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According to Carol Karlsen, who were most susceptible (most likely) to being accused, tried, convicted, and hanged for witchcraft in 17th century New England? Cite the article provided. Tell the story of Katherine Harrison or Susanna Martin Name of person. Tell the story of your person (Cite the page numbers) What variables / circumstances of her life made her more susceptible to accusation trial and/or conviction for witchcraft? This prompt is asking you to apply what you know from prompt #1 to your case study. Include a works cited for the Karlsen article provided to you in the modules and below. Tips / questions to help you include necessary elements when telling her story (Prompt #2): Be sure to address her life up until the moment when she was first accused of witchcraft: Who was she? What happened? Be sure to also outline how and why she came to be accused of witchcraft and what happened to her. Evaluate the evidence presented against her. How did her story end? Text of article: Carol F. Karlsen, “The Devil in the Shape of a Woman: The Economic Basis o f Witchcraft” in Women’s America: Refocusing the Past. Linda Kerber and Jane Sherron De Hart eds. Oxford. 2000. Excerpted from “The Economic Basis of Witchcraft,” chapter. 3 of The Devil in the Shape of a Woman: Witchcraft in Colonial New England by Carol F. Karlsen. W. W. Norton, 1987. Most observers now agree that witches in the villages and towns of late sixteenth- and early seventeenth-century England tended to be poor. They were not usually the poorest women in their communities, one historian has argued; they were the “moderately poor.” Rarely were relief recipients suspect; rather it was those just above them on the economic ladder, “like the woman who felt she ought to get poor relief, but was denied it.” (1). This example brings to mind New England’s Eunice Cole, who once berated Hampton selectmen for refusing her aid when, she insisted, a man no worse off than she was receiving it (2). Eunice Cole’s experience also suggests the difficulty in evaluating the class position of the accused. Commonly used class indicators such as the amount of property owned, yearly income, occupation, and political offices held are almost useless in analyzing the positions of women during the colonial period. While early New England women surely shared in the mate. rial benefits and social status of their fathers, husbands, and even sons, most were economically dependent on the male members of their fathers, husbands, and even sons, most were economically dependent on the male members of their families throughout their lives. Only a small proportion of these women owned property outright, and even though they participated actively in the productive work of their communities, their labor did not translate into financial independence or economic power. Any income generated by married women belonged by law to their husbands, and because occupations open to women were few and wages meager, women alone could only rarely support themselves. Their material condition, moreover, could easily change with an alteration in their marital status. William Cole, with an estate at his death of £41 after debts, might be counted among the “moderately poor,” as might Eunice Cole when he was alive. But the refusal of the authorities to recognize the earlier transfer of this estate from husband wife ensured, among other things, that as a widow Eunice Cole was among the poorest of New England’s poor. … Despite conceptual problems and sparse evidence, it is clear that poor women, both the destitute and those with access to some resources, were surely represented, and very probably overrepresented, among the New England accused. Perhaps 20 percent of accused women .. . were either impoverished or living at a level of bare subsistence when they were accused (3). Some, like thirty-seven-year- old Abigail Somes, worked as servants a substantial portion of their adult lives. Some supported themselves and their families with various kinds of temporary labor such as nursing infants, caring for sick neighbors, taking in washing and sewing, or harvesting crops. A few, most notably Tituba, the first person accused during the Salem outbreak, were slaves. Others, like the once-prosperous Sarah Good of Wenham and Salem, and the never-very- well-off Ruth Wilford of Haverhill, found themselves reduced to abject poverty by the death of a parent or a change in their own marital status. (4) Accused witches came before local magistrates requesting permission to sell family land in order to support themselves, to submit claims against their children or executors of their former husbands’ estates for non- payment of the widow’s lawful share of the estate, or simply to ask for food and fuel from the town selectmen. Because they could not pay the costs of their trials or jail terms, several were forced to remain in prison after courts ac- quitted them. The familiar stereotype of the witch as an indigent woman who resorted to begging for her survival is hardly an inaccurate picture of some of New England’s accused. Still, the poor account for only a minority of the women accused. Even without precise economic indicators, it is clear that women from all levels of society were vulnerable to accusation. … Wives, daughters, and widows of “middling” farmers, artisans, and mariners were regularly accused, and (although much less often) so too were women belonging to the gentry class. The accused were addressed as Goodwife (or Goody) and as the more honorific Mrs. or Mistress, as well as by their first names. Prosecution was a different matter. Unless they were single or widowed, accused women from wealthy families–families with estates valued at more than £500-could be fairly confident that the accusations would be ignored by the authorities or deflected by their husbands through suits for slander against their accusers. Even during the Salem outbreak, when several women married to wealthy men were arrested, most managed to escape to the safety of other colonies through their husbands’ influence. Married women from moderately well-off families- families with estates valued at between roughly £200 and £500-did not always escape prosecution so easily, but neither do they seem, as a group, to have been as vulnerable as their less prosperous counter- parts. When only married women are considered, women in families with estates worth less than £200 seem significantly overrepresented among convicted witches–a pattern which suggests that economic position was a more important factor to judges and juries than to the community as a whole in its role as accuser (5). Without a husband to act on behalf of the accused, wealth alone rarely provided women with protection against prosecution. Boston’s Ann Hibbens, New Haven’s Elizabeth Godman, and Wethersfield’s Katherine Harrison, all women alone, were tried as witches despite sizable estates. In contrast, the accusations against women like Hannah Griswold of Saybrook, Connecticut, Elizabeth Blackleach of Hartford, and Margaret Gifford of Salem, all wives of prosperous men when they were accused, were simply not taken seriously by the courts (6). . . . Economic considerations, then, do appear to have been at work in the New England witchcraft cases. But the issue was not simply the relative poverty-or wealth–of accused witches or their families. It was the special position of most accused witches vis-à-vis their society’s rules for transferring wealth from one generation to