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13 April 2016

Dorcas Hoar really was a witch

Image: Chris 73/Wikimedia Commons
It could be an omen that John and Florence Galley were fined by the Essex Quarterly Court in 1635 for fornication before marriage. Born shortly thereafter, their daughter Dorcas had several confrontations with the law and clergy throughout her married life. Growing up, however, she lived a comfortable but not overly religious life. Her father was admitted to the church in Beverly, Massachusetts, in his early 60s, so it’s likely the Galley household was not as God-fearing as their neighbors. And, at his death in 1683, John Galley, planter, left an estate worth £200.

Living in a Puritan church-state and believing in its teachings are not one and the same. After settling into married life about 1655 and having children, Dorcas and her husband, fisherman William Hoar, strayed from the gospel. In 1661 and 1662, William was brought before the court for “allowing tippling” and celebrating Christmas at his house. All along, Puritans discouraged holidays as pure popery—especially Christmas, which not only had no celebratory date in the Bible, it also usurped a pagan solstice festival. In fact, from 1659 to 1681 the Massachusetts Bay Colony outlawed Christmas.

Around the same time, Dorcas started dabbling in the dark arts.

Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live


Dorcas admitted she learned witchcraft from a book of palmistry and from a practicing healer. She and her daughters married poor men, and her skills at fortunetelling and predicting illnesses (even death) supplemented a meager income, not only for her household but for her grown children’s households too. Even though Puritan theology denounced divination as trespassing on God’s all-knowing plan, people still wanted to know what the future held for them. Badgered by the local minister, Mr. John Hale, in 1670 Dorcas repented for her sins.

Unfortunately, the good reverend didn’t understand her needs.

People in Beverly started noticing small things went missing, like an apron or a pillowcase of flour. After a while, John Hale realized the criminals in their midst were specifically targeting him and his house of plenty. At first, blame was placed on his servant, Margaret Lord, but stolen items appeared throughout Dorcas Hoar’s extended family, making her the mastermind behind the burglary ring. (Margaret Lord threatened the Hales' daughter into silence by telling her Dorcas Hoar was a witch.) In 1678, Dorcas was in court listening to a catalog of the bushels of foodstuff, the yards of cloth, the items of apparel, coins, and jewelry that were stolen, most of which was bartered off to keep the Hoars fed.

The court records don’t provide a verdict. Two years later, however, William Hoar was put in charge of sweeping the Beverly meetinghouse, keeping the time (using an hourglass!), and ringing the bell at nine o’clock every night. In recompense, he received one peck of corn yearly from every family in Beverly.

Escaping the Noose


Not surprisingly, in 1692 widow Dorcas Hoar was convicted of witchcraft and condemned to hang on September 22. She confessed and received a reprieve, with supporting testimony from none other than Mr. Hale. Given a month to prepare her soul for death, she fortunately survived the witch hunt and was set free. 


* As a footnote to Dorcas Hoar’s story, Deodat Lawson claimed she had an “elf-lock,” a matted section of hair different from the rest that was four feet and seven inches long—further evidence of being a witch. 



See also: Using restitution lists from the 1692 Salem witch trials to rebuild Dorcas Hoar’s family

Sources:

'Where Thieves Break Through and Steal': John Hale versus Dorcas Hoar 1672-1692 by Barbara Ritter Dailey in Essex Institute Historical Collections, Vol. 128, (1992). 

Records and Files of the Quarterly Courts of Essex County, Massachusetts

Deodat Lawson, A Brief and True Narrative of Some Remarkable Passages Relating to Sundry Persons Afflicted by Witchcraft, at Salem Village (1704)

Bernard Rosenthal et al, Records of the Salem Witch-Hunt

31 March 2016

If my genealogy research is solid, how could my DNA results be wrong?

At seminar talks and on her blog, Judy G. Russell, the Legal Genealogist, suggests taking autosomal DNA tests at more than one company because each company presents data in different ways—and, more importantly, you expand your pool of potential cousins. Having tested at FamilyTreeDNA and 23andMe, I decided to follow Judys advice and try AncestryDNA.

And what I found shocked me.

I expected to find an autosomal DNA match with Ruby, my longtime conspirator in tracking down our Gibson ancestors. For 18+ years, weve been email buddies, sharing research and debating potential candidates for our family trees. Our mutual tenacity and our databases proved we were fifth cousins, so why didn't the DNA agree?

Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Find Me a Match

On AncestryDNA, I found cousins from my FamilyTreeDNA and 23andMe match lists, but no Ruby. (She didnt test with the other two companies.) With my 5,000+ hits, youd think one speck of spit would have declared our relationship. But it looked like we were swimming in different pools.

Luckily, AncestryDNA lets us share DNA results even with someone not on our match lists. (From the AncestryDNA home page, click on the Settings button on the right and scroll down to the green button, Invite Others to Access DNA Results.)

After opening AncestryDNA results pages for both of us, I filtered my search for any Gibson born in Massachusetts. We both had four hits, but none of the same. Figures.

This required diving deeper. I checked the family trees of all four of my cousin matches with my genealogy database. Two of them definitely were from my Gibson line, though the other two may be a new Gibson lead or unknown matches with another surname. Then I repeated the same checks with Rubys matches and my database. Her results showed one person shared a direct ancestor with Ruby and me; two had the granddaughter of our direct ancestors; and one matched one of Rubys collateral lines, but the Gibson surname was a red herring.

This case proves Judy Russells other important suggestion: The more relatives you test, the more matches you'll find. Thats because you wont share the same genetic admixture with your nearest and dearest. If possible, have as many close relatives (grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, siblings, children, etc.) take autosomal DNA tests to spread your nets wider to catch more cousins.



Related Stories:

Some DNA Blogs:

07 January 2016

Days of Inspiration

The start of a new year causes people to compile lists of New Year's resolutions. Some good intentions are easily broken, while others become good habits. 

If you're looking for inspiration for your genealogy writing, as a conversation starter, or just a fun day to celebrate, check out the calendar dates below.  

January
  • Jan. 1: New Year’s Day (Gregorian calendar)
  • Martin Luther King Day (third Monday in January)
February
  • African-American History Month
  • Feb. 14: Valentine's Day
  • Feb. 29: Leap Year day (once every four years)
  • Presidents’ Day (third Monday in February)
March
  • March 17: St. Patrick's Day
  • March 17: Evacuation Day
  • March 20: Spring Equinox
  • March 25: New Year's Day (Julian calendar)
April
May
  • May 1: May Day
  • May 2: Brothers & Sisters Day
  • May 5: Cinco de Mayo
  • May 8: V.E. Day: Victory in Europe Day
  • May 22: National Maritime Day
  • National Teacher's Day (Tuesday of the first full week of May)
  • Mother's Day (second Sunday in May)
  • Armed Forces Day (third Saturday in May)
  • Memorial Day (last Monday in May)
June
  • June 14: Flag Day
  • June 17: Bunker Hill Day
  • June 19: Juneteenth Day
  • June 20: Summer Solstice
  • Father's Day (third Sunday in June)
July
  • July 4: Independence Day
  • Parents’ Day (fourth Sunday in July)
August
  • Friendship Day (first Sunday in August)
September
  • Sept. 11: Patriot Day
  • Sept. 17: Constitution Day
  • Sept. 17: Citizenship Day
  • Sept. 21: International Peace Day
  • Sept. 22: Autumn Equinox
  • Labor Day (first Monday in September)
  • Grandparents Day (Sunday after Labor Day)
  • Native American Day (fourth Friday of September)
October
November
  • National Adoption Month
  • Native American Indian Month
  • Nov. 1: All Saints Day
  • Nov. 2: All Souls Day/Day of the Dead
  • Nov. 11: Veterans Day
  • Election Day (Tuesday following the first Monday of the month)
  • Thanksgiving (Fourth Thursday in November)
December
  • Dec. 7: Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day
  • Dec. 21: Winter Solstice
  • Dec. 25: Christmas
  • Dec. 26: Kwanzaa begins
  • Dec. 31: New Year’s Eve

Other Holidays & Fun Stuff

In addition to the dates above, there are “moveable” holidays that change every year, such as Easter, Chinese New Year, Yom Kippur, Ramadan, and Diwali. To keep up with those dates, visit Holiday Insights. You’ll also find many other reasons to celebrate on that site. And don’t forget Thomas MacEntee’s GeneaBloggers’ daily blogging prompts.

