It was a quiet day. Peaceful even. It was one of the first sunny days in the village of Salem in weeks. It was a good distraction from the terrifying situation the villagers found themselves in. Their crops had been failing, and the whole village was in a mass panic. There were wars fought in Maine, and everybody was living in fear of what might happen next. The people's only solid hold in this terrible storm were the Christian values they so dearly took to heart. But what happens when their values turn into a wicked madness that consumes everything in its path? That question would be answered with the story of Patience Miller. Patience was the daughter of Josiah Miller, a very reputable magistrate whose entire method of operating work relied on the puritan faith and the promise of salvation if he eradicated the vile and depraved evildoers that plagued the earth and poisoned the good community of Salem. His morals didn’t stop after the sermons; they seeped into his family's everyday life. Patience's mother and siblings were constantly under pressure to do only virtuous things and to not ever sin. If they even thought of sin, they were all made to repent. In this world of forced piety, it was hard to find any joy in anything as that was also considered rotten. Patience's life revolved around prayer. She was always made to feel unclean, even by her mere existence as a woman. This principle was even more exaggerated on one fateful day in January 1692. Patience was reaching the stable doors to feed the animals their daily sustenance when she suddenly saw two piercing eyes looking at her from a bush. Her pale hand moved the leaves around. It was their family goat that emerged from the bush. “What are you doing here?”, she asked the animal.
This was strange since the goat was always tied up inside. Chills ran down her spine. The only way she could have gotten out was through the front door of the stable, which were always locked. Patience opened the stable doors to discover a horrifying sight. In the middle of the stable lay her younger brother Joseph. He was dead. His body lay there, face down, among the other animals. Patience let out a blood-curdling scream as she ran to her brother's side. She flipped him on his back. His lips were blue, and his skin was white as snow. His eyes were half-open, and he was staring at Patience with the look of the dead. Patience's screams and cries were heard throughout the house. Her father and mother quickly rushed over to the stable. They were all stricken by grief in an instant. Her mother fell down on her knees. "Oh God, what have I done to deserve such a punishment?”, her mother screamed.
Her father stood there frozen. His face showed genuine fear for the first time in his life. Her younger sister Margaret, who was just 6 years old, was kept from entering by her father, so she wouldn't see the abhorrent sight. A few hours later, the coroner finally arrived. Joseph's body was taken away for investigation since it was a suspicious death. The whole family was devastated. None of them knew what had happened, or how, or why. The only thing they knew was that this wasn’t an accident. Two days later, Joseph's body was examined. They found no signs of injury. The whole village was now even more terrified. Terrified of a dark force that was able to take their children away. There were whispers of a group of witches that had made a pact with the unchaste one and were the reason for their sorrow. Patience's father was a firm believer in this theory and was working tirelessly to find the culprits. That Sunday after church, all the villagers gathered inside to discuss their troubles. “People of Salem! We have a wicked servant of the devil among us! This foul fiend must be eradicated! Should any soul know the identity of this minion of the Devil, let them report to me. Only the good Lord may grant salvation to the soul that has taken the life of my child!” The reverend spoke with such passion that everybody in the church cheered. Patience was the only quiet one. She was so shocked by the death of her brother she couldn’t even comprehend what was happening. Just then, the villagers started pointing fingers. A man from the crowd stood up. “I am Samuel Paris, you may know me as the pastor of this church, and my own daughter and niece are bewitched! They suffer visions and are gripped by a dark hand. My daughter also claims that the witches are the real murderers of Joseph Miller. They both blame our house servant, Tituba. I should be forever in debt if the court would charge this woman as the evil bearer that she is!” The man sat back down. Everyone in the room agreed. This is where the terror started. Over the next week, Tituba was tried and tortured until she was made to confess.
In that courtroom stood the magistrate, the judge, and the pastor. Tituba was taken to the stand. She stood there terrified, ready to do anything possible to get herself out of this situation.
“Tituba,” the judge looked at her sternly and leaned forward, “what evil spirit have you got familiarity with and why do you hurt these children?” “I possess no acquaintance with wicked spirits nor do I inflict harm upon these children,” she replied. The courtroom fell silent. It was as if time itself had come to a stop. “Who is it, then?” the judge demanded. Tituba swallowed hard, her eyes darting across the room. “The Devil, for all I know,” she whispered. A murmur rippled through the crowd. "Have you ever seen the Devil?", asked the magistrate, his gaze fixed upon her.
"The Devil came to me and told me to serve him," Tituba said."
"Who did you see?"
Tituba hesitated before speaking. “Four women”, she confessed. “They sometimes hurt the children.”
“Who are they?”