another. To explain why their position was so unusual, we must turn first to New England’s system of inheritance. Inheritance is normally thought of as the transmission of property at death, but in New England, as in other agricultural societies, adult children received part of their father’s ac- cumulated estates prior to his death, usually at the time they married (7). Thus the inheritance system included both pre-mortem endowments and post-mortem distributions. While no laws compelled fathers to settle part of their estates on their children as marriage portions, it was customary to do so. Marriages were, among other things, economic arrangements, and young people could not benefit from these arrangements unless their fathers provided them with the means to set up households and earn their livelihoods. Sons’ portions tended to be land, whereas daughters commonly received movable goods and/or money. The exact value of these endowments varied to a father’s wealth and inclination, but it appears that as a general rule the father of the young woman settled on the couple roughly half as much as the father of the young man (8). Custom, not law, also guided the distribution of a man’s property at his death, but with two important exceptions. First, a man’s widow, if he left one, was legally entitled “by way of dower” to one-third part of his real property, “to have and enjoy for term of her natural life.” She was expected to support her- self with the profits of this property, but since she held only a life interest in it, she had to see that she did not “strip or waste” it (9). None of the immovable estate could be sold, unless necessary for her or her children’s maintenance, and then only with the permission of the court. A man might will his wife more than a third of his real property-but not less. Only fi the woman came before the court to renounce her dower right publicly, and then only fi the court approved, could this principle be waived. In the form of her “thirds,” dower was meant to provide for a woman’s support in widowhood. The inviolability of dower protected the widow from the claims of her children against the estate and protected the community from the potential burden of her care. The second way in which law determined inheritance patterns had to do specifically with intestate cases (10). If a man died without leaving a will, several principles governed the division of his property. The widow’s thirds, of course, were to be laid out first. Unless “just cause” could be shown for some other distribution, the other two-thirds were to be divided among the surviving children, both male and female (11). A double portion was to go to the eldest son, and single portions to his sisters and younger brothers. If there were no sons, the law stipulated that the estate was to be shared equally by the daughters. In cases where any or all of the children had not yet come of age, their portions were to be held by their mother or by a court-appointed guardian until they reached their majorities (12) or married. What remained of the widow’s thirds at her death was to be di- vided among the surviving children, in the same proportions as the other two-thirds. Although bound to conform to laws concerning the widow’s thirds, men who wrote wills were not legally required to follow the principles of inheritance laid out in intestate cases. Individual men had the right to decide for themselves who would ultimately inherit their property. . . . [T]he majority seem to have adhered closely (though not always precisely) to the custom of leaving a double portion to the eldest son. Beyond that, New England men seem generally to have agreed to a system of partible inheritance, with both sons and daughters inheriting. When these rules were followed, property ownership and control generally de- volved upon men. Neither the widow’s dower nor, for the most part, the daughter’s right to inherit signified more than access to property. For widows, the law was clear that dower allowed for “use” only. For inheriting daughters who were married, these separate but inheritance related principle of coverture applied. Under English common law, “feme covert” stipulated that married women had no right to own property-indeed, upon marriage, “the very being or legal existence of the woman is sus- pended”(13). Personal property which a married daughter inherited from her father, either as dowry or as a post-mortem bequest, immediately became the legal possession of her husband, who could exert full powers of ownership over it. A married daughter who inherited land from her father retained title to the land, which her husband could not sell without her consent. On her husband’s death such land became the property of her children, but during his life her husband was entitled to the use and profits of it, and his wife could not devise it to her children by will (14). The property of an inheriting daughter who was single seems to have been held “for improvement” for her until she was married, when it became her dowry (15). This is not to say that women did not benefit when they inherited property. A sizable inheritance could provide a woman with a materially better life; fi single or widowed, inheriting women enjoyed better chances for an economically advantageous marriage or remarriage. But inheritance did not normally bring women the independent economic power it brought men. The rules of inheritance were not always followed, however. In some cases, individual men decided not to conform to customary practices; instead, they employed one of several legal devices to give much larger shares of their estates to their wives or daughters, many times for disposal at their own discretion. Occasionally, the magistrates themselves allowed the estate to be distributed in some other fashion. Or, most commonly, the absence of male heirs in families made conformity impossible. In all three exceptions to inheritance customs, but most particularly the last, the women who stood to benefit economically also assumed a position of unusual vulnerability. They, and in many instances their daughters, became prime targets for witchcraft accusations. Consider first the experience of witches who came from families without male heirs.. [These histories begin to illuminate the subtle and often intricate manner in which anxieties about inheritance lay at the heart of most witchcraft accusations. KATHERINE HARRISON Katherine Harrison first appears in the Connecticut colonial records in the early 1650s, as the wife of John Harrison, a wealthy Wethersfield landowner (16) Her age is unknown (17) and her family background is obscure. We know that she called John, Jonathan, and Josiah Gilbert, three prominent Connecticut Valley settlers, her cousins, but her actual relationship to them is ambiguous (18) . . . She may have been the daughter or niece of Lydia Gilbert, who was executed as a witch in Hartford in 1654, but we can be reasonably certain only that the two women were members of the same Connecticut family. (19) It has been said that Katherine Harrison was first tried as a witch in October 1668 (20). If so, then she must have been acquitted, because she was indicted in the Court of Assistants in Hartford on 25 May 1669, on the same charge (21). The jury was unable to agree upon a verdict, however, and the court adjourned to the next session. Meantime, Harrison was supposed to remain in jail, but for some reason she was released in the summer or early fall, and she returned home to Wethersfield. Shortly thereafter, thirty-eight