Need help organizing all the dates? Check out Create Your Own Calendar


29 October 2015

Tituba, Indian Servant of Mr. Samuel Parris

HEX: Old World Witchery in Salem
sells voodoo dolls*
From the 1692 Salem witch-hunt records, we know Tituba was “the Indian servant of Mr. Samuel Parris,” the minister of Salem Village. But we know very little about her life and her background. When was she born and where did she come from before being accused, interrogated, and jailed as a witch?

Although called a “servant,” Tituba probably lived in perpetual servitude. While slaves did exist in New England, most were of African descent, not Native American. Tituba could have been a Wampanoag, a Carib, or an Arawak Indian, which scholars have debated for years. Her foreignness within her small community went beyond her ethnic background though. In court, Tituba refers to “her mistress in her own country,” implying that she was born outside of the 13 Colonies as well.

The most in-depth study, Tituba, Reluctant Witch of Salem by Elaine Breslaw, claims Tituba was an Arawak Indian kidnapped from a Dutch settlement in South America and brought to Barbados. Based on the etymology of her name it could be plausible—but that scenario and the name also could apply to multiple people. Instead of suggesting Tituba absorbed an amalgam of cultural influences in Barbados, Breslaw creates a captive story that not only orphans Tituba but has the young Indian girl living with an African family. To tie the pieces together, Breslaw finds a 1676 plantation list of “negroes” that places a “Tattuba” with the “boys & girls,” suggesting an age range—and providing white owners with possible connections to Samuel Parris. As genealogists, we learn that even if the name is the same, we still need to connect the 1692 Tituba with earlier documentsand that cannot be done conclusively.

Like many slaves, we may never know her parents, her birthplace, or her age, though we can surmise some details based on the life of Tituba’s owner, Samuel Parris (1653-1720).

The Life of Parris

Samuel was the son of Thomas Parris (d. 1673), a cloth merchant of London. Thomas’ older brother John (d. 1660) owned a sugar plantation in Barbados in the 1640s, where he was a merchant and sometime slave trader. When he died there in 1660, part of John’s property went to his brother Thomas and his children. Thomas’ eldest son John inherited land from his uncle in England and Ireland. Younger son Samuel inherited a plantation and other property in Barbados.

At some point, Thomas and son Samuel moved to Barbados, where the climate, the foods, and the racial demographics were much different from England and even New England. With such valuable and income-producing properties, they would have become accustomed to having slaves and servants as an everyday part of island life.

Samuel left Barbados to attend Harvard College in Massachusetts Bay Colony, where his classmates would be future ministers, government officials, and businessmen. To an aspiring young man, Parris may have made the association that true gentlemen had servants and slaves to take care of farming and household chores so they themselves could be occupied with worldly matters. Before completing his degree, however, Thomas died, causing Samuel to return to Barbados to settle his father’s estate. Instead of living on the plantation, Samuel moved to Bridgetown, where he acted as a merchant agent. In December 1679, he was listed with one slave and one servant on the Barbados census.

By 1680, Samuel Parris returned to Boston, most likely bringing with him Tituba and John Indian. In short order, the 27-year-old bachelor married Elizabeth Eldridge/Eldred (1648?-1696) and set up house. Without the business acumen of his uncle and because of his own fractious nature, Samuel was not a successful merchant. He defaulted on a commercial loan and spent time in the courts. Perhaps thinking the ministry was a more suitable, pastoral occupation, in 1685, Samuel took a position as a paid preacher in Stowe, Massachusetts. Several years and much negotiating later, he became the minister at Salem Village, taking Tituba and John Indian with him.

The Qualities of a Servant

In the court trials, Tituba mentions her previous mistress in whose home she would have learned how to be in charge of a household—from tending the garden, preserving foods, cooking meals to housecleaning, laundry, spinning, and making candles and soaps. To be capable of running the household, we can estimate that Tituba would have been between the ages of 15 and 25 when she came to Boston. Without having much supervision in a bachelor’s home, it’s doubtful she would have been younger. If she were much older, that would have meant a shorter working life, and we know from his biography that Samuel was stingy and too demanding for that.

