England town a hundred years ago, and each bore some special reputation
for general hospitality, the cordiality of its landlord, or the
excellence of its table or liquors. Each one of these ancient hostelries
might also be aptly described as
"A kind of old Hobgoblin Hall,
Now somewhat fallen to decay,
With weather-stains upon the wall,
And creaking and uneven floors,
And chimneys huge, and tiled and tall."
Wherever a stage line was established, a good country tavern, every few
miles along the route, became a necessity. It nourished on the patronage
that the coach brought to its door; its kitchen and barns afforded a
ready market for the produce of the farmers, and it was a grand centre
for news and the idlers of the village.
The Norfolk and Bristol Turnpike was fortunate in its taverns, which
were accounted among the best in the State, from the White Horse, whence
every stage-coach took its departure, to the last one met with on the
very borders of the land of Roger Williams. There was the Billings
Tavern in Roxbury, where it was considered quite the proper thing for
outward-bound passengers to alight and get something to fortify them
against the fatigues of the journey, especially if the weather were
extremely cold or extremely warm.
The next tavern on the line was widely known as Bride's, and later as
Gay's, in Dedham, a place where all who took the early coach out of the
city delighted to stop and breakfast. Here was to be found one of the
best tables on the line, and tradition has it that Bill Hodges, who, by
the way, must have been a competent judge, pronounced Bride's old
Medford rum the finest he had ever tasted. In the palmy days of
stage-coach travel, it was no uncommon thing for a hundred persons to
breakfast at this inn before resuming their journey to Providence. It
was here that President John Adams usually took the coach when he set
out for Washington, being first driven to that point from Quincy in his
own private carriage.
There was a small public house at South Dedham, now Norwood, which was
but little patronized, and the next tavern of note was Polley's, at East
Walpole, which had the name of furnishing the best board to be found
between Boston and New York, and there all the travel on the road
stopped to dinner. It was also a convenient point for taking up
passengers from many adjacent towns, whence mail-carriages converged
toward the common centre, and scores of private teams were driven with
small parcels or other commissions for the stage; for it must be borne
in mind that the driver exercised the functions of an expressman, or
common carrier, and was entrusted with a variety of messages and
valuables to deliver along the route, the fees for such service being
usually regarded as his rightful perquisites.
Shepard's Tavern in Foxborough was a customary stopping-place; but the
next grand halt, after leaving Polley's, was made at Hatch's, in North
Attleborough. Here the approach of each stage was announced by the
winding of a horn, and the driver was wont to swing his long lash with a
flourish around the sweaty flanks of his leaders in a way to assure them
that he meant business, then give his wheel horses an encouraging cut,
and dash up before the famous hostelry at a breakneck speed that said to
the small boys, Get out of the way! and caused the stock loafers, who
always assembled on the piazza at the first blast of the horn, to envy
the skill that could thus handle a whip, and guide, with apparent ease,
the most mettlesome four-in-hand.
Historically considered, no other tavern on the line possessed so much
of antiquarian interest as Hatch's. It occupied the site of an old
garrison built and occupied by John Woodcock, the famous Indian fighter,
as a stronghold against the attacks of his red foes. He went thither
from the Providence Plantation about the middle of the seventeenth
century, when the town was an unbroken wilderness in the northern part
of the Rehoboth North Purchase, so called, took up his abode and reared
his family in lonely solitude within the close stockades he planted
around his home. The first house that went by the name of Hatch's Tavern
was built upon this old garrison, which, indeed, formed a part of its
very walls, and not until the proprietor found it necessary to erect a
new and larger house, when the turnpike was opened, did the last
vestiges of the Woodcock stronghold disappear.
The landlord of this inn, Colonel Israel Hatch, was also a man of
importance in his time, who enjoyed an enviable reputation for military
achievements, and was very prominent in public affairs. At no point on
the line was the traveler surer of a larger hospitality or a heartier
welcome than was extended by Colonel Hatch, though its best room, which
was reserved for visitors of note, might not have contained the
veritable inscription ascribed to Major Molineaux:--
"What do you think?
Here is good drink.
Perhaps you may not know it;
If not in haste, do stop and taste;
You merry folks will show it."
