A term of the Court of Common Pleas was always held in the town in the
month of September, and "court week" was a regular time of holiday for
the pupils of the higher schools. Some of us attended upon these solemn
proceedings with extraordinary interest, especially when criminal cases
were before the court. I know not how it is, but suppose it to be the
expected revelation of incidents, as in the plot of a novel, which draws
crowds together, in most uncomfortable contiguity in a courtroom,
whenever a culprit, especially one of more than usually notorious
antecedents, is put upon his trial. While most of the old-fashioned
lawyers of the Essex Bar were more than respectable for professional
acquisitions and legal skill, there were persons among them of
distinguished ability and character; and real eloquence seldom fails to
prove peculiarly fascinating to youthful hearers. Who could forget, for
example, with what rapt attention he listened, at a somewhat later date,
to the glowing language and was stirred by the honest warmth of
Saltonstall, incapable by nature of attempting to make the worse appear
the better reason; or watched that marvel, the matchless ingenuity of
Choate, whose faculties shone brightest, the more apparently hopeless was
the cause at stake; or thrilled with profound admiration, under the
resistless influence of Webster's force and closeness of argument,
rising, with due occasion, to the highest point of eloquent illustration,
when some more than usually important matter for adjudication by the
court called him from the ordinary sphere of his great practice to the
forum of a comparatively inferior tribunal.
Years afterwards, when I had the honor of a place at that Bar, I was much
struck with the testimony of a respectable witness, a farmer named
Sheldon, who lived near Beverly Corner, upon an indictment of a fellow
for burglary, in entering Mr. Sheldon's house by night and taking the
money from his pockets in his sleeping chamber without disturbing the
occupants. One of the earliest questions proposed to him was,--"How did
the robber gain entrance to the house?" and, by the way, the man had been
previously employed as a laborer by the farmer. "I suppose he came in by
the usual way," was the answer. "He came in by the door, do you mean?"
"Yes." "How did he get it open?" "I suppose he lifted the latch." "Do you
mean to say, that the door was not fastened?" "Yes I do; we never fasten
it." The culprit was convicted upon various satisfactory testimony; but
the incident betokens a state of security, at that period, and a rarity
of flagitious offences, which puts to shame the demoralization of our own
day. For the house in question stood on the high road and was scarcely
more than half a mile distant from a populous neighborhood, and within
less than three miles of a town with many thousands of inhabitants.
Strangely enough, considering the want of precaution on the part of the
farmer, coming down, doubtless, from a still simpler period of social
life, not half a mile from Mr. Sheldon's house stood a solitary
habitation upon a desolate tract of land, and also near the highway,
which at a time not long subsequent had acquired a very evil reputation;
and with this house became connected circumstances which some may think
scarcely admit of the solution of merely accidental occurrence. At the
autumnal term of the court just indicated, when I had become a young
practitioner at the bar, a certain vixenish old beldam was put upon trial
for the offence of maintaining this ill reputed establishment. Her
demeanor was singularly exceptional; for she did not scruple to interrupt
the proceedings with the most fluent billingsgate, and upon receiving
sentence berated the presiding judge in language betokening an
extraordinary depth of desperate hardihood. Inquiry revealed the fact,
that her solitary house, standing upon an elevated plain of some extent,
the ground rising from the shores of Wenham Lake, in front but little
removed from the road, and the space in its rear interspersed with
scattered groups of funereal pines, had been the resort of various
desperadoes, several of whom had suffered punishment for their crimes,
and one of them had not long before committed suicide in jail, to escape
public execution for a most atrocious murder.
Late one day, in the beginning of the following Spring, I happened to be
called upon to proceed to Boston, distant some forty miles, upon the
sudden requirement of certain business to be transacted the next morning
in the city. It was before the railway was in operation, and to
accomplish the object in view I was to drive this considerable distance
in a chaise, at night and alone. I was accustomed to this mode of
locomotion, in my attendance upon the several sessions of the courts in
the county, and the idea of fear never entered my mind. Accordingly,
starting about dusk, at half past ten o'clock of a starlit night, I had
reached a point in the journey where the road rises by a gentle ascent to
the plain, on which stood "the house of evil counsel." All at once, the
scene and the narrative of the previous Fall flashed upon my mind. Before
leaving home, I had bethought myself of a brace of pistols in my
possession, which I had loaded and placed in the pockets of my overcoat.