Wethersfield townsmen filed a petition, complaining that “shee was suffered to be at libertie,” since she “was lately prooved to be Deaply guiltie of suspicion of Wichcrafte” and that “the Juerie (the greater part of them) judged or beleaved that she was guilty of such high crimes” and “ought to be put to death.” Among the petition’s signers were several of the town’s most prominent citizens, including John Blackleach, Sr., who had *taken much paines in the prosecution of this cause from the beginninge,” and John Chester, who was then involved in a legal controversy with Harrison concerning a parcel of land. (22) When the Court of Assistants met again in October, all of the jury members found her guilty of witchcraft (23). The Hartford magistrates, however, were reluctant to accept the verdict. Perhaps remembering how accusations had gotten out of hand during the Hartford outbreak seven years before, they put Harrison back in prison and appealed to local ministers for advice on the use of evidence. The response was ambiguous enough to forestall execution (24). At a special session of the Court of Assistants the following Mav, the magistrates reconsidered the verdict, determined that they were not able to concur with the jury “so as to sentence her to death or » a longer continuance in restraynt,” and ordered Harrison to pay her fees and leave the colony for good. (25) If witnesses testifying against her in her 869 trial can be believed, Katherine Harrison’s neighbors had suspected that she was a witch sixteen or eighteen years earlier. Elizabeth Simon deposed that as a single woman, Harrison was noted to be “a great or notorious liar, a Sabbath breaker and one that told fortunes”- and that her predictions frequently came to pass. Simon was also suspicious of Harrison for another reason: because she “did often spin so great a quantity of fine linen yarn as the said Elizabeth did never know nor hear of any other woman that could spin so much” (26). Other witnesses testified to the more recent damage she did to individuals and their property. Harrison was also a healer, and although many of her neighbors called upon her skills, over the years some of them came to suspect her of killing as well as curing. (27) Or so they said in 1668-69; she was not formally accused of any witchcraft crimes until after her husband’s death. John Harrison had died in 1666, leaving his wife one of the wealthiest, if not the wealth- jest woman in Wethersfield. In his will he bequeathed his entire estate of £929 to his wife and three daughters. Rebecca, age twelve, was to have £60, and his two younger daughters, eleven-year-old Mary and nine-year-old Sarah, were to have £40 each. The remaining £789 was to go to his widow (28). Unlike many widows in colonial New England, Katherine Harrison chose not to remarry. Instead she lived alone, managing her extensive holdings herself, with the advice and assistance of her Hartford kinsman, Jonathan Gilbert. In October 1668, not long after her adversaries began gathering their witchcraft evidence against her, Harrison submitted a lengthy petition to “the Fathers of the Comonweale” asking for relief for the extensive vandalism of her estate since her husband’s death. Among other damage, she spoke of oxen beaten and bruised to the point of being “altogether un- serviceable”; of a hole bored into the side of her cow; of a three-year-old heifer slashed to death; and of the back of a two-year-old steer broken. Her corn crop was destroyed, she said, “damnified with horses, they being staked upon it,” and “30 poles of hops cutt and spoyled.” Twelve of her relatives and neighbors, she said, including Jonathan and Josiah Gilbert, could testify to the damage done. The response of the court went unrecorded, but there is no indication that provision was made for the “due recompense” Harrison requested or that her grievances were even investigated (29). The Court of Assistants also seems to have been unsympathetic to another petition Harrison submitted in the fall of 1668)., in which she complained that the actions of the magistrates themselves were depleting her estate (30) Indeed, the local court had recently fined her £40 for slandering her neighbors, Michael and Ann Griswold-a fine greatly in excess of the normal punishment in such cases (31). The exact circumstances of the incident are unknown, but the Griswolds were among Harrison’s witchcraft accusers, and she apparently considered Michael Griswold central in the recruiting of additional witnesses against her, for she said that “the sayd Michael Griswold would Hang her though he damned a thou sand soules,” adding that “as for his own soule it was damned long agoe.” Griswold, a member of Wethersfield’s elite, but not as wealthy as Harrison, sued her for these slanderous remarks and for calling his wife Ann “a savadge whore.” (32). Besides levying the fine, the court ordered Harrison to confess her sins publicly (33). She made the required confession, but she ap- pealed the exorbitant fine. Harrison’s petition, which she filed within the month, was a peculiar mixture of justification for her actions, concession to the magistrates’ insistence on deference in women, determination in her convictions, and desperation in her attempt to salvage her estate. Acknowledging herself to be “a female, a weaker vessell, subject to passion,” she pleaded as the source of her frustration and anger the vicious abuse to which she had been subjected since her husband’s death. She admitted her “corruption,” but pointed out that it was well known that she had made “a full and free confession of[her] fault” and had offered “to repaire the wound that [she] had given to [the Griswolds’ names by a plaster as broad as the sore, at any time and in any place where it should content them.” At the same time, she indicated Michael Griswold for being less interested in the reparation of his name than in her estate and did not hesitate to call the fine oppressive, citing the laws of God and the laws of the common- wealth as providing “that noe mans estate shall be deminished or taken away by any colony or’ pretence of Authority” in such an arbitrary manner. In her final statements, however, she returned to am o r e conciliatory stance: “I speake nott o excuse my fault” she said, “but to save my estate as far as Righteousness will permit for a distressed Widow and Orphanes.” (34) Fear of losing her estate is a recurring theme in the records of Harrison’s life during this period. Almost immediately after her husband’s death in 1666, she petitioned the court to change the terms of her husband’s will. Arguing that the bequests to the children were “inconsiderate” (by which she probably meant inconsiderable), she asked that the magistrates settle on her eldest daughter £210, and £200 on each of her younger daughters, reserving the house and lot for herself during her lifetime (35). Since her husband had left her full ownership of most of his estate, she could simply have given her daughters larger portions, but she must have felt that the court’s sanction rendered the inheritances less vulnerable. Several months later, she appealed directly to Connecticut’s governor, John Winthrop, Jr., requesting that Hartford’s John and Jonathan Gilbert, and John Riley of Wethersfield, be appointed over- seers of her estate. (36) Winthrop must not have granted her request, because in 1668 Harrison signed over the rest of the estate she had inherited from her husband to her daughters and appointed Jonathan and John Gilbert her daughters’ guardians (37). By the