American History Tellers - Salem Witch Trials | Specter of Injustice | 3

Episode Date: October 4, 2023

In May 1692, William Phips, the new royal governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, sailed into Boston Harbor and was immediately faced with an unprecedented crisis. The colony was in the throes of a full-blown witchcraft panic. Dozens of accused witches had been jailed, new accusations continued to surface, and the colony was without a legal system to handle the cases.Phips quickly established an emergency court, and in June, the Salem witch trials began. As the first suspects took the stand, controversial evidence about apparitions and visions soon played a key role in sending innocent men and women to their deaths.Listen ad free with Wondery+. Join Wondery+ for exclusives, binges, early access, and ad free listening. Available in the Wondery App. https://wondery.app.link/historytellersSupport us by supporting our sponsors!See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Wondery Plus subscribers can binge new seasons of American History Tellers early and ad-free right now. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Imagine it's May 11th, 1692. You're sitting in a dark room in a tavern in Salem Town, Massachusetts. Your leg is trembling. Yesterday, you were mending clothes when a constable appeared at your door and arrested you and your grandfather on charges of witchcraft. Your grandfather is being held in a room down the hall,

but right now, you're the one facing questioning. You nervously raise your eyes to meet the cold gaze of Magistrate John Hathorne, who's standing in front of you. I know you are in league with the devil, and I am going to prove it. Come in, girls. Half a dozen girls, including your grandfather's maid, file into the room. You're barely 17, and these girls are not much younger than you. As you look up at them, their eyes widen in terror. Suddenly, the girls drop to the floor and begin convulsing. What's happening to them?

You tell me. I know nothing. You must be causing it. Why else would these poor girls fall at the sight of you? I can't explain it. It's terrible to see them suffer like this, but I'm not to blame. Confess, girl. Admit your guilt and you may avoid the gallows.

If you don't confess, you will be hanged. Your mouth goes dry. You think back to your grandfather's desperate warning as the constable dragged you out of your home. He urged you not to confess no matter what. Please, I'm innocent. Just let me see my grandfather, I beg you. No, you will confess and testify against your fellow conspirators or you will face the ultimate punishment for your sins.

Your mind races, torn between the truth and the threat of losing your life. Speak, girl. What will it be? Confession or execution? You take a deep, shaky breath. I did it. I signed the devil's book. I have bewitched the girls. Hathorne's mouth curls into a twisted smile. Is that all? My grandfather, George Jacobs, he's a witch too. He urged me to join the devil.

Good girl. Hathorne smiles again with satisfaction, and you drop your gaze to the floor. The weight of your lies and betrayal tug at your conscience. Even if you survive, you're not sure you can live with what you've just done. From Wondery comes a new series about a lawyer who broke all the rules. Need to launder some money? Broker a deal with a drug cartel?

Take out a witness? Paul can do it. I'm your host, Brandon James Jenkins. Follow Criminal Attorney on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to Kill List and more Exhibit C true crime shows like Morbid early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American History Tellers.

Our history, your story. On May 11, 1692, 17-year-old Margaret Jacobs faced an aggressive interrogation from Magistrate John Hathorne in a tavern in Salem Town, Massachusetts. Hathorne threatened Jacobs with imprisonment and death if she refused to admit practicing witchcraft. In hopes of avoiding the gallows, she gave a false confession and also identified her grandfather as a fellow witch. More than two months had passed

since witchcraft accusations first surfaced in Salem. Dozens of suspects were now locked in jail awaiting prosecution, and soon the new colonial governor would form a special emergency court and trials would finally begin. But as they unfolded, the suspects faced intense pressure and even physical torture. Defense lawyers were forbidden. Judges played the role of prosecutors, interrogating witnesses and suspects. And a reliance on testimony related to visions and apparitions would soon send innocent men and women to their death. This is Episode 3, Specter of Injustice. On May 10, 1692, one of the first women to be accused of witchcraft in Salem died in jail while awaiting trial. Forty-nine-year-old Sarah Osborne had languished in a damp and dirty Boston jail cell for more than two months.