When Samuel married, Tituba’s workload would not have been divided in half. From his interactions with the Salem Villagers, it’s easy to get the impression that Samuel aspired to a higher social strata than a yeoman farmer. In Boston, Elizabeth Parris may have done more entertaining than cleaning. And as a minister’s wife, she was expected to make her rounds, helping people in the community, leaving Tituba to take care of hearth and home—and children.

Samuel and Elizabeth had three children—Thomas (b. 1681), Betty (1682-1760), and Susanna (1688-1706)—and, at some point, niece Abigail Williams joined the family.

Tribulations and Trials

Although the children had chores and schooling to attend to, Betty and Abigail’s so-called witch afflictions in 1692 meant more work for Tituba. Not only was the house filled with visitors observing the two girls, Betty and Abigail’s ailments were a convenient excuse to get out of housework.

After weeks of hysterical outbursts, fits, and twitches from the two girls, Samuel Parris gave up on Cotton Mather’s proscribed prayers and fasting, pushing instead for names of those who had bewitched the children. It’s not surprising whose names were on the list—the outcasts and outsiders—including Tituba, the overworked Indian slave from Barbados. These women didn’t fit in polite, Christian society, with their cursing (impoverished Sarah Good), their lack of church attendance (bedridden Sarah Osburn), their otherness (Indian woman Tituba).

If you visit local attractions in Salem, Massachusetts, Tituba is portrayed as a black slave telling tales to young and impressionable girls at the Salem Village parsonage. But the role of storyteller wasn’t created for Tituba until Charles W. Upham (1802-1875) re-imagined her as the center of the maelstrom in his book Salem Witchcraft (1867), which was widely read and repeated by historians and authors.

Probably after being physically coerced by Samuel Parris, Tituba confesses to being a witch before the magistrates—but not to occult practices like fortune-telling or Caribbean voodoo. She does, however, tell of Satan making her pinch and hurt the girls, of riding a stick to night-time meetings with other witches, and of the existence of more witches. With obvious references to British witchcraft folklore, Tituba’s testimony weaves together Samuel Parris’ sermons of Satan’s conspiracy against his church and the people’s fears that the girls were experiencing a preternatural battle for their souls. Instead of creating unity to save the church, Tituba’s words turned neighbor against neighbor.  

Story with No Ending

Tituba’s value as a witness against Sarah Good and Sarah Osburn unexpectedly saved her life, while forfeiting theirs. As more afflicted accusers came forward, more innocent victims were accused, and spectral evidence spread near and far, Tituba lay forgotten in prison.

According to contemporary chroniclers, after the General Jail Delivery, Samuel Parris refused to pay Tituba’s jail fees. But by paying seven pounds for her shackles and 13 months’ room and board, a new master bought an Indian slave whose future labor was worth more than the fees. After watching others die in jail or being led out to the gallows and being rejected by the family she had served for a dozen years, perhaps her new owner thought Tituba would be a docile and obedient servant. Beaten down and neglected, she was malnourished, her body stiff from the shackles and hardly any exercise, her mind constantly living in fear. No doubt, Tituba was grateful to be part of the living again. And, so, quietly Tituba the Indian servant disappeared from recorded history.

In 1711, no one came forward to ask for compensation from the government on behalf of the Indian slave.




Sources:


Larry Gragg, A Quest for Security: The Life of Samuel Parris 1653-1720.

Elise Lemire, Black Walden: Slavery and Its Aftermath in Concord, Massachusetts.

Bernard Rosenthal, et al, Records of the Salem Witch-Hunt.

Charles W. Upham, Salem Witchcraft.


For more on Tituba, see also:


* It is unclear whether the voodoo dolls sold at HEX are in reference to a supposed (and incorrect) connection to Tituba since Bridget Bishop poppets also are sold in the store, or if they are just one of many magical products available. The owners are 
modern-day Warlocks with Witchcraft shops in both Salem and New Orleans.




15 October 2015

Top 5 Places to Visit in Salem, Massachusetts

When you visit the Witch City, there are many attractions, museums, tours, and events vying for your attention. I put together a list of five not-to-miss places that are worth the trip to Salem, Massachusetts, for people interested in the 1692 witch hunts in Essex county.

Site of the Salem Village Parsonage (behind 67 Centre Street, Danvers, MA).