following year, her neighbors reported, she had “disposed of great part of her estate to others in trust” (38). In June 1670. Katherine Harrison moved to Westchester, New York, to begin her life anew. Her reputation for witchcraft followed her, however, in the form of a complaint, filed in July by two of her new neighbors, that she had been allowed to resettle in Westchester. Noting that suspicion of her in Connecticut “hath given some cause of apprehension” to the townspeople, in order to “end their jealousyes and feares” a local New York magistrate told her to leave the jurisdiction, (39) Harrison refused. Before any action could be taken against her, her eldest daughter was fortuitously betrothed to Josiah Hunt, a son of Thomas Hunt, one of the men who had protested her presence in Westchester. The elder Hunt became a supporter and appeared in court on her behalf, with his son and three other influential men. Though she was required to give security for he “Civill carriage and good behaviour,” the General Court of Assizes in New York ordered “that in regard there is nothing appears against her deserving the continuance of that obligacion shee is to bee releast from it, and hath Liberty to remaine in the Towne of Westchester where shee now resides, or any where else in t h eGovernment during her pleasure.”(40) Evidently Harrison continued to live with recurring witchcraft suspicion, but after 1670 there is no further evidence of official harassment (41). Early in 1672, she reappeared in Hart- ford to sue eleven of her old Connecticut Valley neighbors, in most cases for debt, and to release her “intrusted overseer” Jonathan Gilbert from his responsibilities for her estate (although he continued to act as guardian to her two younger daughters) (42). A month later, she signed at least some of her remaining Wethersfield land over to Gilbert (43). After that, she fades from view. She may have returned to Connecticut for good at that time, for some evidence suggests that she died at Dividend, then an outlying section of Wethersfield, in October 1682 (44). SUSANNA MARTIN Born in England in 1625, Susanna North was the youngest of three daughters of Richard North. Her mother died when Susanna was young and her father subsequently remarried. The family migrated to New England in or j u s t prior to 1639, the year in which Richard North was listed as one of the first proprietors of Salisbury, Massachusetts. Susanna’s sister Mary had married Thomas Jones and was living in Gloucester by 1642. Of her sister Sarah we know only that she married a man named Oldham, had a daughter named Ann, and died before the child was grown. In August 1646, at the age of twenty-one, Susanna married George Martin, a Salisbury man whose first wife had recently died. In June of the following year, she gave birth to her son Richard, the first of nine children. One of these children, a son, died in infancy (45). . . Early in 1668, less than a year after the birth of her last child, Susanna Martin’s father died, leaving a modest estate of about £150. As the only surviving children, the then forty- three-year-old Susanna and her sister Mary anticipated receiving a major portion of the property, to posses either immediately or after the death of their stepmother, Ursula North. They were disappointed. According to the will probated shortly after he died, Richard North had voided all previous wills and written a new one–nearly two decades before his death. In this document, dated January 1649, he left all but £22 of his estate directly to his wife. Twenty- one pounds was to be divided among Mary Jones, Susanna Martin, and Ann Bates (Sarah Oldham’s daughter). Susanna’s share was 20 shillings and the cancellation of a £10 debt George Martin owed his father-in-law. Listed as witnesses to this will were Thomas Bradbury of Salisbury and Mary Jones’s daughter, Mary Winsley (46). But the will raised problems. In 1649, Ann Bates was still Ann Oldham (she did not marry Francis Bates until 1661) and the Mary Winsley listed as witness to the will was still Mary Jones, at most eleven or twelve years old when it was allegedly written (47). Despite the obvious irregularities, Thomas Bradbury and Mary Winsley attested in court that this was indeed Richard North’s last will and testament. Whether Susanna Martin and her sister saw or protested this will when it was pro- bated cannot be determined. Susanna, at least, may have had more pressing concerns on her mind. In April 1669, a bond of £100 was posted for her appearance at the next Court of Assistants “upon suspicion of witchcraft.” That was the same day that George Martin sued William Sargent for slandering his wife. According to George Martin, Sargent had not only said that Susanna “was a witch, and he would call her witch,” but also accused her of having “had a child” while still single and of “wringing its neck” shortly after. George Martin also sued William Sargent’s brother Thomas for saying “that his son George Martin was a bastard and that Richard Martin was Goodwife Martin’s imp.” (48). Meanwhile, the magistrates bound Susanna Martin over to the higher court to be tried for witchcraft. Although the records have not survived, she must have been acquitted, be- cause several months later she was at liberty. In October 1669, George Martin was again bound for his wife’s appearance in court, not for witchcraft this time but for calling one of her neighbors a liar and a thief (49). By April 1671, George and Susanna Martin (Susanna’s sister Mary Jones would later join them) were involved in what would become protracted litigation over the estate of Susanna’s father. Ursula North had died a month or two before, leaving a will, dated shortly after her husband’s death, that effectively disinherited her two stepdaughters by awarding them 40shillings apiece. She left the rest of the original North estate first to her granddaughter, Mary Winsley, and secondarily to Mary and Nathaniel Winsley’s only child, Hepzibah (50). The exact sequence of the numerous court hearings that followed si less clear. Evidently, Susanna and George Martin initiated legal proceedings against Mary and Nathaniel Winsley in April 1671, for unwarranted possession of the North estate. . . In October 1672, the General Court responded, giving Susanna Martin liberty to sue for her inheritance a second time at the local level. In April 1673, the recently widowed Mary Jones and George Martin, acting for his wife, sued Nathaniel Winsley “for withholding . . . the inheritance of housing, lands and other estate. . . under color of a feigned or confused writing like the handwriting of Mr. Thomas Bradbury and seemingly attested by him, and Mary Winsley.” The court declared the case nonsuited, and again Susanna Martin ap- pealed to the General Court, requesting that’ the case be reheard at the local level. The General Court consented in May 1673, and the following October, Susanna and George Martin instituted proceedings against the Winsleys for the third time. Again the county court decided for the defendants, and the Martins appealed to the Court of Assistants. For a while it looked as though things were finally going their way. The higher court, which “found for the plaintiff there being no legall prooffe of Richard North’s will,” ordered that “the estate the said North left be left to the disposall of the county court.”