14: I Saw Goody Proctor With the Devil

[BACK]

A PRODUCT OF THE WHISPERFORGE: SOUND & STORY, BROUGHT TO LIFE

[[Theme music: “Lakeside Path” by Blue Dot Sessions]]

KATE: Hello and welcome to Remarkable Providences, the podcast about sport and spectors, accusations and escalations, and, of course, the Salem Witch Trials. I’m your tour guide, Kate Devorak.

[[MUSIC: Somber.]]

John Proctor was done with this shit. The Salem Villagers were losing their gosh dang minds. John was onto them from the beginning. He had been dismissive of the afflictions from the jump, and while the first three arrests were perhaps understandable, the continued attention was unacceptable. Shadows of the Devil lurked around every corner. Even more than usual. Not even saintly old women and children were safe from the accusations of the so-called afflicted! He had no doubt heard the rumors that his own wife, Elizabeth, was a witch, though no charges had been brought against her. Yet. To top it all off, his own servant, Mary Warren, was getting caught up in the whole business. Threats of violence and hard labor had kept her in line so far, but the excitement in the Village proved too enticing for the girl, who kept running off to watch the examinations and listen to the gossip, neglecting her duties and seriously pissing off her master. Which is why John was headed to the Village, to, quote, “fetch his jade.” Which is a very weird way to talk about your servant and I will be ranting about that later, don’t you worry!

John had been tipped off at Walter Philip’s tavern by Samuel Sibley, who had informed him that not only did Mary attend Rebecca Nurse’s examination the day before, but she had also stayed the night in the Village. I don’t know if Sibley had specifically asked how John felt about that, but John feels like the kind of guy who has no problem giving unsolicited takes. He would have been a real hoot on Twitter. John told him that he would have rather paid forty pence than let her go to the Village to begin with. While the Sibleys might buy all this bewitchment crap, John didn’t believe a word. If the girls were allowed to continue, he declared, quote, “we should all be devils and witches quickly!” Now that’s what we in the biz call foreshadowing. He then recommended his patented Proctor cure, suggesting that the afflicted be whipped out of their frenzy. That’s what he would be doing with his “jade”. He would, quote, “thresh the devil out of her.” That had worked before, and come hell or high water, he’d be sure it would work again. The rest of the girls could hang for all he cared.

John Proctor was not the only person in Salem who had doubts about the validity of the witch panic. Daniel Eliot, Sarah Cloyce’s stepson-in-law was discussing the recent hearings with William Rayment Jr. at the Ingersoll Ordinary, when William mentioned he had heard that Elizabeth Proctor would be questioned the next day. Goody Ingersoll shot down that particular rumor, since she had heard nothing about it. She should know, after all: all of the previous examinations were initially meant to be held in her family’s tavern.

At that, a group of unnamed afflicted leapt up and pointed into thin air, crying that Goody Proctor’s spector had appeared. “The old hag,” they screamed, “I’ll have her hang!”

The adults in the room promptly told them to sit down and shut up. William called them liars, and Goody Ingersoll reprimanded them for their dangerous talk. William later said that they seemed to make a joke of it all. One of the girls even told Daniel that they, quote, “did it for sport. We must have some sport.”

[[MUSIC: Dramatic.]]

I think it’s important to highlight incidents like this: one of the biggest misconceptions about the trials is that it was mass hysteria, that everyone was caught up in the mob mentality and rabid religious fervor, but that’s just not true. Wherever there’s injustice, people will challenge it. And unfortunately, those in power will do their best to silence dissent. Plenty of people questioned the validity of the afflictions and the witch trials. It’s just easier for us to look back at the chaos and murder with a modern moral superiority and blame it on the backwards thinking of a primitive society. It keeps us from reflecting on our own world, allowing us to walk away thinking, “That could never happen today!”

That’s why Arthur Miller chose John Proctor to be his tragic hero. If you were an American teenager in the past 50 years, you probably know John Proctor (and most of your ideas about the Salem Witch Trials) from your English class’s unit on The Crucible. Or from the 1996 film adaptation starring Daniel Day Lewis and Winona Ryder. It’s the classic tale of a town caught up in mass hysteria, and the one man who refused to be cut down by society. It’s really about McCarthyism and the persecution of suspected communists in 1950s America, and because of that, the actual history of the witch trials gets muddled to serve the plot. Mostly in terms of character. Some of the characters are well placed like John Proctor, while many others were woefully mischaracterized to fit the plot. Like Abigail Williams. In the play, she is depicted as the ruthless leader of the afflicted girls, who uses her power to accuse Elizabeth Proctor after being rejected sexually by John. Even though the real Abigail Williams would be one of the more vocal accusers of Goody Proctor, she was most definitely not having an affair with Elizabeth’s husband. She was eleven, and it’s very possible that she had never met John Proctor outside of church. And then there’s Arthur Miller’s woeful mischaracterization of Tituba. It’s always Tituba. I have feelings. The play’s a classic, sure. Has it aged particularly well? E, kinda sorta. The themes of fear and injustice definitely, unfortunately, hold up. The assertion that the trials were caused by a jealous, vindictive teenager after the adult man pursuing her decides to not leave his wife? Not so much. I have my own issues with The Crucible outside the historical accuracy stuff, I’ll probably go off about more later, but this is about the Proctors.

