestown. See also the USS Constitution, or Old Ironsides, which launched in 1797 and served in the War of 1812.  


Medical Professional:

Clara Barton Birthplace Museum in North Oxford. Clara Barton (1821-1912) was founder of the American Red Cross. 

Paul S. Russell MD Museum of Medical History and Innovation in Boston. Housed in the Massachusetts General Hospital. 

Public Health Museum in Tewksbury. Opened in 1854, the Tewksbury Hospital served as an almshouse and infectious diseases (tuberculosis, smallpox, typhoid fever) hospital.

Warren Anatomical Museum in Cambridge. Part of Harvard Medical School. See also its archives collections. 

Military Men and Women:

Battleship Cove in Fall River. Battleship USS Massachusetts (1941), submarine USS Lionfish (1942), destroyer USS Joseph P. Kennedy Jr. (1945), and PT boats.

Fort Devens Museum in Devens. From camp to fort, 1917-1996. 

Museum of World War II in Natick.  

Massachusetts National Guard Museum & Archives in Concord. 

Springfield Armory National Historic Site in Springfield. First armory in nation, largest collection of U.S. military small arms. 

Miller:

Baxter Grist Mill in Yarmouth. Built in 1710.

Judah Baker Windmill in North Dennis. Built 1791. 
1912 Lawrence millworker strike

Mill Worker:

American Textile History Museum in Lowell. 

Bisbee Mill Museum in Chesterfield. Reconstructed 19th century grist mill, blacksmith shop, and woodworking shop. 

Boott Cotton Mill in Lowell. 1920s weave room, part of Lowell National Historical Park.

Crane Museum of Papermaking in Dalton. Papermaking from 1770 to today. 

Lawrence Heritage State Park in Lawrence. Visitor center is a restored 1840s boarding house featuring stories of mill workers and the 1912 Bread and Roses Strike. 


Pirate:


The Pirate Museum in Salem. Tour a Colonial seaport, pirate ship, and cave. 


The Whydah Pirate Museum in Provincetown. View what was salvaged from pirate Sam Bellamy’s ship wrecked off Wellfleet in 1717.  


Plumber:


The Plumbing Museum in Watertown. Early examples to modern plumbing fixtures. 


Waterworks Museum in Boston. The machinery and reservoir behind our drinking water. 


Printer:


The Museum of Printing in North Andover. Graphic arts, typesetting, bookbinding, and printing. 


The Printing Office of Edes & Gill in Boston. An 18th century print shop in the Clough House. 


Quarry Worker:


Quincy Quarry and Granite Workers Museum in Quincy. 


Seamstress, Tailor:


New England Quilt Museum in Lowell. 


Religious Leader:


African Meeting House in Boston. Part of Museum of African American History.  


Bidwell House Museum in Monterey. 1750s parsonage. 


The Mission House in Stockbridge. 1742 house of missionaries to the Mohicans.


School Teacher:

Abiel Smith School in Boston. Part of Museum of African American History. 


Schoolhouse Museum in Eastham. One-room schoolhouse built in 1869 and used until 1936. 


Shipbuilders:


Cape Cod Maritime Museum in Hyannis. See boat builders in action. 


Essex Shipbuilding Museum in Essex. The village shipyard is known for building the most two-masted wooden fishing schooners. 


United States Naval Shipbuilding Museum in Quincy. 


Shopkeeper:


E.N. Jenckes Store Museum in Douglas. Circa 1895 general store, built in 1830s and enlarged. 

Monroe Tavern, Lexington, Mass.

Tavern Keeper:


Blanchard’s Colonial Tavern Museum in Avon. 


Buckman Tavern and Munroe Tavern in Lexington. Setting for meetings that played part in the Revolutionary War. 


Kingman Tavern in Cummington. Also includes a replica of a 1900 country store, a barn with hand and farm tools, a carriage shed, and an 1840s cider mill. 


Trader:


Aptucxet Trading Post Museum replica in Bourne. 


Transportation Driver & Builder:


Amesbury Carriage Museum in Amesbury. Horse-drawn carriages, sleighs, and automobiles. 


Berkshire Scenic Railway Museum in Lenox. 1903 Lenox station. 


Chatham Railroad Museum in Chatham. 1887 railroad depot, 1910 caboose, models. 


Larz Anderson Auto Museum in Brookline. From horse-drawn carriages to motor cars.


National Streetcar Museum in Lowell. 

Old Colony & Fall River Railroad Museum in Fall River. Four rail cars and displays. 


Shelburne Falls Trolley Museum in Shelburne Falls. Take a ride on Trolley No. 10 and old-fashioned pump car. 


Woodworker:


Old Schwamb Mill in Arlington. 


General Industrial:


Charles River Museum of Industry & Innovation in Waltham. 


Museum of Our Industrial Heritage in Greenfield. 




Read Part 1 for more museums and historic sites A through L.