This is the memorial created in 1992 for the victims of the Salem trials in Salem, Mass. Each “bench” contains the name of an accused person: “Margaret Scott. Hanged. September 22, 1692.”
Walk there, and you know that it has become a shrine.
Then you realize that you are walking on their words, their pleas to the uncaring judges: “God knows I am innocent of such wickedness.”
Twenty-five people died (five of them in prison), all professing their innocence, and I tend to believe them. But they left us something: Witch Tees!
And Witch Pix!
And a passel of museums, “haunted houses,” ghost tours, and the like.
It has been joined by many others. Walking along nearby Pickering Wharf feels like a trip down Diagon Alley.
Could Sarah Good, a homeless beggar (hanged) or Susannah Martin, an impoverished widow (hanged) have imagined that their deaths would produce a Salem where being a witch is fairly normal and the police cars have flying witches on their doors?1
The National Park Service visitor center, devoted both to Salem’s peak years as a port in the 18th and 19th centuries and to the events of 1692, contains several shelves of books on historical witchcraft.
It’s a crooked path, all right, from hysterical teenagers accusing adults of witchcraft before judges who accepted “spectral evidence” to a wax museum, signage directing visitors to Gallows Hill, and at least two dozen witchcraft shops, but there it is.
The “witches” of 1692 gave it to us.
- Meanwhile, two burly Salem cops are yelling at some kid to get off his bike, which he is riding illegally on the pedestrian mall. [↩]