On leaving North Attlebourogh, the remaining twelve miles to Providence
were conveniently relieved by short halts at Bishop's and at Barrow's
Taverns in Attleborough "City" and West Attleborough, and at one or two
places in Pawtucket, so that no passenger was compelled to go hungry or
dry for many miles.
By far the most noted passenger ever conveyed over the Norfolk and
Bristol road, and there were many worthy of mention, is reputed to have
been President James Monroe, who shortly after his inauguration in
March, 1817, made a tour through the New England States, similar to that
made by President Hayes in 1877. The occasion was a great one, for
Monroe and his party left Providence in the morning, halted at Hatch's
for lunch, dined at Polley's, and were met on their arrival at Dedham by
a delegation from Boston who escorted them to the "Hub of the Universe."
Great was the curiosity of the country-folk to behold a president, and
the streets through which his barouche was to pass were thronged with an
eager, expectant multitude, who greeted him with cheers, and were
rewarded with a gracious bow. And one little boy, now a venerable and
honored member of the Bristol County bar, was standing with his father
in an open farm wagon, when the President alighted at North
Attleborough, and exclaimed with evident disappointment: "Why, father,
he's no bigger than any other man!"
* * * * *
DUNGEON ROCK, LYNN.
BY FRANK P. HARRIMAN.
All over the land there are localities to which, in some way or other,
have become attached names that indicate something of the supernatural,
or such as are intended to excite apprehension. What stout heart does
not stand dismayed before a real dungeon? A prison under ground is
something awful to contemplate. Whose hair does not stand on end at the
thought of possible confinement in a dark, damp, cold stone
prison-house, with rusty-hinged or even sealed doors, where no window
opens to the light of day; where no friendly voice is ever heard; where
liberation is impossible, and where, cursed with the remainder of life,
one is doomed to a miserable existence till the mortal and the immortal
separate? Deliver us from such terrors as these!
In visiting Dungeon Rock, however, like most places of a similar
character, we find there is no especial reason for fear, notwithstanding
the indicative name, and the many blood-curdling traditions connected
therewith.
It was a fine autumn day, when, together with some friends, we mustered
courage to pay our respects to this now famous spot. We found our way
thither from the city of Lynn by horse-cars, a part of the way by a
barge and on foot. The driver of the barge, like most drivers of such
vehicles, displayed no small amount of scientific driving. Why it is
that almost all scientific driving generally results in some mishap, we
are unable to determine. But we conclude that the particular science to
which we refer is usually engendered by the driver having his elbow
crooked at some bar before the journey commences. On all such occasions
stops are quite common; branches of trees are not avoided, and they
threaten to destroy our best suits, or brush us altogether from our
seats; the brakes do not work; the traces get unhitched; an immense whip
is flourished and cracked; the horses become unmanageable; frightened
women in a high key scream "Mercy!" and the ride becomes not only
dangerous but unendurable.
After a ride up hill and down over a winding road skirted by forest
trees on either hand, we were left in the woods at the foot of a steep
hill. The remainder of our way was by a path of the most primitive
nature, something, we should judge, like that of the native Pawtuckets,
with the exception of the rapid ascent, for the natives were wiser than
we in laying out their highways, for they avoided both hills and swamps.
Shortly we found ourselves in the immediate vicinity of Dungeon Rock,
which is situated on the summit of a granite-capped eminence overlooking
the surrounding country. Quite a concourse of people had assembled on
this occasion, apparently to spend the day and have a "good time"
generally. We should have said before that this is considered a kind of
Mecca for those who hold to the Spiritual faith. There are several
buildings which seem to have been dropped down without much order, and a
large platform furnished with plank seats. An entertainment had been
furnished, though for what purpose or by whom we knew not. There was
some fine singing, in solos, duets, and quartettes, and a slender little
girl showed a good lip, large lungs, and nimble fingers on a silver
cornet, out of which she fired repeated volleys of sputtering jigs at
the overelated spectators.