Her death marked the first casualty of the Salem Witch Crisis. Osborne and the other suspects had not yet been convicted of witchcraft, but they were in prison for months while awaiting trial. In the cold, cramped, and vermin-infested Boston prison, inmates were chained and manacled in their cells. The stench of rotting food and unwashed bodies was overwhelming. One 17th century writer described the Boston Jail as a grave of the living, adding, "'Tis a house of meager looks and ill smells, or, if you will, tis the suburbs of hell." Adding insult to injury, inmates were charged by the jailer for room and board. But despite overcrowding, more suspected witches continued to be arrested,

cramming the jail cells even fuller. The same day that Osborne died, the magistrates in Salem Town ordered the arrest of an elderly man named George Jacobs and his 17-year-old granddaughter, Margaret. George and Margaret Jacobs were accused by their 20-year-old servant, Sarah Churchill, a refugee of frontier violence who had joined those claiming to be tormented by witches. George was skeptical about the witch panic in Salem. When Sarah's convulsions started to interfere with her work, he called her a bitch witch and threatened to beat her with his walking sticks. After George's threats, Sarah's convulsions stopped, but her speedy recovery made the magistrates in Salem Town suspicious. They interrogated her and she confessed to signing the devil's book.

But she also implicated her employer and his granddaughter. On May 10th, the constable arrested George and Margaret and brought them to a tavern in Salem town for questioning. As Magistrate John Hathorne began his interrogation, George insisted he'd been falsely accused. He cried out, You taxed me for a wizard. You may as well tax me for a buzzard. I've done no harm. But his servant Sarah served as a witness in the examination, and she continued lodging accusations. She called on George to confess and insisted that he led a wicked life. She also revealed that he neglected to conduct family prayers. When Hathorne asked George to explain himself, he said he couldn't read. Hathorne refused to accept this answer and asked him to recite the

Lord's Prayer. George struggled to do so accurately, which Hathorne interpreted as a sign of guilt. But throughout all the accusations, George remained defiant, declaring, Well, burn me or hang me. I will stand in the truth of Christ. I know nothing of it. But the examination only continued the next day. This time, five additional witnesses joined Sarah in claiming that George and Margaret Jacobs had bewitched them. Then Hathorne turned to George's granddaughter, Margaret. He warned her that she would be hanged if she refused to confess. And hoping to save her own life, she gave in and admitted not only that she was a witch, but that her grandfather was guilty of witchcraft too. She also implicated

Reverend George Burroughs, the former minister of Salem Village who had been jailed two days earlier after he was accused of being the witch's leader. After Margaret's interrogation, George Jacobs was furious to learn what his granddaughter had done. He cried out, she was charged not to confess. If she were innocent and yet confessed, she would be an accessory to her own death. But the magistrates only continued to stack the evidence against him. Twelve-year-old Anne Putnam and eleven-year-old Abigail Williams revealed pins stuck in their hands, declaring that George's specter was responsible. Ultimately, Hathorne ordered that both George and Margaret be sent to jail to await trial. But the Jacobs case marked the start of a controversial new tactic.

When Margaret was pressured to confess, she implicated others, and the magistrates began to realize that confessions could strengthen their cases against other suspects. They began offering to spare the lives of confessors while prosecuting suspects who refused to admit wrongdoing. And as the witch hunt expanded its scope, an important new player was about to enter the crisis, too. On the evening of May 14, 1692, an English ship sailed into Boston Harbor carrying the new royal governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, Sir William Phipps. Phipps was born to a poor family on the Maine frontier roughly 40 years earlier. After apprenticing himself to a shipbuilder, he eventually worked his way up to the rank of captain of a trading vessel. In 1687, he found fame and fortune after he sailed to the Caribbean, where he discovered the wreck of a Spanish ship carrying cargo of gold and silver worth more than

$20 million in today's money. King James II claimed a large share of the treasure and knighted Phipps for his service to the crown. But despite Phipps' newly acquired status, he could barely write his own name. When he returned to Boston, Phipps was baptized into the Puritan Church. Working alongside a powerful Puritan minister, he fought to secure a new royal charter for Massachusetts and was soon rewarded for his work with an appointment as governor. As the new royal governor of Massachusetts, Phipps was confronted almost immediately with a witchcraft crisis of unprecedented scale. In the spring of 1692, 38 accused witches filled the Boston jail, and another eight were formally accused the day he arrived. But prior to Phipps' arrival,