The parsonage was built after February 1681, when Salem Village voted to build the parsonage for their second minister, George Burroughs (1650-1692). Here, strange fits first possessed nine-year-old Betty Parris and her 11-year-old cousin Abigail Williams, causing a local doctor to declare the girls were under an evil hand. The first accused witches lived close by, including in the parsonage itself, but it quickly spread to Salem Town and around Essex county.

In 1734, a new house was added to the old parsonage. In 1784, the original parsonage was demolished and the 1734 addition was moved. In time, the foundation filled in. In 1970, Richard Trask and a team of archeologists uncovered the foundation stones. Artifacts discovered at the site are located at the Danvers Archival Center (15 Sylvan Street, Danvers).

The archeological site not only gives you an idea of how small the house was, it also puts into perspective where Rev. Samuel Parris (1653-1720) and his family lived in relation to the First Meeting House and Ingersoll’s Ordinary—just a quick walk around the corner—and how far away Salem Town was by foot, horseback, or wagon. 

While you’re in the area, visit the Danvers witch memorial on Hobart street.

Rebecca Nurse Homestead (149 Pine St., Danvers, MA)

Rebecca Nurse Homestead
In 1678, Francis and Rebecca Nurse leased this 300-acre parcel from Rev. Allen. Their farm was productive and the terms of their lease were generous. In 1692, the afflicted girls accused Rebecca of being a witch, the jury failed to convict her, and the magistrate asked them to reconsider after the girls acted out in court. Even the villagers’ petition and the governor’s reprieve didn’t save her. She was hung on July 19, 1692.

The volunteers who give tours at the homestead are very knowledgeable, so you’ll get more out of your visit than a self-guided tour. The homestead includes the original house built about 1678, plus several additions; the 1681 Endecott barn; a 19th-century shoemaker’s shed; and a replica of the 1672 Salem Village Meeting House that was used in the film Three Sovereigns for Sarah. The property now consists of 27 acres, including the Nurse graveyard. It’s likely that Rebecca Nurse was buried in the graveyard, though the location is unknown. There are two memorials, from 1885 and 1992, erected in her memory. You’ll also find a 17th-century-styled gravestone for George Jacobs, whose supposed body was reburied at the site.

Cry Innocent: The People vs. Bridget Bishop (Old Town Hall, 32 Derby Street, Salem, MA)

If you wander down Essex Street in Salem, you may come across a 17th-century town crier and a band of similarly dressed townspeople. After several arguments, they arrest Bridget Bishop for being a witch and bring her to the Town Hall for questioning. Like other attractions in town, you will hear dialogue taken from the witch trial papers, but in this case, you—the audience—become the jury and vote to determine whether she should be held for trial. You also get a chance to ask questions of the witnesses and Bridget herself. The performances are well done and there are no poorly made mannequins sitting in for the afflicted girls—just quiet chairs—so, unlike 1692, you can listen to the words spoken instead of the distraction caused by the afflicted girls. 

The Salem Witch Trials Memorial (between Charter and Derby streets, adjacent to Old Burying Point, Salem, MA)

Salem Witch Trials Memorial
Built 300 years after the witch trials, the memorial consists of 20 granite benches that float in the middle of a low stone wall. Each bench is inscribed with the victim’s name and date of execution. Unlike the cemetery next to the memorial, there are no bodies here (they are cenotaphs) and the benches hovering above the ground remind us of that fact.

Over the years, Salem tried to bury its witchcraft past, so we don’t know where the witch-hunt victims were hanged (though most people assume it’s somewhere on Gallows Hill) or buried. The memorial serves as a contemplative spot to honor these brave women and men who stood up for their religious beliefs and wouldn’t condemn their souls by lying to save their lives. At the threshold of the memorial, you’ll see some of their poignant words cut off, just like their lives were. 

While you’re in the area, stop by the repaired gravestone of Judge John Hathorne (1641-1717) at Old Burying Point. It’s hard to miss.

The Salem Witch Walk (Crow Haven Corner, 125 Essex Street, Salem)

Having been on a trolley tour and a historical 1692 walking tour, I’ve learned where Bridget Bishop’s house or apple orchard stood (43 Church Street) and where the 1684 jail once existed (corner of Federal Street and St. Peter’s Street, formerly known as Prison Lane). But much of the tour guides’ scripts have not kept up with current research and often repeat myths and misconceptions.

