I first came across The Enchanted Goblet of Salem in June of 2007, in Salem, Massachusetts. The goblet was not what brought me to this part of the United States, but it was surely the most fascinating item that I came across on this expedition. At the time, the goblet was in the possession of a man named Thomas Druchner, and it had been in his family for over 300 years.
Along with the item, Thomas had several of his family member’s journals. These had been passed down from generation to generation, and contained some particularly interesting entries. Thomas let me read the journals, and upon recognizing my interest, was happy to sell me the goblet.
The following is the item’s history, as I have come to understand it.
From the Journal of Hans Fischer:
In June of 1685, Hans Fischer was searching for a witch. This was, of course, a period when witches flourished in the United States. The horrendous events of the Salem Witch Trials would not occur until 1692, and as such, the search for a witch was a more reasonable endeavour than it would be today.
What caught my attention, though, was the fact that the witch he found was Stella Cloyce. This is a name I was already very familiar with; Stella was one of the most revered witches of the time. She inhabited a small house in the outskirts of Salem. She was not a hospitable person, but despite her unwelcoming demeanour, she was also not an evil one.
Hans Fischer asked Stella for a love potion. This is something extraordinarily rare and difficult to concoct, but Stella Cloyce was no ordinary witch – she in fact wrote extensively about potions and enchantments. The following is a direct quote from her personal writings regarding love potions:
“One of the primary quandaries with love potions is that they are finite, where love, of course, is not. A potion’s effect will only exist while it resides in the individual’s system, and thus love potions, in and of themselves, are futile. Enchantments, on the other hand, are eternal, and thus enchantments are the true route to manufactured love.”
In his journal, Hans wrote that Stella had given him an Enchanted Goblet. Her instructions were clear: on the night of the full moon, he was to fill the goblet with water and drink it at the strike of midnight. She told him that the enchantment would infatuate the woman he loved. The catch, though, was that the effects would only last for a month. Every full moon, for the rest of his life, Hans would have to drink from the goblet at the strike of midnight.
Hans followed her instructions, and within days, he met a woman named Edith. They fell madly in love. Hans never missed a full moon, and within the year, the two were married. They lived a long and happy life together, and had one child, a girl by the name of Marie.
From the Diary of Marie Fischer:
Hans Fischer passed away in January of 1709, four months after his wife. On his deathbed, Hans told Marie of the goblet, and how it had won him the love of her mother. Marie was no skeptic and was quite studied in witchcraft. She took her father’s words to heart and drank from the goblet at midnight on the full moon. Within weeks she was dating Stefan Druchner, the man who she would go on to marry.
One year later, in 1710, Marie and Stefan had their first child, a boy named Alan. Marie was steadfast in her beliefs. She drank from the Enchanted Goblet every full moon for the rest of her life.
When Marie Fischer passed away in 1745, she told her son, her only remaining unwed child, of the Enchanted Goblet and how it had found love for both her and her father. She instructed him to drink from it every full moon at midnight, and to never falter.
From the Journal of Alan Druchner:
Alan Druchner was not a believer in witchcraft, but he drank from the goblet regularly, in honour of his mother and her deathbed wish.
At the time of his mother’s passing, Alan had never been in a relationship. Within days of drinking from the goblet, he met Emily Sheldon, who he would marry the next year, in 1746. They had one son, who they named Fynn. The two lived many happy years together, until 1757, when Emily unexpectedly left him. Alan makes clear in his journal that the separation came as a complete surprise. He loved Emily with all his heart, and her leaving devastated him.
Soon after Emily left, Alan fell into a deep depression. It was not until several years later that he told his son about the Enchanted Goblet, and how he had stopped drinking from it in March of 1757. He tried drinking from the goblet again, but his and Emily’s relationship never recovered. Alan gave the goblet to his son, and died of alcohol poisoning (or perhaps, loneliness) two years later.
From my Conversations with Thomas Druchner:
The Enchanted Goblet was stored in the attic of Alan Druchner’s home and forgotten. The house was passed down through the family, and eventually the title fell to Thomas Druchner, the man whom I met in June of 2007. He was married at the time, and his wife was pregnant with a child of their own.
Thomas had recently discovered the goblet and accompanying journals. He was already married, but for fun, he had drunk from the goblet as instructed. He did not believe the legend associated with it. For this reason, when I expressed interest in the goblet, he was quick to offer it to me, for a reasonable sum. I, of course, accepted.
When I visited Thomas again in 2011, I found that he no longer lived in the family home. I eventually tracked him down and learned that he had succumbed to alcoholism. He and his wife had divorced in December of 2007, and the heartbroken man never recovered.
The Enchanted Goblet of Salem has been in my collection for several years now, but I have never drunk from it. Love is something I have already known, and though she is gone, my heart will always be with her. I do not know if the goblet still carries with it the witch’s enchantment, but I do not wish to find out.
Perhaps you do.
To the person who purchases the Enchanted Goblet, the item will be meticulously packaged, and delivered with a copy of its history. Thank you for reading this tall tale, and I wish you all the best.
J. W. Smithworth