The Life and Genius of Nathaniel Hawthorne | Page 5

deputies, who before sat with the
assistants, were separated into a distinct body, and the House of
Representatives thus came into existence, in 1644, Hathorne was their
first Speaker. He occupied the chair, with intermediate services on the
floor from time to time, until raised to the other House. He was an
inhabitant of Salem Village, having his farm there, and a
dwelling-house, in which he resided when his legislative, military, and
other official duties permitted. His son John, who succeeded him in all

his public honors, also lived on his own farm in the village a great part
of the time." [Footnote: "Salem Witchcraft," i. 99.]
Evidently he was the most important person in the colony, next to
Governor Winthrop, and unequalled by any of his descendants, except
Nathaniel Hawthorne, and by him in a wholly different manner; for it is
in vain that we seek for traits similar to those of the great romance
writer among his ancestors. We can only say that they both possessed
exceptional mental ability, and there the comparison ends.
The attempt has been made to connect William Hathorne with the
persecution of the Quakers, [Footnote: Conway's "Life of Hawthorne,"
15.] and it is true that he was a member of the Colonial Assembly
during the period of the persecution; it is likely that his vote supported
the measures in favor of it, but this is not absolutely certain. We do not
learn that he acted at any time in the capacity of sheriff; the most
diligent researches in the archives of the State House at Boston have
failed to discover any direct connection on the part of William
Hathorne with that movement; and the best authorities in regard to the
events of that time make no mention of him. [Footnote: Sewel,
Hallowell, Ellis.] It was the clergy who aroused public opinion and
instigated the prosecutions against both the Quakers and the supposed
witches of Salem, and the civil authorities were little more than passive
instruments in their hands. Hathorne's work was essentially a legislative
one,--a highly important work in that wild, unsettled country,--to adapt
English statutes and legal procedures to new and strange conditions. He
was twice Speaker of the House between 1660 and 1671, and as
presiding officer he could exert less influence on measures of
expediency than any other person present, as he could not argue either
for or against them. And yet, after Charles II. had interfered in behalf of
the Quakers, William Hathorne wrote an elaborate and rather circuitous
letter to the British Ministry, arguing for non-intervention in the affairs
of the colony, which might have possessed greater efficacy if he had
not signed it with an assumed name. [Footnote: J. Hawthorne's
"Nathaniel Hawthorne," i. 24.] However strong a Puritan he may have
been, William Hathorne evidently had no intention of becoming a
martyr to the cause of colonial independence. Yet it may be stated in

his favor, and in that of the colonists generally, that the fault was not
wholly on one side, for the Quakers evidently sought persecution, and
would have it, cost what it might. [Footnote: Hallowell's "Quaker
Invasion of New England."] Much the same may be affirmed of his son
John, who had the singular misfortune to be judge in Salem at the time
of the witchcraft epidemic. The belief in witchcraft has always had its
stronghold among the fogs and gloomy fiords of the North. James I.
brought it with him from Scotland to England, and in due course it was
transplanted to America. Judge Hathorne appears to have been at the
top of affairs at Salem in his time, and it is more than probable that
another in his place would have found himself obliged to act as he did.
Law is, after all, in exceptional cases little more than a reflex of public
opinion. "The common law," said Webster, "is common-sense," which
simply means the common opinion of the most influential people.
Much more to blame than John Hathorne were those infatuated persons
who deceived themselves into thinking that the pains of rheumatism,
neuralgia, or some similar malady were caused by the malevolent
influence of a neighbor against whom they had perhaps long harbored a
grudge. They were the true witches and goblins of that epoch, and the
only ones, if any, who ought to have been hanged for it.
What never has been reasoned up cannot be reasoned down. It seems
incredible in this enlightened era, as the newspapers call it, that any
woman should be at once so inhuman and so frivolous as to swear
away the life of a fellow-creature upon an idle fancy; and yet, even in
regard to this, there were slightly mitigating conditions. Consider only
the position of that handful of Europeans in this vast wilderness, as it