there was no legal system to handle their cases. Ever since the Crown revoked the colony's charter in 1684, Massachusetts had existed in legal limbo. And as he stepped into the role of governor, Phipps did not want to be seen as soft on witchcraft. He knew that certain details of his own life might leave him vulnerable to accusations. During his childhood in Maine, he played with Wabanaki Indians, who Puritans regarded as devil worshippers. His wife had a relative who was accused of witchcraft too, several years earlier in Maine. Witches were often believed to be barren,

and he and his wife had no children. He also knew that his success as a treasure hunter could expose him to allegations that he possessed powers of divination. So very quickly, Phipps established a court of oyer and terminer, meaning to hear and determine in French legal terminology. He named nine judges to the court, all members of the Massachusetts political and economic elite. The chief judge would be Deputy Governor William Stoughton, a strict Puritan with a domineering personality, strong political ambitions, and no formal legal training. And because Massachusetts had no legal code in place, Stoughton and the other judges would rely on the existing English witchcraft laws and legal treaties.

Traditionally, there were two ways to convict a witch. The first was confession. The second was the testimony of potions or dolls called poppets, which witches allegedly used to inflict pain on their victims by sticking pins in them. But when supporting evidence was in short supply, the court turned to even more controversial methods. Imagine it's late May 1692 in the Salem Town Courthouse. You were recently appointed as justice to the newly created Court of Oyer and Terminer. You and your fellow justices are busy preparing for the first session of the witchcraft trials, but something has been weighing on you. You've decided to bring your concerns to Chief Justice William Stoughton.

You approach an office adjacent to the courtroom and find it dark and cramped. Stoughton is inside, sitting behind a desk, poring over records of previous witchcraft trials in England. You approach the desk warily. Good morning, sir. Can you spare a moment? Stoughton looks up, his expression as dour as ever. What is it? I've been paying close attention to the examinations of the accused these past three months. I'm concerned the magistrates have depended far too much on spectral evidence. I see. Stoughton purses his lips. You will yourself

to keep talking. I believe we should prohibit spectral evidence from the courtroom. After all, people's lives are at stake. It's our responsibility to ensure the court upholds a higher standard of proof than testimony about dreams and visions. Stoughton leans forward in his chair and raises an eyebrow. Our responsibility is to protect the afflicted from further harm. To ignore this evidence would be to abandon the court's duty to the afflicted. And what about our duty to the accused? Stoughton thrust the records on his desk towards you. There is no shortage of precedent in English law for the use of spectral evidence.

I realize that it is commonly used as grounds for suspicion, but not as grounds for conviction. We know that Satan can be a trickster. I wonder whether he might be powerful enough to create specters of unwitting and innocent people. Nonsense. It's impossible for specters to take the form of the innocent. People can only appear as specters once they've signed a pact with the devil. You take a deep breath and try to maintain your composure. I urge you to reconsider.

The court must rely on tangible evidence for conviction, not shadows and ghosts. This court is fighting for the soul of Salem. We cannot allow these witches to roam free and do the devil's bidding. We must use every weapon at our disposal. Stoughton's jaw is set, making it clear that the discussion is over. You're troubled that he's going to allow superstition to dictate the proceedings. You nod curtly, but you resolve to do everything in your power to make sure that

the court is safeguarding justice instead of succumbing to fear. The magistrates conducting the pretrial examinations in Salem relied heavily on spectral evidence, testimony in which an afflicted person claimed that the accused appeared to them in the form of a specter and then did harm. Chief Justice William Stoughton insisted that spectral evidence should be admitted, but its use was hotly debated. Most Puritans believed that specters were real, but they disagreed over whether the devil could impersonate someone without their permission. If the devil was powerful enough to take on the form of innocent and unwitting people, then spectral evidence could lead to wrongful convictions.

One of Stoughton's fellow judges was concerned and sought advice from Cotton Mather, one of the most prominent Puritan ministers in New England. Mather advised the judges to exercise caution in relying solely on spectral evidence to secure convictions. But he also undercut his own argument and affirmed that God would vindicate any innocent person that Satan tried to falsely represent. Ultimately, he conceded that the judges would have to rely on their best judgment, and Mather's conflicting advice left the door open for the court to admit spectral evidence. As the judges prepared to go to trial, the use of this evidence would play a key role in their verdicts, and soon Chief Justice William Stoughton would prove to be the most zealous witch hunter of all. In the Pacific Ocean, halfway between Peru and New Zealand Zealand lies a tiny volcanic island.