The Salem Witch Walk is different, right from the start. The walk begins with a magic circle, in which the tourists are invited to participate. As Tom, a practicing witch and our tour guide, explains during the ceremony, witches hold true to two words: “Harm none.” Tom says none of the accused in 1692 were witches, but 17th-century cultural beliefs, superstitions, and magic came into play, turning neighbor against neighbor and ending in a land grab. He explains what some witch symbols mean, including the pentagram, and why Laurie Cabot and other witches came to Salem. There’s no scary hocus pocus. 

In the end, you may realize the juxtaposition of Count Orlok’s Nightmare Gallery and Elizabeth Montgomery’s Bewitched statue with the Salem Witch Museum, the maritime heyday of the Peabody Essex Museum, and Salem’s leather manufacturing history are not that strange. It’s how Salem survives its past and moves into the future.

NOTE: Some of these places have limited, seasonal hours. Check the websites for details.

Want to read more about Salem and the witch trials? Click on the keyword "witch-hunt" on the right-hand column to see other articles, from a short genealogy of the victims and a timeline of the witch-hunt to books and tourist attractions. 


04 October 2015

Tituba Redefined: Salem Then and Now

A scene from the Salem Village parsonage, with Betty Parris,
Tituba, John Indian, and Abigail Williams at the
Witch History Museum on Essex Street, Salem, Mass.
Tituba is a key figure in the beginning stages of the 1692 Salem witchcraft trials, being the first person to confess and to describe the world of witches. If you visit local attractions in Salem, Massachusetts, you’ll see her depicted as a black woman, often telling tales to young and impressionable girls at the Salem Village parsonage. 

Yet in the actual court records, Tituba is very specifically referred to as the Indian servant of Mr. Samuel Parris, while Mary Black and Candy are described as “negro slaves” of their owners. So how did Tituba get rewritten in popular culture as of African descent?

From contemporary accounts by trial critics to Charles W. Upham’s often referenced history, Salem Witchcraft (1867), Tituba is called Indian. Shortly after the American Civil War, however, she’s depicted as of mixed race. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, who is more inclined to poetic license than historical truth, wrote Tituba was a half-Indian, half-African woman in the dramatic verses of Giles Cory of the Salem Farms (1868). Historians and novelists continued this trend into the 20th century.

Taking it one step further, Arthur Miller turned the historical witch trial into an allegorical play about McCarthyism, the U.S. interrogation and blacklisting of suspected Communists. By using names and events from 1692, The Crucible (1953) overwrites history by making Tituba of full African descent.

Salem’s local attractions continue to portray Tituba as of African heritage. What’s tragic is the little we know of Tituba, her life, and her background is that she was Indian—as easily accessible transcriptions of actual 1692 documents and the last 50 years of some excellent research repeatedly tell us.


Upham, Salem Witchcraft Vol. 1 and Vol. 2
Boyer & Nissenbaum, Salem Witchcraft Papers





26 July 2015

Hawthorne and the Guilt-Ridden W?

Nathaniel Hawthorne c. 1860-1865 by Mathew Brady
Numerous articles and books repeat that Nathaniel Hawthorne added a W to his surname to distance himself from his ancestor, the hanging judge John Hathorne (1641-1717) of the Salem witch trials—without offering any proof. But is it really true? Did he ever tell someone or write down why? 

Or did people assume they could peer into his psyche—through reading his short stories and romances, perhaps—and say ancestral guilt led him to add a letter to his surname? It doesn’t make sense. 

From “Young Goodman Brown” to The House of Seven Gables, Salem permeates Hawthorne’s writings, whether it’s the setting itself, the story line, or even the Puritan mentality. Hawthorne couldn’t escape the ghosts in his past, whether he believed actual ghosts meandered through the headstones at the Old Burying Point or whether he felt ancestral eyes were watching him, much like the judge’s painting in Seven Gables.

During the early 19th century, Salem was a busy seaport. Surrounded by wealth and worldliness, Hawthornes family relied on relatives for support after his father died of yellow fever in Surinam when the author was four years old. And those relatives, no doubt, regaled the young boy with stories of his ancestors, to keep alive the Hathorne legacy.

