Salem Witch Trials

It’s that time of year when everything gets a spooky makeover. Pumpkins start popping up on porches, decorations take on a creepy vibe, and the whole atmosphere shifts. Few places lean into it quite like Salem, Massachusetts. This town knows how to put on a show. During this season, the population just about triples as people pour in to be part of the experience. That’s why I’m here —to see it for myself and find out how a place with such a dark past not only leans into Halloween but also uses it as an opportunity to acknowledge and reflect on its history.

More than 300 years ago, the people of Salem—then split between Salem Town and Salem Village, now modern-day Danvers—seemed to lose their grip on reality. Fear took hold, pitching neighbour against neighbour. Whispers of spectres and witchcraft spread like wildfire, and common sense went right out the window. The echoes of that hysteria still linger, and with a curiosity to understand what drove such actions, I’m here to walk the same streets where it all unfolded.

Thinking back to Salem Town in the 1690s, I try to picture what this area might’ve looked like when it was just a small settlement. Most of the people here were English Puritans, families who had already been living in the area for around seventy years. A few generations had grown up with strict beliefs and a deep fear of anything deemed ungodly. It’s strange to stand here now and imagine a small and quiet community of farmers and tradesmen, never anticipating what would come next. 

I decided to start my journey at the site of the old courthouse. The building itself is long gone, but this is where so many innocent people were accused and met their fate. Over 16 months—from February 1692 to May 1693—more than 200 people faced accusations of witchcraft, and 172 went to court. By today’s standards, the trials were a debacle: accusers, often children, claimed to see spectral evidence—visions of the accused’s spirit harming them or appearing in dreams. Those accused, including a four-year-old child, endured intense questioning with little chance to defend themselves. In the end, 20 were executed and another 30 convicted, of which five died in jail

Being a small settlement, many residents lived close to the courthouse, particularly along Washington Street, where I’m standing now. Bridget Bishop, the first person to be hanged, had her home just across the street, and Judge John Hathorne lived nearby—I’ll be returning to both of their stories later. Reverend Nicholas Noyes, the minister who played a pivotal role in the trials by supporting the accusations and advocating harsh punishments, also resided on this street.

As I head north toward Danvers, I think of the many lives swept into this storm. From George Jacobs Sr., old and respected, betrayed by neighbours he’d known for decades, to Sarah Good, desperate, poor, and pregnant, each person caught in a web of fear and suspicion. Even Tituba, an enslaved woman from Barbados, found herself confessing to witchcraft, fuelling the hysteria that spread through Salem. Then my thoughts turn to Rebecca Nurse, whose home I am about to visit, and a sense of sadness and unease courses down my spine, realising that even one of the most respected people in town met a tragic end.