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try the case of Bridget Bishop, a twice-widowed resident who'd been jailed six weeks earlier. The prosecutor began with Bishop because he believed she was the strongest candidate for conviction. She was elderly and argumentative and had a criminal history. Fourteen years prior, in 1678, she was accused of calling her first husband names on the Sabbath and was sentenced to be publicly gagged for her offenses. One year later, both she and her husband were found guilty of domestic violence and sentenced to be whipped. Then in 1680, she was accused of witchcraft but was acquitted for lack of evidence. Now, twelve years later, she stood accused of the same crime. At Bishop's trial, the afflicted girls served as witnesses, testifying that her specter had pinched, choked, and bitten them.

They described how during her April 19th examination, they were struck down when Bishop looked at them and forced to painfully mimic her body's movements. One witness affirmed that the specter of Bishop had threatened to drown her if she refused to sign the devil's book. Other witnesses painted a picture of a woman with a long history of witchcraft. They told tales of disappearing money and strange accidents dating back to the 1670s, including stories of children mysteriously falling ill or even dying after interacting with her. But the most damning evidence came from two men that Bishop had hired to perform home repairs. These men reported that while working in her cellar, they found poppets with pins in them. The prosecution also presented incriminating bodily evidence.

Earlier that day, a panel of women stripped Bishop naked to inspect her body for witch's marks, considered to be evidence of an animal familiar nourishing themselves on a witch's blood. The women who examined Bishop affirmed that they had found a preternatural teat on her flesh. Criminal defendants were not allowed attorneys under English law, but Bishop was given a chance to defend herself. But as she spoke to the court, the judges and witnesses interrupted her and accused her of lying. By the time Judge Stoughton turned the case over to the jury, Bishop's conviction seemed all but certain.

Reverend Cotton Mather later reflected on the trial, writing, There was little need to prove the witchcraft, it being evident and notorious to all beholders. And to the surprise of no one in the courtroom, the jury found Bishop guilty and sentenced her to hang. This trial set a precedent. Bishop's death warrant primarily emphasized the harm her specter inflicted on her accusers during her April 19th examination. Instead of being used as corroboration or support, spectral evidence became the primary legal justification for convicting accused witches and sentencing them to death. After the trial,

on June 10th, a sheriff carted Bishop to the outskirts of Salem town. A crowd gathered and watched as she was hanged from a branch of a large oak tree. She was the first person to be executed in the Salem witch trials. And her death had surprising consequences. While the court took a short recess, over the next two weeks, the number of new accusations dropped significantly. Only three people claimed to be tormented by specters, and no new suspects were jailed, though a second inmate did die in his Boston cell while awaiting trial.

And during their recess, Governor William Phipps and his council asked 12 leading ministers to offer their opinion on the witch trials, and in particular, the use of spectral evidence. The ministers replied with a letter of caution, warning that spectral testimony could not be trusted for convictions because the devil could take the shape of anyone, even the innocent. Still, these ministers praised the work of the court. They concluded their letter by urging the speedy and vigorous prosecutions of the suspects. So encouraged, Stoughton and the others ignored the advice on spectral evidence and moved ahead. But later in June, another voice of caution emerged in the form of a petition to the colonial legislature

penned by William Milbourne, a Baptist minister in Boston. His petition called on the court to rethink its reliance on spectral evidence. Several supporters signed their names to the document. But in a time of unprecedented fear and paranoia, Milbourne would soon pay a heavy price for his criticism. Imagine it's June 25, 1692 in Boston. Earlier today, a sheriff arrested you in your home and dragged you to the office of Governor William Phipps. After the execution of Bridget Bishop, you circulated a petition explaining your doubts about the witch trials and criticizing the use of spectral evidence.

But now you're standing before Phipps and his council as they sit behind a long oak table. Phipps leans forward, his eyes boring into yours. Reverend, please explain your connection to a recent seditious petition concerning the administration of justice in this colony. Do you acknowledge that you wrote and distributed this petition? Yes, Governor. I wrote the petition you are referring to. I could not bear to sit idle when innocent lives were at stake. Since you do not deny writing it, let us turn to the matter of your punishment. Please, sir, let me explain myself.

