If legend and lore teach us anything, it’s that curses can be so powerful they can birth their own creators.  And that’s sort of what happened when it comes to the subject of witches in Maine.  Wicked, cursed, and moral avengers righting the scales of injustice, the witches of Maine are at the center of stories that hold us all accountable for who we are in deed as much as philosophy. We may consider them “the good old days”, but the times when witches were a thing people genuinely feared were also fraught with righteous ignorance capable of harm so great we still talk about it, casually, over 300 years later.

Why Witches Were Feared
Historically, witches were feared among communities because they were thought to be wreakers of havoc and supernaturally gifted malcontents out to ruin someone else’s good thing.  They were somehow simultaneously social outcasts whilst also being in-the-know enough about everyone’s business that they had a perfectly personal curse ready to sling whenever the occasion arose.  The fear the term “witch” elicited from the community was as unreasonable then as it would be today, yet cognitive dissonance trumps religious belief and so here we are, talking about how “witches” left their mark in the cultural landscape of the state of Maine.

Nameless Witches and Endless Legends
So, let’s start with some hardcore lingerers. Witch stories that have no clear origin and have yet to see an end. These would be stories like the Flesher Witch, The Green Eyed Witch, and Skudakumooch or “the cannibal witch of Maine”.  None of these witches were ever attributed to real-life people, and none possessed a proper name to indicate who they might have been if their tale had an actual biographical beginning. Nameless in every sense, yet diabolical in ways that terrorized those within reach of their perceived wretched chicanery.  These witches were severely localized and usually used as excuses for why unexplainable things happened in the community.  Everything from car wrecks to missing people, strange sounds in the woods to sudden deaths, all were explained away by blaming the nearest witch and fearing she may come for ‘you’ next.  The most terrifying aspect of this type of Maine-based witch is that they don’t seem to have a clear reason for targeting their victims.  “Wrong place wrong time” could be enough for someone to fall prey to any one of these murderous menaces.

Fictional Witches as Moral Avengers
Then, we have the purely fictional witches with common names like; Emma Alley, Hetty Moye, Becky Murch, and Elsie & Sally Somers.  Names so ordinary and seemingly harmless that they pass muster at first glance as being trustworthy and believable – even principled in their action, whatever that may be.  These female characters have acted as archetypical messengers beckoning the morally wayward for centuries, and their stories usually portray them as vengeful, wicked women, even ‘evil’ enough to put life at risk.  While all of that might be true, the reasons behind why their names are associated with such darkness and gloom would be similar to the reasons they’re considered feared, but also respected.  And also why they’re associated with titles more aligned with “moral avenger” than something far more sinister.   The communal consciousness carries on their stories because they teach lessons similar to say, Aesop’s Fables or Nursery Rhymes, minus the rhyming.  The origin stories themselves may not even be real, but the moral of those stories is, and it resonates with just about any modern society no matter what decade they re-appear.  So, the lifespan of these local narratives is potentially endless.  Moral lessons taught by the legends these witches bring to the scene are heavily predicated on people treating each other with respect, and honoring one’s words and oral contracts – subjects that were really important at the time these myths were birthed.

Kittery’s Cluster of Witches
Sometimes, if the conditions are just right, we can see a bunch of fictional witches strewn throughout the centuries, but all clustered in a small area like Kittery, Maine, for example.  Kittery is home to Old Betty Booker, Mary Greenland, “Aunt” Polly Belknap, and “Black Dinah” – all local ladies who exist only in the mind’s eye of the community.  Their presence is always lingering in the collective regional psyche, reminding them to be nice or suffer the wrath of their local and legendary “punitive trickster” by means of hex or curse.

Real Women Turned Into Witches
One of the most curious groups of witches gracing Maine’s historical landscape was actually made up of real-life women who were attributed as being witches after their deaths, like the very well-known Mary Nasson of York, and “Lizzy” Lydston of Bowdoin. Both are fine examples of women who lived relatively uneventful lives, unworthy of historic note until the local population immortalized them for reasons neither actually earned.  In both cases their legends began with rumors about their gravesites.  “Lizzy” Lydston’s gravesite sank over time and it’s surrounded by a beautiful stand of trees, set off to the side of the traditional graveyard it’s attached to.  The graveyard is open, with minimal, if any trees.  Lydston’s gravesite makes it look like she’s been separated from the main graveyard, it’s sunken in, and it’s in a darkened place due to the trees that have matured around her burial site.  Despite the logical observation being that these trees were purposely planted in a protective and decorative fashion around the grave of a loved one, gossip spreaders created a character-assassinating story of a woman they knew nothing about, being a witch and being responsible for deaths in modern times.  Unfounded accusations that became the basis for belief for the reasons why her grave is not among all the others in proper fashion.  It’s kind of awful if you take the time to think about it.  And Mary Nasson’s story is similar.  Her gravesite has a giant stone slab over top, likely to keep the wildlife from digging up her body.  This was a traditional practice during the era she was buried, and there actually were many graves in the same graveyard where Nasson’s body is buried which also had large stone slabs over the top of them. Over time they were removed and used in nearby stone walls and foundations, Mary’s just happened to be one of the only ones that survived, remaining in place.  Yet, the rumor mill made up a story about her being a witch and this poor woman has been thought of in a way that would have been potentially life ending during her lifetime, ever since.

