LITMIR.BIZ

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court-room have never been equalled since in American jurisprudence. Powerful forces came into play there, and the reports that have been preserved read like scenes from Shakespeare. In the case of Rebecca Nurse, the Judge said to the defendant:

      “ ‘You do know whether you are guilty, and have familiarity with the Devil; and now when you are here present to see such a thing as these testify—and a black man whispering in your ear, and devils about you—what do you say to it?’ ”

      To which she replied:

      “ ‘It is all false. I am clear.’ Whereupon Mrs. Pope, one of the witnesses, fell into a grievous fit.” {Footnote: Upham’s “Salem Witchcraft,” ii. 64.}

      Alas, poor beleaguered soul! And one may well say, “What imaginations those women had!” Tituba, the West Indian Aztec who appears in this social-religious explosion as the chief and original incendiary—verily the root of all evil—gave the following testimony:

      “Q. ‘Did you not pinch Elizabeth Hubbard this morning?’

      “A. ‘The man brought her to me, and made me pinch her.’

      “Q. ‘Why did you go to Thomas Putnam’s last night and hurt his child?’

      “A. ‘They pull and haul me, and make me go.’

      “Q. ‘And what would they have you do?’

      “A. ‘Kill her with a knife.’

      “(Lieutenant Fuller and others said at this time, when the child saw these persons, and was tormented by them, that she did complain of a knife—that they would have her cut her head off with a knife.)

      “Q. ‘How did you go?’

      “A. ‘We ride upon sticks, and are there presently.’

      “Q. ‘Do you go through the trees or over them?’

      “A. ‘We see nothing, but are there presently.’

      “Q. ‘Why did you not tell your master?’

      “A. ‘I was afraid. They said they would cut off my head if I told.’

      “Q. ‘Would you not have hurt others, if you could?’

      “A. ‘They said they would hurt others, but they could not.’

      “Q. ‘What attendants hath Sarah Good?’

      “A. ‘A yellow-bird, and she would have given me one.’

      “Q. ‘What meat did she give it?’

      “A. ‘It did suck her between her fingers.’ ”.

      This might serve as an epilogue to “Macbeth,” and the wonder is that an unlettered Indian should have had the wit to make such apt and subtle replies. It is also noteworthy that these strange proceedings took place after the expulsion of the royal governor, and previous to the provincial government of William III. If Sir Edmund Andros had remained, the tragedy might have been changed into a farce.

      After all, it appears that John Hathorne was not a lawyer, for he describes himself in his last will, dated June 27, 1717, as a merchant, and it is quite possible that his legal education was no better than that of the average English squire in Fielding’s time. It is evident, however, from the testimony given above, that he was a strong believer in the supernatural, and here if anywhere we find a relationship between him and his more celebrated descendant. Nathaniel Hawthorne was too clear-sighted to place confidence in the pretended revelations of trance mediums, and he was not in the least superstitious; but he was remarkably fond of reading ghost stories, and would have liked to believe them, if he could have done so in all sincerity. He sometimes felt as if he were a ghost himself, gliding noiselessly in the walks of men, and wondered that the sun should cast a shadow from him. However, we cannot imagine him as seated in jurisdiction at a criminal tribunal. His gentle nature would have recoiled from that, as it might from a serpent.

      In the Charter Street burial-ground there is a slate gravestone, artistically carved about its edges, with the name, “Col. John Hathorne Esq.,” upon it. It is somewhat sunken into the earth, and leans forward as if wishing to hide the inscription upon it from the gaze of mankind. The grass about it and the moss upon the stone assist in doing this, although repeatedly cut and cleaned away. It seems as if Nature wished to draw a kind of veil over the memory of the witch’s judge, himself the sorrowful victim of a theocratic oligarchy. The lesson we learn from his errors is, to trust our own hearts and not to believe too fixedly in the doctrines of Church and State. It must be a dull sensibility that can look on this old slate-stone without a feeling of pathos and a larger charity for the errors of human nature.

      It is said that one of the convicted witches cursed Judge Hathorne—himself and his descendants forever; but it is more than likely that they all cursed him bitterly enough, and this curse took effect in a very natural and direct manner. Every extravagant political or social movement is followed by a corresponding reaction, even if the movement be on the whole a salutary one, and retribution is sure to fall in one shape or another on the leaders of it. After this time the Hathornes ceased to be conspicuous in Salem affairs. The family was not in favor, and the avenues of prosperity were closed to them, as commonly happens in such cases. Neither does the family appear to have multiplied and extended itself like most of the old New England families, who can now count from a dozen to twenty branches in various places. Of John Hathorne’s three sons only one appears to have left children. The name has wholly disappeared from among Salem families, and thus in a manner has the witch’s curse been fulfilled.

      Joseph Hathorne, the son of the Judge, was mostly a farmer, and that is all that we now know of him. His son Daniel, however, showed a more adventurous spirit, becoming a shipmaster quite early in life. It has also been intimated that he was something of a smuggler, which was no great discredit to him in a time when the unfair and even prohibitory measures of the British Parliament in regard to American commerce made smuggling a practical necessity. Even as the captain of a trading vessel, however, Daniel Hathorne was not likely to advance the social interests of his family. It is significant that he should have left the central portion of Salem, where his ancestors had lived, and have built a house for himself close to the city wharves—a house well built and commodious enough, but not in a fashionable location.

      But Daniel Hathorne had the advantage over fashionable society in Salem, in being a thorough patriot. Boston and Salem were the two strongholds of Toryism during the war for Independence, which was natural enough, as their wealthy citizens were in close mercantile relations with English houses, and sent their children to England to be educated. Daniel Hathorne, however, as soon as hostilities had begun, fitted out his bark as a privateer, and spent the following six years in preying upon British merchantmen. How successful he was in this line of business we have not been informed, but he certainly did not grow rich by it; although he is credited with one engagement with the enemy, in which his ship came off with honor, though perhaps not with a decisive victory. This exploit was celebrated in a rude ballad of the time, which has been preserved in “Griswold’s Curiosities of American Literature,” and has at least the merit of plain unvarnished language. {Footnote: Also in Lathrop’s “Hawthorne."}

      There is a miniature portrait of Daniel Hathorne, such as was common in Copley’s time, still in the possession of the Hawthorne family, and it represents him as rather a bullet-headed man, with a bright, open, cheery face, a broad English chin and strongly marked brows—an excellent physiognomy for a sea-captain. He appears besides to have had light brown or sandy hair, a ruddy complexion and bright blue eyes; but we cannot determine how truthful the miniature may be in respect to coloring. At all events, he was of a very different appearance from Nathaniel Hawthorne, and if he resembled his grandson in any external respect, it was in his large eyes and their overshadowing brows. He has not the look of a dare-devil. One might suppose that he was a person of rather an obstinate disposition, but it is always difficult to draw the line between obstinacy and determination.

      A similar miniature of his son Nathaniel, born in 1775, and who died at Surinam in his thirty-fourth year, gives us the impression

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