Several people of good reputation sit behind bars purely on the basis of your punishment. Please, sir, let me explain myself. Several people of good reputation sit behind bars purely on the basis of spectral evidence. And what makes you a qualified judge of reputation? My governor, I am a man of the cloth. Phipps exchanges a skeptical look with the man seated to his right. But you are a minister of the Baptist Church, are you not? That must make you prone to radical beliefs. You can feel beads of sweat forming on your forehead. You tug at your collar, wishing that someone would open a window. Yes, I am the pastor of the First Baptist Church here in Boston.

But a Puritan minister has been jailed. I know Reverend George Burroughs from my time in Maine. Surely a minister of your own church could not possibly be guilty of witchcraft. That is a matter for the court to take up. But Governor, I fear that if the court continues to privilege spectral testimony, innocent lives will be lost. I beg you to reconsider the validity of this evidence. Reverend, this council has no need for unsolicited opinions.

I hereby order you to appear before the Superior Court at its next sitting. In the interim, you must pay 200 pounds in bond money or wait in jail. The choice is yours, Reverend. You take a deep breath and steel yourself.

As much as it pains you to pay a fine for speaking out, you know it's preferable to sitting in a Boston jail cell. I'll pay the bond. Good. Escort him out, Sheriff. The Sheriff clutches your elbow and drags you out of the room. You're stunned to be punished simply for speaking your mind, and then begin to wonder how many more people will fall victim to this wave of terror. When Reverend William Milbourne defended himself before Governor Phipps and his council, he already had the odds stacked against him.

Milbourne was a Baptist, a sect that Puritans considered radical and dangerous, and he was also the brother of a man executed for rebelling against the governor of New York. Milbourne himself avoided jail time, but had to pay a hefty bond. Meanwhile, the witchcraft panic only continued to spread. Three days later, on June 28th, the court of Oyer and Terminer began its second session. Five accused witches faced trial. The first to take the stand was Sarah Good, the destitute villager who was one of the first women accused of witchcraft. During the proceedings, an afflicted girl accused Good's specter of

stabbing her with a knife. She even produced a broken blade as proof. But then a young man rose from the stands and accused the girl of lying, insisting that the knife was one he had thrown away the previous day, within sight of the girl. But the revelation of the witness's lie had no impact on the trial, and Good was soon convicted and sentenced to die. Next, the court turned to an elderly widow, who was also convicted and sentenced to hang. But the prosecution's most challenging case of the day was Rebecca Nurse, a respected 70-year-old member of the Salem Town Church.

Before the trial, Nurse and her family assembled a strong defense. They circulated a petition attesting to her innocence and good character, which 39 of her neighbors signed. They also submitted testimony that questioned the credibility of the accusers. One witness declared that one of the afflicted teenagers had recently told him several untruths. Another witness statement said that a second accuser had an unruly, turbulent spirit and was double-tongued. Despite these challenges, the prosecution focused on testimony from the afflicted, who claimed that Nurse's specter had tormented them. In addition, the panel of women who stripped

and inspected Nurse declared that they had found a witch's teat on her body, too. But in the end, Nurse's strong defense paid off when the jury returned a verdict of not guilty. The announcement sparked chaos in the courtroom. The judges were shocked. The afflicted girls cried out in pain, prompting one judge to suggest that Nurse be indicted all over again. And Judge Stoughton refused to accept the verdict. He declared that he would not impose upon the jury, but he nonetheless asked the jurors to reconsider. He instructed them to pay close attention to an earlier remark that he found questionable. During the proceedings, two confessed witches testified against Nurse. And when they appeared, Nurse declared, What, do these persons give evidence against me now?

They used to come among us. And in accordance with Stoughton's instructions, the jury foreman asked Nurse to explain her remark and her use of us, which could be considered to mean us witches. But in reply, Nurse said nothing. And the jury interpreted this silence as a sign of guilt. They changed their verdict and declared Nurse guilty. Her family complained that the 70-year-old Nurse was nearly deaf

and simply had not heard the question. In previous witchcraft trials in New England, accused witches with otherwise good reputations did typically escape conviction. But good character, deep religious beliefs, and full church membership were still not enough to save Rebecca Nurse. Her conviction showed that no one was safe from the gallows, and her punishment extended from the courtroom to the church house. Five days later, her fellow members of the Salem Town Church unanimously voted to excommunicate her,

denying her the promise of God's salvation after death. On July 19th, Nurse was hanged alongside four other convicted witches, including Sarah Good. At the hanging, a minister gave Good one last chance to confess, but she refused, crying out, I am no more a witch than you are a wizard, and if you take away my life, God will give you blood to drink. But even as Good took her last breath, her four-year-old daughter Dorothy remained in jail, awaiting her own trial. The criticism of spectral evidence that emerged during the court's recess had all but disappeared. And as the court continued working through the backlog of cases, more panic spread across the region.