I hate to break it to you, but John Proctor didn’t look like Daniel Day Lewis. At the time of the trials, he was in his mid-60s, and not seducing any teenagers. Probably. Don’t worry, though, John Proctor could still be a dick in his own right!

[[MUSIC: Podcast Marimba.]]

John Proctor was born in Suffolk, England around 1632. The internet tells me his birthday was March 30th, but as I’ve griped about before, I don’t trust birthdays. While John’s family would later attend church meetings in Salem Town, none of my sources state that he or his wife ever became full members, so there’s a chance that John hadn’t been baptized as an infant. Regardless, we do have a date for the English Proctors’ immigration to the New World- April 12th, 1635. The family settled in Ipswich, where John’s father prospered as a landowner and local official.

John married Martha Giddens sometime around 1653. They had four children together, though only the youngest, Benjamin, survived to adulthood. Martha died in childbirth on June 13th, 1659, which, yes, was a Friday. In 1662, John married Elizabeth Thorndike, the daughter of Ipswitch’s founder, with whom he had seven children. Their oldest daughter, also named Elizabeth, went on to marry Thomas Very, who was linked through marriage to the Nurse clan, which made John and Rebecca extended kin. Very extended kin. In 1666, John leased a plot of land called Groton Farms in Salem Township, just south of the Village. Again, Salem was MUCH bigger in the 1600s, so the Proctor land is located in what is now Peabody, MA. Two years later, John received a license to open a tavern on Ipswich Road, about a mile south of the Village border. With his father’s death in 1672, John also inherited a portion of his family’s Ipswich estate. Unfortunately, his wife also died in 1672, not long after giving birth to their last child.

Then, on April 1st, 1674, John married his third and final wife, Elizabeth Bassett. This is Goody Proctor all the kids are screaming about. Unfortunately, we don’t know as much about Elizabeth’s life pre-witch trials as we do her husband’s. She was born in Lynn, Massachusetts in 1650 to Captain William Bassett, Sr. and Sarah Burt. John was her first husband, and she bore him six children by the trials. For those keeping score, that’s seventeen children by Goodman Proctor, though only eleven were alive in 1692. Not too shabby for 17th century New England, though! Benjamin, John’s eldest son, stuck around to help his father work the farm and tavern, as well as raise his ten half siblings. He was only nine years younger than Elizabeth, who, in turn, was nearly twenty years younger than her husband.

Even before the witchcraft accusations, the Proctors were not free of scandal. As I’ve said before, Elizabeth Proctor technically falls under the “usual suspects” category of accusations. Her grandmother, Ann Burt, had been formally charged with witchcraft in 1669, though she was found not guilty by the jury. Some folks might have reasoned that it ran in the family. Ann Burt was, obviously, not a witch, but she was a Quaker and midwife, which the Puritans felt was just as bad. A woman who’s allowed to preach and acts like a doctor? Grab the pitchforks, Hezekiah!

[[MUSIC: Solemn]]

The tavern had also caused some problems for the Proctors in the past. In 1678, John was fined for selling cider and liquor to indigenous folks, which his neighbors were opposed to for racist reasons. Martha Corey once commented that Elizabeth had told her that she might as well sell to them the same as anyone else. It seems the Proctors never turned down a customer, since they were fined for this, as well as for letting servants get drunk on their watch, several more times in the following years. The Proctors may have also allowed customers to pawn them items in exchange for booze, which is something that can get pretty unethical pretty quick.

If I may fasten my conspiracy theory bonnet, it may be helpful to consider the location of the Proctor’s tavern. As I mentioned, it was located on a road connecting Salem Town and the Village, just one mile south of the Village border. This may have put it in competition with the Ingersoll Ordinary, which became a central location once the examinations started up. The Ingersolls were closely allied with the Putnams, and Nathaniel Ingersoll would be one of the men to make formal complaints against the Proctors. But then again, Goody Ingersoll was the one who warned the afflicted against dangerous talk when they named Elizabeth, so who knows?

That’s the nagging mystery for me: why the Villagers seemed so reluctant to bring formal complaints against Elizabeth Proctor. Some people argue that the accusations against her were a reaction to her husband’s growing criticism of the trials, but that doesn’t jive with me seeing as she was the fourth person named by the afflicted, even before Martha Corey. And yet everyone just sat on their hands for a month before moving forward. I just don’t know. Seriously, if anybody has a theory, hit me up.

