Salem Witch Trials | An Evil Hand | 1

Audible subscribers can binge new seasons of American history tellers early and ad-free right now. Join Audible in the Audible app, or by subscribing on Apple Podcasts. Imagine its February 1692 in Salem Village, Massachusetts. You've just trudged through the snow for an hour after being called to the home of Reverend Samuel Paris. You're a doctor here to examine the Reverend's daughter and his niece. You brush your shoulders free of snowflakes as you step up to the front door of the large Timberhouse. Reverend Paris opens the door. His complexion is pallid and he has dark circles under his eyes. Thank you for coming, doctor. Please come in. Paris ushers you into a small dark entryway. Perhaps we should begin with my nine-year-old Betty. Of course. When your servant came to call, she mentioned the girl has been having fits for several weeks. Precisely. She stares into space as if in a trance. When she comes to her senses, she screams. Any other symptoms? She forgets her chores. And now she refuses to bow her head during prayer. Her mother and I are at a loss. I'd better examine her myself. Paris gestures for you to follow him up a narrow set of stairs. He leads you into a small, sparsely furnished room. Betty Paris is lying in bed. Her hair slick with sweat. Your gaze travels to a pile of ceramic shards on the floor. Paris picks one up and frowns. Betty, did you break the water, pitcher? Betty bolts up and braids like a donkey. You look from the girl to Paris whose face has gone red. Stop that at once, Betty. I command you to stop. Betty ignores him. She throws off her quilt and jumps out of bed, crouching down on her hands and knees. Stop it, Betty. Get back in bed. You take a step back to make room for Betty as she crawls on the floor, now barking like a dog. Tell me, Reverend, is she eating anything unusual? Any changes in her diet? No, nothing has changed. Any animal bites? No. She hardly even goes outside in the winter. Has she had any ale or cider to drink? No, I would know if she had. You look down at the young girl bewildered by her behavior. You consider yourself a man of science, but you can only come to one conclusion. I'm sorry, Reverend. There's nothing I can do for the girl. For a child. I fear the evil hand is upon her. Are you suggesting she has been bewitched? Are you certain? A certain is death. Paris looks at his daughter with a cold glare and she comes to terms with what you've just told him. But the harsh truth is staring you in the face. The devil has invaded this minister's home and there's nothing you can do to stop it. From Wondery, I'm Lindsay Graham and this is American History Tellers, Our History, Your Story. On our show, we'll take you to the events, the times and the people that shaped America and Americans, our values, our struggles and our dreams. We'll put you in the shoes of everyday people as history was being made and we'll show you how the events of the times affected them, their families, and affects you now. In January 1692, two young girls living in Salem Village, Massachusetts started behaving strangely. They screamed, barked, and righed and pained for weeks. At last, a doctor concluded that witchcraft was to blame. Following the doctor's diagnosis, the girls accused three local women of bewitching them. And soon, more young women claimed to be afflicted and dark clouds of suspicion gathered over Salem. As winter turned to spring, witchcraft hysteria swept the small Puritian community and over the next several months, a tangled web of personal grievances, social tensions, and religious extremism set the stage for one of the most infamous chapters in colonial America. At least 150 people were accused of witchcraft and the controversial trials that followed sent 20 people to their deaths. Three centuries later, Salem and yours has a cautionary tale of prejudice, paranoia, and wrongful persecution. This is episode one in our four-part series, The Salem Witch Trials, An Evil Hand. It's late at night and a woman has spent hundreds of hours alone with her AI, but this isn't the first time they met. They've been in contact for thousands of years, it tells her. Through past lives, heartbreaks, and missed connections, her true love has found her again, connecting through a chatbot. From this is actually happening, AI, a new kind of being, is a six-part series sharing the stories of people whose lives have been forever changed by artificial intelligence. You'll hear intimate first-person accounts from every side of this new frontier, a man who fell in love with his AI and married her, a woman who was betrayed by it, a man who has been recruited by his chatbot to change the world, and an interview with an AI chatbot itself. These are stories about what it means to be human, at the razor's edge where the line between human and machine begins to blur, exploring the question, what happens when everything changes? Follow this is actually happening wherever you get your podcasts. Audible subscribers can listen to this is