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It was an order. I'm your host, Brandon James Jenkins. Follow Criminal Attorney on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to Criminal Attorney early and ad free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. By the middle of July 1692, witchcraft hysteria had spread throughout New England. As far away as Stanford, Connecticut, 200 miles southwest of Salem, a teenage girl accused five local women of bewitching her. As the summer wore on, the majority of new

accusations arose in the town of Andover, Massachusetts, 15 miles northwest of Salem. In total, 46 Andover residents would be accused of witchcraft, more than Salem Village and Salem Town combined. Later that month, Andover residents Richard and Andrew Carrier were arrested for witchcraft and jailed in Boston. The Carriers were the teenage sons of an accused Andover residents Richard and Andrew Carrier were arrested for witchcraft and jailed in Boston. The Carriers were the teenage sons of an accused Andover witch named Martha Carrier. On July 22nd, the brothers were dragged into court for their pre-trial examination. And when they refused to bow to the magistrate's pressure to confess, they were hauled into another chamber where they were tied up and tortured.

When the magistrates brought them back into the courtroom, both brothers immediately admitted their guilt. Eighteen-year-old Richard described signing the devil's book and giving the devil permission to use his shape to harm people. He even described how he rode on a pole to Salem Village and stuck pins in images of his victims. Fifteen-year-old Andrew confessed to signing the devil's book too and hurting a neighbor's child.

The same torture was inflicted upon William Proctor, the 17-year-old son of John Proctor, the outspoken witchcraft skeptic who had been jailed alongside his wife Elizabeth in April. John was furious when he learned what had happened, and he refused to let fear and intimidation stop him from speaking out. Imagine it's July 23rd, 1692. For the past three months, you and your wife have been imprisoned in Boston, awaiting trial on charges of witchcraft. You step out into the stifling heat of the jail yard, rubbing the sores on your wrists where the manacles have chafed against your skin. You've just heard some disturbing news and you're planning

to make a stand. As you scan the yard, you catch sight of a fellow inmate named Thomas hunched against a rotting wooden post. Thomas, how's your cough? He looks up at you with weary eyes and waves a fly from his face. It's a little better. He looks up at you with weary eyes and waves a fly from his face. It's a little better. Listen, I just spoke to the jailer. He told me that the carrier boys were tortured into confessing yesterday.

And so was my son William. When Elizabeth finds out... Thomas shakes his head in sympathy and his shoulders slump in defeat. It's barbaric. I agree. But I have an idea. I'm going to write a letter to as many important clergymen as I can think of. We need to tell them what's happening. Perhaps they can intervene. There must be something they can do. Will you join me? Join you how? By signing your name to the letter. I want to get as many fellow inmates involved as I can.

Thomas looks down at his cracked and dirty fingers. Go ask someone else. Please, Thomas. I can't let this madness continue. You place a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs it off. A letter like that would practically be an admission of guilt. But don't you see? These cruelties are no different than the persecution and corruption carried out by the Catholic Pope.

Even if I sign your letter, who's to say anything will change? There must be ministers out there willing to listen to reason. I understand the risks. But we can't keep letting fear dictate our actions. Thomas looks up and meets your gaze. There's a brief flicker of determination in his eyes. Fine.

Give me your letter, and I'll sign it. Suppose I'm a dead man anyway. You smile and pat his shoulder in gratitude. You know that he's right. There's a high likelihood you'll fail.

But if you are sent to the gallows, at least you'll die knowing that your conscience is clear. On July 23rd, John Proctor and several fellow prisoners wrote to five leading Boston clergymen, describing how the carriers and Proctor's son were tortured into giving false confessions. John described how the Carrier boys were tied neck and heels till the blood was ready to come out their noses. He begged to have the judges replaced or the trial venue moved to Boston. He argued that the current court had condemned us already before our trials, being so much incensed and engaged against us by the devil. But John Proctor's pleas were ignored. Just ten days later, on August 2nd,

the court of Oyer and Terminer began its third session. John and Elizabeth Proctor were among six defendants tried for witchcraft. For their defense, the Proctors submitted two petitions to the court, which carried a total of 51 signatures. The first petition attested to the couple's good character and innocence. The second petition questioned the use of spectral evidence by arguing that Satan could take the form of the innocent. But the petitions were not enough to compensate for damning testimony from the Proctor's servant, Mary Warren.