. . . [In 1674] Susanna, George, and Mary appealed a final time to the General Court, this time for “a hearing of the whole case” by the highest court itself. The magistrates agreed to hear the case, remitting the usual court fees, as they had done before, on the basis of Susanna’s pleas of poverty. But in October 1674, after “perusall of what hath binn heard and alleadged by both parties,” the court found for Nathaniel Winsley (51). In what Susanna Martin and Mary Jones believed was a flagrant miscarriage of justice, they had lost what they considered their rightful inheritances. For almost the next two decades, Susanna Martin’s name rarely appears in the public records of the colony. Her sister Mary died in 1682, followed by her husband George in 1686 (52). Early in 1692, she was again accused of witchcraft, this time by several of the possessed female in Salem. They claimed that her apparition “greviously afflected” them, urging them to become witches themselves. Summoned before the court as witnesses against her were eleven men and four women, all old neighbors of the now sixty-seven-year-old widow (53). Unnerved by neither the agonies of the possessed or the magistrates’ obvious belief in her guilt, Martin insisted that she was innocent. To Cotton Mather, she “was one of the most impudent, scurrilous, wicked Creatures in the World,” who had the effrontery to claim “that she had lead a most virtuous and holy life.” (54). Years of living as a reputed witch had left Martin well-versed on the subject of the Devil’s powers. “He that appeared in sam[uel]s shape, a glorifyed saint,” she said, citing the Bible in her own defense, “can appear in any ones shape.” She laughed at the fits of her young accusers, explaining: “Well I may at such folly.” When asked what she thought the possessed were experiencing, she said she did not know. Pressed to speculate on it, she retorted: “I do not desire to spend my judgment upon it” and added (revealing what must have been her long-standing opinion of the magistrates’ bias), “my thoughts are my own, when they are in, but when they are out they are an- others.” (55) … Susanna Martin was found guilty of witchcraft and was one of five women executed on 19 July 1692. One week later, another Salisbury woman was indicted on the same charge. She was Mary Bradbury, the now elderly wife of the man Susanna Martin believed had written her father’s “will” nearly twenty- five years before. Mary Bradbury was sentenced to hang too, but friends helped her to escape. No explicit connection between the accusations of the two women is discernible. Rumors circulated, however, that because Thomas Bradbury had friends in positions of authority, there had been little real effort to capture his fugitive wife (56). These . . .short histories. . . suggest the diverse economic circumstances of witches in early New England. . . . The . . . women featured in these histories were either (1) daughters of par- ents who had no sons (or whose sons had died), (2) women in marriages which brought forth only daughters (or in which the sons had died), or (3) women inmarriages with no children at all. These patterns had significant economic implications. Because there were no legitimate male heirs in their immediate families, each of these . . . women stood to inherit, did inherit, or were denied their apparent right to inherit substantially larger portions of their fathers’ or husbands’ accumulated estates than women in families with male heirs. Whatever actually happened to the property in question and in some cases we simply do not know- these women were aberrations in a society with an inheritance system designed to keep property in the hands of men. These …cases also illustrate fertility and mortality patterns widely shared among the families of accused witches. A substantial majority of New England’s accused females were women without brothers, women with daughters but no sons, (see Table 1) or women in marriages with no children at all. Of the 267 accused females, enough is known about 158 to identify them as either having or not having brothers or sons to inherit: only 62 of the 158 (39 percent) did, whereas 96 (61 percent) did not. More striking, once accused, women without brothers or sons were even more likely than women with brothers or sons to be tried, convicted, and executed: women from families without male heirs made up 64 per- cent of the females prosecuted, 76 percent of those who were found guilty, and 89 percent of those who were executed. These figures must be read with care, however, for two reasons. First, eighteen of the sixty-two accused females who had brothers or sons to inherit were themselves daughters and granddaughters of women who did not. It appears that these eighteen females, most of whom were young women or girls, were accused because their neighbors believed that their mothers and grandmothers passed their witchcraft on to them. Therefore they form a somewhat ambiguous group. Since they all had brothers to inherit, it would be inaccurate to exclude them from this category in Table 1 yet including them understates the extent to which inheritance-related concerns were at issue in witchcraft accusations. At the same time, the large number of cases in which the fertility and mortality patterns of witches’ families are unknown (109 of the 267 accused females in New England) makes it impossible to assess precisely the proportion of women among the accused who did not have brothers or sons. Table 1 Female Witches by Presence or Absence of Brothers or Sons New England, 1620-1725 (A) Action Women without Brothers or Sons Women with Brothers or Sons Total Accused 96 (61%) 62 (39%) 158 Tried 41 (64%) 23 (36%) 64 Convicted 25 (76%) 8 (24%) 33 Executed 17 (89%) 2 (11%) 19 Table 2 helps clarify the point. It includes as a separate category the daughters and granddaughters of women without brothers or sons and incorporates the cases for which this information is unknown. Although inclusion of the unknowns renders the overall percentages meaningless, this way of representing the available information shows clearly the particular vulnerability of women without brothers or sons. Even if all the unknown cases involved women from families with male heirs–a highly unlikely possibility—women from families without males to inherit would still form a majority of convicted and executed witches. Were the complete picture visible, I suspect that it would not differ substantially from that presented earlier in Table 1-which is based on data reflecting 60 percent of New England’s witches and which indicates that women without brothers and sons were more vulnerable than other women at all stages of the process. Numbers alone, however, do not tell the whole story. More remains to be said about what happened to these inheriting or potentially inheriting women, both before and after they were accused of witchcraft. It was not unusual for women in families without male heirs to be accused of witchcraft shortly after the deaths of fathers, husbands, brothers, or sons. Katherine Harrison land Susanna Martin . . . exemplify this pattern. So too does elderly Ann Hibbens of Boston, whose execution in 1656 seems to have had a pro- found enough effect on some of her peers to influence the outcome of subsequent trials for years to come. Hibbens had three sons from her first marriage, all of whom lived in En- gland; but she had no children by her husband William Hibbens, with whom she had come to Massachusetts in the 1630s. William died in 1654; Ann was brought to trial two years later. Although her husband’s will has not survived, he apparently left a substantial portion (if not all) of his property directly to her: when she wrote her own will