The same day that Goody Ingersoll and company shut down the girls who accused Goody Proctor, Thomas and Ann Putnam reported that Mercy Lewis had also named Elizabeth as one of her tormentors. But Mercy denied this. Another Villager would later testify that Mercy said that she had not specified Goody Proctor, but had only said, “There she is”, pointing to an unnamed spector. It was her master and mistress who later told her that she had identified the witch as Elizabeth Proctor. If that was the case, Mercy reasoned, she must have been totally out of her wits, since she was sure she never saw Goody Proctor.

Mercy seemed to be unsure about a lot of things. When Samuel Nurse and his brother-in-law showed up at the Putnam house to ask who exactly named their mother as a witch, all of the afflicted women turned on each other. While Ann Jr. had been the first to see the spector, she couldn’t remember who had suggested that it was Goody Nurse. Ann Sr. immediately pointed the finger at Mercy, who, in turn, asserted that her mistress had. The world may never know. Though it’s interesting to me that though Ann Jr. couldn’t call the spector by name, Mercy could, despite likely having just as much interaction with Rebecca as Annie did. And if we’re going with the “they’re making this all up” angle, which, yeah, I am, just try to stop me, I can’t imagine what gripe a teenager would have had with the Nurses. Seeing as the elder Putnams had previous run-ins with the Nurse clan over land boundary disputes, one might think Ann Sr. would have more cause to call out Rebecca. Who’s to say?

[[MUSIC: Chaotic.]]

While Elizabeth’s spirit tortured teens around town, the real Proctors tormented Mary Warren. John had made good on his promise to beat the devil out of her, and put her to work to prevent any more fits. He also might have threatened to use hot tongs on her to keep her afflictions at bay. Unconfirmed, but given how he talks about the other afflicted girls, that strikes me as plausible. Mary had calmed down fairly quickly since she’d been home. I wonder why! The Proctors, though, really wanted to make themselves clear. They told her that if her so-called fits compelled her to run into fire or water, they wouldn’t stop her. John told her that if she and the others really were afflicted, he wished that they were more afflicted, as punishment for accusing the innocent. Mary wasn’t totally on board with condemning her bewitched peers, but that gave her something to think about.

The last Thursday in March was marked as a day of fasting for all of Salem. The Town and Village congregations were asked to pray for the afflicted, as well as to reflect on their own shortcomings. The supposed witches in their midst apparently didn’t get the memo.

According to Abigail Williams and Mercy Lewis, the coven gathered behind the parsonage that night for a mock mass, led by the man in black. The Sarahs Good and Cloyse served as deacons, providing the rest of the damned congregation with raw meat and blood in place of the bread and wine reserved for the living saints. Which I think sounds metal as hell, but I can see how the Puritans may have found that a bit distressing.

The afflicted weren’t just seeing spectors and familiars. Along with full Dark Lord’s Supper tableaux, they also would claim to see angels, demons, ghosts, and visions of what I assume is supposed to be heaven. Now all this sounds mighty close to superstitious, dare I say, Catholic talk, but apparently as long as the afflicted kept identifying witches, the authorities were willing to let the rest of that stuff slide for now.

Mercy had more visions the next day, wherein an angel of light appeared to her to keep the Devil at bay with song and scripture. Of course, she was warned not to trust the nice visions all that much. As everyone knew, the Devil could appear as an angel to trick the faithful. But he apparently was unable to take the forms of the accused. That was a convenient bridge too far.

[[MUSIC: Ominous.]]

Things had really escalated in the week since Rebecca Nurse’s examination. I can imagine that the Villagers were looking forward to the next Sabbath, when more news could be shared, and gossip exchanged. Mary Warren, in particular, was looking forward to Sunday.

On the night of April 2nd, Mary once again snuck out of the Proctor home to visit the Salem Village meetinghouse. This time, she came with a note. I don’t know if Mary could write herself, or if she roped one of the Proctor children into writing it for her, but either way, these were her words.

Whether it was out of a renewed sense of duty, or to calm the ire of the Proctors, Mary had concocted a plan to make things right. She had considered what her masters had said, and with her afflictions gone, she could think more clearly. She could fix this. She knew she could. Not only would she get back into her master’s good graces (as much as was possible with John Proctor), if this worked, she could bring some peace to the Village. She could save some lives.

She pinned her note to the meetinghouse door for all the Village to see. How very Lutheran. Maybe she smiled to herself as she hurried back to the Proctor house. After the next morning, she and the Proctors would be in the clear.

Mary Warren had just made the biggest mistake of her life.

[[MUSIC: Outro]]

Remarkable Providences was written, researched, and produced by me, Kate Devorak. It was produced by Dan Manning, and recorded at the Multitude Studio in beautiful Brooklyn, NY. Consulting production provided by Mischa Stanton. Music from Blue Dot Sessions.

Follow us on Twitter @RemarkablePod and everywhere else @RemarkableProvidences. For transcripts (like this one) and links to everything, visit http://whisperforge.org/remarkableprovidences. If you like the show, rate and review, or just tell your friends about it, that really helps us out. This show is made possible by our wonderful patrons. If you’d like to join them, visit our Patreon.

And remember, the Devil’s in the details.