And now comes the remarkable circumstance to which I have already
referred. These weapons had been borrowed of a friend, months before,
when in the midst of an unusually exciting election for a member of
congress, continuing some two years, and stirring up extraordinary rancor
in the minds of some of the partisans of the several candidates, I had
been threatened with violence, if I should attend the polls. I had
notified my opponents that I should vote at a certain hour, on the
appointed day, and placed these pistols in my pocket, by way of defence;
but nothing inconsistent with my freedom of political action in fact
occurred. This was the only time in my life that I had carried such
implements, which were then put aside in the drawer of a bureau, and I
have never thought it worth while to take them since, except on the
occasion now referred to. I had thus provided myself with them, on an
entirely different occasion, and took them with me, on a sudden thought,
as I was about to proceed on my journey, more in the spirit of youthful
bravado, than with any other motive; for the roads, at that period, were
considered perfectly safe, by night as well as by day. As I have
remarked, the thought of the shrewish and abandoned old woman, of her
house and its evil companions, occurred to me, as my horse slowly
ascended the rising ground towards the plain. In a few minutes I was in
the neighborhood of a habitation which I looked upon rather with
detestation than any emotion of alarm; when what was my astonishment to
behold a man--the sound of the wheels of the chaise being doubtless
audible at some distance in the clear, still night--come out of the gate
in front of the house and station himself in the middle of the somewhat
narrow highway. In fact, the stranger was within a rod of the vehicle,
and must either be driven over or move out of the way. At this unexpected
encounter, I own that my heart, as the saying is, jumped into my mouth;
but I instantly drew and cocked my pistol, and the click probably
disturbing the nerves of my proposed assailant, he turned aside without
offering further molestation. In a few minutes, the lamps of the
mail-stage, as it turned Beverly Corner on its way eastward, were a
grateful spectacle, and my onward journey was pursued without other
adventure. The driver of that stage afterwards informed me, that the
trunks strapped to the rear of their coaches had more than once been cut
off in that very neighborhood, and that on one occasion beams had been
placed in the road so that the carriage would have been overturned,
unless they had been discovered in time, and doubtless had been so placed
for purposes of robbery. I inquired, why investigation did not take place
on the spot; but the reply was, that the passengers were in haste to get
on, were unarmed, and perhaps timid, and preferred to remove the
obstacles and proceed upon their way. The contrast, however, is
striking, between the habit of a farmer to leave his door unfastened at
night and the machinations of rogues not a quarter of a mile distant, who
could be guilty of such crimes. I believe, however, that the existence of
such a nest of villains was quite exceptional at that period, and unknown
to the farmer, and that his sense of safety, without the most ordinary
means of protection to his premises, was at that time the rule. The
reader may draw what conclusions he pleases from the facts of my own
personal narrative.
I have remarked that politics, never stagnant in our ancient communities,
at the period of my story, oftentimes grew extremely warm, and then every
leading citizen took his personal part. Nor is it strange that the
survivors of those who had borne their share in the Revolutionary War,
who had the traditions, at least, of their fathers who served with the
New England troops, and followed the gallant and generous Wolfe up the
formidable heights of Abraham, and after the victorious field which cost
that true hero his life, stood triumphant, under the Red Cross banner,
upon the subjugated ramparts of Quebec, should exhibit marked
peculiarities of character; should hold fast to strong opinions; and
indeed should manifest that individuality and originality of thought and
action which is scarcely witnessed in the promiscuous crowd of our own
tamer times. Instead of that indifference, the bane of a republic, among
the upper class, the result of accumulated wealth and luxurious habits,
the chief men of both parties stood at the door of the Town Hall, on days
of election, distributing votes, and encouraging the timid and the
doubtful, and their influence was effectively felt in the direction of
public affairs, which now seem mostly to be left to the management of the
least competent, and often the most ignorant, mercenary, and corrupt. I
firmly believe that the equal, if not preëminent position long maintained
by Massachusetts, among rivals vastly superior in territory and
population, was owing to the active interest formerly taken by her
leading men of all professions and occupations in the politics of the
day, and that thus the sources of political well being were kept
comparatively pure. At present, these men take their political opinions
from the newspaper they read, and trouble themselves very little further
about a matter in which their own stake, one would think, would rouse
them to exertion, from the promptings of enlightened self-interest, if
not from the more generous emotions of public spirit.
