New England and the Maritimes

The Witch’s Bridle: An Introduction to the Folk Magic of New England and the Maritimes

Where do you start a journey that involves witchcraft? And how do you travel? How will you get from point A to point B—or in the case of the crooked, twisting path of witchery, likely point A to point Q by way of point X-Y-Z.

I had thought very seriously about doing this book as a regional folk magic guide that didn’t follow a particular path, or that went from West Coast to East Coast as a way of unsettling and breaking the “westward expansion” mindset that seems embedded in the colonialist story we get told about the United States. It’s also worth noting that starting at the eastern shoreline and working west winds up ignoring the fact that there were literal nations of people already living in all those spaces. In the New England area alone, the Iroquois Confederacy had enormous influence over a number of tribes in the region.

I have three reasons, however, that I decided to start our journey into North American folk magic here, in the northeastern part of the landmass. Firstly, our journey will take us along in the direction of the sun and the moon on their travels through our skies. Since celestial objects— these two in particular—have such a rich connection to folk magic in these lands, it seemed reasonable to take their lead, and to use the extra hours of daylight we get from going that way to cover more ground, so to speak.

Secondly, I was able to start us not at Plymouth but in places like Montreal and Newfoundland, Acadie and Quebec City, breaking the mindset that “American folk magic” is purely “US folk magic.” You will see very clearly that is not the case in this book. The first people I get to introduce you to, in fact, are a pair of French Canadian sorcières who will take you into a land deeply haunted by tricky devils, flying canoes, white beasts, and magical traditions that go back four or more centuries in this place. They will tell of fées and revenants (two types of magical creatures) as well as show you the haunted marionettes—the dancing northern lights that can be beautiful, but also a bit scary in magical estimations.

Thirdly, I love New England. One of my favorite places to visit is Boston, for example, because it is both historically engaging (the Freedom Trail), intellectually innovative (MIT and Harvard), and stuffed full of people from so many walks of life (amazing Irish pubs and also some of the best Italian antipasti I’ve ever eaten in North Boston), as you will see in Morgan Daimler‘s excellent section on the Irish American folk magic traditions we find in this part of the country (and further abroad in places like Chicago). Additionally, it’s full of folklore, and that folklore is full of witchcraft and magic.

We often associate areas in and around New England with some of our best-known witch stories. Salem is here, of course, a place that has captured our imaginations for better or worse since 1692. Another favorite tale of mine is that of Maine witch Betty Booker, who rode a skinflint boat skipper all over the state after turning him into a human horse with a magic “witch’s bridle” when he treated her poorly. There are stories of witch sheep in Rhode Island, along with dozens of witch stories in places like Connecticut and New Hampshire. Plus the long history with life on the sea in this part of the continent has always involved folk magic as well. This is part of the grand tour of folk magic that can’t help but burst at the seams with witchery and enchantment.

To that end, you’ll be meeting someone in this section who very much embodies that sort of overflowing folk magical persona. For now we’ll call him Dr. Coelacanth, and I’ll tell you he’s a New England cunning man with an eye for charms that feel like they came from the dusty grimoire of a Lovecraftian Innsmouth wizard, but which hum with magic as soon as you read them. He’ll be pulling on many threads of folklore and helping mingle old worlds and new as he shows you how to use a sieve and shears to know the future or speaks of magical engraved washpots. If you could sit down to tea with a sorcerer like that as you begin your journey, why wouldn’t you?

In the end, I can try to justify my travel choices all day long. (And because we’re following the sun, we could use those few extra hours for me to do my justifying.) The choice was mine, and we had to start somewhere. Frankly, I’m delighted we’re starting here on the rocky coasts, hearing the sounds of loup-garous in the distance, the roar from Fenway Park, and the quaint creaking of boat timbers and old gabled roofs straining with magic.

Let us begin.