shortly before her execution, Ann Hibbens was in full possession of a £344 estate, most of which she bequeathed to her sons in England (57). Similarly, less than two years elapsed be- tween the death of Gloucester’s William Vinson and the imprisonment of his widow Rachel in 1692. Two children, a son and a daughter, had been born to the marriage, but the son had died in 1675. Though William Vinson had had four sons (and three daughters) by a previous marriage, the sons were all dead by 1683. In his will, which he wrote in 1684, before he was certain that his last son had been lost at sea, William left his whole £180 estate to Rachel for her life, stipulating that she could sell part of the lands and cattle if she found herself in need of resources. After Rachel’s death, “in Case” his son John “be Living and returne home agayne,” William said, most of the estate was to be divided between John and their daughter Abigail. If John did not return, both shares were to be Abigail’s. (58)… Table 2. Female Witches by Presence of Absence of Brothers of Sons, New England 1620-1725 (B) Action Women without Brothers or Sons Daughters and Granddaughters of Women without Brothers or Sons Women with Brothers or Sons Unknown Cases Total Accused 96 (36%) 18 (7%) 44 (16%) 109 (41%) 267 Tried 41 (48%) 6 (7%) 17 (20%) 22 (26%) 86 Convicted 25 (56%) 0 (0%) 6 (13%) 12 (27%) 45 Executed 17 (61%) 0 (0%) 2 (7%) 9 (32%) 28 In other cases, many years passed between the death of the crucial male relative and the moment when a formal witchcraft complaint was filed. .. Mary English of Salem was charged with witchcraft seven years after she came into her inheritance. Her father, merchant William Hollingworth, had been declared lost at sea in 1677, but at that time Mary’s brother William was still alive. Possibly b e c a u s e the : younger William was handling the family’s interests in other colonies, or possibly because the father’s estate was in debt for more than it was worth, the magistrates gave the widow Elinor Hollingworth power of attorney to salvage what she could. With her “owne labor,” as she put it “but making use of other men’s estates,” the aggressive and outspoken Mistress Hollingworth soon had her deceased husband’s debts paid and his wharf, warehouse, and tavern solvent again (59). She had no sooner done so, however, than shew a s accused of witchcraft by the wife of a Gloucester mariner (60). Though the magistrates gave little credence to the charge at the time, they may have had second thoughts later. In 1685, her son Wiliam died, and Elinor subsequently conveyed the whole Hollingworth estate over to Mary English, who was probably her only surviving child (61). Elinor Hollingworth had died by 1692. but Mary English was one of the women cried out upon early in the Salem outbreak. Her husband, the merchant Philip English was accused soon after. Knowing their live were in grave danger, the Englishes fled to the safety of New York. But as one historian of witchcraft has pointed out, flight was “the legal equivalent of conviction (62). No sooner had they left than close to £1200 of their property was confiscated under the law providing attainder for witchcraft (63). Not all witches from families without male heirs were accused of conspiring with the Devil after they had come into their inheritances. On the contrary, some were accused prior to the death of the crucial male relative, many times before it was clear who would inherit. … (Olne of these women. was Martha Corey of Salem, who was accused of witchcraft in 1692 while her husband was still alive. Giles Corey had been married twice before and had several daughters by the time he married the widow Martha Rich, probably in the 1680s. With no sons to inherit, Giles’s substantial land holdings would, his neighbors might have assumed, be passed on to his wife and daughters. Alice Parker, who may have been Giles’s daughter from a former marriage, also came before the magistrates as a witch in 1692, as did Giles himself. Martha Corey and Alice Parker maintained their innocence and were hanged. Giles Corey, in an apparently futile attempt to preserve his whole estate for his heirs, refused to respond to the indictment. To force him to enter a plea, he was tortured: successively heavier weights were placed on his body until he was pressed to death (64). What seems especially significant here is that most accused witches whose husbands were still alive were, like their counterparts who were widows and spinsters, over forty years of age–and therefore unlikely if not unable to produce male heirs. Indeed, the fact that witchcraft accusations were rarely taken seriously by the community until the accused stopped bearing children takes on a special meaning when it is juxtaposed with the anomalous position of inheriting women or potentially inheriting women in New England’s social structure. Witches in families without male heirs sometimes had been dispossessed of part or all of their inheritances before–sometimes long before–they were formally charged with witchcraft. Few of these women, however, accepted disinheritance with equanimity. Rather, like Susanna Martin, they took their battles to court, casting themselves in the role of public challengers to the system of male inheritance. In most instances, the authorities sided with their antagonists. . . . . . The property of women in families without male heirs was vulnerable to loss in a variety of ways, from deliberate destruction by neighbors (as Katherine Harrison experienced) to official sequestering by local magistrates. In nearly every case, the authorities themselves seem hostile or at best indifferent to the property claims of these women. One final example deserves mention here, not only because it indicates how reluctant magistrates were to leave property in the control of women, but because it shows that the property of convicted witches was liable to seizure even without the benefit of an attainder law. Rebecca Greensmith had been widowed twice before her marriage to Nathaniel Green-smith. Her first husband, Abraham Elsen of Wethersfield, had died intestate in 1648, leaving an estate £9. After checking the birthdates of the Elsens’ two children, three-year-old Sarah and one-year-old Hannah, the court initially left the whole estate with the widow. When Rebecca married Wethersfield’s Tarvis Mudge the following year, the local magistrates sequestered the house and land Abraham Elsen had left, worth £40, stating their intention to rent it out “for the Use and Benefit of the two daughters.” (65) The family moved to New London shortly after, but Jarvis Mudge died in 1652 and Rebecca moved with Hannah and Sarah to Hartford. Since Rebecca was unable to support herself and her two daughters, the court allowed her to sell the small amount of land owned by her second husband (with whom she had had no children) “for the paing of debts and the Bettering the Childrens portyons.” (66). Sometime prior to 1660, Rebecca married Nathaniel Greensmith. During the Hartford outbreak, Rebecca came under suspicion of witchcraft. After Nathaniel sued his wife’s accuser for slander, Nathaniel himself was named. Both husband and wife were convicted and executed (67). Respecting Nathaniel’s £182 estate, £44 of which was claimed by the then eighteen-year- old Sarah and seventeen-year-old Hannah Elsen, the court ordered the three overseers “to preserve the estate from Waste” and to pay “any just debts,” the only one recorded being the Greensmiths’ jail fees. Except for allowing the overseers “to dispose