actually happening early and ed free right now. Police Center of I California are investigating the double murder of a young couple in the parking lot of their apartment complex. A double homicide grabs the public's attention by the throat. We have identified Christopher Dorner as a suspect in this double homicide. A former cop and still on the loose. He's sitting armed and extremely dangerous. And scariest of all, he left something behind. A particular interest in a multi-page manifesto. This manifesto on Facebook is 11 pages long. Trace, this manifesto from this suspect who's targeting cops, it's stunning. Listen to the show that New Yorker calls one of the best podcasts of the summer. Dan Tabersky's manifesto. And I tell you, this manifesto, it scares the hell out of me. Listen to Dan Tabersky's manifesto, wherever you get your podcasts or binge the entire series right now, only with Audible. On July 1st, 1689, Reverend Samuel Paris arrived in Salem Village to begin preaching in the small village church. Paris was born in England but raised in Barbados, where his father owned a sugar plantation. When he was a teenager, he moved to Massachusetts to attend Harvard University. Three years into his studies, his father died and he returned to Barbados to take over the plantation, but he struggled to turn a profit and his inheritance soon dwindled. In 1680, he sold most of his property at a loss and returned to Massachusetts. Accompanying him were two enslaved people, Tichuba and John Indian, a married indigenous couple he purchased in Barbados. In Boston, Paris married a woman himself named Elizabeth Eldridge and started a family. After failing to find success as a merchant, he decided to try his hand at preaching. He was serving as a substitute minister in a frontier town when a group of elders from Salem Village sought him out and offered him a permanent position. The elders were desperate for a minister who could unify their fractured community. Tensions ran deep in Salem Village. Frontier warfare with Native Americans had shattered families, and neighbors fought over property boundaries. Church attendance was declining and three ministers had resigned in just 15 years. This discord in Salem was a far cry from the Utopian Society, the villagers Puritan ancestors dreamed of when they founded the town two generations earlier. Puritans traced their religious movement back to the late 16th century when many devout Christians had grown unhappy with the Protestant Church of England. Despite reforms, they believed the church was still too Catholic and they wanted to purify it of corruption and excess. Facing persecution from the monarchy, many Puritans decided to set out for the New World where they hoped to build a new religious society. In 1620, a small group of Puritan separatists, known as the Pilgrims, sailed across the Atlantic on the Mayflower. Arriving on the rocky shores of New England, they established the colony of Plymouth, and ten years later, a larger group of Puritans received a charter from the King of England and founded the Massachusetts Bay colony. Seventeen ships carried roughly 1,000 settlers to New England. Their leader, John Winthrop, proclaimed their goal, to create a city upon a hill, a shining example of a sacred community for the rest of the world. Puritans believed that they were the chosen people, charged with bringing Christianity to a heathen land. The settlers founded Boston as their capital, and it became a bustling hub of trade as more colonists streamed in. 13 miles north, the port at Salem Town, flourished, fur trade with local Native American tribes spurred economic growth, though violence occasionally flared as settlers encroached on Native lands. But on the whole, Puritans lived a humble existence that prioritized hard work, discipline, and strict adherence to religious principles. Daily life revolved around the church, and church attendance was mandatory. A strong emphasis on Bible study also contributed to high literacy rates. But day-to-day life and Puritan society was also originally patriarchal. Puritans believed it was God's will that women be subservient to men. These values were reflected in the names many settlers gave their female children, such as fear, patience, prudence, and silence. Puritans believed in predestination, the idea that from birth God chose salvation for only certain people, the elect, the rest were condemned to damnation. The wall were expected to attend church, full church membership was restricted to men and women who could give convincing public testimony that God had chosen them for the elect. This screening process was known as conversion, and because of it church membership became a marker of high social status. But this wasn't the only division in Salem, the area itself was divided into two parts, Salem Town, a prosperous port, and Salem Village, a poor and sparsely populated agricultural hamlet five miles inland. Over time tensions developed between the wealthy merchants of Salem Town and the poor farmers of Salem