She paused, then spoke again, her words spilling out in fear. "Sarah Good, Goody Osbourn and Mary Smith urged me to harm the children, but I wouldn't." The courtroom remained silent as she continued. "There was also Patience Miller. She practiced dark magic and whispered curses in the night. She used her evil to destroy her own brother, draining the life from him until he died and she then controlled the nightmares of the two children whose family I still serve." A horrified silence followed. A woman from the crowd stood up. "It's true", the woman shouted and pointed her finger at Patience. "I did witness her in the dead of night. She whispered into the ear of their goat, and the beast, by some foul sorcery, transformed into a man." Patience was horrified by the accusation. It was terrifying. Those words were completely untrue. The magistrate started screaming at his daughter. "You wicked beast, how could you commit such a vile act? A viper in my own house!" he said, now red in the face. "Under the guise of innocence, you have crept among us, poisoning your brother and staining our souls with your devilry. Have you no fear of God, no trembling before His righteous judgment?" Patience started crying. She had not done anything to harm anybody, but here she was being accused of a crime she did not commit. She was put under arrest for suspicion of witchcraft. After the first hearing and the confession of Tituba, the five women were transported to Salem Town to be imprisoned until the next court hearing. Patience was kept inside a makeshift cell with four other women and the four-year-old daughter of one of the accused. The conditions were demoralising. It was a damp little room with no windows. The beds were on the floor. It was all covered in filth and straw. There was nothing to do except maybe pray and dwell in one’s own misery. The person who was suffering the most was the four-year-old girl who was imprisoned with her mother. The once bright and cheery child was now dulled and worn out. It was the kind of tiredness most people get after fifty years of hard labour. Seeing that kind of distress on such a small child only implicated the disgusting situation they were all in. Patience herself couldn’t bare the shame and humiliation she endured and her heart ached for all the innocent women imprisoned with her. She didn’t even show any signs of fury towards Tituba who so blatantly accused her and the others to save her own skin. Patience, at some level, understood the reason Tituba betrayed her own neighbours. Patience did not have the energy nor enough fury to bite in bitterness. She only wished not to be called a murderer or witch. If she did converse with Satan, she would have known in her heart it was her fault, but this was worse for her. Besides, it was not the women in this cell who were the evil ones. It was the greedy and vile men who had put them here. It was they who should have been tried for their sins. They only wished to get rid of women they deemed a threat and were using the words of God to spread their wicked agenda. The one at whom Patience was truly furious was her own father. To save face, he sacrificed his own daughter. Although she loved him dearly, the betrayal was heart-breaking for her.
That same Friday, two women came into the cell. They were sent by the magistrate to check the women for “witch’s” marks. The witch’s marks included any mole or skin pigmentation that didn’t bleed when poked. These two women poked every single mole on Patience’s body. None of her moles bled, which put her in an even worse position. After the exam was concluded and the women left, Patience was left alone once again. She was contemplating everything that had happened; now she was left with two choices. Either confess and live the rest of her life in shame and isolation from the community or not confess and face the gallows. Patience thought very long about it and concluded that she will claim her innocence because she would rather die with dignity than spend the rest of her life in shame.
On the day of her final trial she stood proudly at the stand. She did not care anymore for the sin or the consequence. Truth be told, she had enough of it. She stood there, her piercing green eyes looking at the judge and her father who was sitting in his chair all innocently as if it wasn’t his daughter that was being tried. Everyone stood up when the judge arrived.
“Miss Patience Miller, you stand accused of the crime of witchcraft, brought forth by the good people of Salem Village,” the judge said.
“How do you plead?”
“Not guilty, Your Honour.”
“Miss Miller”, the pastor inquired,” do you work with any malevolent spirits?”
“No, sir, I do not!”
“Have you ever denounced the Lord or intentionally sinned?”
“No, sir, I believe I am a pious woman. “
“Call the witness!” the judge ordered.
A small figure was led forward. Margaret Miller was brought into the room. Patience was horrified. Her own sister would testify against her. What a disgusting and sly thing to do, to ruin the innocence of a child like that. Margaret had trouble tying her own shoes, let alone testifying in a murder trial. However, her testimony held the most weight because children were seen as the purest creatures on earth. “Do you swear to tell the truth before God, child?”, the Judge asked her politely.
Margaret nodded.
“Tell us what you saw on the morning of your brother’s death.”
Margaret’s fingers twisted in her sleeves. “I woke up when Joseph cried out,” she said softly. “I saw Patience leave the house before dawn.”
Patience turned toward her. “Margaret, what are you doing!?”
“Silence!”, the judge shouted.
Margaret swallowed. “I saw her in the yard. She was speaking to the goat and then I saw a tall man dressed in black looming over her.”
“Did you recognise the man?” the judge inquired.
“No, sir, I didn’t.”
“And what do you think your sister was doing?”
Margaret gently moved her head from right to left.
“I saw her doing many such things, she was always talking with the animals when father wasn’t looking.”
“Thank you, Margaret. You may go now.”
Margaret exited the courtroom. The judge looked at Patience with an evil look of satisfaction.
“Miss Miller, by the testimony provided by Miss Margaret Miller and your many witch’s marks point that you are indeed the evilest creature that has ever walked this earth, a witch!”
“The court finds you guilty of all charges and you are to be hanged!”
Patience was expecting this. After all, there was no other way to get out of this situation. She did not fight it: she accepted her fate that she would die and be buried without any dignity whatsoever.
On the day of the execution, she and two other women were brought to the gallows. The angry mob had already gathered by the time they arrived. They were like vultures. Waiting for the next kill so they can feed off it. All women were lined up and the ropes were already put around their necks. They didn’t even have the chance to say their last words when the executioner pulled the lever. Their life ended because of the town-folk’s cruelty and selfishness. It was over in the blink of an eye.
*The quote from Tituba’s confession was sourced from: