The Court of Salem
Reflecting on the Infamous Witch Trials while on Jury Duty in Salem
By Caryn Coyle
Many dread jury duty. But I was intrigued to be called for service at probably the most notorious court in the nation, Salem! Ask anyone in the United States where the witch trials took place. Locals know, of course, that Salem Town was the port of the 17th century and the location of what is now the city of Salem. It was not, however, the site where the 19 souls were tried in 1692. Several were executed in Salem Town, but their fates were sealed in Salem Village, which is now Danvers.
For more than 400 years, Massachusetts has held trials by a jury of one’s peers, the first in the nation. However, I would not have been considered for jury duty. Women weren’t seated on any juries in Massachusetts until 1950.
The white-shirted court officer with the American flag stitched on his upper sleeve greeted me at the entrance to the Salem Courthouse. The modern building, lined with glass walls, was nothing like the court of 300 years ago.
“Excited?” the court officer asked while checking my purse and allowing me through the metal detector.
“Yes,” I replied, because I was thinking of the courts of Salem circa 1692.
The only house from the 17th century’s witch trials that has survived, the home of Judge Jonathan Corwin, is located just a short walk from the Salem Courthouse. Known today as the Witch House, Judge Corwin’s 1675 home is three blocks from the modern Salem Courthouse. It is dark inside the Witch House. The windows are small and there are not many of them. It is believed that Judge Corwin and fellow judge, Jonathan Hathorne, held preliminary meetings in the Witch House and issued the arrest warrants from there for the 19 citizens who were executed.
Corwin was also the brother-in-law of Jonathan Hathorne, the great-great grandfather of Nathaniel Hawthorne. The author of The Scarlett Letter, The Crucible and The House of Seven Gables, Hawthorne added the “w” to his name so that he would not be associated with his ancestor.
The Salem witch trials depended on spectral evidence. By simply accusing someone of something awful that could not be proven, 19 citizens were condemned to die.
When I entered the Salem Courthouse for that initial day, I found out later that another woman, who was chosen for the same jury on which I served, was right behind me. After we reached a verdict and were able to talk to each other, she mentioned that she had heard me tell the court officer that I was excited to be there.
Rebecca Nurse, hanged, July 19, 1692.
The first three women to be accused of witchcraft in 1692 were easy targets for a witch-hunt — Tituba, a slave; Sarah Good, a beggar; and Sarah Osborne, an invalid who scandalized the neighborhood by marrying a former indentured servant. However, the next two individuals to be accused were shocking. Both respected and established within the community, Martha Corey was a full communing church member and a deeply religious woman, while Rebecca Nurse was a 71-year-old devout, God-fearing woman who had raised eight children to adulthood, all of whom lived nearby. Rebecca and her husband Francis worked diligently on their 300-acre farm, located in the very center of Salem Village.
(Salemwitchmuseum.com)
For the first three days of our jury duty, I watched the Danvers River from the floor to ceiling windows of the Salem Courthouse’s fifth floor. Our jury duty days began and ended in the light-filled jury room. Two walls were glass and the Danvers River was a welcome distraction. It was a mesmerizing blue. A calming presence, it flowed by the commuter train tracks and the Salem Station’s parking garage.
On the final day of jury duty, our fourth, the sky was gray and overcast. So was the Danvers River. It shocked me to see every bit of blue had vanished. The murky water was actually a dirty white; gray.
I was selected as foreperson, the juror charged with overseeing our deliberations. My whole being sank when I heard my juror badge number called on the afternoon we were to be dismissed to deliberate. I did not feel I was up to the task.
But there were binders of evidence that we were given to review and sworn testimony supported by facts. Easily, the jury members and I weighed our observations. We realized that all of us were interpreting the law in the same way, arriving at the same conclusion. We could fairly decide if the law had been broken, and whether or not the plaintiffs proved their case.
Salem of 1692 did not depend on facts or evidence, but Salem of 2023 does.
Our day did not end until we reached a verdict. The courthouse had closed by then and it felt like everyone had gone home before us. After the judge dismissed us, we walked along the empty, glass walled hallways of the modern Salem Courthouse. Light still filled the courthouse, the sun would not set for another hour.
A few days later, the judge at our trial wrote to me to “express his sincere appreciation.” He wrote, “Without the faithful participation of citizens such as you, … our justice system as we have known it for hundreds of years could not survive.”
Sarah Good, hanged July 19, 1692