Lynn's first historian, who dealt somewhat in tradition, among other
things, says, in substance, "early in 1658, on a pleasant evening, a
little after sunset, a small vessel was seen to anchor near the mouth of
the Saugus River. A boat was presently lowered from her side, into which
four men descended and moved up the river a considerable distance, when
they landed and proceeded directly into the woods. They had been noticed
by only a few individuals; but in those early times, when the people
were surrounded by danger and easily susceptible of alarm, such an
incident was well calculated to awaken suspicion, and in the course of
the evening the intelligence was conveyed to many houses. In the morning
the vessel was gone, and no trace of her or her crew could be found." He
further states that on going into the foundry connected with the then
existing iron-works, a quantity of shackles, handcuffs, hatchets, and
other articles of iron, were ordered to be made and left at a certain
place, for which a return in silver would be found. "This was done" (so
says the historian), and the mysterious contractors fulfilled their part
of the obligation, but were undiscovered. Some months afterward the four
men returned and made their abode in what has, to this day, been called
Pirates' Glen, where they built a hut and dug a well. It is supposed
that they buried money in this vicinity, but our opinion is that most of
the money then, as now, was kept above ground. Their retreat being
discovered, one of the king's cruisers appeared on the coast, and three
of them were arrested and carried to England and probably executed. The
other, whose name was Thomas Veal, escaped to a rock in the woods, in
which was a spacious cavern, where the pirates had previously deposited
some of their plunder. There the fugitive practised the trade of
shoemaking. He continued his residence here till the great earthquake of
1658, when the top of the rock was unloosed and crashed down into the
mouth of the cavern, enclosing the unfortunate man in what has been
called to this day Pirates' Dungeon or Dungeon Rock. We cannot vouch for
the complete truthfulness of this historian's statements.
In 1852, one Hiram Marble purchased from the city of Lynn a lot of
woodland in which Dungeon Rock is situated. He came, as was claimed,
influenced by Spiritualistic revelations.
Directed by the spirit of the departed pirate Tom Veal, Mr. Marble
commenced to excavate from this very hard porphyry rock in search of a
subterranean vault, into which had been poured, as was supposed, the
ill-gotten gain of all the pirates, from Captain Kidd down to the last
outlaw of the ocean. Twenty-seven years the sound of the hammer and the
drill and the thud of blasting-powder echoed through the leafy forests,
and then all was hushed.
Hiram Marble died in his lonely residence at Dungeon Rock, November 10,
1868, aged sixty-five. He was widely known for his perseverence in the
work in which he was engaged. Sixteen years he labored without a
realization of his ardent hopes. He remained a Spiritualist to the last,
and those of a like faith were invited to the funeral services which
took place on the day following his death.
"His faith has not been without works, nor his courage barren of
results, and centuries hence, if his name and identity should be lost,
the strange labor may be referred to some recluse Cyclops who had
strayed hither from mystic lands."
"Edwin Marble, who succeeded his father in the strange search for
treasure, died January 16, 1880, aged forty-eight years. He was buried
near the foot of the rock on the southwestern slope, it having been his
express desire to be interred near the scene of his hopeful, though
fruitless, labors."
The broken rock, which they removed solely with their own hands, makes
quite a mountain of itself.
We decided to enter the place where so many years of fruitless toil had
been spent. A wooden gate on rusty hinges opened and we passed in, and
the gate closed behind us.
The excavation is high enough and broad enough for two tall men to walk
abreast, and on its winding way, screw fashion, doubling upon itself, it
leads down one hundred and fifty feet into the bowels of the earth, all
the way through solid rock that had remained undisturbed for centuries
on centuries, until the work of this ill-directed Marble commenced.
Down, down we went, out of the warm sunlight into this cold, damp
subterranean passage, winding hither and thither, till we reached an
ice-cold pool of water which is constantly being supplied from some
hidden fountain, and, were it not removed by pumps, would fill the
place to the brim.
This rock-hewn passage is lighted with lanterns hung at the various
turns, so that the descent and ascent, notwithstanding the way is rough,
can be made with safety. Though the day was warm outside, we were in a
very short time chilled through and glad to make our escape. How these
men could have endured many long years of labor in this vast
refrigerator, and retain any degree of health, is a problem. Faith and
zeal doubtless kept the blood moving through their veins. It is said
that a knife, or dirk, and a pair of scissors of very ancient origin,
which we were shown, were found by Mr. Marble in a fissure of this solid
rock. That they were left there by pirates, years on years ago, no sane
man can for a moment believe. The probabilities are that some one
deceived Mr. Marble.