Legends of the Tree

Hawthorn flowers
The author’s long-ago ancestors lived near Binfield and Bray, co. Berks, in England, where there’s a legend of two pots of gold buried beneath the hawthorn tree on Hawthorn Hill (p. 110). Genealogist Henry F. Waters, himself a son of Salem, regretted he didnt make this discovery earlier, when Hawthorne was still alive. Waters wrote: “How eagerly [Hawthornes] quaint and vivid fancy would have seized even upon the scanty materials offered to it in the Legend of Hawthorn Hill and its pots of gold, to weave therefrom a story that should rival in weirdness any of his Legends of New England (Register, Vol. 38, p. 203).

Home to the faerie folk, hawthorn is linked to courtship and May Day celebrations. At the same time, the tree is considered unlucky. It’s protected with thorns and blossoms that smell of illness or death—and, ironically, it’s supposed to be a favored wood used to make witches’ brooms.

It’s possible that centuries ago the family took its name from the hawthorn tree. And, like many words, some surnames evolved and changed spellings over time. Reviewing vital records, probate proceedings, and histories, the surname has appeared as Harthone, Harthorn(e), Hathorn, Hatthorn, Haughthorne, Hauthorn(e), Hawthorn(e), Horthorne, Hotharn, Hothorn(e), and Hothornne, among others. Between handwriting, literacy, and clerical errors, it’s easy to see how names change on paper.

Take it one step further and consider how the surname is pronounced. Try saying “Hathorne” with an English accent, specifically with the intonations of someone from 17th century London or co. Berks. Then try it with a 19th century Massachusetts accent. Would it sound differently?

Without the Story, It’s Guesswork

Without knowing the story behind the change in spelling, we cannot assume it’s because of guilt by association.

Who’s to say that it wasn’t Hawthorne’s publisher who added the W? Not necessarily separating the brooding author from his heritage but because the hawthorn tree, with its white flowers and red berries, added a touch of romance to the authors persona? Or because the printer made a typographical mistake on the book cover?

And who’s to say that maybe Hawthorne, inspired by his family tree, did a little genealogical research in the Salem church records and found his father was baptized as “Nathanael Hawthorne” in 1775 and his great grandfather as “Joseph Hauthorn” in 1692?

We may never know the truth, but lets stop guessing that ancestral disassociation was behind the decision to add the W in Hawthorne.


Ancestors of Nathaniel Hawthorne in America

Nathaniel Hawthorne, b. 4 July 1804, Salem, Mass.; d. 19 May 1864, Plymouth, NH; m. 9 July 1842, Sophia Amelia Peabody (1809-1871). Author.

Capt. Nathaniel Hathorne, bapt. 21 May 1775, Salem, as “Nathanael Hawthorne”; d. 1808 in Surinam; m. 2 August 1801, Salem, Elizabeth C. Manning (1780-1849).

John Hathorne's grave at Old Burying Point, Charter Street, Salem.
Daniel Hathorne, bapt. 22 August 1731, Salem; d. 18 April 1796, Salem; m. 21 Oct. 1756, Salem, Rachel Phelps (1733-1813).

Joseph Hathorne, bapt. May 1692, Salem, as “Joseph Hauthorn”; d. 23 June 1762, Salem; m. 30 June 1715, Salem, Sarah Bowditch.

Col. John Hathorne, bapt. 2 Aug. 1641, Salem; d. 10 May 1717, Salem; m. 22 March 1674/5, Ruth Gardner. Known as “the hanging judge” for his part in the 1692 Salem witch trials.

Major William Hathorne, born about 1606/1607, Bray, co. Berks, England; emigrated about 1633; died April 1681, Salem, Mass.; married Ann.


Sources
Massachusetts Vital Records to 1850: Salem (NEHGS online)

French, Elizabeth, “Genealogical Research in England,” in New England Historical and Genealogical Register, Vol. 67, pp. 248-260 (1913).

Kerry, Charles, The History and Antiquities of the Hundred of Bray, in the County of Berks (London: Savill and Edwards, 1861).

Moriarty, G. Andrews, “Genealogical Gleanings in England VII,” in New England Historical and Genealogical Register, Vol. 79, pp. 311-316 (1925).

Waters, Henry F., “Genealogical Gleanings in England,” in New England Historical and Genealogical Register, Vol. 38, pp. 201-204 (1884).