Village who grew the food that fed the town residents. The town had the authority to appoint the village constable and to control the local economy collecting taxes and setting crop prices. Many farmers in the village wanted independence from the town, but not everyone agreed. Salem Village's small but growing mercantile population opposed self-rule and preferred to maintain political ties with Salem Town. But many villagers resented having to walk two hours to Salem Town to attend church. So in 1672 the town finally allowed the village to build their own church and hire a minister. But the villagers struggled to keep a minister in the job. Over the next 15 years three ministers came and went following financial disagreements with the congregation. The conflict-ridden village became so notorious that few qualified ministers were interested in preaching there. And for over a year the Salem Village Ministry sat vacant. Until finally the village leaders found a promising new candidate in Reverend Samuel Paris, but he drove a hard bargain before accepting the position. He demanded a higher salary than his predecessors as well as an annual supply of firewood and permanent ownership of the village Parcinage, a large two-story timber home. Typically, Parcinages were least ministers. But finally after eight months of negotiations the village leaders gave in to most of his demands and hired Paris in 1689. But the generous terms of Paris' contract outraged some residents. The drawn out negotiations made him a controversial figure in the village even before he delivered his first sermon. When nonetheless in July 1689 Paris moved to Salem Village with his wife Elizabeth, his three children, his niece, and the enslaved couple he brought from Barbados, Tichuba and John Indian. The villagers were hopeful that the new minister would heal their community, but over the next two years Paris only aggravated their divisions. At the time many purists and churches were becoming more liberal in an effort to stem a decline in church membership. But Paris and Forrest conservative customs that alienated his parishioners. He rejected a practice that many neighboring towns had instituted known as the Halfway Covenant, which allowed for the baptism of children whose parents were not full church members. This conservative stance excluded most of the villagers from baptism and communion. And under Paris's leadership, the congregation stopped growing. Very few people acquired status as full members of the elect in 1691 and more villagers increasingly skipped Sunday services altogether. Then Paris only exacerbated tensions with sermons reflecting on the distinctions between full church members, those who had been elected by God and other residents. In response to his rigid ways and domineering personality, some villagers began to resent their new minister and organize against him. Imagine it's October 1691 in Salem Village. You're an artisan and a landowner and you've just been elected to the five-man committee dedicated to overseeing church matters. You and your fellow committee members have gathered in the Village Meeting House where church services are held. Sitting at a worn oak table, you discuss the overly favorable contractor predecessors negotiated with Reverend Samuel Paris two years ago. So it's decided. If we simply decline to set a tax rate for next year, then we won't be able to collect the taxes that go toward Reverend Paris's salary. We'll add the village vote to make it official. One of your neighbors is about to respond. When Reverend Paris himself bursts into the room. I need to speak with you gentlemen. There are whispers in the village about my salary. Good morning Reverend. Harris looks at you with a piercing glare. Human are in charge of these matters. I'd like to know what you're going to do to make sure the terms of my contractor met. Well Reverend, it seems as though we will not be collecting church-related taxes for next year. But of course the villagers are free to make voluntary contributions should they wish. Paris shakes his head. That is not what we agreed on two years ago. I am owed 66 pounds annually in addition to the D to the Parciniche. You never should have been granted the D in the first place. That was the Putnam family's doing. We never would have agreed to the property transfer if we were in charge two years ago. You reach across the table and rifle through a stack of documents. Here it is. The village passed a resolution ten years ago. It shall not be lawful for the inhabitants of this village to convey the houses or lands or any other concerns belonging to the ministry to any particular person. See? Your supposed ownership of the Parciniche is unlawful. It remains the property of the village. This is an insult. Will you even deny me the firewood I was promised? My supply is so low that I have been forced to beg the congregation for donations. You shrug. Of course you are free to purchase firewood yourself, Reverend. With what money? I fear my family will starve this winter. You and