of the 2daughters,” presumably to service, the magistrates postponed until the next court any decision concerning the young women’s portions. First, however, they deducted £40to go “to the Treasurer for the County (68). No reason was given for this substantial appropriation and no record of further distribution of the estate has survived. Aside from these many women who lived or had lived in families without male heirs, there were at least a dozen other (witches who, despite the presence of brothers and sons, came into much larger shares of estates than their neighbors would have expected. In some cases, these women gained full control over the dis- position of property. We know about these women because their fathers, husbands, or other relatives left wills, because the w omen themselves wrote wills, or because male relatives who felt cheated out of their customary shares fought in the courts for more favorable arrangements. Grace Boulter of Hampton, one of several children of Richard Swain, is one of these women. Grace was accused of witchcraft in 1680, along with her thirty-two-year-old daughter, Mary Prescott. Twenty years earlier, in 1660, just prior to his removal to Nantucket, Grace’s father had deeded a substantial portion of his Hampton property to her and her husband Nathaniel, some of which he gave directly to her. (69) Another witch in this group is Jane James of Marblehead, who left an estate at her death in 1669 which was valued at £85. While it is not clear how she came into possession of it, the property had not belonged to her husband Erasmus, who had died in 1660, though it did play a significant role in a controversy between her son and son-in-law over the irrightful shares of both Erasmus’s and Jane’s estates. Between 1650 and her death in 1669, Jane was accused of witchcraft at least three times by her Marblehead neighbors. (70). Looking back over the lives of these many women- most particularly those who did not have brothers or sons to inherit–we begin to understand the complexity of the economic dimension of New England witch- craft. Only rarely does the actual trial testimony indicate that economic power was even at issue. Nevertheless it is there, recurring with a telling persistence once we look beyond what was explicitly said about these women as witches. Inheritance disputes surface frequently enough in witchcraft cases, cropping up as part of the general context even when no direct link between the dispute and the charge is discernible, to suggest the fears that underlay most accusations. No matter how deeply entrenched the principle of male in- heritance, no matter how carefully written the laws that protected it, it was impossible to insure that all families had male offspring. The women who stood to benefit from these demographic “accidents” account for most of New England’s female witches. The amount of property in question was not the crucial factor in the way these women were viewed or treated by their neighbors, however. Women of widely varying economic circumstances were vulnerable to accusation and even to conviction. Neither was there a direct line from accuser to material beneficiary of the accusation: others in the community did sometimes profit personally from the losses sustained by these women . . . , but only rarely did the gain accrue to the accusers themselves. Indeed, occasionally there was no direct temporal connection: in some instances several decades passed between the creation of the key economic conditions and the charge of witchcraft; the charge in other cases even anticipated the development of those conditions. Finally, inheriting or potentially inherit- ing women were vulnerable to witchcraft accusations not only during the Salem outbreak, but from the time of the first formal accusations in New England at least until the end of the century. . . . The Salem outbreak created only a slight wrinkle in this established fabric of suspicion. If daughters, husbands, and sons of witches were more vulnerable to danger in 1692 than they had been previously, they were mostly the daughters, husbands, and sons of inheriting or potentially inheriting women. As the outbreak spread, it drew into its orbit increasing numbers of women, “unlikely” witches in that they were married to well-off and influential men, but familiar figures to some of their neighbors nonetheless. What the impoverished Sarah Good had in common with Mary Phips, wife of Massachusetts’s governor, was what Eunice Cole had in common with Katherine Harrison. . . . However varied their backgrounds and economic positions, as women without brothers or women without sons, they stood in the way of the orderly transmission of property from one generation of males to another. END NOTES: Alan Macfarlane, Witchcraft in Tudor and Stuart England: A Regional and Comparative Study (New York, 1970), pp. 149-51. Se also Keith Thomas, Religion and the Decline of Magic (New York, 1971), pp. 457, 520-21, 560-68. See Trials for Witchcraft in New England (unpaged),dated 5September 1656 (manuscript volume, Houghton Library, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.) Relying on very general indicators (a married woman who worked as a servant, a widow whose husband had left an estate of €39, and so forth), I was able to make rough estimates about the economic position of 150 accused women: Twenty-nine of these women seem to have been poor. . . 4 For Abigail Somes, see The Salem Witchcraft Papers: Verbatim Transcripts of the Legal Documents of the Salem Witchcraft Outbreak of 1692, 3 vols., eds. Paul Boyer and Stephen Nissenbaum (New York, 1977), 3:733-37 (hereafter cited as Witchcraft Papers). For Tituba, see Witchcraft Papers 3:745-57. Documents relating to Ruth Wilford are in Witchcraft Papers 2:459; 3:961; The Probate Records of Essex County, Massachusetts, 1635-1681, 3 vols. (Salem, 1916-20), 3:93-95 (hereafter cited as Essex Probate Records). Most families in seventeenth-century New England had estates worth less than £200.However, since only a very small proportion of convicted witches who were married seem to have come from families with estates worth more than €200, it seems reasonable to conclude that married women from families with less than €200 estates were overrepresented among the accused. Nearly all of the convictions of married women from families with estates worth more than €200 occurred during the Salem outbreak . . . For accusations against Hannah Griswold and Margaret Gifford, see Norbert B. Lacy, “The Records of the Court of Assistants of Connecticut, 1665-1701” (M.A. thesis, Yale University, 1937), pp. 6-7 (hereafter cited as “Conn. Assistants Records”); and Records and Files of the Quarterly Courts of Essex County, Massachusetts, 9 vols. (Salem, 1912-75), 7:405; 8:23 (hereafter cited as Essex Court Records). This discussion of the inheritance system of seventeenth-century New England si drawn from the following sources: The Book of the General Lawes and Libertyes Concerning the Inhabitants of the Massachusetts, ed. Thomas G. Barnes (facsimile from the 1648 edition, San Marino, Calif., 1975); The Colonial Laws of Massachusetts. Reprinted from the Edition of 1672, with the Supplements through 1686, ed. William H. Whitmore (Boston, 1887); John D. Cushing, comp., The Laws a n d Liberties of Massachusetts. 