On one occasion, when some eager dispute had arisen, as to which of the
two parties actually preponderated, for the balance sometimes wavered
from one side to the other, it was determined to poll the town; that is,
to assemble all citizens entitled to vote in the Town Hall, to divide
them personally according to their several politics and by actual count
to ascertain which was the strongest in point of numbers. I happened to
be present, as a boy who heard political questions discussed with
animation at home, and was curious to witness the scene, which was one
really of the intensest interest. The selectmen occupied their tribune,
at the head of the Hall, and the meeting was presided over by their
chairman, a man of imposing height and general personal development, with
flowing white locks, who commanded the respect of all parties. His father
had been a soldier of Wolfe, and he and his associates were on the
Federal side. When the parties were arranged for the enumeration, one
worthy individual, who kept the principal tavern of the town, stood
hesitating, at the end of the hall, between the two files; for, in fact,
both parties of necessity made use of his house, by turns, in
commemoration of some public event, or for festive purposes, which, to
tell the truth; were frequently coming round; for the liquor was both
better and cheaper than in these degenerate days. I shall never forget
the start which the sonorous voice of the chairman gave me, as he bawled
out,--"None of that, Jenkins; we can't have any shirking here; you must
take one side or the other,"--and he did, amidst the tumultuous laughter
with which the Hall resounded. The contest was a good-natured one, and I
have no doubt which party proved victorious, considering that the
prevailing sentiment of the town was pretty well evidenced by the
political leanings of the _Board_; but at this late day it is of little
consequence to authenticate the fact.
The father of the sturdy chairman had set up the tavern, after returning
from the expedition to Quebec, which he called the WOLFE HOUSE, in
memory of his commander, General James Wolfe, who is presented in such a
pleasing light in Thackeray's "Virginians," and, as a noble-minded man
and true hero, deserved all which could be said in his praise. In after
days, and I believe it is still there, the sign was suspended in front of
the hotel, which took the place of that destroyed by the "Great Fire."
The brave general wore his red coat and cocked hat, all through the War
of the Revolution and that of 1812-14, without molestation from colonial
rebels, or Yankees fighting against the mother country, by land and by
sea. The tavern was kept for a long time by a shrewd and active host, who
had a keen eye to the main chance. Among his dinner guests were farmers
who attended market, and others, content to take their meals at half
price, after the chief company had finished that repast. Of these was one
Major Muncheon, somewhat celebrated for his remarkable powers of making
away with whatever the table furnished. One day, Wilkins, the host, who
was addicted to a slightly nasal intonation, addressed him, when he had
just risen from his seat,--"Major, I can't dine you any more for
twenty-five cents." "Why not?" asked the well-satisfied trencherman. "I
tell you, Major," said his host, "the very vegetables you've eaten cost
two and three pence" (37-1/2 cents), "saying nothing of the meat and
pies." "Pho! Wilkins," remonstrated the farmer, "it's only the second
table." "Second table!" replied the host; "why, Major, if you had sat
down to the first table, there wouldn't have been no second."
But if parties in those times were often hotly opposed, there was one
occasion, every year, when a broader sentiment of patriotism warmed the
hearts of all in the fellowship of a common cause. The Anniversary of
Independence was duly commemorated by appropriate exercises for
considerably more than half a century in our spirited town, and with a
general loosening of party ties on the occasion, until the War of 1812,
when the parties conducted separate celebrations, though the orators were
always only too apt to tighten them again by untimely political
allusions, in the narrower sense of the phrase.[6]
On one of these anniversaries, the orator expectant we will call Mr.
Moses, a member of the Bar, who had already acquired distinction and was
afterwards a leader in his profession, well known in the county of Essex.
It was in reference to this gentleman, that an ambitious colored person
of that day instructed the shoemaker he employed, that he wanted "his
boots to have as much creak in them as Squire Moses's." On the day before
the services were to take place, the orator repaired to the meeting-house
appointed for the purpose, in order to rehearse his performance, and
having mounted the stairs to the pulpit by a back-entrance, and probably
wearing boots, at this time, of less distinctive resonance, did not
attract the attention of an old woman who was on her knees scrubbing the
broad aisle. The speaker had a melodious and ringing voice, and began, I
suppose,--"Friends and fellow-countrymen!" "Oh, lud-a-mercy!" cried the
ancient female on the floor, starting to her feet, with uplifted hands.
The occupant of the pulpit was a very polite person. "Oh, don't be
alarmed, madam," cried he; "it's only Moses." "Moses!" screamed the
woman--"Moses is come! Moses is come!" and not much to the credit of a
piety which ought to have felt so highly favored by a vision of the great
prophet, rushed from the church into the street in an agony of terror,
spreading consternation in the neighborhood by her outcries, until the
mystery was speedily cleared up.
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[6] Of all these productions I have seldom seen one equal to
the printed sermon preached by Rev. Mr. Murray, of our
Old South Church, upon the Proclamation of Peace;[A]
for its array of various interesting information upon
the condition and prospects of the country, and for
soundly patriotic views, enforced with fervid and
striking eloquence. In one respect, it could scarcely be
surpassed. We have heard of the protracted discourses of
the old Puritan divines, in both countries with which
most of us claim origin, and like them Mr. Murray's
sermon must have consumed at least two hours and a half
in the delivery. He was educated at Edinburgh and was no
doubt a native of Scotland.
[A] 1783