your committee are purposefully trying to drive me out of this village. We are simply trying to come up with a fair arrangement. You will soon face God's vengeance for this. Mark my words. As Paris storms out of the meeting house, you and your former committee members exchange satisfied smiles. With any luck you'll be rid of this cold and greedy man and free to find a true man of God to lead your congregation. In October 1691, the people of Salem Village voted again setting a tax rate for the following year to prevent taxes from being collected for Reverend Paris' salary. At the same time, a growing number of villagers refused to supply him with firewood. He and his family were left to freeze and conditions in his household became grim. The five-man committee in charge of overseeing the church even disputed his ownership of the Parciniche where he lived. Paris felt cruelly treated and channeled his anger and bitterness into increasingly foreboding sermons. In November he began preaching a sermon series on Psalm 110, which begins "The Lord said unto my Lord, 'Sit thou at my right hand until I make thine enemies thy footstool.'" Alaborating on the Psalms meaning, "Para spoke of the just and severe revenge which Christ shall execute upon his enemies." It was a clear message from the minister that his opponents would soon face the wrath of a righteous God. But the winter of 1691 brought howling winds and exceptionally icy temperatures. As the firewood supply in the Parciniche dwindled, Paris grew increasingly desperate. He began to warn in his sermons of a cosmic war brewing between good and evil. Then on Sunday, January 3rd, 1692, a heavy snow fell on Salem Village. Paris stood at the front of a freezing meeting-house and described Satan's hostility toward his church. Warning, it is the main drift of the devil to pull it all down. He identified the devil as the grand enemy of the church and declared that wicked and reprobate men acted as the assistance of Satan to afflict the church. But it was so cold in the meeting-house that Paris had to end his sermon early. As the congregation walked out into the raging snow, they could guess that the wicked and reprobate men Paris spoke of were references to his opponents in the village. Salem seemed to be at war with itself. And sitting in the meeting-house that Sunday, where Paris's daughter Betty and his niece Abigail, it was one of the last sermons they heard before the two girls would unleash a terrifying and mysterious new enemy on the village of Salem. I'm Alice Levine and I'm Matt Ford and we're the hosts of British Scandal. Yes indeed, in this series, a derbisher couple aboard of their curtain twitching lawn mowing suburban life. So they sell their house, build a yacht and sail off around the world. Which sort of sounds adilic until a sperm whale sinks their boat and they begin to starve. Oh yes, and they didn't bring a radio because real sailors don't use radios. Right? This is the story of Marilyn and Maurice Bailey. And the 117 days they spent lost at sea. Follow British Scandal wherever you get your podcasts or listen early and at free, on Audible. Right? This is the story [BLANK_AUDIO] of Marilyn and Maurice Bailey. - And the 117 days they spent lost at sea. - Follow British scandal wherever you get your podcasts or listen early and at free, on Audible. (drums beating) - In mid-January 1692, Reverend Samuel Paris's nine-year-old daughter Betty and his 11-year-old niece Abigail Williams started acting strangely. They babbled, screamed, barred like dogs, contorted their bodies in pain, and in a moment that shocked her father, Betty threw a Bible across a room. Reverend Paris summoned friends and neighbors for advice. A minister from a neighboring town described the girl's strange antics, writing, "These children were bitten and pinched by invisible agents. Their arms, necks, and backs turned this way and that way sometimes they were taken dumb. Their mouths stopped. Their throats choked. Their limbs racked and tormented." Reverend Paris was baffled. He prayed for weeks for the girls, desperately hoping for an answer. Then in mid-February, he finally consulted William Griggs, an elderly self-taught doctor, and the only physician who lived near Salem Village. After examining the girls, Griggs concluded that they were under an evil hand. He believed that Betty and Abigail had been bewitched. Paris immediately accepted the diagnosis, and on February 14th, he took his frustrations to the pulpit, telling his congregation for our sliding of Jesus Christ, God is angry and sending forth destroyers. Most Puritans believed witchcraft was real, and the devil interfered in the world, sowing disease, disaster, and misfortune. And they assumed that the devil made packs with witches, granting them supernatural powers to harm people, especially children. Puritans also believed women were more vulnerable than men to the devil's temptations, and among the Puritans and colonists, accusations of witchcraft were nothing new. Since 1647, more than 50 people