When this misguided adventurer commenced this work, he was possessed of
about fifteen hundred dollars, which he expended long before his death,
after which, he depended upon the charities of those who sympathized
with him in his undertaking.
In one of the buildings named above, there are several portraits of
pirates and their wives, drawn, it is said, by some one under the
influence of the spirits, in a marvelously short space of time. Several
wives of Captain Kidd are among them.
Captain Kidd must have been a remarkable man, to want more than one such
character for a companion, provided the likenesses are true to nature;
at any rate we are not at all surprised that he was a pirate, under the
circumstances.
To illustrate how Mr. Marble professed to have been directed, we give
the following correspondence with the spirits:--
Mr. Marble wrote: "I wish Veal or Harris would tell what move to make
next."
This query was covered by fifteen thicknesses of paper and then the
medium was called in, and, merely feeling of the exterior of the paper,
wrote what the spirit of Veal revealed through him. Captain Harris,
named in the communication, is supposed to have been the leader of the
piratical band.
Response of Veal: "_My Dear Charge_,--You solicit me or Captain Harris
to advise you as to what to next do. Well, as Harris says he has always
had the heft of the load on his shoulders, I will try and respond myself
and let Harris rest. Ha! ha! Well, Marble, we must joke a bit; did we
not, we should have the blues, as do you some of those rainy days when
you see no living person at the rock, save your own dear ones. Not a
sound do you hear, save the woodpecker and that little gray bird [Mr.
Marble's pet canary], that sings all day long, more especially wet days,
tittry, tittry, tittry. But, Marble, as Long [a deceased friend of
Marble] says, 'Don't be discouraged.' We are doing as fast as we can. As
to the course, you are in the right direction at present. You have one
more curve to make before you take the course that leads to the cave. We
have a reason for keeping you from entering the cave at once. Moses was
by the Lord kept forty years in his circuitous route, ere he had sight
of that land that flowed with milk and honey. God had his purpose in so
doing, notwithstanding he might have led Moses into the promise, in a
very few days from the start. But no; God wanted to develop a truth,
and no faster than the minds of the people were prepared to receive it.
Cheer up, Marble, we are with you and doing all we can.
"Your guide,
"TOM VEAL."
Another communication, from C.B. Long, contains the following: "The
names of Hiram and Edwin Marble will live when millions of years shall,
from this time, have passed, and when even kings and statesmen shall
have been forgotten."
And so the man and, after him, his son worked on till, so far as they
were concerned, death closed the scene. Whether any person in the years
to come will follow these misguided laborers, and take up the work where
they left it, is a question.
The legendary lore of Dungeon Rock is eclipsed by the dominant impulse
of lives absorbed in an idea, based upon supernatural agency. While it
is an evidence of a misguided zeal, unequaled by anything the whole
world has heretofore probably known, in and of itself it is no mystery.
The mystery is that there ever lived human beings to undertake such an
unpromising work, where such hardship and perseverance were required,
and where the folly of any hope of success must have been apparent to an
intelligent person every day, from the commencement to the close of the
twenty-seven years of servile toil.
* * * * *
LANCASTER IN ACADIE AND THE ACADIENS IN LANCASTER.
BY HENRY S. NOURSE.
It is almost one hundred and thirty years
" ... since the burning of Grand-Pre,
When on the falling tide the freighted vessels departed,
Bearing a nation, with all its household gods, into exile;
Exile without an end, and without an example in story."
Of the numerous readers of Evangeline in Lancaster, few now suspect how
nearly the sad tale of wantonly-ravaged Acadie touched their own town
history. From the archives of Nova Scotia all details of that deed of
merciless treachery were left out, for very shame; but upon the crown
officials then in authority over the Province, history and poetry have
indelibly branded the stigma of an unnecessary edict of expulsion, which
devastated one of the fairest regions of America, and tore seven
thousand guileless and peaceful people from a scene of rural felicity
rarely equaled on earth, to scatter them in the misery of abject
poverty, among strangers speaking a strange tongue and hating their
religion. The agents who faithfully executed the cruel decree were
Massachusetts men, reluctantly obedient to "his Majesty's orders," given
them specifically in writing by Charles Lawrence, Governor of Nova
Scotia.