Maine’s Ties to the Salem Witch Trials
And, of course, the pinnacle of Witch associations would be that of any Mainer whose name could be connected to the Salem Witch Trials, of which we have a small number.  In some ways it could be said that the roots of the Salem Witch Trials began, and ended, right here in the state of Maine.  Yes, the executions took place in Massachusetts proper (modern day MA) but 2 of the original accusers were Abigail Hobbs and Mercy Lewis, and both were born and partially raised in Falmouth – modern day Portland, Maine.  Lewis was employed as a housemaid for Reverend George Burroughs of Falmouth after the tragic deaths of both of her parents during an Indian raid, which left her an orphan.  He took her in as a live-in employee until she moved to Salem and into the household of another of the original accusers, Ann Putnam Jr. of the very wealthy and highly influential Putnam family.  Mercy moved to Salem and became one of the original “witchcraft” accusers along with Hobbs.  Among the people they testified against was Mercy’s former employer George Burroughs, a minister who was arrested in Wells, transported to Salem, tried for witchcraft and ultimately executed. There is much to say about Mercy Lewis’ and Abigail Hobbs’ involvement in the Salem Witch Trials but the point I really want to get to is the bookend of my previous statement, that in some way the Salem Witch Trials had its beginnings and ending associated with Maine.

Sir William Phipps: The Governor Who Ended It
That end came by the hand of the royal governor of the province of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, Sir William Phipps.  Phipps was a natural born Mainer who brought himself from illiterate frontier son to high society Boston gentleman, and eventually to the appointment of Royal Governor, a position he held during the entirety of the active Salem Witch Trials.  In fact, he was responsible for setting up the Oyer and Terminer Court system, which was meant to try, judge, and sentence quickly – streamlining the trial process in order to handle the sheer backlog of Witchcraft cases waiting to be heard. The hysteria was like a wildfire among the community and it was clogging the justice system, as it had normally functioned.

So Governor Phipps, who wasn’t ever present during any of the Salem Witch Trial proceedings because he was away at Fort Pemaquid (so he never saw a case tried), was the person responsible for setting up the ‘speedy court system’ that executed all 19 victims. The killings only came to an end when he returned to Salem and saw what had happened and how many people were murdered in lieu of this court he created, in addition to his own wife’s name suddenly burning up the rumor mill.  Governor Phipps wasn’t popular in certain circles and he had angered a number of people in high society so his wife’s name being thrown into the ring with this court he created, which had killed 19 people already, elicited a reaction I will paraphrase, henceforth as: “Not gonna happen”. Phipps was out. He wrote the Royal Court and told them things had gotten way out of hand and he was shutting the whole thing down.  And away it went.  But the stigma remained. Solid believers in this fantastical possibility that anything bad that happens to you, personally, can be explained away by something someone else did to you rather than something you did to yourself seemed as simple-minded as it did convenient.  Y’know? Rather than a natural consequence to an action or series of actions which you, yourself, committed voluntarily, one can blame a negative outcome to this imaginary force set forth by sheer will and thought of a person who’s known as, or who calls themselves, a “witch.  In that respect one can see how easy it would be for people to blame a witch for their misfortune or discontent.  Part of me wants to admit I laugh in jest, but there’s a sad trailing off at the end of that brief chuckle when I’m reminded that these legends existed then for the same reasons they still exist now.

Why These Witch Legends Still Matter
No matter where you look in the state of Maine you’re bound to fall into the territory of one witch legend, or another.  Whether they’re a terrifying face-melting Flesher Witch, benign community herbalist, or moral avenger for the ages, they all have one thing in common – they leave us with lessons.  They remind us to be ethical with each other, and nature, and all things living and not living.  ‘Respect for all’ includes accepting that bad things happen to good people, to always do one’s best to follow the rules or expect really bad things to happen if one doesn’t.  And that may sound absurdly harsh for the 21^st century – hilariously so, I would agree – but, we must remember these legends weren’t born for this time.  They were born for times when cautionary tales were all they had to remind themselves why they don’t do things like – go out into the Maine woods at night and expect not to go missing, because something will almost certainly eat you given the right circumstances.  So instead, they make up a tale of the Flesher Witch, as an example, and this causes people to fear going out into the woods at night – as if Bears, Mountain Lions, and Wolves weren’t reasons enough to fear the Maine forest after dark.  The point is, they all served a purpose then, and some have managed to linger, continuing to keep us honest through to today.