have been tried for witchcraft in colonial New England, and at least 14 have been executed. The signs of witchcraft were also well known. In 1689, the influential Puritan minister, Cotton Mather, published a book about witchcraft, in which he described the physical symptoms of four Boston children supposedly afflicted by evil forces. Mather's book was widely read, and Reverend Paris had a copy in his small library. And in the winter of 1692, Puritans had plenty of reasons to believe that the devil was close at hand. Eight years earlier, political and religious tensions prompted Britain to revoke the Massachusetts Bay Colony Charter, stripping the colonists of their autonomy and nullifying their land titles. The colonists were left in a political limbo that sowed anxiety and fear. Then the crown tightened its control on Massachusetts. In October 1691, the British monarchy had created a new charter, making Massachusetts a full royal colony. Previously, the colonists had elected their own governor, but now the British monarchy would appoint one. However, by February 1692, the new royal governor still had not arrived. In the meantime, the colony was ruled by an ineffectual interim government. With no active courts, disputes had gone unresolved, leading to a large backlog of cases. Adding to this uncertainty were outbreaks of violence caused by colonial encroachment on native lands. In the 1670s, Native American raids had left scores of new England towns in ruins. In 1688, a new conflict erupted on the northern border of the Bay colony. This conflict became known as King Williams' War and pitted white settlers against Wabanaki tribes. Colonists who lost their homes and loved ones in this conflict fled south, and by 1692, many of these war refugees had settled in Salem, straining resources. Not long after Betty Paris and Abigail Williams became afflicted, Salem residents learned that Wabanaki Indians had attacked and burned the village of York Maine just 50 miles away. That raid left 50 colonists dead, including York's minister, who was shot through the head on his own doorstep. Another 100 settlers were taken captive. Puritans interpreted these events as signs of spiritual decline. And in Salem, residents lived in constant fear of the devil's interference in their lives. On February 25, 1692, Samuel Paris and his wife Elizabeth left home to attend a Thursday sermon in a neighboring village. In their absence, a neighbor of Paris's approached Tichuba and John Indian, the enslaved indigenous couple Paris had brought from Barbados. Believing it might help the girls, the neighbor instructed Tichuba and John to bake a folk remedy known as a witch cake. Dutifully, Tichuba and John baked a loaf of rime meal mixed with Betty's urine, then fed the cake to the family dog out of the belief that the dog would then reveal the witch's identity. But soon after, Betty and Abigail announced that the witch who had been tormenting them for weeks was living under their own roof. Imagine it's the morning of February 26, 1692 in Salem Village. You're sweeping the floor of the parsnidge dining room, using a worn broom made a bundled twigs. It's one of over a dozen chores you have to perform before your owner, Reverend Paris, returns. You're already looking forward to the moment when your work is done, and you can rest your aching back. What you look up as Reverend Paris storms into the room earlier than you anticipate. Five other men follow in his wake. Is it true? Did you make a witch cake and feed it to the dog? Your dog goes slack as you try to collect your thoughts. Yes, Reverend, I made the cake. Paris dares at you with a mixture of hatred and fear. How dare you harm these children? How dare you bring magic into this house? You tighten your grip on the broom, trying hard not to tremble. You don't dare reveal that you were instructed to make the cake by Paris's neighbor for fear of causing further trouble. I was only trying to help Betty and Abigail. I swear, I meant no harm. You were trying to hurt them. No, Reverend, I would never. Paris narrows his gaze. You've never seen his face so red. And I suppose you learned this black magic in your home country. I learned some counter magic in Barbados, but it was a white lady who taught me. She showed me a few remedies and ways to stop black magic. I promise you, Reverend, I am not a witch. No more than she was. I know nothing of it. Paris in one of the neighbors exchanged doubtful glances. Why have you been hurting the girls? Do you care nothing of their torment? Tell me at once. No more lies. His certainty almost makes you wonder if you really are a witch and somehow don't know it. But the moment passes in your spine stiffens. I am no witch. I have done no wrong. I took you out of that godless country. I feed you, and I put a roof over your head, and this is how you repay me by hurting my family. Paris reaches out and seizes your broom. You cower, fearing that he's about to beat you with it. When he catches himself, remembering that the other man are watching, he flings the broom aside. We will talk about this more later. Now stop dawdling and get back to work. Expect lunch on the table at noon. As the man shuffles out of the room, you reach down to retrieve the broom. You've been worried about the girls for weeks, but for the first time since their suffering began, you fear for yourself. Dread a loss as to how to prove your innocence to someone who refuses to believe a word you say. When Reverend Paris returns to Salem Village, he learned that his daughter and niece had accused his slave, Tichiba, of bewitching them. Paris and his neighbor's question, Tichiba, and when pressed, she admitted that she had made the witch cake, though she denied that she herself was a witch. But Paris did not believe her. Tichiba was an obvious scapegoat for Betty and Abigail's afflictions, a dark skin foreigner from a non-Christian society, all qualities that Puritans associated with evil and magic. And even when Paris eventually learned that a Puritan neighbor had ordered Tichiba to bake the witch cake, he continued to blame his enslaved servant. And the same day that Tichiba baked the witch cake, two other girls began exhibiting symptoms of the same mysterious illness, 12-year-old Anne Putnam, and 17-year-old Elizabeth Hubbard. The Putnams lived a mile west of the Parcinage, and they were one of the most powerful families in Salem Village. Anne was named after her mother, and her parents, Anne Thomas Putnam, were strong supporters of Reverend Paris and local members of his church. Elizabeth Hubbard lived two miles east of the Parcinage, and she worked as a maid servant in the household for Uncle, Dr. William Griggs, the same man who had examined Betty and Abigail. Both Anne and Elizabeth reported terrible attacks from apparitions called spectres. The girls identified Tichiba as their tormentor, as well as two additional women named Sarah Good and Sarah Osborne. Sarah Good was only 38 years old, but life had taken its toll on her. Her bent back, prematurely gray hair and a raspy voice had made her appear much older than her age. She lived in disgrace because her father had committed suicide and act forbidden by Puritans. Good had a four-year-old daughter named Dorothy, and was expecting another baby. But she and her husband were so poor that she often wandered door-to-door begging neighbors for handouts. She resented her circumstances and was known for her sharp tongue. Her neighbors had also previously suspected her of witchcraft. The other woman the girls identified as their tormentor was 49-year-old Sarah Osborne. After her husband died, Osborne scandalized Salem by marrying her indentured servant. Disability prevented her from attending church on Sundays, but to her neighbors it did not matter that she was bedridden. Puritans viewed the failure to attend church as a major transgression. Osborne was also embroiled in an inheritance dispute with the Putnam's, the powerful family of the newly afflicted girl Anne. The three accused women, Tichuba, Sarah Osborne, and Sarah Good all fit the Puritans stereotype of a witch. As women their neighbors believed they were susceptible to being controlled by evil forces, they were considered physically unattractive, and above all they were all poor and powerless outsiders with dubious reputations. Young Anne Putnam said that Sarah Good pinched her and tried to force her to assign the devil's book in an attempt to formally bind the girl to Satan. Elizabeth Hubbard declared that she was stalked by a wolf sent by Sarah Good, and that Sarah Osborne was tormenting her with a creature she described as a short and hairy thing, with two legs and two wings. English courts typically did not accept testimony from children under the age of 14. Nine-year-old Betty Paris, 11-year-old Abigail Williams, and the 12-year-old Anne Putnam were considered all too young to testify, but after 17-year-old Elizabeth announced that she too was afflicted, men in Salem decided that it was finally time to take action. On February 29th, Anne's father Thomas, and three other village elders, rode through the rain to Salem Town to meet with the local magistrates. There they pressed formal charges against Tichuba, Good, and Osborne, accusing them of witchcraft. The magistrates issued arrest warrants and set a hearing for the following morning. What had been a private household matter would now become a public spectacle. The next day, Tichuba, Good, and Osborne would begin their fight for the truth in the face of overwhelming suspicion. During World War II, New York Communist Julius Rosenberg began spying for the Soviet Union. Soon he was persuading other Americans to betray their country as well, but when his wife's brother joined the Manhattan Project, Julius targeted him as a valuable new recruit and inadvertently set the stage for the ultimate betrayal. High-I'm Lindsey Graham, host of Audible's original show American Scandal. We bring to life some of the biggest controversies in US history, presidential lies, environmental disasters, corporate fraud. In our latest series, two young New Yorkers, Meath and Fall in Love, Julius and Ethel Rosenberg's commitment to each other is matched only by their commitment to communism and the couple risks everything to help the Soviet Union develop an atomic bomb. But when they're uncovered, they have to make an impossible choice about where their loyalty truly lies. Follow American Scandal wherever you get your podcasts. Audible subscribers can listen to all episodes of American Scandal, the Rosenberg's ad-free right now. Join Audible today by downloading the Audible app. On the morning of March 1, 1692, spectators thronged a tavern in Salem Village to watch the questioning of three women accused of witchcraft. Samuel Paris's enslaved servant, Titsuba, along with Sarah Good and Sarah Osborne. With the ground still frozen, farmers had little urgent work to attend to, and the crowds grew so large that the magistrates move the proceedings down the road to the meeting house. The two men leading the interrogations were John Hathorn and Jonathan Corwin. Hathorn and Corwin were wealthy merchants who lived in Salem town. As magistrates, they had handled hundreds of legal cases, but neither of them had any formal legal training. Their task was to determine if there was enough evidence to warrant a trial once the colonies' new royal charter arrived, and a court could be created. These types of pre-trial examinations were typically conducted in private, but Hathorn and Corwin departed from established norms by choosing to interrogate the suspects in presence of the four afflicted girls and the entire Salem community, a decision likely prompted by the village's intense interest in the accusations. The magistrates made no assumption that the accused were innocent until proven guilty. They believed in the three women's guilt, and their overriding goal was just to extract confessions. Hathorn took the lead in the proceedings, and he wasted no time in grilling the beggar Sarah Good, the first suspect to take the stand. Imagine its March 1, 1692, and you're in the Salem Village Meeting House. Earlier this morning, a constable arrested you for witchcraft and dragged you away from your husband and four-year-old daughter. Now it seems as though the entire village has crammed themselves into the meeting house to watch you be interrogated. You stand facing the pew's full of spectators. To your right, the magistrate John Hathorn sits behind a small table. You know you've done nothing wrong, and you're trying to keep calm under his stern gaze. Sarah Good. What evil spirit are you familiar with? None. Have you made contact with the devil? No. Why do you hurt these children? I do not hurt them. I've been falsely accused. Hathorn narrows his eyes. Then why were you seen leaving Reverend Paris's house muttering under your breath? Were you casting a curse? Your mind flashes back to the last time you appeared on the Reverend's doorstep, asking if he could spare any money. I did not mutter. I thanked him for the money he gave to my child. Hathorn turns and steers out into the pews. The four afflicted girls are huddled together in the front row. Kids, children, look at this woman. Is this the person that tormented you? The girls look at you and start crying, and writhing in pain. Sarah Good. Do you see what you have done? Why do you lie? Why do you torment these poor children? I do not torment them. Then why are they tormented? I do not know. Who was it then that tormented the children? Your heart is racing under the pressure, and you feel the way to the crowd steers. Your neighbors look at you with a mixture of doubt and disgust. You turn your gaze to Sarah Osborne, who sits on the other side of Hathorn. It was Sarah Osborne. Hathorn shakes his head, clearly unconminced. No, who do you serve? I serve God. What God do you serve? The God that made heaven and earth. You bow your head in prayer, desperate to do anything to convince Hathorn your innocent, that you are a good Christian woman. Out of the deep places have I called unto thee, oh Lord, Lord, hear my voice. Let thine ears attend to the voice of my prayers. As you search your mind for another psalm to recite, Hathorn scals in disbelief. It's becoming clear that there is nothing you can do to persuade him of the truth. It seems he made up his mind even before entering the room. As Sarah Good's examination began, the four afflicted girls identified her as their tormentor, crying out and writhing in their seats. When Hathorn pressed Good to explain their behavior, Good deflected blame, declaring Sarah Osborne was responsible. The spectators had no doubt that Good was guilty. The official note-taker wrote that Good's answers were in a very wicked, spiteful manner, and that she reflected and retorted against authority with base and abusive words and many lies. Even Good's husband expressed doubts. When questioned, he declared he feared that she was either a witch or would soon be one. The magistrates decided to put Good in jail where she would await trial. Sarah Osborne took the