“I do plead not guilty.” ~ Mary Bradbury
Like the greased loops on a hangman’s dropped noose, the lives of Concord writers Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Louisa May Alcott are forever tightly bound together by a tale of witchcraft that began as follows:
February 8, 1601: Led by Robert Devereux, 2nd Earl of Essex, a plot to overthrow the government of Queen Elizabeth I and seize London was thwarted by the Queen who, with only a moment’s notice of the impending attack, sent armed soldiers into the street to meet her traitorous subjects. Conspirators scattered, and measures were taken to hide their actions. Letters of correspondence discussing what is today called “Essex’s Rebellion” were thrown into fires, burning to nothing at 451 degrees Fahrenheit, the temperature realm at which paper burns.
Among the conspirators was Englishman Ferdinando Gorges. To save himself, Gorges shape-shifted into a rat and testified against his cohorts. Forgiven, Gorges regained favor with the Royal Court, was knighted, and became Governor of Plymouth, England. In 1622 and 1639, he was granted a land patent and Royal Charter to settle and govern the Province of Maine in the New World. Sir Gorges tried to sail to Maine but, upon launching from England, his ship fell over in the harbor and he never made it, relying instead on a team of agents to represent him in the colonies.
Sir Gorges’ agents included English-born Thomas Bradbury, who appeared in Maine in 1636. Bradbury’s reputation and connections in Maine were wide, as was the region; it was too remote for Bradbury, so he relocated to the neighboring Massachusetts Bay Colony and became a founder of Salisbury.
©istock.com/Kristina KokhanovaThomas Bradbury settled in Salisbury with his new bride, Mary Ellen Perkins. The Bradburys lived on Mudnock Road next to another early town settler, George Carr. For the next several decades, George Carr and his children, including James, John, Richard, and Ann, watched with envy as their neighbors became one of the leading families in the town. Thomas Bradbury was a town clerk, magistrate, and Captain of the Militia. Mary was known for her benevolence and piety. Everyone loved the perfect Bradburys and their perfect eleven children, including widow Rebecca Wheelwright whom James Carr was courting but who gave her hand instead to William Bradbury, Mary’s middle son.
Spurned, James Carr fell under a protracted unknown ailment, his distress lingering for years as William and Rebecca lived the life that should have been his.
A series of other disputes between the Bradburys and Carrs festered, ending for George Carr and his son John when they died but continuing with Ann Carr when she married Thomas Putnam, moved thirty miles to Salem Village and had a daughter named Ann Putnam Jr.
February 1692: Led by accusations from young girls, including Ann Putnam Jr., witch hysteria exploded in Salem Village. Massachusetts Governor William Phips appointed a special Court of well-regarded men to investigate the claims. Judges included John Hathorne and Samuel Sewall.
As Ralph Waldo Emerson later wrote in his essay “History,” “A Salem hanging of witches” began.
May 1692: Ann Putnam Jr. and members of the Carr family accused Mary Bradbury of witchcraft. Despite Thomas’ protestations, 77-year-old Mary was arrested and carted away to the cramped Salem jail to await trial.
September 1692: Mary was forced to stand in the docket before the special Court. Ann Putnam Jr. took the stand, swearing that she believed “Mistress Bradbury the most dreadful witch.” Next, James Carr testified, seizing his “it’s not me, it’s you” moment. It was her, Mary Bradbury, who had made his desired bride, Rebecca Wheelwright, turn her heart to William Bradbury, Mary’s son. Mary had also used her devilish arts to inflict a sickness upon him and later appeared to him as a cat, paralyzing him in his bed.
Richard Carr joined the accusers, swearing that, years ago, he had seen Mary Bradbury shape-shift into a blue boar that darted below the hooves of their father’s horse, attempting to harm horse and rider. The Carrs also blamed Mary Bradbury for the death of their brother John. She was a witch, a murderer, and a tormenter—not-so-perfect now!
Despite her pleas of innocence and a petition signed by over a hundred Salisbury residents in her defense, the Court found Mary guilty and sentenced her to hang.
Around the same time, five other women were sentenced to the same fate. One confessed and was spared; the other four went to the gallows. But Mary disappeared.
©istock.com/ScaligerWhat happened is the subject of speculation, but one tale that is supported by Catherine Moore, a descendant of Mary Bradbury, suggests that Thomas Bradbury bribed the jailor, put Mary in a cart, covered her with hay, and drove her up to Maine to wait out the witch hysteria.
What is known for sure is that convicted witch Mary Bradbury escaped the noose, survived the Salem witch trials, and returned home to Salisbury where she died in her home of old age in 1700. In 1711, the Massachusetts General Court officially exonerated Mary Bradbury of all charges. Her family was awarded £20 restitution.
In time, Mary Bradbury became the 4th-great-grandmother of Concord writer Ralph Waldo Emerson. And, via her son William, the 7th-great-grandmother of famed American science fiction writer Ray Bradbury. Bradbury is best remembered for his novel Fahrenheit 451 about a dystopian society that was on a witch hunt to burn books and extinguish independent thought.
For the judges of the Salem witch trials, however, there was no covering their roles in extinguishing the lives of twenty “witches.”
In the years following the trials, Judge Sewall’s family suffered tragedies that led Sewall to believe God was punishing him. Wracked with guilt, in 1697 Sewall publicly apologized for his actions in the Salem witch trials, earning him the nickname “The Repenting Judge.” He became an early anti-slavery advocate in Massachusetts and passed on his abolitionist spirit to his third-great-granddaughter, Louisa May Alcott.
Despite having earned the nickname “the hanging judge” for his propensity to hang everyone— even if an accuser recanted—Justice John Hathorne did not repent. His second-great-grandson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, believed a generational curse had been placed on his family as penance for “the hanging judge’s” shame. To distance himself, Nathaniel added the “w” to his surname. Yet Nathaniel did not distance his writing from the witch hysteria; instead, he “suffered a witch to live,” weaving tales of witches, dark arts, and early New England history into his tales, some of which were written at the Old Manse in Concord. Tales such as Feathertop, where a scorned witch seeks revenge, The Hollow of the Three Hills, where a young woman plays a dangerous game with an old crone, and The May-Pole of Merry Mount, a tale of a strange man who had once been an agent for Sir Ferdinando Gorges, the man with whom this tale began on a paper-burning night that tied all these characters to Mary Bradbury, the unhanged witch.
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A Concord native, Jaimee Joroff is manager of the Barrow Bookstore in Concord Center, which specializes in Concord history, transcendentalism, and literary figures. She has been an interpreter at most of Concord’s historic sites and is a licensed town guide.
For a list of sources, email barrowbookstore@gmail.com.