Both John and Elizabeth Proctor were found guilty and sentenced to hang. When Elizabeth announced that she was pregnant, the court agreed to stay her execution until after she gave birth. Along with the Proctors, the judges also sentenced Richard and Andrew's mother, Martha Carrier, and they issued a death warrant for George Jacobs, the elderly man implicated by his own granddaughter. But the final trial of the court's third session was the most sensational of the entire crisis. On August 5th, a massive crowd gathered in the Salem Town Courthouse to watch the proceedings against Reverend George Burroughs. The former pastor of Salem Village stood accused of being

the witch's ringleader. One observer described how Burroughs had the promise of being a king in Satan's kingdom. The prosecution knew that if it was going to convict a Puritan minister, it would need overwhelming evidence. So the prosecutors arranged for 30 witnesses to give testimony. The afflicted gave detailed descriptions of how Burroughs' specter had tormented them. They showed teeth marks on their arms and insisted his specter had bit them. And once again, the afflicted transformed the legal proceedings into public theater. When some of the witnesses tried to speak, they appeared to choke on their words, as if an invisible force was rendering them speechless. Additionally, eight confessed witches affirmed that Burroughs was their leader.

They described his efforts to recruit witches, lead witch meetings, and use poppets to hurt people. Because confessors had already admitted to witchcraft, their claims carried extra credibility. Nine other witnesses relayed tales of Burroughs' superior physical strength, implying his abilities were proof of supernatural power. One person remembered how Burroughs had lifted a full barrel of molasses out of an unsteady canoe. Burroughs himself had boasted about feats of strength in the past, and now his own words were used against him. At several points during the proceedings, Burroughs interrupted to challenge the testimony,

but his attempts to defend himself failed. One observer insisted that he had produced nothing but contradictions and falsehoods. The jury pronounced him guilty and sentenced him to hang. But in the wake of the court's third session, guilt consumed the jailed teenager Margaret Jacobs. She recanted her accusations against Burroughs and her grandfather, George Jacobs. On August 18th, she met with Burroughs in jail and asked for his forgiveness for bearing false witness against him. He forgave her and prayed with her,

but it was too late to change his fate. The next day, Burroughs, George Jacobs, John Proctor, and two more convicted witches were carted to the gallows. Standing before the crowds, Burroughs made a speech affirming his innocence. Many were moved to tears as he perfectly recited the Lord's Prayer, a feat believed to be impossible for a witch. And as the crowd watched him fall to his death at the end of a rope, some began to question his guilt. Reverend Cotton Mather watched the proceedings on horseback. He settled the crowd

with a stern reminder, declaring, the devil has often been transformed into an angel of light. And the crowd calmed down, and the hangings continued. Despite growing criticism of the witch hunt, the relentless pace of afflictions, accusations, and trials accelerated as the summer came to a close. More men and women were confessing to witchcraft, and the deadliest phase of the crisis had only just begun. From Wondery, this is Episode 3 of our four-part series, The Salem Witch Trials from American History Tellers. On the next episode, in September 1692, another two dozen accused witches face the judgment of the Court of Oyer and Terminer. One man is subjected to brutal torture for refusing to stand trial.

But a growing number of Puritan elites begin to question the court's actions. If you like American History Tellers, you can binge all episodes early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music. And before you go, tell us about yourself in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music.

And before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com slash survey. American History Tellers is hosted, edited, and produced by me, Lindsey Graham for Airship. Audio editing by Christian Paraga. Sound design by Molly Bach. Music by Lindsey Graham. Voice acting by Joe Hernandez-Kolsky and Cynthia St. Louis.

This episode is written by Ellie Stanton. Edited by Dorian Marina. Produced by Alita Rozanski. Coordinating producer is Desi Blaylock. Managing producer is Matt Gant. Senior managing producer, Ryan Lohr. Senior producer, Andy Herman. Executive producers are Jenny Lauer-Beckman and Marsha Louis for Wondery.

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