1641-91: A Facsimile Edition, 3 vols. (Wilmington, Del., 1976); Massachusetts Province Laws, 1692-1699, ed. John D. Cushing (Wilmington, Del., 1978); New Hampshire Probate Records; Essex Probate Records: A Digest of the Early Connecticut Probate Records, vol. 1, ed. Charles W. Manwaring (Hartford, 1904) (hereafter cited as Conn. Probate Records); Marylynn Salmon, Women and the Law of Property in Early America (Chapel Hill, 1986); George .L Haskins, “The Beginnings of Partible Inheritance in the American Colonies,” in Essays in the History of American Law, ed. David H. Flaherty (Chapel Hill,1969); Edmund S. Morgan, The Puritan Family: Religion and Domestic Relations in Seventeenth- Century New England (1944; reprint New York, 1966). See Morgan, The Puritan Family, pp. 81-82. Barnes, Book of the General Lawes, pp. 17-18. Since only a small proportion of men left wills during the colonial period, intestacy law played a significant role in determining inheritance practices. See Salmon, Women and the Law of Property, p. 141. Barnes, The Bok of the General Lawes, p. 53. Young women officially came of age in New England when they reached 18; young men when they reached 21. William Blackstone, Commentaries on the Laws of England, 4 vols. (Oxford, 1765-69), 1:433. Once widowed, a woman who inherited land from her father (or who had bought land with her husband in both of their names) could make a will of her own, as could a single woman who came into possession of land. . . . See Salmon, Women and the Law of Property, pp. 144-45 and passim. Evidence suggests that in seventeenth-century New England, daughters of father’s who died relatively young (and possibly most s o n s did not normally come into their inheritances until they married. If daughters had received their shares when they came of age, we would expect to find pro- bate records for single women who died before they had the opportunity to marry. Though there are many existing intestate records and wills for single men who died in early adulthood, I have located only one record involving a young, single woman. 16. Wethersfield Land Records (manuscript volume, Town Clerk’s Office, Town Hall, Wethersfield, Conn.) 1:19, 38. Given the ages of her children, Katherine Harrison had to have been between her late twenties and her mid-fifties when she was first accused of witchcraft in 1668. I suspect that she was in her forties. 18. See Wethersfield Land Records 2:149; Katherine Harrison to John Winthrop, Jr., undated letter (prob- ably early 1667), and Katherine Harrison’s Testimony, undated document (probably October 1669), in the Winthrop Papers, Massachusetts Historical Society, Boston (hereafter cited as Winthrop Papers)… Samuel Wyllys Papers: Depositions on Cases of Witchcraft, Assault, Theft, Drunkenness and Other Crimes, Tried in Connecticut, 1663-1728 (manuscript volume, Archives, History a n d Genealogy Unit, Connecticut State Library, Hartford, doc. 15) (hereafter cited as Wyllys Papers). See Sherman W. Adams and Henry R. Stiles, The History of Ancient Wethersfield, 2 vols. (New York, 1904), 1:682; and Lacy, “Conn. Assistants Records,” p.12. Lacy, “Conn. Assistants Records,” p. 13. Petition for the Investigation of Katherine Harrison, Recently Released after Imprisonment, Signed by John Chester and Thirty-Eight Other Citizens of Wethersfield (Manuscript Collections, Connecticut Historical Society, Hartford (hereafter cited as Petition for the Investigation of Katherine Harrison]) (emphasis mine). See also Order about Katherine Harrison’s Land, in the Winthrop Papers… Lacy, “Conn. Assistants Records,” pp. 13-14, 18-19. “The Answers of Some Ministers to the Questions Propounded to Them by the Honored Magistrates,” dated 20 October 1669, Samuel Wyllys Papers, Supplement: Depositions on Cases of Witchcraft Tried in Connecticut, 1662-1693, photostat copies of original documents from the Wyllys Papers, Annmary Brown Memorial Brown University Library, Providence, R.I. Lacy, “Conn. Assistants Records,” p. 23. Wyllys Papers Supplement, p. 1. Depositions submitted against Harrison in 1668 and 1669 are in the Wyllys Papers, docs. 6-17; Wyllys Papers Supplement, pp. 46-63.. For Harrison’s response to these accusations, see Katherine Harrison’s Testimony, Winthrop Papers. Manwaring, Conn. Probate Records 1:206. A” Complaint of Severall Greevances of the Widdow Harrison’s,” Wyllys Papers Supplement, p. 53. “The Declaration of Katherine Harrison in Her Appeal to This Court of Assistants,” dated Sep- t e m b er 1668, in Connecticut Archives, Crimes and Misdemeanors, 1st ser. (1662-1789) (manuscript volume, Archives, History and Genealogy Unit, Connecticut State Library, Hartford), vol. 1(pt. 1):34 (hereafter cited as Crimes and Misdemeanors). Connecticut Colonial Probate Records 56:80; Records of the Colony of Connecticut, Connecticut Colonial Probate Records, County Court, vol. 56, 1663-77 (Archives, History and Genealogy Unit, Connecticut State Library, Hartford, 56:79-81 (hereafter cited as Connecticut Colonial Probate Records). 32. Ibid., pp. 78-32. For the Griswolds as accusers, see Katherine Harrison’s Testimony, Winthrop Papers. Connecticut Colonial Probate Records 56:80. “The Declaration of Katherine Harrison,” Crimes and Misdemeanors, 1(pt. 1):34. Manwaring, Connecticut Probate Records, p. 206. Katherine Harrison to John Winthrop, Jr., “Letter,” Winthrop Papers. Wethersfield Land Records 2:149. Petition for the Investigation of Katherine Harrison. See “The Cases of Hall and Harrison,” in Narratives of the Witchcraft Cases, 1648-1706, ed. Charles Lincoln Burr (New York, 1914), pp. 48-49. Ibid., pp. 48-52 See Samuel D. Drake, Annals of Witchcraft in New England (New York, 1869), pp. 133-34. Connecticut Colonial Probate Records 56:118; Wethersfield Land Records 2:249. Wethersfield Land Records 2:210. See Gilbert Collection. See Joseph Merrill, History of Amesbury, Including the First Seventeen Years of Salisbury. (Haverhill, Mass., 1880), pp. 11-13, 28; Vital Records of Salisbury . . . (Topsfield, Mass., 1915), pp. 151, 415. Essex Probate Records 2:125-27. James Savage, A Genealogical Dictionary of the First Settlers of New England, 4 vols. (Boston, 1860-62), 1:138: 4:483. See Essex Court Records 4:129, 133. Essex Court Records 4:184, 187, 239. Essex Probate Records 2:223-24 See Records of the Governor and Company of the Massachusetts Bay in New England, 6 vols., ed. Nathaniel B. Shurtleff (Boston, 1853-54), 5:6, 26-27. 52. Savage, Genealogical Dictionary 2:566. When he died, George Martin left an estate valued at £75, most of which he left to Susanna “during her Widowhood.” See Witchcraft Papers 2:549-79. Cotton Mather, The Wonders of the Invisible World (1693; facsimile of the 1862 London edition, Ann Arbor, Mich., 1974),p. 148. Witchcraft Papers2:551. Witchcraft Papers 1:115-29. Ann Hibbens’ will reprinted in New England Historical and Genealogical Register, vol. 6 (1852), pp. 287-88. See Witchcraft Papers 3:880-81. Essex Probate Records 3:191-93. Essex Court Records 7:238. 61, New England Historical and Genealogical Register, vol. 3 (1849), p. 129. 62.Marion L. Starkey, The Devil in Massachusetts (New York, 1949), p. 185. Witchcraft Papers 3:988-91 For Martha and Giles Corey and Alice Parker, see Witchcraft Papers 1:239-66; 2:623-28, 632-33; 3:985-86, 1018-19. Manwaring, Conn. Probate Records 1:7-8 Records of the Particular Court of Connecticut, 1639-1663, Collections of the Connecticut Historical Society, vol. 2 (1928), p. 119. 67. Ibid., p .258. Manwaring, Conn. Probate Records 1:121-22. Norfolk Deeds (manuscript volume, Regis- try of Deeds, Essex County Courthouse, Salem, Mass.), 1:116,154 Essex Probate Records 1:314-16; 2:160; Essex Court Records 1:199, 204, 229; 2:213; 3:292, 342, 413.

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