On the twentieth of May, 1755, Lieutenant-Colonel John Winslow embarked
at Boston with a force of about two thousand men, organized in two
battalions. They were enlisted for the term of one year, unless sooner
discharged, for the special service of dislodging the French from their
newly fortified positions along the north side of the Bay of Fundy, and
on the isthmus connecting New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. Among the
vessels of the fleet was the sloop Victory, and to this was assigned a
company belonging to the second, or Lieutenant-Colonel Scott's,
battalion, largely composed of, and officered by, Lancaster men, a list
of whose names is subjoined:--
Captain Abijah Willard.
First Lieutenant "Haskal." [Henry Haskell ?]
Second Lieutenant Willard. [Levi ?]
Ensign Willard. [Aaron ?]
SERGEANTS.
Thomas Beman, husbandman, aged 25
James Houghton, " " 25
CORPORALS.
Jacob Willard, husbandman aged 31
Thomas Willard, " " 23
DRUMMERS.
Joseph Farnsworth, husbandman aged 20
Joseph Phelps, " " 21
PRIVATES,
Benjamin Atherton, laborer aged 20
Phineas Atherton, " " 16
Daniel Atherton, " " 21
Jonathan Brown, " " 17
Joseph Bailey, " " 30
Phineas Divoll, " " 22
Abel Farnsworth, husbandman " 22
John Farnsworth, laborer " 30
Jeremiah Field, " " 18
Ephraim Goss, " " 22
Thomas Henderson, " " 40
Daniel Harper, " " 21
Elias Haskell, cooper " 19
William Hutson, cordwainer " 22
John Johnson, laborer " 22
Samuel Kilham " " 20
Matthias Larkin," " 30
Joseph Metcalf, cooper " 21
Joseph Pratt, laborer " 30
Joseph Priest, " " 45
Daniel Sanders, " " 19
Isaac Sollendine, laborer " 21
Jacob Stiles, housewright " 19
Lemuel Turner, laborer " 18
Nathaniel Turner, " " 18
William Turner, " " 18
Aaron Wilder, " " 30
William Warner, " " 20
David Wilson, " " 18
Levi Woods, laborer aged 20
Silas Willard, " " 19
Uziah Wyman, apothecary " 21
John Warner, laborer " 20
James Willard, " " 18
John Wilson, " " 20
Besides the above forty-five, there were, in other companies, three
natives of Lancaster:--
Nathaniel Johnson, yeoman aged 25
Jonas Moor, " " 32
John Rugg, husbandman " 31
What special part these men took in the investment and capture of the
formidable fort of Beau Sejour, or in the assaults upon the minor forts,
neither record nor tradition tell, and we are equally uninformed
respecting their participation in the pitiable scenes enacted along the
shores of Minas and Chignecto Bays. The Massachusetts Archives contain
no pay-rolls of this expedition, and no papers of Captain Abijah Willard
are known to exist throwing any light upon its history. That the service
was not only inglorious in part, and ungrateful to the truly brave, but
attended with much hardship, is attested by the following documents
copied from Massachusetts Archives, lv, 62 and 63. They are there in the
handwriting of Secretary Josiah Willard:--
"_Sir_: I have received your Letter giving me an acct. of the Hardships
your poor Soldiers are exposed to. I sincerely Compassionate their
unhappy case & I pray God to find out some Way for their Relief. The
Governor is not expected here till the month of December. When he
arrives I shall endeavour to mention the affair to him. In the mean
time, I have written a Letter to Major General Winslow which I have left
open, Leaving it with you to deliver it or not as you shall judge best,
First sealing it before you deliver it The Council being informed that I
had a Letter from you upon the subject of these Hardships of the
Soldiers desired me to communicate it to them, which I did. What they
will do upon it I know not.
"Octob'r 31, 1755.
To ABIJAH WILLARD."
"BOSTON, Oct. 31, 1755