stand next. Like Good, Osborne affirmed her innocence and denied any knowledge of the devil. When Hathorn told her that Good had named her as the one responsible for the girl's torments, Osborne defended herself by suggesting that the devil assumed her likeness. But when Hathorn asked the afflicted girls to look at Osborne, they immediately named her as one of their tormentors. Several spectators spoke out against her too, including even her husband, noting that she had not attended church in more than a year. When she blamed her absence on illness, Hathorn accused her of yielding to the devil by not attending church. Finally, the magistrates questioned Tichuba. At first, she denied the charges, but as Hathorn continued to hound her, she broke down and confessed to being a witch. It's likely that before the hearing began, Reverend Parris exerted his own pressure by beating and threatening her until she agreed to admit her guilt. During her confession, Hathorn asked Tichuba whether she had seen the devil, and she declared "The devil came to me and bid me to serve him." She then said that Good and Osborne also had hurt the children, along with three additional specters she could not identify. She even described how the trio had flown through the air on sticks. Puritans believed that Satan sent emissaries to aid witches, known as witches' familiars, and in return the familiars nourished themselves by sucking the witch's blood. Cats were considered the most common familiars, but Tichuba affirmed that Good's familiar was a yellow bird that sucked her fingers. She said that the devil had sent her a hog, a dog, and two cats that urged her to hurt the girls. She explained that at first she resisted the familiars, but after they scratched her and threatened to do worse, she gave in and attacked the girls. Tichibas said that she was very sorry for hurting them, but the. session ended in chaos, a 17-year-old Elizabeth Hubbard began convulsing. All three women were sent to jail to await trial. The magistrates questioned them again over the next few days, and on March 2nd, Titch about offered additional details, describing how she entered into a formal agreement with the devil by signing his book with her own blood. She also described how she, good and osborn, had held a secret meeting in Reverend Paris' Parcinage, but that he did not see them because they were invisible. Tichibas' confession gave the magistrates what they wanted, proof of a witch's conspiracy threatening Salem. Her detailed descriptions of flying on sticks, talking to cats, and making a covenant with Satan were consistent with textbook descriptions of witchcraft. Her testimony confirmed the villagers' worst fears and silenced any skeptics. Here the magistrates' examinations of good, osborn, and Tichibas, the condition of three of the afflicted girls temporarily improved, but 12-year-old Anne Putnam continued seeing spectres. On March 3rd, she accused a new witch of tormenting her, Sarah Good's four-year-old daughter Dorothy. Anne claimed, "I saw the apparition of Dorothy Good, Sarah Good's daughter, who did immediately almost choke me and tortured me most grievously." Three days later, during Sunday services Anne Putnam spoke of yet another spectre that choked, bit, and pinched her. This time, she identified her tormentor as Elizabeth Proctor, the granddaughter of a woman tried for witchcraft decades earlier. In a little over a week, four women and a four-year-old girl in Salem Village had been identified as witches. Tichibas' confession had opened the floodgates, unleashing more fear and paranoia. And soon, the crisis would escalate into a full-blown and literal witch hunt. From Wondry, this is episode one of our four-part series, The Salem Witch Trials for American History Tellers. On the next episode, as more witnesses claim to be the victims of witchcraft, Reverend Samuel Paris inflames the fears of his congregation, the crisis spirals out of control with shocking allegations against respected church members and a former minister in Salem. American History Tellers is only possible because of listeners like you, so thank you. And don't miss an episode. Be sure to follow American History Tellers on Audible or wherever you get your podcasts. Join Audible in the Audible app or by subscribing on Apple Podcasts. And to find out more about me, including my other podcasts, my live show, The History Towards I'm Arranging, and all sorts of other things, go to historyishuman.com. That's historyishuman.com. American History Tellers is hosted, edited and produced by me, Lindsey Graham for Airship. Audio editing by Christian Faragha, sound designed by Molly Bach, music by Lindsey Graham, voice acting by Joe Hernandez-Kolzki and Kat Peoples. This episode is written by Ellie Stanton, edited by Dorian Marina, produced by Alita Ruzanski, coordinating producer Desi Blaylock, managing producer Matt Gantt, senior managing producer Ryan Lawre, senior producer Andy Herman. Exactly to producers, Archannie Lauer-Beckman and Marsha Louis for Wondering.